Tribe of Two Part 1

Tribe of Two - Part 1

The spark that had been igniting between the two finally flamed to its full potential, and Michael lunged at him, swinging his fist at Justin's jaw. A crack was heard, and Justin's head slammed into the car trunk as the force of Michael's blow knocked him backward. Michael could have quit there, but he didn't. The anger he'd built up inside him, layer upon layer, had just reached its point of overflowing, and there was only one way he could let it loose. He grabbed Justin's shoulders roughly.

There were angry snarls of curses as blood exploded across Justin's lip, and the world spun for a moment. He didn't want to fight Michael, but the other performer seemed determined to brawl it out, and even more determined to take Justin with him. By luck more than judgement both his feet rose to kick directly at Michael's middle, knocking the air out of him. Wanting nothing more to get away, he turned to scramble up the car trunk. Michael swore and gasped for air, for a moment stunned. Morgan and Kelsey had leaped to their feet and charged the two fighting friends the moment the rumpus had begun, but when they finally reached the stage from the back of the auditorium, Michael and Justin were already locked in battle on top of the car trunk.

"I said I don't need your help!" Michael shouted and delivered Justin a good one in the side.

Justin coughed and took the blow bravely, grunting in reply as he groped for a headlock. "Yer gettin' it whether ya like it or not!"

The performers who had been watching dumbfounded as the two fought first heard a buzz in the air, but at the time no one's attention was on that. It steadily grew louder, more intense, and only when the theatre air turned cold and the back of their necks tingled did they look around curiously. It was Russa who saw the first sparks.

"Justin! Mike! Look oooooouuuut!"

But the warning came too late. Michael and Justin were silhouetted dramatically against the large screen that sparked lightening-like lights when Macavity jammed the bolts together during the show. Behind the two tom cats locked in battle, a blinding white streak of light shot through the screen, followed by another. The zaps were loud, and an ear-piercing static ripped through the air as the screen exploded in a bright flash of light, making the two performers vanish in an explosion of sparks.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Pain. Heat. Unbearable.

It forced his eyes open, only to bring a new stinging spasm through them as he was suddenly surrounded by nothing but blinding bright light. His eyes clamped shut again and he rolled over, waiting for the agony to pass. His limbs were exhausted to the point of immobility. The slightest twitch he made, the very beating of his heart, sent tiny tendrils of tormenting fire through his body. Every breath exploded hot coals up his throat, and fitfully his body convulsed and he retched. Panting, limply, his eyes opened again. This time they were turned away from the glaring sun.

He lay on his side, nose tickled by long blades of grass gently blown by the wind. He sneezed and rolled away as the stench of the vomit hit him. The air was hot...terribly hot. A slight breeze blew around him, but that was hot as well.

Slowly, muscles screaming in protest, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, leaning back with his hands on his knees. He looked around. Something was wrong. His tail flicked in anticipation. Wait a minute...

He looked over his shoulder. There, held erect and slightly curved forward, was a tail. Scruffy, badly in need of a decent grooming, colored a striking fiery red with patches of orange, yellow, and brown. The colors of fire. It was all done over in bold black stripes. If he hadn't been confused and frightened, he would have admired the dancing colors. Hesitating, afraid of what he might see, his eyes fell to his back, over his legs, to his arms. What he saw wasn't human.

Fur. Fire-colored fur covered in black stripes on a base of white, all badly in need of grooming, covered his lean, sinewy form. Across his arms, ending at his hands, the fiery fur darkened to black. Looking down, he saw a like effect at his feet. His heart sped with fear at this appearance. It wasn't him.

Fearing the worst, his hands rose to his face. He felt soft, silky fur covering it. Whiskers, long and wiry, twitched in reaction as his fingertips brushed against them. A long, tangled mane tumbled down his back, reaching his shoulder blades, through which poked two triangular ears that rotated at the sounds rising around him. His rough, sandpaper tongue ran slowly over a set of long, sharp feline fangs.

"Oh my God," he gasped. His voice was deep, smooth, almost purring. "I'm a cat..."

A low groan to his right snapped his already tense nerves, and he whipped around to face it, hissing and baring his fangs on instinct. The sun blazed onto his back, penetrating his thick fur. The pain in his body was forgotten at what he saw.

