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THE TRANSLATION WAS DONE BY THE EXCELLENT : Randomness Unlimited.

This one took some time to come out, but my translator was busy these past months. I hope you'll understand, guys. Anyways, bonne lecture, and thank you for the reviews on the translated version, it's very encouraging for both of us (me and my translator) !

Kaeloo tossed and turned in her bed.

She had turned in every way possible, tried all sorts of strange positions, taken deep breaths, and counted imaginary sheep which danced above her head, but none of these activities seemed to seduce the Sandman. She had to sleep. She had no choice, it was an incontestable order which her brain had been passing through her neurons all night - however, the latters seemed to turn a deaf ear, taken by an inexhaustible dynamism which her body was involuntarily forced to respond to. She had tried to rid herself of her abusive anxiety by reminding herself of who she was, what she had to do, the responsibilities that she had to take on every day with Olympic-style energy, and the disasters that could ensue if she even made one little mistake, but even this wasn't alarming enough for her mind, which was drowning in elusive reveries.

She groaned. Good grief, she never would have dramatized her insomnia if her friends had been reasonable people who could live without constant surveillance - but they weren't. In this place where she was the leader, there was a squirrel with no sense of reality who wouldn't hesitate to throw himself off a cliff if you told him his girlfriend was standing at the bottom, a slightly psychopathic cat who tortured and manipulated others for his own personal gains with no sense of remorse, and a duck who was rather calm, but also a substance abuser who could be drived into an almost murderous rage if anyone dared to come near his yogurt. If the frog turned her back on these three, especially the former two, for even a few minutes, there would be absolute chaos.

The minutes passed and she abandoned her despair against the ambient warmth of the room which seemed to have trapped itself in her sheets, and a sigh of resignation escaped her lips. Her svelte legs were spread out to form a V, with each one on one side of the bed, and her arms spread out too, as though she was looking for another warm body to snuggle with, even though there was nobody else in her blurry line of sight. Her fever had subsided a little since the previous day, but it was still there, and it had considerably weakened her body. Well, it seemed that the Sandman was unreachable at the moment - and probably for the rest of the night. It would be futile to insist on calling him, wouldn't it? Kaeloo decided to go for a swim in the sea of thoughts that were flowing through her head at the moment –maybe she would drown for good.

And thus, she began to imagine a Smileyland populated by ideal versions of her friends: a Stumpy who was smart enough to distinguish what was real and what wasn't, what was true and what was false, and what was acceptable and what wasn't; a Mr. Cat who used his maturity to help in the upbringing of the others (like a "second guardian" to them, with Kaeloo being the first), and used his weapons for peacemaking purposes; a Quack Quack who disliked yogurt and had a variated diet. That was the only thing Kaeloo wanted Quack Quack to change, because his present self would have already been the ideal duck, if it wasn't for his addiction. This ideal group of friends would spend their days happily playing games while obeying all the rules, without a squirrel who was crazy enough to kill them, a machiavellian cat to bully them, a duck who ended up bearing the brunt of their abuse, and a frog who punished them.

But strangely, this vision of the ideal group of friends, as adorable as it was, seemed incomplete. She had been able to imagine what they would do - spend hours together playing games and having as much fun as possible (or at least, that's what she thought they'd do), but when it came to the details, like the conversations they'd have with each other or the moments they'd share, Kaeloo didn't know what to think of. In fact, she simply could not conceive an image other than what she'd always known: Kaeloo, interfering in whatever her friends were doing to suggest a game. Stumpy complaining about the game because he didn't understand the rules, or found them unfair. Mr. Cat making disagreeable remarks about the toad. Quack Quack eating tons of yogurt. Her brain enforced this scene on her like adults enforced rules on kids who couldn't think of anything other than what they were being told to. If she had the chance to change her friends, would she do it? Who knew, maybe she'd remove a few of their bad traits - but even that would ruin the ensemble of their personalities. On one hand, it was undeniable that she wanted them to stay the way they were, even if they were far from perfect, but on the other hand -

Her line of thought was suddenly cut short as an unsustainable pain shot through the back of her skull, like a wave passing through a calm sea. She put her hands on her head and clumsily massaged her forehead, whimpering in pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face was compressed in a painful expression. Her legs relaxed instinctively, so much that she couldn't even feel them anymore, as though she'd been given an anesthetic. This exquisite sensation only lasted for a few seconds. She exhaled deeply, letting all the air out of her lungs, and stared lazily at the ceiling of her room. It was dark and shadowy and she couldn't even tell what color it was. Her eyes repeatedly blinked, trying to erase the blurry little black dots which appeared in her field of vision, but this involuntary movement only amplified her hallucinations. Her fever brought her to order, telling her to stop thinking about such baffling problems when all she needed was a little rest. An impassable step was separating her from sleep, but she couldn't find the right place to put her foot, so she was stuck in the middle of the path, between overwhelming fatigue and the inability to sleep. So she closed her eyes in a last-ditch effort. Maybe the sandman would take pity on her.

