Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(Prologue)

Of the War, it is said it began in the dark

With Pollicles creeping out from Richmond Park.

They slinked through the streets and they climbed over walls.

They scaled the houses and stole through the halls.

To the Junkyard they went, where the Jellicles slept;

They would make them all weep, they would never forget!

But before we go further, we first must go back

To the very Beginning, before the Attack.

To the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball

In the Junkyard where gathered are Jellicles all

To dance and to sing by the light of the Moon

To the Heaviside Layer goes a Jellicle soon!

This Tale opens not with the End, but the Start

So hearken and hear as begins the First Part!

Chapter Text

It was a bright spring day in the Junkyard, with warm cloud-filtered sun spilling down over piles of rubbish and old mattresses to pool in the sparkling puddles left from that morning’s rain shower. A fresh breeze stirred up dust and harassed the little tender shoots of flowers trying to grow amongst the debris. Birds could be heard chattering in a park no more than half a mile away, and beyond that was the great and ever-present rumble of the City. In the middle of the Junkyard was a clearing, where the clutter had been moved and stacked to form what could, if one applied a liberal amount of imagination, be called an amphitheater. On the floor of this amphitheater were three cats: a tall grey-and-black tabby, and two calicoes, both adorned in makeshift dog costumes.

“No, Mungojerrie. First Rumpleteazer, then you, then her, then you again. It’s a call-and-response, not just random barking.”

Rehearsals for the Ball were not going well. Some of the individual acts were progressing well enough but the centerpiece, the play he’d composed for Old Deuteronomy’s entertainment, was falling to pieces with a day and a half left to go. Munkustrap hung his head in frustration as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer tried, and failed, another attempt.

“Sorry mate, it’s just the timing’s a bit odd. Can’t get it right in me head. Can’t we just improvise?” Mungojerrie slipped off his cereal-box dogs’ feet and pawed at the dusty shoe he wore on his head to mimic a canine snout. Seeing the confused expression on Mungojerrie’s face Munkustrap shook his head, tail flicking in barely concealed impatience. Stilling himself, he gave what he hoped was a kind and benevolent smile.

“No, I’m sure you can get it with a bit more practice. Rumpleteazer starts first, all you need to do is follow her. Where has she gotten to?” A manic giggle behind him brought his attention to his wayward Peke, who had quite acrobatically arranged herself in a pose he was positive would not be physically possible for a real Pekingese. Seeing that he’d noticed her clowning, Rumpleteazer yapped furiously at him in a very convincing imitation of Peke huffery-snuffery. Despite wanting to be stern he laughed, which only made Rumpleteazer attempt an even more impossible pose before tumbling into her twin and collapsing in a giggling heap.

“Alright you two, that will be all for today. Practice tomorrow morning before we run through the whole thing with everyone. And stay away from that Pug you’ve been tormenting; I don’t have time to negotiate a truce on top of everything else!” Munkustrap sighed as they sprinted away in a calico streak of orange, brown, and white. They’d likely not heard anything past the first sentence.

He had nobody to blame for this but himself, of course. He’d chosen to cast the mischievous twins as Lead Peke and Pollicle in the hope that they would take to the roles with the usual intensity they gave to anything that they got their claws into (and keep them off the street and out of trouble, but that was best kept to himself). Sadly, their tragically short attention spans and tendency to distract the others had necessitated separating them from the already-chaotic herd of cats and kittens he was wrangling through the rehearsals. They were a remarkably clever pair of cats when they wanted to be, but it worried him greatly to see exactly what that cleverness was being applied to.

Leaping to the top of a pile of junk, he found his favorite sunspot and laid down to contemplate what was left to do. The Jellicle Moon rose in two days, which left one more day for planning and practicing. The opening of the Ball and the Mating Dance he wasn’t worried about. The opening was the same every year and thus required very little practice; the Mating Dance was improvised, and Victoria and Plato were both gifted dancers. He’d left it to them to decide on the choreography for their very first performance at their very first Ball.

