Few things could tear a mother away from the search for her offspring, and an incoming storm was one of them. By the time Mama slipped through the gate, the waters had risen, the shadows had begun to pass, and the cats were soaked and miserable. And she was alone. It seemed as though her clan had taken a liking to sit in front of a blazing little fire; and in the firelight, it was impossible to miss the worry on their faces. She stopped in the shroud of warmth and observed them carefully. It was not grief she was witnessing. They were not terribly upset that Fan had run away, Sheegwa had absconded once again, and Song had been taken away. Something else was bothering them. Something...new. And she asked what it was, stretching her tired limbs as her son gave an empathetic response.
"Looks like the girls are getting sick."
"Ah," Lik-Lik scoffed. "Nothin' to lose your tail over. Happens all the time."
Baba stood up, assertively meeting his mate's eyes. "Shao-Fun," he announced, "I think there are some things that may need to be reassessed."
"We'll reassess nothing. I'm not going anywhere until the family is back together!"
"Who knows when that will be? How much strength we have left?"
"Strength is a choice. Ensuring your family's welfare is not."
"My father is your family, too. Are you taking his welfare into account?"
"What I'm taking into account is that Yao-Lin can speak for himself. Don't we want the same things?" Mama pressed.
"Of course."
"This is where she expects to find us. You will certainly not tax yourself waiting," she added under her breath.
Comforting the worried Ying-Hua, Hun-Hun raised her eyes to the wall, expecting to see Wu-Ming standing sentinel. But it was abandoned. Her paw slowly returned to the ground and she looked at her mate. "Uh, where's Wu-Ming?"
"I don't know. He was there a minute ago."
His statement was unnecessary; memory was one of her few possessions. She nodded in acknowledgment and tried not to worry, but it couldn't be helped. Wu-Ming was always up on that wall, only leaving to help the inexperienced light a fire and extinguish it. He still wouldn't talk, but at least she could keep an eye on him. Now she didn't know where he was or what he was doing. Or who he was doing it to. Wishing her tracking skills were better, and that she wasn't slowed down from recurring bouts of nausea, Hun-Hun tried to smile through the fear Wu-Ming so easily struck in her, even when he was gone.
Sagwa looked at Jet-Jet. "You don't think their arguing scared him away, do you?"
His tone was remorseful. "I think he finds it entertaining."
Such an observation made Hun-Hun wonder obsessively what could possibly draw him out of his own little world...
Wu-Ming lifted his face to the stormy night skies and scented the air again, and was compelled to turn into the east.
Few felines knew her scent.
The rain was falling into his eyes, and Wu-Ming ducked his head as he trotted forth into darkness. He was still learning these grounds, and found himself narrowly avoiding protruding roots. With his head down, even through the curtain of rain that beaded his lashes, it was impossible to miss the trail of dainty paw prints that suddenly skirted out from behind a bush. They were already being consumed by puddles, but her scent came to him like a beacon for the blind. She was close, and more importantly, she was idle.
"Sheegwa?" he yelled, and his deep voice was punctuated by a growl of thunder. But perhaps she was not close enough to hear him. He realized Fan's hearing was better than hers a long time ago.
Lightning flashed, illuminating a tumbledown old building on a foundation that was nearly hidden by weeds. The walls and roof were pathetic, and the door was falling off. In the heart of nightfall, his eyes glimpsed a pale body, lurking inside. The spectral cat flickered in the dark and four blue eyes glowed back at him. Inadvertently baring his fangs in frustration, Wu-Ming covered his right eye, and the sight of his friend quickly cleared. But she wasn't rushing to greet him, as she normally would. A dark cat on a dark night may have been hard to discern; however she knew all too well the issues he had ever since... Well, she would know who it was when one of his eyes stopped glowing.
She always came to greet him. He was anxious as he followed her scent like the northern star. Of course it was her, it had to be. And the reason she wasn't moving had to be...
The familiar smell of injury came to him before her voice did.
"I was hoping you'd stay."
He hesitantly lowered his eyes to her wound. It was bad, but she stood on all fours, head raised and eyes hard.
"What happened to you?"
"You know we don't talk about that."
As lightning flashed again, Wu-Ming raised his failing eyes to the roof. It was as much an instinct as stalking prey. The flash of brightness illuminated the cobwebs that seemed to be holding the roof in place. Rain fell clear into the ruins, building up inside the dents in the soggy floor. The smell of blood and the stench of mold was enough to turn his stomach.
