The Fighter Part Two

The Fighter - Part Two

Pain...noise...breathing...

The gold queen's eyes opened slowly, only halfway. It was dark all around her, and the sounds, scents, and blurry images present that she could barely make out told her she wasn't alone. Slowly, she blinked, clearing her vision, and tried to sit up. A pair of firm, gentle paws pushed her back down. She fell back to her side gratefully. Whatever she lay on was comfortably soft and warm.

"Wher--" she began, but her parched throat allowed no more than a syllable before she coughed fitfully, spitting gritty salt. The same pair of paws gently held a deep bowl of water near her while another pair brushed her tangled mane back. She drank greedily, lapping up water and sloshing it over the sides. She didn't care if she made a mess...she needed water. After an eternity of drink, she felt her throat moist again. Drawing a tired breath, she lay back down, panting. "Where am I?" she finished.

A voice, soft and pleasant to her ears, answered. "You're among friends, dear. We're Jellicles, and you're in the junkyard."

The gold queen shut her eyes, listening to at least the three cats around her. "What happened?" she asked, barely over a whisper. She was so tired...

"You passed out," said another voice, equally pleasant, but deeper. "We brought you here."

Something wet and cool ran over the gold queen's brow. She sighed, feeling the throbbing pain in her head dulled by the moisture. She mumbled something, but even she wasn't sure what.

"What's your name?" asked the same first voice.

The gold queen lay still, breathing deeply for a moment in silence. "I...don't know..."

Two voices mumbled nearby. Then the same asked, "Do you know where you came from?"

"...no..."

There was more mumbling, but the gold queen didn't even bother to try and make it out. She was exhausted, and let herself fall gently into sleep.

Alonzo rolled fitfully on his back, rubbing in deep the scent of dirt and trash to cover his own tom's musk. He regarded an upside-down Munkustrap curiously with one golden eye.

"So...yer tellin' us that this queen's about a year old, looks like she's survived a seven-year famine, could barely talk, but she beat a dog offa you and Bomb?"

Munkustrap, sitting tensely on his haunches, his eyes constantly darting to the dark door of the small sheltered den in the junkyard they resided at, nodded. "I know it sounds insane, but it's true. I can't understand it myself. One minute she's fighting like she's rabid, then the next she can't stand up."

Tugger rolled his eyes. "I won't believe it 'til I see it."

"And you will," a soft voice drew all three of their attention. Jennyanydots and Jellylorum slowly climbed through the small opening, both looking grave and worried. Munkustrap rose to his paws in alarm.

"How is she?" he asked. Jenny sat down on the warm ground.

"Exhausted, but she'll live. A little water, a little food, plenty of rest..." She wiped her brow. Jellylorum stretched, her slim paws making tiny imprints in the loose dirt of the place.

"I wish Deuteronomy were here," she breathed. "He'd know what to do."

Munkustrap hated being left in the dark.

"Do about what?" he inquired the Old Gumbie Cat. She licked her ruffled flank before speaking.

"The poor dear," she mumbled. "She doesn't remember a thing."

Alonzo rolled onto his belly, shaking his fur from which rose a cloud of dust. "Huvvawha?"

Munkustrap, too, was confused, and didn't understand.

"Don't look at me like that, Munkustrap," Jenny scolded. "I don't know how to explain it. She says she doesn't know who she is or where she came from." She sighed, sneezing on the dust from Alonzo's coat. "Bombalurina's cleaning her up a bit. She needs food."

Munkustrap detected the hidden meaning in what she said. Flexing his whiskers, he stretched fore and aft. "I'll go. Either of you two mind lending a paw?"

Tugger stretched lazily and leaned back against his mop head. "Sorry. I've already done my good deed for the day."

Having never expected much help from him anyway, the silver tabby turned with more hope to Alonzo. The brawny brown and black cat blinked, shrugged, then went back to his rolling in dirt.

"You're not that much of a hunter, Lonz," Munkustrap spat, then stalked off on his own.

Of the sausages Munkustrap had hidden the previous day, three were left after the flies had gotten to it and only two of those remotely digestible. There seemed no point in him going entirely back to his human's den and getting that disgusting, cold mush leftover in his bowl. A cat in that golden queen's condition probably couldn't even hold that junk down. Gingerly he placed the two sausage ends in his mouth, careful to hold his head up to get as little slobber on them as possible, and to not bite down too hard and break their wrappings. He set them down after a moment when they almost got loose, and his attention was caught by his reflection in a marred hubcap.