That left most of the individuals. Jennyanydots of course had her routine down, as fastidious as she was. He hadn’t had to supervise any of the rehearsing himself, or even show up except to learn his own part. Bustopher Jones was the same. Gus would be very easy due to his age; there would be no dancing, and just Jellylorum singing for him. Skimbleshanks was going to be a problem, however; it was unclear when he would be arriving, if he arrived at all, from his duties on the train. His song would have to be reserved for the end of the night, if not removed entirely…

A loud crash and commotion in the middle of the junkyard startled him out of his thoughts. Alarmed, he leapt down and sprinted towards the noise. It had come from the clearing by the tire where the kittens always played. Fearing a fight or injury, he dug his claws into the sandy ground for traction and dodged around an abandoned refrigerator and a pile of old mattresses only to crash headlong into his laughing younger brother, the Rum Tum Tugger.

“See, kittens? You can always count on Uncle Munkustrap when you’re in trouble!” After a brief lap around the clearing to ascertain any threats and a quick assessment of the kittens’ well-being, Munkustrap turned to his brother.

“Uncle Munkustrap? Tugger, as far as I know I’m not an uncle to anybody unless you’ve found a queen who can keep your attention for more than five minutes.” Rum Tum Tugger, two years younger but almost bigger than Munkustrap, rolled playfully in the dirt before scratching at his shaggy mane with a hind paw.

“Maybe, Munk. Maybe. You know how I do. Rehearsals going well?” Munkustrap growled in exasperation and shook his head.

“They’re going about how they usually do. Are you still insisting on singing?” Tugger rolled to his feet and stretched before walking by Munkustrap, making sure to flick his tail in his brother’s face as he walked past.

“Absolutely. And no, you do not get to see before the ball.” Tugger had, along with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, insisted that he be allowed to perform at this Ball as soon as the last one had ended. All three had refused to let him preview or critique their acts, and he was nervous about the results in two days’ time. Tugger

It was time for the last set of rehearsals of the day before he went on guard duty. He worked through a few tricky bits of choreography with his other Pekes and Pollicles, then ran through a rather ambitious magic act with Mistoffelees and Cassandra. The latter was done in secret in a more secluded part of the junkyard; Mistoffelees didn’t want the others to see him practicing, in order to not ruin the effect.

“Do you think we should drop the last quickchange before the reveal? I feel like it might be a bit much.” Mistoffelees sat a few feet away from Munkustrap, lost in thought as he envisioned his act. The slight black and white tomcat had only recently gained enough control over his powers to be able to put on a reasonable attempt at a show, and his nerves were beginning to fray at the thought of performing in front of the entire tribe. Munkustrap gave him an affectionate smile, walking over to lean against Mistoffelees and jog him out of his reverie.

“Don’t start second-guessing yourself, Mistoffelees. It’s a solid act, you’ll do fine. I’m very proud of you and all the work you’ve put in.” Mistoffelees hummed happily at the compliment, bouncing away to perform a series of graceful leaps. Munkustrap really was proud of Mistoffelees; he’d had a rough time of it, with his magical powers resulting in several…incidents…that had gotten him in trouble with other members of the Tribe. It wasn’t his fault, not really; he tried his best to keep them in check, and mostly had it under control these days.

It had been incredibly hard for Munkustrap trying to mentor and help raise an orphaned kitten capable of the kind of accidental destruction that Mistoffelees could wreak, but help had come from an unusual quarter: Rum Tum Tugger had taken a shine to ‘that sad little pipsqueak’, and taken him under his wing. Although he’d had his doubts at the time Munkustrap wasn’t going to stand in Tugger’s way when he was in a rare altruistic mood, and it had turned out well. They were an odd pair, but the results spoke for themselves.

Leaving Mistoffelees and Cassandra to their practice, Munkustrap began the long trek to the great tire above the clearing that formed the center of the junkyard. It was his turn to take the watch, and he needed to hurry to relieve Alonzo. His second-in-command had been taking longer shifts so that Munkustrap could do his work on the Ball and would need some rest. Scaling the tire, he found Alonzo watching over the kittens playing below.

“All well?” The handsome black and white cat stretched and scratched an ear as he gave his report.

“Had a Pug stumble into the yard about an hour ago looking for some trouble, Admetus and I ran him off without much fuss. Had to keep the kittens from hurting themselves on a hedgehog. Otherwise, all well.” Munkustrap cocked his head with a frown.

“Why didn’t you come get me when the Pug came?” Alonzo flopped onto his back, letting the sun warm his belly.