Another cat...or cat-human...or something. It was another male. His stout, broad form had sleek fur that glistened, beautifully groomed, in the blazing sunlight. His fur was a cool silver, covered in bold black stripes. His deep gold eyes looked across at him as he pushed himself up, groaning as a furious pounding set into his head, seeming as surprised as the fire-colored one. For a moment they sat frozen, staring at each other in silence.

"What happened?" the silver tabby spoke first. His voice was dry and cracked like one who hadn't had a drink in days. He coughed from the dryness, and cleared his throat.

"I..." the fiery one started, wondering how he knew the other male was a friend.

Other tom.

The correct term popped into his mind all on its own, leaving the male-tom-only more confused. "I dunno," he finished. He stood to his feet, looking down as though to admire the muscles that rippled like liquid steel under his scruffy fur. He flexed his arm, eyes wide as ivory-white claws extended from his fingertips. Every move he made, whether it be a leap or just a mere flick of his tail, felt as though it radiated with graceful power. He never remembered feeling this powerful before, then again--he checked himself--he didn't remember much at all.

"Where are we?" the silver-striped tom also stood, his curious face looking at their surroundings. The fire-colored catman followed his gaze. They were on a flat plain that spread in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Tall, waist-high grasses swayed and swished like waves in the breeze, a golden sea meeting with the cloudless blue skies over the rolling hills. Not a tree or single shrub broke the flatness of the prairie. A slight breeze blew, but nothing could break the steaming heat that burned on their necks and shoulders from the bright sun above. The fiery red and black tom raised his hand to shade his eyes as he looked up.

"No idea. It looks kinda...familiar." A gust of wind blew the tangled but silky-soft strands of his mane back. "Looks like a..." he faltered, squinting as he searched his memory. "A prairie."

The silver tabby snapped at a passing bug, flicking his ears as it buzzed, then flew away. His tail lashed. He looked at that. The red and black tom's mane ruffled in the wind. He looked at that. Then he looked at his sturdy black hand, watching the claws sheath and unsheathe. "More important--what are we?"

"Well, we ain't..." The fiery tom ran his black hands through his white chest fur, scrunching his scruffy face as he ransacked his memory, or what little there was. "Not whatever we were."

"Point out the obvious, genius," the silver-striped scoffed, turning his face away. But the other didn't take it as an insult. Instead, he grinned.

"Genius..." he said, pondering the word. "Sounds fittin'." His own gaze turned in the opposite direction, seeing nothing but a sea of golden grass. "So what d'ya s'pose we do since we're here?" He kept staring, flexing his ears backwards, but no sound came from the other tom. Turning, he barely got a word out. "Hey, I said--"

"RUN!!!!"

The silver catman suddenly grabbed the other by the wrist, and in a whiplash they were off, speeding over the gently sloping ground. The fiery tom stumbled in his confusion, finally regaining his feet after a few good strides. He jerked his wrist from the other's grasp, not understanding the sudden need for urgency. A glance over his shoulder, and his comprehension was complete.

It was a stampede!

Creatures, strange, quadroped deer-like animals with enormous racks of antlers, hundreds of them, all running flat out directly towards the two catmen. Their forms painted the prairie with a wave of dark brown, leaving in their wake a river of trampled grass. And they were closing.

"This...way..." the silver tom gasped between breaths, suddenly darting to the left. Dumbly, but trusting fully the other tom--he didn't know why--the red and black tom darted after him, keeping a steady pace at the silver-striped's flank. The stampeding herd closed the distance quickly, their hoofed feet rising a cloud of dust around them, shaking the very ground as they neared. The fire-red panted heavily, feeling his limbs slow with exhaustion, casting a nervous glance with his golden eyes at the herd as they ran perpendicular.

"Wha...d'ya...think....?" He couldn't manage the rest between breaths. Then he did a strange thing. He dropped, suddenly, to all fours, and began running even faster with what seemed to be a new energy. He passed the silver, who saw and then copied his attitude. The herd curved slightly at its left front, falling back as the two cats ran like mad to get out of its enormous path. Up ahead, rising like a gift born from above, a near-perfect tree line could be seen.

"Almost...there..." the tabby gasped. He stumbled. In a flash of red the other turned to drag him up, the two once again running in unison.

The two collapsed gratefully within the protection of the treeline, turning as the rumble of the stampede grew louder, then faded into the distance. The silver male let his tongue loll as he crouched, panting. "Well," he said after a moment, "that was something to remember."

