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Summary: A misunderstanding leads to the untimely demise of two young cats in this "Romeo and Juliet" type story.
Epilogue: Beginnings
Listen. Can you hear it? Magic. Can you see it? A night as black as a witch's cape, with the moon hanging gracefully at the throat. The stars winked down brightly on the junkyard, singing silent songs to any who might be awake.
A faint crackling noise reached the ears a large male Jellicle cat. Munkustrap stirred and opened an eye. There. He heard it again. His gaze slowly swept the area, until his eyes came to rest upon another's. Two bright green eyes stared back at him. He could see nothing else.
Slowly, the eyes began to move. They came forward a little, so that Munkustrap could just barely see the silhouette of the face they belonged to. A small, white, flawless five-pointed star gleamed eerily in between those eyes. Munkustrap shivered but came closer to the face. The eyes grew wider, but nodded, beckoning. Come closer, they seemed to say. Closer. Closer. Munkustrap was frightened to find that he seemed to have lost the ability to disobey; he could do nothing but follow the commands of the mysterious voice in his head. Finally, he seemed to be face-to-face to the pair of eyes. They looked into his own eyes, and suddenly, a grateful look came into them, and it seemed to bless him. Then they vanished.
Munkustrap, besides being amazed, could not help feeling that he was here for something. He began to search the area, and it was not long before he found it: a small kitten, female, dark gray with a splotch of white on her chest. She seemed no more than three days old.
Munkustrap heard movement near the car trunk where he stood. He could just make out the outline of a small black cat patrolling the area. He always was the nocturnal sort, Munkustrap thought to himself, and then called out, "Mistoffolees?"
"That's me," came the cheerful reply. He materialized in full form out of the darkness. "What's up?"
"This is," Munkustrap replied, gently lifting the kitten. "What do you think?"
"It looks," Mistoffolees said quietly, "it looks like someone I used to know." Munkustrap nodded, and Mistoffolees continued. "But that's impossible. He only left three weeks ago. Where did you find her?"
Munkustrap explained the whole thing.
"Hmmm..." Mistoffolees said when Munkustrap had finished. "It sounds awfully supernatural to me. And I would know." They were silent for a moment. "Well," Mistoffolees said finally, startling his brother, "we can't just leave the poor thing to die. She'll need a name, not to mention a family." Another pause. "Demeter just had a kitten, didn't she? You can take Samara in."
"Samara, huh?" Munkustrap smiled. "Okay, I guess it'll work. For the time being, anyway." And so it did. For the time being, anyway...
Part One: Samara
Samara grew up to be a pretty kitten, with glossy, silver fur and a cheerful disposition. She was always lighthearted, and could make her 'brother' Airmek laugh no matter how unhappy he was. Her favorite 'relative' was Mistoffolees, who she loved even more than Munkustrap. This bothered her when she grew older, for she felt that you really ought to love your father more than your uncle. Although she was a rather intelligent kitten, she was never told of her true origin.
Her favorite activity was walking along the edge of the junkyard, wondering what might be out there. Munkustrap often told Samara and Airmek stories about great battles against Pekes, which excited her very much. Her favorite was the one about Sam, mainly because Mistoffolees convinced Munkustrap that the female cats could help. This added greatly to Mistoffolees' already high rating in Samara's book. She told Munkustrap once that she wanted to fight the Pekes someday, but he only laughed.
This made Samara rather angry. Why did it matter? But, being a sweet sort of kitten, she didn't argue. Instead, she took manners into her own paws, and went to practice playing it rough by an oak tree near the junkyard whenever she could.
Airmek was the only one who knew about it, and he only did so by accident. He had just been practicing patrolling himself, and was wandering along pointlessly when he spotted Samara scratching a tree with an unusual sort of vehemence. "What's the matter," he joked, and Samara jumped at the sound of his voice. "Did the tree sneak up on you?" He stopped laughing when she didn't join in. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Samara turned around, studying Airmek through slitted eyes. He was a handsome kitten, with black stripes on a golden brown coat and a long, muscular body. But if she told him what she was doing, what would he do? She decided to risk it. "I was practicing," she said, "fighting."
Airmek stared. "What? Fighting? Females don't fight."
Samara glared at him. "Says who?"
"Says us males."
"What about the time Uncle Mistoffolees convinced Dad that the females could help fight if they wanted to? Four did, and they were a big help in the end."
"Well, they were desperate." Airmek looked at Samara. He had never seen her so determined. She was a strong willed cat, and when she made up her mind... And yet, she fascinated him like nothing he had known before. "Why do you want to fight?"
"I don't want a war to start or something," Samara explained. "But if there was one, I'd rather fight and feel like I was helping than just sit uselessly at home."
"Well, I suppose that makes sense," Airmek said slowly. "But what you could do? You can't fight. You don't attack trees out there."
"I haven't exactly got anyone to practice on." She grinned and came closer. "How 'bout you?"
"Thanks, but I'd rather not get pathetic jabs from mere girls," Airmek stabbed.
"You could teach me," retorted Samara, indignant.