“I knew you’d say that. It was a Pug, Munk. Just one. Not really worth bothering you when you were busy.” Alonzo stood back up and walked over to sit next to Munkustrap. “I had Admetus with me. We were fine.”

Munkustrap considered the turn of events. Dogs had been finding their way into the Junkyard more frequently, particularly Pugs. He suspected it was something to do with Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer’s harassment of one that lived near their home in Victoria Grove, and made a mental note to have a serious talk with them about leaving it alone. There wasn’t much he could do to stop their mischief and petty thievery, but he couldn’t have them inciting other tribes to seek the Jellicles out for retribution. Looking to the sky, he realized the time.

“Have they come yet?” Alonzo shook his head, gazing at the clouds.

“They’re late. I was just about to have the kittens start gathering what we owe.” Alonzo leaned over the edge of the tire and shouted at the kittens playing below them.

“Kittens, new game! First one to bring me three pieces of treasure gets a nice fat rat for dinner. Make sure they’re nice and shiny, I want them sparkling.” Within minutes Munkustrap and Alonzo had a pile of objects at their feet, deposited by the six kittens. Alonzo counted as each brought their treasure, finally declaring tiny Jemima the winner after she managed to drag a thimble, a shard of mirror, and a polished ball-bearing up to him before the others.

They had finished their collection just in time. Overhead, far above in the sky, two dark shapes circled and swooped, coming closer with each circuit. Munkustrap shooed the kittens away to safety and waited patiently as two ravens slowly floated down to land on the tire across from him and Alonzo. He bowed deeply before speaking.

“Good afternoon Arenno. Good afternoon, Somari.” The ravens considered him haughtily for a moment before dipping their heads low.

“And to you Munkustrap and Alonzo,” said the raven named Arenno. Somari, his mate, repeated the greeting. “Do you have the payment?”

Munkustrap indicated the pile at his feet, all metallic or glass items that reflected the sun like a glittering pile of jewels. Somari hopped towards the pile, her black eyes wide as she examined the items. After a moment she turned back to Arenno and croaked something in ravens’ language. Arenno, looking pleased, spoke to Munkustrap.

“A fine offering, she says. What information do you seek?” Munkustrap considered a moment before replying. One had to be careful with ravens. Tricksters all, and willing to sell knowledge of what they saw from the clouds to anyone who could pay. These two were some of the more honest ones Munkustrap had ever met, but he was still on guard.

“Has there been any unusual action or movement by of the Pollicles in the last few days?” Arenno conferred with Somari for a moment, then replied.

“The Pollicles continue their business as usual in all particulars except one: they are unusually active at night, when normally all are sleeping.” Somari cawed softly at Arenno. “Somari has seen great numbers of Pollicles gathered in the forest of Richmond Park, many new faces.”

“That’s not necessarily odd,” said Alonzo thoughtfully. “The Pollicle Hunt happens around roughly the same time of year as our Ball. Maybe they are meeting for that.” Somari squawked at him indignantly and had to be calmed by her mate.

“She says this is more than would be there for a hunt.” All fell silent for a moment, until Munkustrap bowed to Somari again.

“Somari, thank you for this news. Did you see any sign of Macavity or his agents at work?” Somari croaked at him, then turned to Arenno for a translation.

“She has seen no such signs. I have heard rumors from other flocks of his presence to the east and south and spoke to an owl who claims to have seen him several days ago, but there is nothing to prove it.” Munkustrap and Alonzo both nodded and thanked the ravens again, watching as the coal-black birds loaded their treasure into an old hairnet that Arenno held in his talons. With a croak of farewell, the ravens took off and vanished into the sky. Munkustrap and Alonzo sat in silence for a moment, digesting the information. Finally, Alonzo spoke.

“Well, that was about as useful as it ever is. They’re getting ready for their Hunt, is all.” Munkustrap began pacing the perimeter of the tire.

“Maybe. What concerns me is that they’re more active at night than usual. The Pols are more dog-dominated than we are. Dogs are not nocturnal. What are they doing that requires them to be up at night, days or even weeks before the actual Hunt, in big enough numbers that the ravens notice?” Alonzo thought for a moment, then ventured a guess.