The other laughed between gasps. "Yeah...at least..." A few moments passed as they each caught their breath, and finally all heavy breathing stopped. The tabby stood, leaning against one of the thin, pole-like trees, gazing out into the prairie, whistling low at the sight of the trampled grass left in the stampede's wake. "Now what?" came the question as the other watched his striped back.

The tabby rotated an ear, sneezed, and turned back around to sit. "First off, let's get one thing straight." He watched the other intently, who returned equal interest. "Something tells me we know each other. But...names...?"

The fire-furred catman shrugged lightly. "I ain't even gonna try t' pretend I know what's goin' on. I don't remember anythin' before we woke up." He straightened. "Except..." He frowned at the other, and chanted in what was more of a question than a song. "Are you blind when you're born?"

In almost what seemed a trained reaction, the tabby's ears perked. "Can you see in the dark?"

"Dare you look at a king?"

"Would you sit on his throne?"

The two stared, pondering what strange phenomenon would leave them without memory save for a certain set of songs. They laughed.

"Munkustrap," the tabby stuck out his hand.

"Macavity," answered the red and black as he took it for a warrior-like shake.

"I guess that makes us friends."

On Munkustrap's assumption that the stampeding animals would eventually grow tired and either rest or find water, the two cats left the cover of the thin forest and struck out back onto the prairie, following the deep groove of tracks and flat grass cutting through the tall golden stalks. In an effort to strengthen what memories they had left, they took it in turns to say to each other bits of things that still floated in their minds. The most common seemed to be songs. Sometimes one would start, then forget, only to be finished by the other. It was all they could do to pass time while striding tirelessly while the sun set behind them.

"Nighttime sharpens, hightens each sensation...uh..."

"Darkness stirs and wakes imagination..."

"Yeah, that's it, Cav. What's another one?"

"One...one...lemme think. Oh! One singular sensation, every little step she takes..."

"I don't know that one. Let's see...Do you hear the people sing?"

"Lost in the valley of the night..."

"No, it was Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men?"

"Seems like it'll work either way. How 'bout...Then the moon will smolder, and the winds will drive...yes, a man grows older, but his soul remains alive...?"

"All I have is a blank there. I have to know, I have to know, my Lord."

"Nope. Um...Tonight, tonight, the world is wild and bright..."

"Going mad, shooting sparks into space."

"Daylight, see the dew on a sunflower..."

There was a moment's pause, then both toms' voices rang out as they finished the rest of the song. Neither cared enough to admit it, but Munkustrap possessed by far the better vocals.

"There's one we know start t' end, at least," Macavity chuckled, rubbing his throat after halting his singing when he felt his voice about to crack, thus letting the silver tabby finish it alone. Munkustrap nodded, smiling slightly, and wiped his brow.

"I hope it cools down some after dark."

Macavity looked back, but all that could be seen was the river of trampled grass and the swaying gold on either side. The sun was just touching the horizon, a bright orange globe that lengthened their shadows before them. "I dunno," he said. "Who knows what comes out here after dark?"

"I doubt much. Except for that stampede and a few bugs, I haven't seen anything to say there's predators out here. Still, you may be right. We'd better find some shelter."

Both looked around them, momentarily halting with the black pads of their feet crushing the few remaining tall grass strands beneath them. Macavity was not optimistic.

"Huh, good luck with that."

When night descended over the prairie, the two cat beings found themselves huddled under a wide-branched tree. Any leaves that remained on the tree were thin and crisp, and rustled noisily when the wind blew them. Even when the moon rose bright, nearly a half moon, the air still hung with heat. Neither of them had any ideas of how to start a fire, though it would have helped them little if they did; they could find no wood. The few trees that inhabited the prairie were small, thin, and too dry to burn for very long. They sat in the darkness, their new cat eyes being able to see perfectly in the moonlight.

"God, I'm hungry," Macavity mumbled, chewing on the tip of a long stalk of grass, which he found to taste unusually sweet. "Wonder if there's any prey animals aroun' here...?"

"Like what?" the silver tom wondered aloud.

The other shrugged. "I dunno. Buffalo, mebbe? Antelope? Deer? Birds? Mebbe a few o' those stragglin' stampeders?" Macavity's whiskers twitched, contradicting his own thoughts. "'Course without fire, how'd we eat `em? Can't eat `em raw."