...

"AAAAH!" Kaeloo forcefully opened her eyes and opened her mouth, in a stillborn cry. The rhythm of her heartbeat started to accelerate, first gently, then dangerously fast, and a sudden but strong discomfort forced her off of her pillow. Her head buzzed violently, and her body heated up, causing her sheets to stick to her legs. An inexplicable depression started to come over her, as though the ceiling would come crashing down on her head at any moment, so she pushed her hands down on the bed to support herself. She turned her head and noticed a puddle of sweat which had formed under her, soaking the pillow and the mattress.

Why am I sweating so much? What's going on?!

She did't understand why she felt this way - and her incomprehension accrued these many mysterious and disagreeable emotions. She was certainly feverish, but she was much better than yesterday for this to be a simple passing hallucination! Her panicked heart, tense muscles and moist skin plunged her deeper than ever into the world of sensations. She tried respiratory exercises, murmuring calming orders. She hadn't had any nightmares - she hadn't even slept, she had just closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. She had passed out, but her senses had remained alert enough to signal even the quietest sound to her. So what was causing her such physical distress? Maybe the fever had overheated her body who was trying to cool itself down? Improbable. The apprehension and the stress that planted their fangs in her skin a little more forcefully every minute showed her a threat that was only too real, too serious, to be of natural origin.

What is happening to me?! For a second, a suggestion that was just as ridiculous as it was scary popped up in her mind: what if she was living her last moments? Perhaps her body was trying to hold on to a life that was slipping between her fingers, while her mind was imploring her to scream and ask for help! Kaeloo froze. No. Don't think like that. It's irrational! Nobody dies because of a slight fever! She had taken her temperature, and there was nothing alarming about it. On the contrary, her body was slowly but surely regaining its cool - though her mind was doing the exact opposite. So she wasn't dying, right?

It was night time and the room was calm and silent; nothing could bother her more than this nocturnal quietness. Her senses continued to signal her an irritating silence, as though it was foreshadowing some horrible event. Something horrible was going to -

...

A deafening noise, violent and powerful, as if the earth had just collapsed, or the gates of hell had opened, shook the ground. Kaeloo instinctively let out a cry of pure terror, and her back arched sharply. What is - Her head and ears started ringing atrociously. They clearly weren't taking the sudden noise very well. The ground started shaking beneath her feet. At first it was gentle, but it became more intense with every passing second, as though her house was merely standing on a base. She screamed again and jumped out of bed, enduring a brief vertige, while orders and questions bustled in her head.

What just happened? Was that an explosion?!

Her head turned mechanically towards the window. She saw thick black smoke over the horizon, confirming her worst fears.

It was an explosion.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she broke out into a cold sweat. As soon as she realized this, Kaeloo put all her trust in the most primary animalistic nature: her survival instinct. Her conscience, her rationality, and anything else that had to do with rationality deserted her, giving place to the one thing her body needed most: adrenaline.

– An explosion?!

To her body, this confirmation was like firing a starter's gun. Blood pulsed through her veins, faster than ever before, and then the adrenaline finally kicked in, bringing her numb legs back to their former vivacity. She leaped out of bed again, but fell down since the ground was still shaking, threatening to bring down the house. Things were happening quickly, and Kaeloo was too scared to think about her material possessions She crawled to the room's door with an incredible dexterity. In just a few seconds, the suffering, dejected girl had become a good enough runner to run in the Olympics. She continued her long escapade out of the house, holding onto the walls and furniture for support, breathing pure adrenaline, swallowing her tears and her fear. She'd have time to ask questions once she was outside the building, safe and sound. The ceiling, the ground and the walls around the trembling frog were all swaying like the pendulum of a clock. It was like an earthquake.

Kaeloo's front door had never seemed as great to her as it did when it appeared at the end of a hallway she no longer recognized as hers. "Finally!" she said, unable to stop herself, as she reached up and turned the knob. She had finally managed to exit the building.

And when she lifted her gaze to the outside world, reality hit her really hard in two different ways.

The first blow was physical. Her body, having used all her energy in her escape, fell to the ground, giving her an amount of pain equivalent to the amount of bravery she had shown during those few minutes. Her legs trembled more than ever, the knots in her belly had united, forming a black hole of anxiety that was slowly waving and slowly engulfing her stomach, and her head felt like a drum which was being played by an angry musician, resulting from vertigo and a strong apprehension. Her heart alternated between beating violently fast and really slow, and her breathing was fairly irregular as well. She scarcely remembered what had brought her here on the lawn of her garden. The real earthquake was not the one shaking her house, but the one in her head.

This isn't the time to waver! You have to see what's happening!

Kaeloo was crouched on the ground with her back slouching and her head engulfed by flowers. She looked as if she was dying. But she wasn't. In spite of her complexion, which was not ready to regain its usual color any time soon, and the fire that consumed her throat, she tried to regain her courage. The seconds passed. She looked up.