“Perhaps the Pol Cats are gaining power and they’re attempting a coup. Possibly biding their time until the Hunt when they have enough numbers to be successful. Somari didn’t specify whether it was more dogs or cats that she saw, just that they were new faces.” Munkustrap stopped pacing and sat down, considering the possibility.

“It could be that, or they could be gathering strength for something entirely different. There’s not enough information to be sure.” Shaking off the thought, he looked down into the yard where the kittens played. They would have to ask the ravens again when they returned in a few days, or seek other sources of intelligence. A strengthening Pollicle Tribe was incredibly alarming, and he had to know more. He had other things to attend to, however, and padded softly over to his deputy who had started to doze in his position on the tire. Nudging the young tom with one paw, he smiled.

“Go get some sleep, Alonzo. You need some rest before the Ball. I can’t have you embarrassing me by falling asleep while you’re trying to flirt with Bombalurina.” Alonzo grinned happily at the thought of his favorite queen, getting to his feet and walking towards the edge of the tire.

“I’m going to win her away from your brother this year, I swear I will.” Munkustrap laughed and swiped at Alonzo with his claws.

“Good luck with that. You’ll definitely need some sleep if that’s your goal.” Alonzo dodged the swipe and laughed, leaping over Munkustrap before bouncing off towards his den.

The next few hours passed quickly, with Munkustrap dividing his time between patrolling the Junkyard, watching over the kittens as they played, and napped, and played, and napped some more in the clearing, and working out the final details of the Ball while he was on watch. He was in the middle of breaking up a play fight between two young toms that had gotten a touch too rough when Tugger sauntered into the clearing, to the delight of every queen and female kitten around him. After a few minutes’ flirting, insinuating, and generally being obnoxious, he strolled over to his brother and dropped a mouse at his feet.

“I brought you dinner. Caught it and decided I didn’t want it.” Slumping gracefully to the floor, Tugger began to groom his impressive mane. Munkustrap inspected the mouse, which did indeed appear to be freshly caught.

“Thank you, I’ll save it for later. I’ve still got until sunset before Plato arrives.” Tugger gave his brother a sideways glance as he repositioned for a better angle at a difficult spot on his back.

“All the more reason to eat it now, you’re going to forget and not eat dinner again and then I’ll be insulted.” Munkustrap cracked a smile, picking up the mouse and taking a bite. Subtlety was not one of his brother’s strengths.

“Tugger, are you worrying about me?” Tugger gave a careless shrug, not looking at Munkustrap as he continued detangling his fur.

“You can take care of yourself, Guardian. I just didn’t want to waste a perfectly good mouse.” He passed the time until Munkustrap was done by striking various poses for the benefit of the crowd gathered a few yards away, watching his every move. When the mouse was finished and the remains tidied away, the conversation resumed.

“I saw the ravens came in today. What kind of nonsense and lies did you overpay them for this time?” Tugger had never liked the ravens, for much the same reason that Munkustrap was cautious with them. Every time Munkustrap consulted them, he was invariably treated to a story or two afterwards about how taking advice from birds was a recipe for disaster. Most of these stories usually involved the bird in question being eaten followed by revenge from the flock, however, so Munkustrap took Tugger’s opinion on the matter with a grain of salt.

“The somewhat vague kind. They say the Pols are gathering in much larger numbers than usual and becoming more active at night.” Tugger’s face twisted in confusion.

“The Pols are mainly dogs, why would they—” Munkustrap cut him off.

“Exactly. Alonzo thought it might be because of the Hunt, but I’ve never known them to be active at night this far in advance. I may go see for myself if I can get away tomorrow night.” Tugger laughed at that, shaking his head.

“No, you won’t. It’s Jellicle Ball Eve Munk, take some time. Relax. Get a little cozy with a nice queen. Demeter’s always had an eye on you. Make that happen.” Munkustrap groaned at the very suggestive wiggle that accompanied this statement.

“No, I have—”

“…SO much to do, yes, we know.” Tugger rolled his eyes and stood. “You gotta make a move eventually, Munk. I’m kind of embarrassed to have such a boring brother. It’s quite a burden being the interesting one.” A chorus of mews from the kittens, now piled atop each other on the tire, interrupted their conversation. Etcetera climbed over her friends and littermates, tail frizzing in excitement.

