Sorry That it has taken me so long to update, but here at last is the final chapter. Enjoy.
Munkustrap still hadn't lowered security around the junkyard. The rodent and insect scouts had reported that the losses incurred at Griddlebone's den had had a significant impact on the Napoleon of Crime's gang. The feral cats had withdrawn, and the Pollicles were reporting less insertions into their territory. The Jellicle Junkyard had likewise been peaceful since the daring raid. Rumpleteazer and Pushdragon still lay in the medical den. The golden brown kitten was very young, still requiring milk. Mungojerrie remained by Rumpleteazer day and night and had taken to helping Jennyanydots look after the invalids. Pettipaws, the pretty tigress who had been rescued, was a regular visitor as well, her son Wiscus constantly asking after "The pretty gold girl."
Rumpleteazer propped herself up on her elbows, peering around. Her head felt like someone had used it as a steel drum, while her chest was swathed in bandages. Jenny bustled over. "You should lie down," she fussed, trying to force her daughter down. "Where's Mungojerrie?" the younger queen croaked, allowing herself to be put back to bed. "Where do you think?" Jenny asked, glancing at the side of Rumpleteaser's bed. There on the floor was the curled up form of Mungojerrie, sound asleep. "He must be exhausted," Rumpleteaser laughed, wincing as her chest ached. "I never thought I'd say this, but he's a good tom," Jenny smiled. Rumpleteaser laughed again. "When I started going out with him, you called him a mangy stray." Jenny shrugged. "I'll be honest. Your father and I hoped you were going through a phase that you'd grow out of. I didn't trust him. What parent would?" Rumpleteaser huffed. "Daddy threatened to chase him away and make sure he never came back." Jenny smiled motherly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You'll understand if you ever have kits of your own. We thought we were protecting you. We had no way of knowing that under the dirt and hard living, Mungojerrie was a charming young tom. We just saw a dirty street thief and we wanted to stop him from hurting our precious daughter. But you were right to stick with him, and we should have trusted him when you were taken. He's proven time and again that he's willing to fight and die, both for you and for the tribe." The Gumbie cat gently stroked her daughter on the cheek. "He's special Rumpleteaser. You only get one tom like him in your life. Don't let him go."
Xerxes, Pettipaws and Wiscus were struggling to adapt to tribal life. Old Deuteronomy had said they could stay as long as they wanted, even permanently if they needed to, but both adults were still unsure. For his part James Buz-James, the adolescent Manx, had elected to stay in the tribe. He padded into the medical den alongside Erik and Jemima. His whiskers twitched with amusement as he looked at his companions, side by side with their tails entwined. The black tom and red queen were a solid item now and there was talk of them mating, or even marrying. Most feline couples, like Tugger and Bombalurina or Alonzo and Cassandra, did not go through the more formal marriage ceremony, but some pairing still favoured the stronger bond it created.
Old Deuteronomy, Munkustrap and Coricopat watched as Mungojerrie helped Rumpleteazer limp out of the Medical Den and into the sunlight. It was not the calico couple they were watching however, but the sleek black shadow of a cat who was waiting for them. "Are you certain?" Munkustrap asked the grimalkin, his silver brow furrowed in worry. "Certain. Some cats will not confess their third names, even to themselves. But get inside a cat's head, and the truth is always tucked away somewhere." "I know. You've examined all of us. But … it seems so out of place. What has he known of…" ""He will know it," Coricopat smiled. His lamp like eyes followed Erik as he padded along beside Jemima. "Besides … I think Honour suits him."
The feral henchcats scurried away. Macavity's fury was terrifying, even to hardened street cats such as themselves. The wild ginger cat screamed and raged, overturning tables and dashing things against the walls of his hideaway. Griddlebone approached her furious mate. "Calm down my dear," she crooned. The ginger tom turned his one good eye on her, his anger draining from him. Macavity collapsed to the floor, exhausted. Growltiger growled. The aged pirate was greying and threadbare, but his claws were still sharp and his mind as keen as ever. "Those Jellicles have disrupted my plans for the last time. We should have the proxy lead an attack. Griddleone looked up as Macavity rose from the floor and trooped, languidly, into the hidden den. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. "You should release him for a time," Griddlebone scolded her mate. "You don't want him to die like the last one." Growltiger grunted bad temperedly. "We need him to lead the henchcats. The jellicles need to think I'm dead." Griddlebone curled up next to him. "Just wait my love. Wait until we've recovered our daughter and then we can wipe them out." Growltiger smiled, crooked fangs catching the light. "What do you think Fireo?" he asked. A patch of shadow detached itself from the gloom and condensed into a cat shaped shadow, with razor sharp claws and glowing red eyes. "Just let me do this my way, and I'll retrieve the little princess for you," he rasped with a voice like claws on a blackboard. "I'll have the little white House Cat in no time…"
And there you have it. While this story is finished, I am working on others. Say good bye Erik...
Erik: "Bye all. Don't forget to review."