And the shock of the second blow made her forget all about the first one.

The sky. The sky, formerly a dark blue, perforated by the shine of the stars and the light of the moon, had totally disappeared... it had become pitch black. There were no more immaculate clouds or luminous celestial bodies. In their place was a majestic black mass that gradually ascended to the heavens in the form of thick black waves. There was no doubt about it: a grave disaster - a very grave one, one of the gravest ones possible - had taken place.

And so, considering the disappearance of the clouds and the reign of this darkness, the image in Kaeloo's head didn't become clearer, but more hazy and darker. Guided by a second instinct, if it wasn't a presentiment, she lifted herself up as much as she could, bearing the weight of her body like a burden, and staggered to the source of the smoke, her eyes wide, incredulous. The closer she got, the more overwhelming the heat got, pushing her to gasp for air. The grass beneath her feet, formerly green, had turned a twilight color, reflecting something that stood out in the distance. Her heart beat a little harder with each step, while terrifying questions popped up in her head.

Who did that? Where was the explosion? Is somebody hurt?!

However, when she suddenly saw this spectacle she could not have imagined in her worst nightmares, she knew she had found the answer.

Flames.

Majestic flames, as high as a five-story building, overhung the rubble of what used to be... some sort of building. The frog's eyes widened. A couch was lying on the destroyed lawn, a few meters away from the fire. The couch used to be red, but it had been burned so badly that half of it was now black, thanks to the carbon. Next to the couch was a checkered tablecloth which had almost completely been consumed by flames. A bit further away lay the pieces of what used to be either a wardrobe or a bookshelf - either way, it had been reduced to little pieces of firewood, feeding the fire which had destroyed it.

An oh-so-terrible impression of deja vu appeared in Kaeloo's head. She stared at those three pieces of furniture with wide eyes, as if they had the answers to all her questions. And she was right. The origin of the terror which had awakened her with a bang, gotten her all the way here and frazzled her organs, was here, a few steps away from her. Other furniture, which had been rendered unrecognizable by the heat, was scattered randomly. Each of them was strewn all over the charred lawn, certainly swept away by the intensity of the explosion. So it was useless to mention all the vegetation and rocks which used to be the ceiling of what appeared to be an old underground tunne: they were the first to deplore.

It clicked on its own in her head. The image of a familiar living room, with a dilapidated couch covered with a checkered tablecloth, a big bookshelf full of books and an open kitchen with a table with a red table cloth on it...

Kaeloo felt her legs give way. The world spun around her, or maybe it was just her head.

There was only one house near hers. There was only one house with a big bookshelf and a big couch with a checkered cloth on it. There was only one underground building in Smileyland.

And it was a cat flap. Mr. Cat's cat flap.

– MISTER CAT!

That was the first time she screamed the cat's name with an emotion other than anger.

The first, and maybe the last

She may have been impacted strongly by the explosion, but Kaeloo still made a futile effort to stabilize her legs, which had been reduced to a wobbly mass, showing her helplessness.

"MISTER CAT!" she screamed again in a broken voice, her legs giving way. She took a few rapid, erratic breaths of polluted air and coughed them out. Maybe this helplessness was because of shock. She was having a panic attack for the first time in her life, at the worst possible moment. A fever, an emergency, what was next on this long list of misfortunes?! She repeated the process several times, while her eyes flooded with tears. The poisonous air which surrounded her invaded her lungs accentuated her pitiful state.

But she certainly wasn't just going to just sit there without doing anything when her friend obviously needed help. She wouldn't let this darn fever force her to abandon her responsibilities!

Her legs were betraying her? Alright! She flattened her belly on the ground and began to crawl like a tadpole towards the flames, not caring that the burning shreds spread by the flames were in contact with her bare skin. She couldn't walk? Okay, she'd crawl. She couldn't crawl either? She'd just keep screaming until someone heard her.

"MISTER CAT!" Her quiet voice seemed to crush all hopes that someone would hear her. And yet, she persisted and didn't give up, although her blurred vision openly showed her weakness.

She would do everything she could, no matter what the cost was, to reach Mr. Cat somehow, or at least make him aware of her presence. She wanted to tell him that she was there, by his side, wanting to join him and help him, but she was unable to. She didn't want to be an unworthy guardian who couldn't protect her friends. She didn't want to be a bad friend who only thought of herself, especially during a disastrous situation like this. She wanted to prove herself to her loved ones, especially Mr. Cat, who she had bitterly disappointed earlier. He had to still be alive.

A horrible bile, invisible but very palpable, settled in her throat at the mere thought of something like that.

No, Mr. Cat couldn't die. He shouldn't. He was the strongest and most resistant of all her friends! Sure, he'd be messed up, but he'd get out of this alive, wouldn't he?