"If it comes to that," Munkustrap replied, "we might have no choice. It all comes down to survival..."

"Mebbe we could find a river'n'catch fish..."

"Whatever we find, it'll have to be soon." Munkustrap looked somberly up from where he drew patterns in the dirt. "We won't last long without food...even less without water." He glanced back down, wiping away his abstract art with a flick of his hand.

"How d'we know where we are? Heck, it sure don't look like..." he paused, catching himself. "Wherever we came from...I dunno what it was called, but it wasn't like this."

"Maybe it's not even the same planet," the silver catman speculated. "I really can't tell. These trees look familiar but strange at the same time."

"What's th' other option?"

"That we are on the same planet, but a different time."

Macavity frowned. "Possible...but that wouldn't account fer...this." He stretched out his arm, indicating the obvious. The tabby grunted, but didn't reply. Macavity drew himself together and watched the other's face intently. He seemed to be in deep contemplation. Macavity frowned. How did that word get into my vocabulary?

"I think," Munkustrap finally said resolutely, "that no matter where we are, we'll do no good if we hang around here. We should keep moving, see if we find any hint of civilization...or at least a habitable place to live." He sniffed the air. "West, I think. The way the stampede was going."

No argument came from the other tom. "Wonder what's out there." His voice was far-off and wistful as he spoke, looking up at the starry sky. "Hey, look." He pointed upward casually. The other cat's gaze followed his gesture. There, streaking across the nightscape in a fiery arc, a bright ball of fire zoomed over the scene.

"How about that," Munkustrap grinned. "A shooting star."

"Maybe it's a good sign," Macavity shrugged. The two catmen watched the comet in silence until it faded in the distance. Only then did they curl up to sleep, both on opposite sides of the small tree with their backs against it.

Light. Noise.

Munkustrap lazily opened one eye, grunting as he raised his head. Something somewhere was making an awful racket. Something small and hard struck his head. "Hey!" Glaring up, he clapped a paw between his triangular ears. The sight that greeted his eyes was a tiny black bird with a large orange beak. A ridge of bright blue feathers ran down its back, seeming to be puffed out angrily as it cawed mercilessly and bombarded the sleeping cat with twigs and nuts held in it's curled talons. Snarling, Munkustrap winced against another tiny twig and jumped to his feet, waving his arms. "Gah! Get out of here, loudmouth!"

The bird fluttered into the air, snapping its sharp beak at the cat's ears and dropping its ammunition of twigs and nuts over Munkustrap's head. The tom reeled and swiped in vain with his claws, lashing his tail angrily as the black bird fluttering into the distance. He turned to the sound of laughing.

Macavity lounged at ease where the other's noise had woken him. "How `bout that," he chuckled. "Room service complete with breakfast'n'wake-up calls."

"Call it what you want," Munkustrap swiped up the handful of nuts and sat back down indignantly. "That bird would have been dead if I'd gotten my hands around it." Putting aside his anger for the task at hand, he set the nuts on the ground between himself and Macavity, looking them over. They were oval-shaped and round, colored shades of brown. They looked all in the world like almonds. Macavity climbed to sit on his haunches, stared at the nuts, then at his friend.

"Who's gonna try `em first?" He asked the obvious.

"I don't know. You want to draw lots?"

"Naw. I'll try `em." Despite thoughts of poison, Macavity reached forward and took a single nut. He studied it a moment, then in one swift movement selected a stone from the ground around them and cracked it open, popping the yellow-orange contents into his mouth. Both cats waited. After a moment, Macavity swallowed, and grimaced. "Tastes like cardboard," he growled, spitting shell fragments. Munkustrap laughed, but it seemed no ill effects would come from eating them. Between the two, the seven small nuts didn't last long, but it was something. Also, now they knew at least one edible item should they find more. Not appeasing to taste, but edible.

Macavity wiped his mouth against his arm as they both stood up, stretching in long, feline arcs that neither questioned. "'Nother day of trekkin', I guess?"

Munkustrap scratched his side. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Nope."

That settled, the two started off on another full day of walking, following the trampled path. The sun rose before them, and already the air was growing hot. A lack of food, no water, and the heat would eventually take its toll on the two, and both of them knew it. But what made them keep going, they could only guess.