His facial fur stuck in odd directions, gritty sand stuck in the downy parts of his undercoat, and if his stripes were anymore out of place he'd look more like a Mau than a tabby. He grunted at his appearance. "Strap, you need a groomer," he mumbled, as much as he hated the very word. Settling down in the dust, Munkustrap started on his left flank and did his best to clean his coat. Soon after followed a good wash of his face and whiskers, and a last touch up of his metal-studded collar. After what he hadn't realized was almost half an hour, he looked at himself in the hubcap again.

"Like I said," he mumbled. "You need a groomer."

He picked up the sausages again and continued.

Tugger and Alonzo lay exactly where Munkustrap had left them, the only difference being several other cats now lounged about the den, having heard of this strange cat's arrival. Cassandra slunk toward Munkustrap with her usual sassy stride.

"Thanks, Stripes, I was getting hungry."

Munkustrap jerked the sausages away as she reached for them.

"Noth er you, Cathie," he said around the sausages, lightly bearing his fangs. The slim queen backed away, turning her nose into the air. Munkustrap stalked on past his best friend and half-brother.

"And you think Jenny's lazy," he growled to them both, momentarily setting down his food delivery. Tugger opened one eye from where he lay dozing.

"Actually, it was you who said that."

Jenny, her round ears perked forward, slipped her barrel-shaped form once again through the small den entrance. "Go on," she gestured the silver tabby. Hesitantly, the tom went in.

The den was warm, dark, and quiet, in height barely enough for Munkustrap to stand fully, about a carlength long and nearly as wide. The den had been there since Munkustrap was born. What he had been told was that it had been made by a combination of natural weathering and an up-turned bathtub. Dragging the sausages in after him, he turned and saw Bombalurina sitting on a gathered pile of old rugs and blankets, the gold queen perching very unassumingly beside her.

With the strange queen now cleaned and dry, she looked an entirely different cat than the one they had found on the beach. Her fur was a shining golden-yellow and brown blended well across her back and down her legs, lightening to creamy beige and finally to white across her chest and torso. Snaking along her back, arms, and flanks were ginger-red, brown, and black stripes. Her sleek tail was a large majority of gold speckled with white, black, and orange. Her front paws were slim, lightening to a sun-fire orange, opposite of her hind paws, which darkened to black. Her face was calm yet regal, the coloring matching her coat with white around her muzzle and a blaze up her forehead. Her eyes were a piercing green, and burned with the light of a thousand fighters.

Munkustrap drew in a breath of surprise when he first saw her, unable to restrain it, and dropped the sausages. His eyes widened. From where she sat rubbing the gold queen dry with a fluffy towel, Bombalurina looked up and smiled. "Quit staring, Stripes."

Munkustrap shook his head dumbly to snap his gaze away, stuttering in vain attempts to justify his actions. "Well, er...I...um..." He could feel his skin burn red beneath his fur. He sheepishly met her dazzling green eyes, and she returned the stare for a moment before she looked away, turning to hide her face against Bombalurina's arm.

"It's alright, hun," the red beauty soothed, gently brushing the gold queen's mane. "This is Munkustrap. You can trust him, if no one else." Winking at Munkustrap as the gold queen peeked out at him, she went on. "Munkustrap, this's Demeter."

Munkustrap cocked an ear. "Demeter? I...thought she didn't know--"

"She doesn't," Bombalurina whispered, cutting him off. "But we've gotta call her something. I thought it sounded fitting."

The gold queen--apparently now dubbed Demeter--looked extremely nervous as Bombalurina guided her up by her shoulders to stand, the towel still draped over her. She stood, barely reaching Munkustrap's chest, and refused to meet his eyes again. Behind her, the red queen urged the silver tabby on to say something.

"Well, er, Demeter," he began shakily, his tail lashing as he sought for words. "I, uh...thanks, I guess, for helping us fight that dog...um..."

Demeter kept her eyes locked hungrily on the sausages on the floor, her ears pressing backwards as he spoke. "You're welcome," she said when it was obvious he had nothing more to say. Her voice, though flat, was clear and crisp, like any delicate queen. Then like a savage dog, she swiped the sausages from Bombalurina as she picked them up, sinking her fangs into them deeply.