Kaeloo started praying that cats really did have nine lives, even though it sounded stupid. Her prayer took on more meaning in her eyes when she heard the roar of the flames, as they shredded the furniture with their heat, preventing anyone from approaching. The crackling and the smell were horrible to endure, the atmosphere was becoming oppressive, and the heat was escalating the unbearable anxiety Kaeloo felt. She didn't know who to think of anymore. Mr. Cat? Herself? Her other friends?

She was terribly lost and in a lot of pain, both physically and mentally. Her head throbbed, and the body heat that allowed her muscles to move was leaving her little by little, because of her debilitating physical state. Also, she was pretty sure she'd broken all records in terms of anxiety levels. The little energy she had left was being consumed in lamentations. She wanted to help, but she could not. She had to intervene, but she could not.

And there is no feeling worse than wanting to do something but being unable to, because it gives birth to guilt.

Finally, God, as unfair and non-existent as he seemed in these moments, sent her a distinctive voice that she recognized very well:

– Quack !

She turned her head to see Quack Quack standing behind her, looking anguished and worried for her. He had some scratches here and there, but only superficial ones. He must have seen the flames from his bedroom. And in this horrifying situation, the duck seemed to her like a ray of light in a dark room, or a guardian angel. "O-..Oh, Quack-...Quack..." She saw him step forward valiantly to take her in his arms and get her as far as possible from the accident, and she felt safe in his arms, as would a child who, having become a prisoner of her nightmares, had clung to her mother for warmth and safety. But the roles were reversed here. Quack Quack was the parental figure, and Kaeloo was the traumatized child. Mr. Cat.

– QUACK...

– Quack Quack ! Mister - CAT! she said between coughs. The carbon dioxide in the air was filling her lungs.

– Quack!

The gratitude and relief Kaeloo felt after hearing that "Quack", and the tears in her eyes which were now flowing freely, convinced her that Quack Quack would find the cat. The duck gently laid her on a big boulder about 50 meters from the fire. He gave her a first-aid kit and an apologetic look, suggesting that she would have to take care of herself, since he had to go save Mr. Cat and nobody knew where Stumpy was. He took off into the disaster zone. It was with momentary relief that she breathed a breath of air much cooler than the previous ones, albeit without feeling the benefits on her body. Her anxiety, again, blocked any proper access to her lungs.

She didn't have to worry about Quack Quack. If Mr. Cat had taught her anything useful about Quack Quack, it was the fact that the latter was completely indestructible and nothing could kill him, even fire. Sure, he'd have a few burn marks, but they'd only be superficial ones.

Mr. Cat, on the other hand... she winced. It was back again, that darn feeling of uselessness and fear. She could feel it in her heart, and in her stomach. She hated those two feelings - because to her, wanting to help someone but being unable to felt more like hypocrisy than incapacity. She lowered her head and bit her lip, trying to stop more tears from coming. The indignity of being their friend caused a lump to rise in her throat, which was growing like a tumor. She was not only the organizer of games and rules, but also the person responsible for establishing peace and happiness in this country. So why does she feel she has done this role in name only - that is, just telling people what to do and what not to do, and hitting others when they disobey her? Why did she feel like such a hypocrite, now that she could only sit in a corner and cry while her friend was getting hurt in a fire? Her body, through her inability to ignore a slight fever to save her best friend's life, seemed to physically transcribe her duplicity. In a more realistic, more painful way.

Mr. Cat was right after all. The words he had said had never made as much sense to her as they did now; now, she was getting a taste of her own medicine. She was nothing but a dirty hypocrite. She tried to portray herself as cute, cheerful and kind, but she only accomplished it halfway. She always found some excuse to escape from dangerous situations, even if it meant making her friends suffer all the consequences. To feel that she had monstrously failed in her duty, coupled with the horrible feeling that nothing would be the same as before after this accident , all because of her, made her violently shudder with guilt that flushed her feverish body. The only way to purge her of her sin was to bring back her friends. Safe and sound.

"Quack!"

The voice of her friend was like a wave that washed her panicking heart onto the shores of relief. She looked up, half-smiling, in the hope of finding her friends as she wished to see them again, safe and sound, and -

... And her happiness disappeared.

There were no adjectives to transcribe the emotions that assailed her so painfully and gradually, like a deadly venom spreading in her veins. What she saw was evidence of a fact: nothing would be the same anymore.

Ever since Bad Kaeloo had started beating Mr. Cat up, Kaeloo had seen the latter in a wide variety of different forms. He seemed very malleable; he had been compressed into a box, transformed into a book, reduced to a pile of ashes, squashed flat, or simply deformed a little (such as breaking an arm or leg). These grotesque, freaky forms were the fruit of Bad Kaeloo's barbarism, which showed itself whenever Mr. Cat was being annoying. However, whenever these things happened to Mr. Cat, he appeared to have the same regenerating powers as Quack Quack. Sure, he felt the consequences, but the very next day, he'd be completely healed and ready for more beatings. That was why Kaeloo, albeit somewhat upset by the pain she had caused him, never really hesitated to punish him for his little schemes. Lately, she'd even convinced herself that it was normal to hit him when he overstepped his bounds. And since the latter didn't seem to mind (in fact, he even seemed to enjoy it), they made these things their daily routine. He make her angry, she hits him, and they forget about it. That was pretty much the basis of their relationship.