“It’s Skimble! Skimble is back!” She paused, peering at the figure below. “And he’s got a friend!”

Munkustrap and Tugger glanced at each other in surprise before climbing up the tire for a look. Sure enough, there was Skimbleshanks, his ginger coat shining brightly in the evening sun. Alongside him walked another cat, one that Munkustrap did not recognize. Tugger immediately perked up.

“Well hello, lovely lady,” he purred. Looking at Munkustrap, he grinned before beginning to make his way down the mountain of junk between them and the newcomers.

“Don’t you want to introduce yourself, Munk?” Munkustrap hesitated a moment, and then followed Tugger down to meet Skimble and his guest where they waited below.

Chapter Text

Skimbleshanks greeted his friends exuberantly as they came down to meet him. He embraced the kittens first, then Munkustrap, before giving a friendly nod to Tugger. The kittens scrambled around Skimble, trying to climb onto his back and goad him into a game of chase. Munkustrap smiled fondly. Skimble was always patient with the kittens, taking the time to play with them and tell stories of his travels.

Munkustrap’s eyes wandered to the stranger who had come with Skimble, standing back from the maelstrom of fur and needle-sharp kitten claws. A young queen, around Tugger’s age. Tabby, though not grey-and-black like himself; hers was a coat of light blue-grey and cream. She was looking around the junkyard in wonder, turning about until her gaze came to rest on him. She gave a friendly smile, which he returned.

“Hello,” she said softly. Skimble untangled himself from the kittens and trotted over neatly to her side, calling out in warm Scottish brogue.

“How rude of me, I haven’t introduced ye! Kellaline, meet Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger. Lads, this is Miss Kellaline, newly arrived from Northampton.” Munkustrap began to speak but was interrupted by Tugger, who smirked while circling the newcomer as if appraising a freshly killed rabbit he was about to eat.

“May I just say, Kellaline, before my brother bores you into catatonia with a speech about…I don’t know, hospitality and honor or something along those lines, that you are most welcome in the Junkyard and I will gladly share my den if you have nowhere to sleep for the night.” Munkustrap leveled a glare at his brother and stepped around him, much to Tugger’s annoyance.

“Very nice to meet you, Kellaline. You come from Northampton?” The young queen nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, I arrived on the train about an hour ago. Skimbleshanks was kind enough to escort me here.” She beamed at Skimble, who smiled back. Munkustrap watched them carefully; he didn’t think Skimbleshanks would bring someone home who was a threat, but he had never heard of this Kellaline.

“And we are happy to have you. Skimble, have you arranged somewhere for her to stay?” Skimble nodded.

“Aye, I thought for her to stay with Jenny and I for a few nights until we can get her her own den.” Munkustrap was surprised. Her own den? Was Skimble implying that the newcomer meant to stay? Kellaline, seeming to sense the tension regarding her presence, spoke up.

“I’m a Jellicle, if that’s what’s worrying you.” Munkustrap inclined his head in concession.

“Of course. As I said, you are very welcome. Why don’t you go with Skimble and rest after your journey, and I’ll visit later?” He glanced at Skimble, who was almost dancing in excitement over the prospect of showing his new friend around. Kellaline followed his gaze, smiled, and turned back to Munkustrap.

“Thank you, that’s a good idea. It was nice meeting you!” She stood up and followed Skimble, who was chattering happily away and introducing her to various cats as they crossed paths.

“Very well then! Come along Miss Kellaline, I’m very excited for you to meet Jenny!”

News had gotten around fast about the newcomer. Every Jellicle in the Junkyard had hurried over to watch as Skimbleshanks paraded her around, happily introducing her to every cat they came across. She looked a little overwhelmed, Demeter thought. Overwhelmed and starry-eyed. Interesting. Bombalurina, standing next to her, made the same observation out loud. Demeter paused to observe the new queen for a moment before replying.

“Where is she from, I wonder? She doesn’t look like a street cat. There’s a hollow in the fur on her neck, like from a collar.” Bombalurina rolled her eyes and continued grooming her best friend’s fur.

“Probably a housecat,” she said with distaste. “She won’t last a week. Hold still, I’m almost done.”