"Are you sure that's all you need?" He reached to gingerly touch her shoulder. "If there's anythi--"

"Get away from me!" she suddenly screeched, jerking away from his black paw, dropping the meat. Munkustrap reeled back himself, surprised as much at her reaction as when a long scratch appeared down his arm. Demeter hissed after she slashed him, whirling to crouch into the darkest corner, making herself look as small as possible. Her eyes were wide and frightened, her tail puffed but held low. Her stare, locked on him, was so intense he took another unsteady step back. Bombalurina wasn't sure herself why Demeter's reaction was so, or how to react to it herself. Slowly, taking small steps, she approached the smaller queen again, speaking in a soft, motherly tone. Looking back at Munkustrap, she motioned for him to leave. He obeyed, making haste.

Alonzo was finally on his feet when Munkustrap tripped on the entrance edge, sprawling out over the dirt. Sneezing, he felt himself hauled up by Alonzo's sturdy brown paws.

"What was that?" he exclaimed. "Sounds like a hawk in there! Is that queen sane?"

Munkustrap sneezed, turning his face away from Alonzo's dirt-filled coat. So much for keeping up appearances...

"I'm not sure," he answered, shaking his head. "Right now, I'd think not."

"Ouch," Tugger grinned, eyeing the long red gash down Munkustrap's forearm. "What'd ya try to do to that girl, Stripes?"

"I touched her shoulder," Munkustrap growled sourly. He licked his wound, feeling it sting as the healing liquid from his mouth covered it.

Tugger lifted an eyebrow dubiously. "Yeah, sure, and I'm a--holy rats...!" Tugger's voice fell away, and suddenly everything about them grew very quiet. Looking behind him, Munkustrap saw why.

The gold queen, her lack of height and form emphasized as she stood next to the tall, full-figured Bombalurina, was framed in the black den entrance. Bombalurina looked all in the world like a mother--something Munkustrap never imagined her being--as she stood next to the smaller queen, a protective black hand on her thin shoulder. Demeter...a strange mix of emotions in her face...stood very quiet and very still as dozens of eyes landed on her. She shifted her weight visibly.

"Everyone," Bombalurina said after a moment, "this is Demeter." She set her other white paw around Demeter's orange, and clasped it tight. "Go on," she whispered. "It's alright."

Then Demeter, very slowly, stepped out into full view. Munkustrap drew back as she took another step nearer him. Once again her eyes captured his, this time deep and sincere. "I'm sorry," she said barely over her breath, "for scratchin' you."

Munkustrap unconsciously touched the scratch on his arm, no longer feeling the sting. "It's alright," he finally returned. Suddenly he felt his skin burn again, and realized why. Tugger snickered first, pointing out that Munkustrap's tail had fallen limp.

If there was ever a thing that embarrassed a cat in charge of the welfare of an entire tribe: it was losing his tail posture. The tail is a remarkable thing: it keeps balance, displays moods, ranks, attitudes, and makes a wonderful toy and foot warmer. With Deuteronomy only frequenting the Jellicle Junkyard once annually, Munkustrap was put in charge of protecting them for the rest of the year. No, he wasn't a leader. Jellicle Cats don't have leaders. But they do have protectors. And to keep up the image of a strong, powerful protector, Munkustrap's tail position was an important thing. His distraction by Demeter had made it fall limp. Trying to regather his pride and image, Munkustrap turned and began furiously licking his tail fur, as though that was what he'd intended to do with it all along.

Demeter didn't seem to sense his embarrassment. She turned to gaze around her at all the cats, just as curious and filled with wonder as a newborn kitten. The variety of felines spread out before her was something to be marveled at: toms, queens, kittens...some furry, some slim, some old, some young...such different cats, yet all living together in harmony. What was it that bound them together?

Tugger was the first one to break the ice. Sauntering forward, spotted paws shoved into his belt, he stopped an arm's length from her, learning from Munkustrap's mistakes to not lay a paw on her.

"Heya, Demmy. Name's Rum Tum Tugger. But, eh, you can call me Tugger." He ran his tongue over his fine whiskers.

She stared at him a moment, eyes roving up his black fur, spotted chest, furry mane, to his grinning face. She shrunk back and mumbled something. Tugger at first couldn't make it out. "What was that?"

"I said don't call me Demmy," she repeated, stern and rigid. Tugger stepped back, throwing his arms wide innocently.

"Whoa, hey, no need t' hiss, kitty. What's wrong with Demmy?"

"It's not my name."

"What? Demeter?"

"That's my name. Use it."

Tugger frowned, clearly confused. Usually the queens threw themselves at his feet. "Fine," he scoffed, fluffing his mane to regain his composure before he strutted away. "Go ahead and waste your time with that one, Bomb. You don't know what you're missing."

Her reply stung Tugger as he left. "Trust me, Tugs, I do. Who said I was gonna miss it?"