But from the very moment she saw his body - no, the limp mass that was supposed to be his body - which Quack Quack held in his blackened arms as best as he could, her view changed. The first emotion which hit her wasn't worry, sadness or fear. It was remorse for the fact that, in one way or another, she had been responsible for damaging his body.

What could you possibly say? His orange fur was no longer visible, hiding by the dark carbon and the bloody wounds which stubbornly covered it. His eyes were closed in a calm, tranquil manner which was very worrying. His lips were frozen. And his skin... what skin? All that was left was a rigid surface, covered with deep injuries from which blood freely flowed out and dripped onto the ground, making repetitive, sickening sounds. But this fetid red and black concentrate was nothing compared to what she saw next. Quack Quack, seeing the tears in Kaeloo's wide eyes when she saw the cat's body, lowered his wet eyes to the ground. Oh, yes. He had noticed it too. He felt his heart skip a few beats, and breathing irregularly, he racked up the courage to look back up at Kaeloo. The frog had miraculously gotten up, as though the urgency of this situation had made her immune to the formerly immobilizing pain in her body. He watched her fearfully move her weakened legs in the direction of the cat. At the same time, both Kaeloo and Quack Quack felt their hearts shatter.

She looked over Mr. Cat's mutilated body with a pained expression, her eyes riveted to his lower back, and she finally stopped when she thought she'd had enough of looking at him. A second of silence. Then two. Then many more. A loud sob was heard, followed by feminine cries of pain.

Half of Mr. Cat's tail had disappeared, leaving only a bleeding stump.

– NOOO ! she sobbed. If she hadn't been sitting down already, she definitely would have collapsed. Quack Quack, whose eyes were starting to fill with tears, couldn't contain himself any longer after hearing his friend's heartbroken cry. He collapsed too, just like her, and he gently placed Mr. Cat's body on the ground. Unable to stand up after witnessing the abomination that she had just seen, Kaeloo crawled pitifully towards the feline's body. She placed her trembling hands on his cheeks, biting her lower lip so hard that it bled. Tears spilled out of her eyes, landing on the cat's sinisterly peaceful face. She was able to feel that his formerly soft fur had hardened, desecrated by the carbon.

– Mr. Cat... she murmured in a terribly sad, skeptical voice.

The mere mention of his name made her go into a crying fit. At her side, Quack Quack cried silently, still looking at the ground. He didn't even have the strength to go look for Stumpy anymore. At least, there was the good fact that the squirrel was probably having happy dreams, saving himself from this horrible, bloody spectacle. "That's actually a good thing," he tried to tell himself. Stumpy was the youngest, the most immature, and the most sensitive. He didn't need to be seeing this.

No child should be seeing things like this.

– No... not you...

Not him.

Not after everything they'd lived through. Not after that they'd said yesterday. Not after they'd just reconciled, no matter how small their reconciliation was. Not after all the effort they'd put into trying to integrate with each other. Not after the horrible past he'd lived through with his brothers and his father. Not after the pain she'd caused him. Not before he'd completely forgiven her. Not when she had just realized just how much he meant to her. How could life be so unfair to someone who had already suffered so many awful things at such a young age? Worse still, someone who had tried to let go of his past and move on in life?

"I..." Quack Quack half-opened his eyes to look at his friend, scrupulously holding onto the beginning of her sentence His eyes widened when he saw her skin. Formerly pale due to the fever, it was now gravitating towards a sickly yellow. Her face was traced with long red scratches. Her body danced to the rhythm of her perpetual sobbing.

"I'm..." she murmured between sobs.

Sorry? asked her conscience, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. You're only realizing that now? She would like to tell her conscience "Better late than never!" in a desperate attempt to persuade herself, but it wasn't "late". She was already on the brink of "never". An irreversible, eternal "never", which closed the door to making choices and opened the door to consequences.

"If only..."

And while she was on the verge of continuing her laments and apologies, her thoughts suddenly brought back a memory that had almost nothing to do with the urgency of the situation. A memory from earlier was replaying itself over and over in her mind, until she collapsed on the ground.

It's always like this with you!

She finally understood what the word "this" meant in that context: she never realized things until it was far too late. Mr. Cat was right, as usual, and she hated him for that - because he was always right about her. There were things she hadn't realized until the previous day; things that could have fixed all of their misunderstandings for years together; things whose value had been hidden from her eyes until now - when it was too late. And those things, so primordial in these most crucial moments, were her feelings for him. The fact that it was too late to understand, too late to be forgiven, too late to go to sleep feeling peaceful and forgiven.