Up until then neither cats had reported strange dreams of any sort. In fact, Munkustrap didn't remember dreaming anything at all. Sleep was deep and empty, unlike this one, which would make all the difference.

The first thing Munkustrap noticed was noise. Lots of noise. And it was crowded. A manner of beings swept past him in both directions, giving him no regard whatsoever...which was odd, because they were all different. He stood on a hard surface, still tall and covered in his silver-striped fur. He was still a cat. But the beings around him were all...

"Human."

Munkustrap whirled, bristling on instinct, only to meet a pair of blazing eyes in a stark black face. He stumbled back at first, snarling. The taller being just laughed.

"Don't be frightened, Munkustrap," he said in a voice like velvet. "I mean you no harm."

Munkustrap forced his fur to relax, his ears perking forward in what now was curiosity. The being appeared to be a male, taller than Munkustrap by far with fur blacker than night and burning red eyes. Just the look about his face placed images of royalty and time stretching beyond thought in his mind. The crowd about them continued to sweep on, seeming to be unaware of the large catmen.

"Who are you?" he finally said, surprised at the steadiness of his voice.

"Spirits have many names," the black one's voice rumbled in his chest. "You may call me Charumcah."

Munkustrap never once blinked, feeling horribly out of place in the presence of the black tom. "What...? I mean...where...?"

The spirit seemed to laugh, to Munkustrap's surprise. "Your kind are so curious," he said in merriment. "You question who and what you are continuously since you've arrived. You question everything. Why can't you accept what is?"

Munkustrap wasn't sure if his statement was insult or not, but said nothing. His blank expression only increased the spirit's merriment, and with a wide grin he waved his black hand in a slow arc. All movement around them slowed...finally coming to a stop. The silver tabby started, feeling his neck bristle at the spirit's radiating power.

"Look around you, Munkustrap," the spirit purred, but he was ahead of him. "You and Macavity wonder constantly where you came from, what happened, and where you are. I am here to answer your questions."

"What is this place?" Munkustrap's eyes roved up, to the flat buildings that towered overhead, his voice distant as though reliving some memory from where the two of them stood on a shaded sidewalk, surrounded by a rushing crowd.

"This," Charumcah said, "is New York City. You don't remember it accurately, but this is where both you and your friend came from. You were once as you see the beings around you."

Munkustrap gazed over it all as he spoke. Everything that greeted his eyes was familiarly alien. He remembered nothing of what had once been. The spirit went on.

"You and Macavity knew each other when you were here...and the both of you were great exceptions in this population of ignorants. You were special. That's why I took you. Among the humans you were merely entertainers. But here...in your true forms...you can be the first of a great return."

"I don't understand."

The spirit sighed, but continued patiently. "You and Macavity were different than the other humans in your lives. The way you see yourself now is how you were meant to be. On Earth you couldn't serve your purpose. When the time was right, I brought you here, to my world, and changed you to what you were meant to be."

"Then we are on another planet."

"In a sense, yes. Far from what you know, yet similar in its own aspects. You and your kind are called Yeahlika."

"Yeahlika?"

"Jellicle, whichever you prefer."

"That sounds familiar..."

Charumcah nodded. "It should."

"What do we do now?"

"Hear me out. Your kind once ruled this planet as humans rule Earth. They were prosperous and peaceful. There were no wars, little suffering, and plenty of room for everyone."

"What happened?"

"Another species came. You couldn't possibly pronounce their name in your tongue, but they swept from nowhere in their ships. With their lack of technology and widespread tribes, the Yeahlika stood no chance. They were slaughtered, enslaved, by the thousands. Now they are all gone. None remain."

"But the invaders?"

The regal black tom nodded his head gravely, a hint of sadness in his voice. "They left eventually, to destroy and conquer other worlds to further their empire, but in their wake they left the..." he paused. "You may want to call them Pollicles. They were servants at first, but when the invaders withdrew their support they became their own society, dominating this planet and destroying it more every day. I know they do not mean to, but only Jellicles can truly live in harmony with this world. The Pollicles resemble you, but...as you call yourselves "cats", they more resemble your Earther "dogs". When they took over, destroyed all Jellicles and their temples, I was weakened as well. I had to wait, reserving my strength, watching the Pollicles destroy my world, until I had enough power in reserve to bring you here."

