Demeter, not Macavity...Demeter, not Macavity...
Munkustrap chanted to himself as he and his army ran, silhouetted first against the dropping moon then the early sun.
"I'm going for Demeter, not to settle old scores," he continued his self assurances, denying the tightening of his muscles and racing in his blood that had always preceded a fight.
Rumpuscat caught up with his oldest friend and turned his head sideways in a knowing grin. "So are you going to rip him bald like the last time?"
Munk's whiskers pulled back, all the better to see the sneer that curled his mouth. "I'm going to find Demeter, not fight Macavity."
"Right," said his knowing friend with a snicker, winking one of his fireball eyes. "Demeter, not Macavity."
They continued their silent sprint, both of their minds wandering to the days when there were three of them...
He shivered in the doorway, seeking scant shelter from the downpour until someone would kick him away from his refuge. His stomach groaned with hunger and he ached from the fight with that wild striped cat the night before. The street and sky were as grey as his fur and his eyes that could see nothing in the future but more of the miserable same.
Even through the hazy rain, he detected a familiar smell, that of an opponent. Munkustrap stood, stretching his legs to long rigidity and arched his back.
Across the wet street he saw the cats walking under the canopies, comparably dry- the striped one that he'd fought, a muscled young black cat and between them and slightly in front, a lean brindle. Munkustrap frowned as he saw the striped ginger lift a paw in his direction. Would he have to fight all three now? He hissed as they approached and arched higher so that he seemed to come to a point, like a bristly isosceles.
"Now, now, young tom, no need for that," said the center cat with gruff Highlands inflections. "We only want to talk to ya."
The grey banded cat slowly eased his stance, though his eyes continued to dart between the three, anticipating any false move. His muscles tensed again and his hair stood on end when the brindle shook himself and yowled.
"Don't like bein' wet. Come back here with us," he directed, jumping onto a ledge over the doorway in which Munkustrap sat and from there, over a walk to the alley on the other side. His lieutenants followed suit and Munkustrap, chastising himself for not thinking of such a maneuver, brought up the rear, alighting on surprisingly dry ground. He saw that his contemporaries were eating and the brindle lay a slab of old meat from a nearby garbage pile before him as well.
Munkustrap dug in eagerly, as the older cat talked.
"My name's Griddlebones. These are my boys, Macavity and Rumpuscat. Mac tells me that you and he got into a bit of a tussle. From the looks of ya both, ya came out the better."
Still gnawing, Munkustrap sidled his eyes to Macavity, sporting a chunk of exposed skin in his right flank from a good bite. He grinned in satisfaction over his venison.
The brindle chuckled. "Ain't many could best either of m'boys, but one who can should join us."
Munkustrap looked up into Griddlebones' grinning face. "We eat better'n any animals in th' street. You'll be warm and protected, never have ta spend another night shiverin' in a doorway."
The younger cat glanced over and caught the scowl of Macavity and wink of Rumpuscat. "What will I have to do?" he asked.
Griddlebones, still smiling, nudged them affectionately. "These are the two best young thieves in London. They'll teach ya and ye'll protect each other."
Munkustrap heard the low, resentful growl of Macavity and hissed in response.
The mentor laughed again. "Come come, you two. No more o' that. You're all goin' ta be th' best o' friends."
...Demeter, not Macavity, Demeter...
"But I beat him fair and square," Munkustrap snarled, pacing in front of Griddlebones. "I earned the right to lead and I said no to using the big dogs."
The thieves were in an attic of a recently burned house. Rumpuscat could smell the smoke and charred wood all around them, taking in the scene from a neutral position in the grimy garret window. The faint light revealed Mac's blackened eye and smirk, as he stood just slightly behind Bones.
The older cat, now heavier with fur around his maw turning white, swiped the side of his face with his paw in a dismissive gesture. "Aye, ya beat 'im. But he's right. If we don't use th' dogs ta help us, somebody else will."
"It's wrong," Munk said, still pacing in a tight circle in the small space, like a tense, silver coil on the verge of springing.
Scat's eyes came together in a frown, as Mac stepped in front of Bones.
"It's smart. It's the kind of choice that you're too weak to make, Munk. So learn to live with it."
Munkustrap stopped his circuit and glared at his adversarial ally. He shook his head vehemently. "No, I won't be a part of it. They'll hurt, even kill cats. And if you're willing to give Mac what he wants on that, Bones," he said, looking over the striped cat to their mentor, "what's next?"
Scat felt the disappointment prick along his body, like the nips of fleas, as the once powerful Griddlebones sat silent, licking his paws. Munkustrap shook his head again then walked toward the ladder to climb out of the attic.
"Munk," rasped Macavity, stalking toward his best friend, "if you leave, you're dead to us. And if I see you again—"
"—Don't worry," sneered Munk, "you won't."
He leapt to the ground floor then ran out of the city and to the country, determined never to return.
...Demeter, not Macavity...
Rumpuscat left soon after, visiting Munk at the vicarage once a year, but otherwise living a humdrum routine with an old man in a basement flat, missing the excitement and camaraderie of his youth. He ran next to Munkustrap, keeping up his own chant:
Macavity...Macavity..