What had been affirmed, in this chaotic and noisy ambiance, was what Kaeloo had had in her hands all these years: a key which could have resolved most of their problems and conflicts. A key which, if only it had been used, would have opened the way to a life where Kaeloo could happily play games, not just with Mr. Cat, but with all of her friends, both new and old. A key which rusted a little more every time they fought with each other. A key which, at the present moment, had been tossed into the flames which were destroying the cat flap.

When I try to make you see how I feel about you, you think I'm kidding and you go your way!

She would definitely die of a heart attack if she went on like this. Her sadness, so great that she struggled to express it, tore at her chest with a saw, then pounded on her rib cage like a hammer. She could not even cry any more, grimacing under the pressure that was threatening to make her body explode. She was coughing noisily, pushing out the air which, blocked by her sobs, was struggling to enter her lungs. But she had to make do with the oxygen she could get, because to her, the breathing of her cat was more important than her own now. "This isn't funny, Mr. Cat!... Stop playing and get up!" she murmured in a pleading tone which carried a hint of hope, as though she thought he would actually get up. Maybe he was just joking. Maybe he was just faking it so that he could see her reaction. He was capable of doing such things after all, wasn't he?! He'd already manipulated her who-knows-how-many times, so why wouldn't he be doing it now? Maybe it was only a game!

Every time I pour my heart out to you, every time I try to confess to you, you push me away and take it for a fucking game!

Only it wasn't a game.

And for once, she was the one putting her heart and soul into getting him to pay attention to her, and he indirectly rejected her by remaining unconscious. Their situation had been reversed in a way that was just as revelationary as it was cynical.

– I - I don't get it! H-he should be conscious! Reprimanded the frog blindly, as her body violently jolted. He always wakes up. He's lived through much worse! He'll do it again today, won't he, Quack Quack?!

She turned her head to her friend, letting their tearful gazes clash abruptly, while she waited for any agreement (even an untrue one) with her words.

But no.

Kaeloo knew he wasn't ready to wake up. Quack Quack knew that she was implicitly asking him to reassure her, to say something comforting, like a breath of fresh air to their suffocating throats. They both knew that Kaeloo's question was a rhetorical one. Therefore, Quack Quack didn't respond. He quietly looked back down at the ground. Maybe he'd realized that telling a lie would only cause them more pain. Kaeloo looked at him for a few more seconds, expecting at least a small gesture affirming her words. But he still didn't do anything. And his silence was even worse than the bad news she didn't want to hear. A few more tears spilled out of her large red eyes before she went back to contemplating her friend's mutilated body.

– Cats have nine lives, don't they?! She continued. Then why isn't he waking up?!

The implications of her words made the atmosphere a lot heavier. Mr. Cat had always remained conscious, no matter how badly she hurt him. Whatever the seriousness of his condition, he had always remained somewhat lucid, and calmly rested on his lawnchair after spending whole afternoons being beaten up. So why where his eyes so firmly closed this time?! Why wasn't he moving?! Why wasn't he screaming?! The pain must have been unbearable! The worst suppositions started forming in Kaeloo's head. She was exhausted.

"Qu-" She took in a deep breath of toxic air, which her lungs rejected. Every word seemed to be costing her a lot of energy. ''Quack Quack! He - We have to take Mr. Cat - to the hospital! ''

– Quack!

The indestructible bird rushed towards the cat, gently letting go of Kaeloo. He picked up the feline's wrist and instructed Kaeloo not to make any movements that could distract him - the crackling of the flames was bad enough. Seconds passed as the duck made no sound at all, holding his friend's hand in his trembling palm. Kaeloo, who was watching, seemed to be suffering more and more with each passing second where her friend was NOT at the hospital receiving life-saving treatment. She wanted to yell at Quack Quack to hurry, but she didn't dare disturb him. She wanted to hear something good in the middle of all this terror.

–Quack!

(His heart is still beating.)

And Kaeloo felt her own heart start beating again. Maybe there was the slightest shadow of hope on the horizon.

Smileyland had never been meant to be a modern city with devices deemed necessary for the health and well-being of its inhabitants. Far from the strange magic which governed it, it was just like a continent which was covered from end to end with green pastures. There were a few mountains and caves here and there, and a beach a few hours away, but the principal environment in which its inhabitants played games was green and had fresh air. It was a friendly little place, very different from the urban nature of the city of Broadway and its buildings surrounded by various stores with neon lighting. Also, Smileyland, in its integrity, did not satisfy the requirements for a "regular life"; there were no schools, hospitals or law enforcement. It was a land created for playing games. The classrooms and medications which were available had been created for playing, and they weren't suited for serious, real life situations.

All of this was because of a reason which was very simple, but also in a sense very disturbing: the inhabitants of the place weren't supposed to die, or be in danger of imminent death. Naturally, Smileyland was a place created for children and preteens to have fun and play games despite their personal stories. Pain and suffering, although they were a part of everyday life for these kids, never killed anyone. There was an invisible magic or an incomprehensible law keeping them alive. For example, Kaeloo and Stumpy, who only had one life each, had lived through things which logically would have killed anyone else. Sometimes they seemed to have actually succumbed to these things, but they always came back to life thanks to events which were as comical as they were irrational. Nobody, except (maybe) Kaeloo, seemed to understand how life and death worked in this place - and they didn't really care either. To them, definite death didn't exist.

