The setting sun cast shadows on the junkyard, a dusky gleam bouncing off the TSE-1 and the last rays of the sun's heat warming the Heaviside tire just enough to knock off the cold, rubbery edge. Just days before, this place had been the site of an epic spectacle of singing and dancing, celebration and jubilation - but today, all was quiet and peaceful. At least, the central clearing of the junkyard was quiet and peaceful; inevitably, Pouncival and Tumblebrutus were off somewhere pulling a prank on some unsuspecting creature, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were playing that game where they took turns pulling junk out of a pile until the pile fell on one of them (or both), and Tugger's fan club was following him around squealing like banshees at his mere existence. But it was quiet in the clearing.

The Ball would not have been complete without a visit from Macavity, and this time, although he'd lost the battle, of course, he'd managed to wound Munkustrap pretty badly - nothing life-threatening, of course, but bad enough. And as the wounded Protector made his den in a broken sideboard just off the clearing, the entire tribe had strict orders to keep noise and ruckus in the area to an absolute minimum, so that their Protector might heal a bit faster - and, as he was beloved by everyone (and because they threatened to incur the wrath of Jennyanydots if they disturbed his recuperating), the order was followed diligently. Noise was kept to other, more distant parts of the junkyard, and tranquility reigned in the clearing.

Munkustrap hated to admit it, but the quiet, the being able to rest in serenity and solitude - it was nice. He'd never been good at taking time for himself, especially not since assuming the role of Protector, and although he hated it that he wasn't out standing guard as outlined by his duty, he was glad for the temporary change of things. Not that he was glad for the reasons things were like they were: Macavity's arrival had frightened everyone, and his fighting had been relentless - so relentless that, looking back on it, Munkustrap was almost impressed. But the Hidden Paw's long, unkempt claws had left countless scrapes and cuts on his frame, and frequent blows had left him bruised from shoulder to tailbone - he had been whiplashed to the ground, too, and his neck and head still throbbed if he turned the wrong way. Lying in his den, on the old cushion he used as a bed, even the stoic Protector couldn't deny that he'd seen - and felt - better days. And though he wasn't worried - he knew it would be gone in a few days and everything would go back to normal - he had to admit, it hurt like Heaviside while it lasted.

"Munkus? You in here?"

His ears perked up at the sound of somebody calling his name; he started to turn over and face the entrance of his den to see who it was, but his stiff neck wouldn't allow it. He winced. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Alonzo."

That was a surprise. "What are you doing out? Your shoulder..."

"Yeah, it still hurts," Alonzo readily admitted, "but Jenny told me a walk might help."

"Well? Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's not quite as stiff now." Munkustrap shifted uncomfortably, his own stiff neck panging. "Guess you won't be going for walks soon, eh, Munkus?"

"I doubt it." On any normal day, he would have been delighted to be afforded the chance to take a walk, and probably would have pushed through the pain just to get outside for a few minutes. But not today.

"Bast, I'm sorry. Has Jenny been over yet?"

"No. Not yet, today." To be honest, he was almost looking forward to Jenny coming to check on him later that evening with her salves for his achy muscles and cold rags for his sore head and stiff neck. "I suspect she'll be by in a few hours."

"Well, here, I've brought you something to eat. Wouldn't want Jenny to think you're hungry when she comes."

Alonzo entered the sideboard and hopped up onto the end of the cushion, dropping a dead mouse a few inches away from where Munkustrap lay resting, not too close, but close enough that he could identify it by its smell. "Thanks, Alonzo."

"No problem." Alonzo sighed, stifling a small laugh. "It's from your brother, actually. He told me to give it to you."

Munkustrap blinked, stunned. "Tugger?"

"He's the only brother you've got around here, isn't he?"

"Well yes, but…" he trailed off, trying to put it all together. "Tugger caught a mouse?"

"Well, my bet's that he saw it, and then he told Misto to catch it," Alonzo admitted. "But I doubt it was one of those pranks he's always trying to pull on him, not this time." He nudged the mouse a bit closer to Munkustrap. "I think he's starting to warm up to that magical cat a bit."

"He better be," Munkustrap chuckled, "considering what he did the other night. I don't think anybody will be picking on Misto anymore, not even my brother." His battered forelimbs trembling, he tried to push himself into an upright position to turn and face his guest, but Everlasting Cat, the bruises were too deep and too sore to support any weight; he hissed quietly, choking back an anguished yelp.

"Lie back down, Munkus," Alonzo interjected quickly. "Jenny'll skin us both alive if she thinks you're exerting yourself too much." He picked up the mouse in his jaws. "I'll take care of this for you. Just a minute."

As Munkustrap lied back down and tried to reassume a comfortable position, Alonzo jumped off the cushion and went outside, cleaning the mouse and removing all the parts a cat generally didn't eat (Tugger should've done this himself, he thought, if he was so eager to help his ailing brother.) Once he was finished, he picked it up again and took it back inside the sideboard, dropping it just a few inches from the Protector's nose so he wouldn't have to move far to eat it.

"There. That's better," he announced, satisfied with his handiwork. "You'd better eat up, now, lest Jenny should go into a panic."

"I will, I will," Munkustrap chuckled. Nothing would send his surrogate mother into a frenzy faster than the thought of her little tom-kit not getting enough to eat. "Thanks, Alonzo."

"No problem." He started to head out, to offer Munkustrap some solitude while he ate his supper.

"Oh, and Alonzo?" The splotched tabby stopped in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Thank Tugger, too."

Alonzo laughed. "You want me to thank your brother?"

"Why not? He tries to be helpful, at least."

"Sure, sure." Alonzo shook his head, wondering how he would be approaching Tugger for that conversation. "I'll see you later, Munkus. Hope you feel better soon."

Alonzo headed off, nudging the sideboard door closed. And in the dark, peaceful solitude of his den, Munkustrap had a good, well-deserved laugh at the thought of how Jenny would react when she heard that her little rebel child was feeling sorry for his big brother. And that made him feel a little better.