"But...you say we're Jellicles...but you also say they were destroyed...?"

"Ah, yes. I'm getting ahead of myself. In a last act of desperation, I sent a handful of the few remaining free Jellicles to Earth. They began in what you knew as Egypt. I used all the power I could spare to set things in motion. They multiplied among the native humans, and adapted. There are several beings who appear human living their now in ignorance of the blood and runs through their veins. These are the ones I am trying to bring back...to rebuild the proud species that was destroyed."

Munkustrap was puzzled. "But, how can we rebuild anything? Macavity and I are both toms."

Charumcah laughed again, warm and genuine. "I have only just begun with my plan, Munkustrap. It will take time. You and Macavity are the first. I am not expecting you to fulfill my plans yourselves. All I ask is that you survive and live as best you can. Just your presence here is helping my planet. I will help you when I can, but every time I contact you I spend power, and right now it is not a thing I can afford."

Munkustrap felt a strange ease, as though everything that had happened was justified by the spirit's explanation. He nodded. "Will Macavity believe me?"

"He won't have much choice. I will visit him, too, before the night is out." Already, the cityscape around them was fading into blackness, and with it the spirit's image. His voice, however, was omnipresent. "I leave you directions to a place you may find suitable to live. All else is up to you."

Munkustrap slept the rest of the night on, his mind's eye seeing strange images drift by. When he finally woke, the whole incident was naught but a dream.

"That's it?" Macavity scoffed. "We put our fates totally on th' words o' some dream?"

"It wasn't some dream," Munkustrap countered. "You had it to."

"No I didn't."

Munkustrap looked at him strangely, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. This was no ordinary dream, Cav. It explained everything. And Charumcah gave me directions to a place we could live."

Macavity sighed and shook his tangled mane. "I still think yer nuts."

The two stood under the enormous round tree they'd spent the night in, stretching and straightening their messed fur before the long day's trek. The day would be hot and dry, as the past days had been.

"Even if the directions are wrong," the tabby reasoned. "We wouldn't be any worse off than we are now. He said there was plenty of food and water where we were going."

"Speaking o' food," Macavity stretched, arching his back in what looked a painful angle. "When was th' last time we ate?"

"Two days ago," Munkustrap sighed, being reminded of his empty stomach. "A bunch of nuts. If we don't find something, hunger's going to take its toll. Maybe not soon, but eventually."

"Whelp, lead on," Macavity said. "There's somethin' out there that's edible...maybe we'll find it."

Macavity found a strange contentment in letting Munkustrap do the leading. While the two strode on, the sun beating their backs mercilessly, he would sometimes fall behind, but Munkustrap either didn't notice or didn't care. Conversation between them seemed to all but die, as speculation was put to rest by the tabby's surefire confidence in what the image of his dream had told him. Any and all songs they may have remembered had already been put forth into light, but the dry air and dust from the ground gave them little comfort when they spoke. It was a full day more before they noticed a change in the prairie. More trees began to appear, and with them shrubs and softer, shorter grass that was a more natural green than the tall, rough golden stalks. Night came on uneventfully.

"I can't do this fer 'nother day," Macavity snarled as he slumped down against an outcrop of rocks, seeming to be terribly out of place as they rose up in a large pile nearly as tall as either tom. He let himself plop down, his head hanging. Munkustrap crossed his arms, glancing down at his friend with a hint of annoyance at his complaining.

"Not much longer," he said. "We should be getting close."

"Are y'sure we kin put our faith in this stinkin' dream?"

"Charumcah assured me it wouldn't take more than a week to get there if we traveled fast."

"By then I doubt we'll still be livin'."

"Get some sleep, Cav, you'll feel better."

Both cats settled down, Macavity at the rock pile's base with Munkustrap curled at the top. When stomachs were empty, minds were full, and bodies ached, it was nearly impossible to sleep. Macavity watched the sun vanish over the flat horizon, as wide awake as he was at midday. If he thought about something else he could usually ignore the dull throb of his yearning belly, but not always. He strove to think about something else, only to delve into deeper frustration when he could drag up nothing to think about, for his memory was shattered. Cursing quietly, he rolled over, curling up at tight as he could. All around him the widespread trees were thin and crisp, rustling in the wind. Munkustrap's breathing atop the rocks was deep and slow. It was these sounds and the sun-warmed rocks that finally lulled him into a fitful sleep.