"What is this place?"
Her sigh was loud in the emptiness. "Forgotten," she answered vaguely, and watched him move further inside. "I guess that's what usually happens, though, isn't it?"
"Not always," he grumped. "I remember before..."
She nodded, her face softening even as a breathtaking pain shot through her side. "Yeah, I remember, too."
Wu-Ming moved closer, feeling an unaccustomed rush of concern as his friend gritted her teeth, back legs bowing until she was in a near sitting position. He spoke as she breathed through the pain. "It's okay. I can―I can help you."
"You can. But you won't."
He stopped, squinting into her unattainable eyes. "Don't you trust me?"
"I'm never trusting anyone again."
Her words helped him see the picture in the puzzle. Putting two and two together, he stared into her eyes and forced himself to ask a very difficult question. "It was Siao-Po, wasn't it?"
She neither confirmed nor denied it, only giving him a stony gaze. "Go home, Wu-Ming."
"'Kay. If that's how you feel, fine," he growled. "If I can't take care of you, then...fine, I'll go take care of him."
"No, don't. Don't hurt him."
"I have no intention of hurting him," he growled.
"You mean you're going to―" Her frantic voice died off and she stared at him.
"He's not my friend. You are. Couldn't give a pile of rats what happens to him. And you, you are in no condition to stop me."
She relented with a sigh, angling her wound into the moonlight. "What do you suggest?"
"Well, if you can barely stand, I'm not taking you out for a midnight stroll." He examined the wound, repositioning her with a surprisingly gentle paw. "He didn't do this with his claws," he deduced, and she shook her head.
"No, he... Uh, pushed me off a cliff." Her voice ended on a nervous upward inflection and she searched his eyes imploringly. "You can't kill him," she finally whispered.
"Why?"
The uncomfortable silence was only broken by a low growl of thunder. Sheegwa took a slow breath to center herself, grimacing at the pain. "He is the father to my boy."
"Sheegwa." He chuckled then, and its humorless sound chilled her more than the bitter air. "That's not good enough."
"I'm not that important," she whispered, and hastened to continue over his impending objection, "And what he did to me...I had it coming."
"How? How could you possibly deserve being pushed off a cliff? What could you have possibly done?"
"I..." Her voice was sharp, and it was only the pain that could level her head. She took a few shallow breaths, and spoke quietly and concisely. "I didn't want to look for Fan anymore."
He stared at her, silently goading her to continue.
She shook her head at him. "I know how it sounds. But maybe he's like his father; maybe he doesn't love me, and..." She paused and sighed, looking out into the dark that seeped into the crumbling edifice. "Well, I want to start over," she admitted. "Both my children have what they want. Now I just want to...forget."
"Forget they exist?"
"I know how it sounds," she repeated brokenly, "But I just feel like it's all been a mistake. My mistake. And I should have known; I..." Her voice died off as her eyes locked onto an animalistic shadow lurking by the door. "Did you come here alone?"
"Yeah."
"Then who's that?"
Wu-Ming turned and startled at the nasty creature. It was almost as big as they were; yet he lunged at it, swiping with a ferocious paw. Then, as the creature lunged into the shadows, Wu-Ming took off in pursuit like a shot in the dark. "Wu-Ming!" Sheegwa screamed, but her only answer was a flicker of lightning. Trying not to breathe so deeply that it hurt, she lay on the wet floor and tried to stop herself from trembling.
Wu-Ming returned unharmed, carrying his victim in his mouth. He dragged his haul into the rundown old building and dropped it onto the floor with a loud thump. "It's just a rat."
"What?"
"A rat. Dinner for twelve for two."
She wouldn't respond. He walked closer, alarmed to hear how ragged her breathing was. She looked up at him. "I was starting to think you were never here."
"I'm here."
"Will you leave again?"
"Yeah, and I'll be taking you with me."
She smiled humorlessly. "No," she whispered.
"Yes," he tried to argue.
"You know I'm in no condition; you said that." She pitifully raised herself into a partial sitting position. "You need to promise me you won't kill him. Song is going to need one parent."
"She'll have both of 'em."
"Promise me," Sheegwa growled.
He looked at her, trying to quell multiple instincts at war with one another. And she stared at him, chilled by his silence.
"His life doesn't mean anything if you die," Wu-Ming finally said. "One promise for another."
He narrowed his eyes, watching intently as she worked to slowly sit up straight.