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll attack you as soon as I learn how." She was joking now.
"Well... All right. But what'll I teach you?"
"About fighting. Attacking, and strategy, and all that kind of stuff." Samara grinned. "I guess I must admit that simply clawing a tree won't teach me much."
Airmek was skeptical. "Okay," he said. "In fact, starting now. We'll start with your claws. You've got to wield them almost like a sword and a shield at the same time. You see..." Airmek worked with Samara for the rest of the day.
In the end, Airmek taught Samara almost every day, and then whenever there was a chance. Airmek actually began looking forward to what he had thought would be a tedious task, for Samara was a pretty and intelligent kitten. Samara learned whatever Munkustrap was currently teaching Airmek, and the fact that both Airmek and Samara often made mistakes made them closer.
Still, Airmek didn't like the fact that all along he was teaching Samara to fight, and that fighting was fun. Samara seriously thought that fighting would be fun. Airmek, being a week older, was that much wiser on that account. He tried to tell her this, but she simply laughed and said she didn't think it would be fun, just exciting. To Airmek, this was no better.
One day Samara got her secret wish. Quaxo and Admetus came bounding into the junkyard one day yelling for Munkustrap, who immediately came out to see what the trouble was. Samara and Airmek followed, curious. Both cats were panting like anything, and had to fight to catch their breath. "What is it?" Munkustrap inquired. "Pekes?"
"Not that bad," gasped Quaxo.
"Poms," Admetus said, a little calmer.
Samara looked at Airmek with shining eyes. Airmek inwardly groaned.
I won't bore you with all the major details of the Poms. All you need to know is that Quaxo and Admetus saw them near the ruins of the Peke's Palace, a place that used to be occupied by none other than the Pekes but were driven away by the Jellicles. Apparently, they were there to "clean up." Well, you can't have dogs so very near the junkyard, Pekes, Poms, or Bernese Mountain Dog; it doesn't matter. So they were going to perform a sort of battle-re-enactment. In other words, they were going to drive the Poms away from the area, and hopefully that'd be the end of it.
Airmek could see the expression on Samara's face. This fight wasn't going to be much, since Pom's weren't really much into fighting, but it would be a fight just the same. He decided to go see Mistoffolees. He'd tell Airmek what to do without getting mad at him.
Mistoffolees, though he would be fighting, too, was currently sitting in the drainpipe, playing with his daughter Mictora. "Uncle Mistoffolees? Can I talk to you a moment?" Airmek asked timidly.
"Sure. Follow me," Mistoffolees told him. Airmek did so. Mistoffolees led him almost straight to the place where Airmek had been training Samara. Airmek tried to keep his face innocent, but he couldn't help wondering if it was just a coincidence, or Mistoffolees' every-once-and-a-while-annoying magical powers.
They sat down under Samara's 'Clawing Tree.' "Well," Mistoffolees said, "What's the trouble?" Airmek explained the entire thing. Mistoffolees gave Airmek a long, inquisitive stare.
"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" Airmek said.
Mistoffolees didn't answer. "You said she got the whole fighting idea from that story about her fa- I mean, Sam, and when I let the females fight? Well then, it's just as much my fault as yours, isn't it? The I'll have to help you."
"You'll help me stop her?"
"No. Why would I do that? Why would you teach her if you don't want her to fight? I'm surprised you even agreed to teach her at all. One day, maybe two, but I didn't think you'd keep going." Mistoffolees gave another long, hard stare. Then he cleared his throat. "Actually, I don't think we'll really need to do much. Just keep her back long enough so that she can have a good look at the fighting. Then let her join in."
"Join in?" Airmek cried. "She'll just kill herself!" Another stare. "She's my - sister," he said in a strange tone of voice. Sometimes I think he's too darn smart, Airmek thought to himself.
"No, she won't," Mistoffolees said reassuringly, but there was a strange, almost knowing expression on his face. "Poms'll be nice and tired, and it'll be a good learning experience for her." He began again before Airmek could say anything else. "She should at least know how to defend herself, and this'll be perfect. Now, go before Munkustrap starts to look for you. And me." Airmek scurried off, but Mistoffolees stood under the tree for a long time after he had left.
The Jellicle didn't use much caution when approaching the Peke's Palace. Poms were known cowards, and if they made enough noise coming, they might knock the fight out of them with no trouble at all. They didn't even bother to send a scout, but leaped over the wall in a colorful tide and flooded the entire area. There were only five or six Poms there, and the Jellicles just sort of smothered them.
Samara was toward the back of the pack. She had hesitated, watching the others, seeing what they did. She spotted Airmek, attacking the biggest Pom. The great dog merely reached out his paw and picked him up by the neck, strangling him. Samara knew the Pom wouldn't be merciful. She acted on impulse and flung herself forward, towards the Pom. He didn't see her, but Airmek did. He managed to fling a paw into its face. This enabled Samara to knock the dog down. Airmek wriggled free, and the two scratched his eyes out before he could run away. They fight was pretty much over now.
Samara sank to the ground, pulling Airmek with her. They curled up together and fell asleep.