Another day passed. The two cats traveled on, wearily ducking under branches and stepping over curved roots as the grass beneath their feet grew thicker, with it the trees around them, turning from a hot, endless prairie into a fully-shaded deciduous forest. The shade was a welcome relief from the hot sun, the sounds of small animals in the thick-leafed trees a break in the monotonous drone of the prairie. The air grew cooler, but the cats' moods did not. They were still hungry, still thirsty, and still tired. On that day not a word passed between them except when Munkustrap stated the obvious: "With all these trees, there's bound to be water somewhere." All Macavity returned was an irritated grunt. Their pace through the forest, which grew thicker by the step, slowed considerably, as did their energy. The tension between them was shattered as Macavity's foot got caught in a loose vine, and with a snarl he clawed it loose.

"I've had it," he snarled, directing his angry gaze at Munkustrap. "It's been three days, Strap, an' we ain't seen a drop o' water, a scrap o' good food, or a decent place t' sleep yet! Where's this place y'keep sayin' old what's-his-name told ya about?"

Munkustrap snarled himself. Tempers were cut short by hunger and sharpened to a fine edge by exhaustion. "How am I supposed to know? He said we'd get there so we'll get there! According to his directions we should be--"

"T' blazes with directions!" Macavity interrupted, bristling and baring his fangs. "We've gone th' way he supposedly said t' go, an' where's it gotten us? At this rate we'll be dead t'morrow!" In this spout of anger both their voices were terribly hoarse, made even moreso by dehydration. It was plain to see a fight would erupt, though neither had much of the strength to make it long. So both were surprised at the ferocity of Macavity's attack, bowling Munkustrap over backwards into a flurry of leaves and twigs. Snarling, Munkustrap swung out with his claws, managing to catch Macavity behind the ears but unable to penetrate because of his thick, scruffy mane. Like two starving lions they brawled through the underbrush, scratching and clawing in what normally would have been a violent display. In their lack of energy, however, they were but harsh nips and feeble swipes. Munkustrap had Macavity on his back, claws raised, when they both heard it. Immediately they halted, ears straining, anger diminishing. Realization struck like lightening.

Running water!

In a frantic scramble as though for their very lives Munkustrap and Macavity bolted, stumbling and tripping, until the trees opened up and there they saw a gift from above.

A river. Calm, but deep and narrow; crystal clear. The toms threw themselves at it, sucking in the life-giving liquid in horrible manner. Pausing only to draw breath, they glanced at each other and couldn't help but laugh, whether at their childlike actions or thankfulness at finding water they didn't know. They would immediately wish they hadn't taken in the liquid so fast, as the lack of it suddenly gone both retched upon the bank. They didn't care. Wiping his mouth, Macavity was first to sip up more water--slowly this time--to rinse his mouth and then sweep into the water. At mid-river it was estimated by him to be about eight feet deep, perhaps twenty feet across. Not a big river at all. But plenty of room for two toms to spend a joyful afternoon swimming. And though neither cared to admit it, both were in bad needs of baths.

It as decided by the two to stay near the river for at least a day, to rest and relax before moving on. Munkustrap outlined that they should follow the river, which meant no more trekking through woods, plenty of water, a definite path, and even the chance they might catch a prey animal stopping by for a drink. Maybe even fish. Macavity didn't argue, didn't even listen much, because he was occupied. He wasn't sure at first, but a quick search through his arm fur made him certain.

"Gah! Gerroffame!" He plunged into the water again from where they both had been resting on the bank, scratching and thrashing wildly. Munkustrap stood in alarm.

"Cav? What's the matter?"

Macavity glared from under the wet strands of mane that covered his eyes, biting out the words harshly. "I got fleas."

Munkustrap could do nothing but laugh at the sight of the red tom scratching furiously, splashing water which did obviously little good against the tiny parasites. He glared at the tabby.

"Go on an' laugh," he growled. "Stick with me much longer an' you'll get `em, too."

Munkustrap only laughed harder. "Cav, I'd had them since day one. They itch at times, but not much. I only didn't say anything because I thought...hahahaha!...I thought it was too embarrassing. But now..." he slapped his flanks and rolled against the wet sand bank of the small river. It couldn't be helped, either: Macavity was soon laughing, too.