Or at least, it didn't feel like it existed.

Until now.

"What do you mean, you don't have the facilities to deal with urgent cases? Is this a joke? You operated on that squirrel the other day, didn't you?" "Baa!" The ground could have started trembling from the frog's angry scream. She raised her arms in a scandalized gesture, her gaze darkened and bloodshot, and her complexion extremely pale. At her side, Quack Quack supported Mr. Cat on his shoulders, swaying dangerously from the weight. Nothing had gone the way they had wanted it to. They had hurried to the nearest hospital, the one they had taken Stumpy to when he had fallen sick because of Ursula. But the sheep doctor there had explained to them that he didn't have the necessary equipment or knowledge for a serious situation like this. He seemed to be reexplaining to them nervously (and for what was apparently the umpteenth time) that the hospital was only responsible for minor injuries, where it was known for sure that the patient would live. A case where a cat was trapped in a state between life and death could not be taken care of, because the sheep doctor would probably get fired if he did die - and because it was a violation of the rules of Smileyland, where things like this were not customary.

Evidently, Kaeloo was not going to listen. Her fatigue had been consumed by a dull anger, while she had bent over the poor sheep.

– This is INADMISSIBLE! It's your JOB, for goodness' sake! If you won't help this poor cat, who will you help?!

– Baa! Replied the sheep negatively, as he recoiled in fear. Kaeloo was approaching him with furious steps, as though she was going to jump at his throat.

– I don't want to hear anything! Listen here, I'm the guardian of this place, and I order you to do whatever you can for Mr. Cat, OR ELSE… !

Sparks suddenly burst from the frog's feverish body, as though lightning was striking her skin, and her tiny biceps began growing. Faced with the prospect of an imminent transformation, the bespectacled sheep staggered backwards until he hit the wall. He closed his eyes as he saw the frog raise her muscular arm above his head, awaiting the fatal blow that could end both his career and his life... but it never came. The sound of electricity stopped instantly, and there was complete silence around the would-be victim, who slowly opened his eyes. His eyes widened and he dropped to the ground, frightened by the sight of a fist that was only inches from his face. When he looked up to see what had saved him from certain disfigurement, he discovered the duck. His yellow hand was firmly gripping the wrist of the frog, who had now detransformed. She stared with equally wide eyes, as though she was shocked to realize what she had been abut to do. The cat had been left on the couch, unconscious, as drops of blood flowed softly from his body and landed on the carpet, dirtying it.

A scene like something out of an emotional movie.

"I... I'm..." She went silent, unable to process what had happened. Adrenaline, stress, fever, fatigue, worry, guilt ... it was too much for her mind. Maybe Quack Quack and the doctor understood, because they remained silent. Then, the doctor, still back up against the wall, said something:

– Baa!

– You'll try your best, then… ?!

The frog's eyes lit up with joy. She rushed to the doctor and held his hooves in her hands. He confirmed it with another bleat.

And for the first time, Kaeloo burst out sobbing. For the entire duration of the journey, she had wept silently and then quickly wiped away her tears, forcing herself to keep whispering comforting words to her unconscious friend. She had surpassed herself on every level-she had just managed to walk next to the cat. But when she had thought she had seen Mr. Cat breathe his last in this waiting room, with his right to life being taken away by a bunch of sheep who claimed to be "kind" because of a stupid rule, she just had to succumb to a definitive misanthropy - or maybe it was depression. She had had to go through a lot in a really short time span. She usually forced a smile and tried to spread positive vibes around her, even when she felt negativity in its purest form, but this was just too much - she had lived through an explosion, seen the mutilated, bleeding body of her best friend (who still hadn't forgiven her), and almost seen him die. Between sobs, she even wondered who her tears were for: for Mr. Cat, or for herself.

Quack Quack supported her as well as he could on her shaking feet while the sheep in question had already gone to tell his assistants to bring all their equipment.

"Quack Quack..." She clearly hadn't recovered from all the smoky air she had inhaled, for she bent her head violently, coughing more than ever. The bird squatted beside her, ready to help her in any way, and laid a feverish hand on her back while he placed the other on her arm, telling her to rest on an armchair in the room. She refused, remaining where she was at, at the corner of the wall.

"As soon as possible... we have to find out who did this."

His eyes widened.

Who had done this?

Until now, he hadn't thought of this simple question. He had been drowning because of the huge waves of stress of the last hour, so he had not taken the time to rise to the surface and breathe a little pragmatism. It was all about adrenaline, speed and strong emotion: from the moment he stopped eating his midnight yogurt snack upon hearing the blast, right up to the moment he was crouching by the frog. Kaeloo's question was like a torch, guiding him in the fog of his thoughts.

