Really, reflected Coricopat, It's all well and good that they've left us the job of further talking to her, but it's so time-consuming.

The Twins had sat with her, trying to get her to answer their questions, for nearly an hour. Beth hadn't answered many, trying not to implicate herself or her involvement in anything else, which made for very dull work.

Both Coricopat and Tantomile were skilled at detecting lies, however; it was what came from years of studying humans and trying to understand them. They had determined the girl was lying about her name, why she was by the old Ford, but strangely, not about her involvement with humans.

As Beth changed positions on the rag pile, the mystical cats had had a significant conversation via the exchange of looks. Most cats are vaguely psychic, but twin cats, who were rumoured to have been familiars of a witch?

So, if she's not lying about the humans, oughtn't we to let her go?

Tantomile blinked. What if she's working for something else?

Such as, sister?

The Pollicles, perhaps—

As if they'd hear a human out rather than eat them!

Well, that only leaves two alternatives. Either she really is a rogue agent, or—

Macavity, they chorused at the same time, and grimaced.

In a flash, Coricopat was behind her while Tantomile stood in front. Clearly, she asked: 'Are you working for Macavity?'

Beth stopped looking down at the floor, and seemed surprised enough to stare into Tantomile's eyes.

'Who?' she asked, puzzled.

Tantomile relaxed. The girl had seemed genuinely baffled: not one who knew the Hidden Paw. She seemed to be telling the truth about that, but there was still something that made her uneasy, something she couldn't quite place…

Suppressing a shiver, Tantomile nodded to her brother and made her way out of the brig to tell Munkustrap of their findings so far. Beth was left alone with Coricopat, awkwardly avoiding his eyes and dragging her long fingers through her matted hair.

Watching the girl try and untangle her dirty hair, the Jellicle mused on the inefficiency of humans when it came to grooming, and then realised she probably needed to perform the same bodily functions, however much they were different—avoiding the issue of toilets, that meant she was probably hungry or thirsty. It seemed as though Quaxo would be needed, sooner or later, to either threaten her to answer the questions or to blow open cans of food for her—but was it really safe to expose him as the magician to the girl?

O

Tantomile picked her way across the Junkyard serenely, avoiding questions from the kittens about the real live human, and avoiding the adults' questions, of much the same nature, equally as well. Reaching Munkustrap, she gestured for him to join her a way away from the rest of the Tribe.

'The real thing,' she said in a low voice, 'That we need to find is what she was doing by the car. Can you send anyone back, copy the drawing she claimed to be doing? She may have been planning something; it's still not quite clear what her motives were.'

The Jellicle protector groaned and bit his lip. 'We were going to do that,' he told her, 'Except—well, let me explain.'

Munkustrap sat on the ground, motioning for Tantomile to do the same. She did, a look of worry (unusual for her), clear on her features.

'We were worried that what she was doing may have had some magical symbolism—'

Here Tantomile laughed. 'A human magician? They're rare, and we would have noticed.'

Munkustrap looked at her, irritated. 'Yes, but we couldn't cross-examine you, since you were in there with your brother. As I was saying…we had to explore all possibilities. So—we were going to send a party out, when Plato bounded back in. He'd gone back to the car, and the ground was completely clean. Some stupid Jellicle must have wiped it out, or another human is involved, or we have invaders.'

'Oh,' was all that Tantomile could say for a few moments. 'So, not only do we not know if she was planning something, but we could have invaders. She isn't working for Macavity, or for a human tribe,' she explained, 'So this does present a problem. Is it possible it was just the wind?'

Munkustrap nodded reluctantly. In the years after the bomb had been dropped, the weather had seemed that bit more wild, that bit more fierce. 'I still don't trust her,' he said, in a low voice.

'Nobody does,' replied Tantomile. 'She's a horrible little liar. Except now that we've brought her in, we can't just let her go.'

'Thank you for the information,' said the grey tabby wearily, and stood up. 'I believe I am going to find Demeter. Feed the girl, and then leave her for the night—I'll change the guard.'

The queen watched as Munkustrap slunk away, shoulders drooping. She knew he thought he had made a mistake in questioning the girl, and she was inclined to agree.

O

As Mungojerrie ambled back to the den he shared with Rumpleteazer, after a boring day guarding the brig, Skimbleshanks stopped in his path.

'Jenny says you're to have the pick of the most recent parcel,' he said sternly. 'As are the rest of the guards. I'd say she's angling for some news, and so am I, but all I ask is that you don't take all the Scotch.'

Mungojerrie smiled lazily. 'Noted. If you let me take a bit of the Scotch, though,' he added, 'I might be able to tell you a bit.'

Consequently, the two were later found by the old oven, sharing whisky, and Mungojerrie with a bundle of food to take back.

'So Tantomile came back, and Coricopat came runnin' out, gabbled something about a can of veg that none of us wanted and so the girl could have it (I think she scares him, personally), and Tantomile had to warn us that she was gonna use one room as a toilet, and that we were discharged f'r the night, and then Coricopat came back dead slow, with this really broken can of vegetables that Quaxo'd opened—let me tell you, it was a dangerous thing, metal edges whippin' this way an' that—he's obviously heard some rumours, I'm thinking, and then Tantomile told us all to bog off because we were all tryin' to listen to what that girl was saying.'

'Which was…?' prompted Skimbleshanks, thankful that Mungojerrie became very talkative after the smallest bit of alcohol.

'Oh, only that she was whinin' about wanting to go home and that she wouldn't eat whatever can of stuff it was, and that she wanted to know if they'd bashed it open on a rock, and that she wanted to see Napoleon.'

Skimbleshanks snorted. 'Napoleon? A what?'

Mungojerrie grinned. 'We both know humans are weird when they name their things. Probably a teddy bear or something.'

Still chuckling madly at the odd ways humans acted, Skimbleshanks waved Mungojerrie away, and took up his guard post.

O

The reason I'm updating so much is out of the terror of school starting on Tuesday. Then, perhaps, the updates will be more spaced out, say, a week?

Anyway. I'm really worried about how this story will turn out, so I'd appreciate reviews to tell me what you think.