Naturally, explosions didn't just happen. At the moment, he could only think of two hypotheses, both of which were equally visceral: it was an accident, like a gas leak, or the crackling flame of a lit cigarette making contact with one of the cat's missiles, or it was a murder attempt. They were both equally possible.

But as horrible as it sounded, the first seemed ridiculously unrealistic. For his entire life, Mr. Cat had owned several weapons, some of which were more dangerous than others. He had all kinds of them: bazookas, missiles, bombs that could be detonated just by pressing a button... and many others which Quack Quack was subjected to on a daily basis. Therefore, if an accident were to talk place, it would have happened long ago, when he was still inexperienced. Besides, he was much too clever and perspicacious to be clumsy enough to do something like that. ALso, he usually stayed up all night, so he would have been able to smell a gas leak well before the explosion. Another worrying element was that Mr. Cat had several cat flaps scattered around Smileyland, which were a reasonable distance away from each other and often hidden in random places such as boulders or bushes. It would be nigh impossible to locate them. So how come the explosion happened at the exact flap where the cat was sleeping and not somewhere else? How come the culprit, if there even was a culprit, knew the exact place where Mr. Cat would be? Even he and Stumpy didn't know the location, so the cat was practically untraceable; he slept in a different one every night.

And most of all, what was the culprit's motive for doing this?

For sure, Quack Quack knew that not everybody liked Mr. Cat; everyone in Smileyland had been subjected to some misfortune because of him and his despicable personality - but he had observed that they were all used to it, and they ended up telling themselves that it was just the way he was. Anyway, none of them were better than the others; all of them had a dark, violent side. Mr. Cat just happened to be the one who showed his the most. Despite this, nobody had made a concrete attempt to take revenge on him.

However, in terms of potential enemies, Quack Quack could narrow the suspects down. Pretty claimed to be in love with Mr. Cat even though he clearly hated her and didn't love her back. Was this her way of expressing her frustration at not being able to have him? The duck didn't know. Then there was Olaf, who -

Olaf. What if it was him? After all, an explosion in the middle of a freezing cold night seemed right up his must have taken advantage of the guardian's weakened state to put his world domination plans into action, and decided to start by getting rid of his most hated enemy.

But... on the other hand, Quack Quack was fairly certain that Olaf wouldn't do something so sadistic. Sure, he might have tried it when he first arrived in Smileyland, but recently, he'd practically become their friend. He seemed to hate them less than he used to, he participated in some of their games, and he had even asked for their help a few times. His "emperor of the world" speeches weren't as authoritarian as before, and he even seemed to display a desire to protect the inhabitants of Smileyland (as long as they cooperated with him). Besides, Olaf wasn't the type to attack an enemy behind their back - if he wanted to attack someone, he'd do it directly.

No ... the person in charge of all this had a much more unhealthy desire ... if Olaf had wanted to kill Mr. Cat, he would have done it in one blow. But the culprit here seemed to want to torture him. Quack Quack was ready to bet that this murderer had planned it out so that even if the feline survived, he would have to suffer from severe physical and psychological harm.

Quack Quack sighed sadly at the thought of what his friend would have to go through when he woke up...

If he ever woke up.

The reality of the situation hit him like a truck. He felt a light weight on his shoulder. Kaeloo had given up and was now sitting on the chair, no longer trying to see the state of her friend, who was still lying on the couch unconscious. She hugged her knees to her chest. Her face was like a sad painting, splattered with pale colors, because of all the negative emotions she had been feeling. She was exhausted. She stared at the wall in front of her, dull and expressionless. SHe was far too tired to express anything. Quack Quack didn't do anything to make her get up. The ground was cold and maybe dirty, and she was sick and terribly exhausted, but none of that mattered. He silently supported her, putting a hand on her arm.

– How are we going to tell Stumpy?"

He gave her a cautious look, hearing her dismal tone. Never had her voice been so feeble; even in the worst of situation, her words were always tinged with emotion. But there was nothing now. The indifference left the duck's face as he sadly shook his head, causing a slight friction against her burning forehead.

– Quack (We'll explain it to him the next time we see him.

– I know, but... how am I going to explain what happened? The poor thing is going to be so scared... I don't even know what words to use to tell him that Mr. Cat isn't -

The sound of many feet on the floor drew their attention. A horde of sheep carrying a stretcher rushed towards Mr. Cat. Some of them tried their best to use their little hooves and their heads to lift him onto the stretcher while others put an oxygen mask on his face. Kaeloo, who couldn't see her friend because there were so many sheep in the way, wanted to get up and follow the flock, but Quack Quack held her back by the shoulder. She was too tired and weak to fight him. The only thing they could do now was hope.

Two things were going to happen in the near future: Stumpy's arrival and the result of the operation. And neither of them were going to be more pleasant than the other.

... TO BE CONTINUED ...