Demeter sat patiently and let her mind wander as Bombalurina worked. She wondered what Munkustrap thought about this newcomer. He was a kindhearted tom but took his role as Guardian seriously. Unfamiliar cats and dogs, Jellicle or not, were often treated with great suspicion, and any who compromised the safety of the tribe from within was dealt with swiftly and decisively. It made Demeter shiver to think of it.

Bombalurina finished with Demeter’s fur and began on her own. When her friend did not immediately begin helping her, she paused to shoot a knowing look Demeter’s way.

“Thinking about Munkustrap again?” Embarrassed, Demeter tried to keep her tail from frizzing as she walked over to help Bombalurina.

“Just wondering what he thinks of the new queen. He’s always very careful around outsiders.” Demeter began working on the tangles around Bombalurina’s neck while her friend considered the thought.

“Word has it that she’s a Jellicle, but from up north. I didn’t catch her pedigree, but it must have checked out, for her to still be here.” Demeter nodded in agreement. There were definitely Jellicles living outside the Junkyard, many with human families, but they didn’t tend to show up except for the Jellicle Ball and other major celebrations throughout the year. Most of the Jellicles living out of town never came to the Junkyard once in their lives. What brought this one here, she thought, and why so suddenly?

“Oh Rina, you don’t have to get all fancied up for me. You look ravishing as-is.” A loud, aggravating baritone voice startled Demeter out of her thoughts. Tugger.

Tugger sat a few feet away giving Bombalurina the same look he gave to birds and small rodents right before running them down. Demeter couldn’t stand him and his obnoxious personality, his flirtatiousness that was always far too obvious and far too close, and his miniscule attention span. She had no idea what Bombalurina (or any of the other queens, for that matter) saw in Tugger, and she had no intentions of trying. Seeing that Bombalurina was now completely distracted from the conversation, Demeter simply stood and walked away, leaving the two to each other.

After wandering around a bit, Demeter decided to go find Jellylorum and see if she wanted to practice their parts for the Gumbie Cat’s song. It would likely just turn into the two of them gossiping about the new queen, as the part in question was a three-part harmony and their third was currently indulging her tendencies for shameless flirtation, but it was better than spending the evening alone. Wandering into the clearing that was the main communal space for the Jellicles living in the Junkyard Demeter found her heart fluttering; Munkustrap was standing opposite her, deep in thought. She froze, unnerved, trying to think of a way to walk over casually and strike up a conversation. Before she could come up with anything he looked up, saw her, and strode over, smiling warmly.

“Good evening, Dem. Everything okay?” Embarrassed to have been caught staring, she fidgeted her way through an answer.

“Everything’s great, Munk. How about you? I’m just looking for Jellylorum, I think we should practice again before the Ball. I want to make sure we don’t have to listen to Jenny telling us everything we did wrong afterwards.” She had to pause to catch her breath after her answer, looking up at Munkustrap as he listened patiently. She had to look up quite a long way; Munkustrap was very tall.

“I’m doing fine, just wishing the Ball would be over and done with already. I think I saw Jellylorum over by Skimble and Jenny’s den, let’s go find her.” He turned and began walking away, and she had to trot to catch up to his long gait. He slowed down a bit to match her stride, and they fell into step as they walked. After a minute or two, Demeter spoke.

“Have you met the new queen, Munk? I can’t go anywhere without hearing about her coming in on the train with Skimble.” Munkustrap gave a small smile and nodded.

“I have, though I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to her. She seems nice enough, and I don’t imagine Skimble would have let her on the train if he thought she was trouble, so I’m happy with that for now.” A few seconds of silence passed. “She’s actually staying with Jenny and Skimble tonight, you may meet her when we get there.”

The thought of meeting and getting to know an entirely new cat exhausted Demeter, who did not make friends easily. She didn’t hate company, but she didn’t enjoy it in large amounts either, and only really with a certain set of the Junkyard population. She glanced at Munkustrap, his handsome face silhouetted by the glow of the setting sun. Munkustrap definitely belonged to that set. Not only was he one of her few true friends, they’d been sweethearts when they were younger up until Old Deuteronomy had appointed his eldest son to the Guardianship. Munkustrap hadn’t wanted to end the relationship but Demeter, already shy, didn’t want the overwhelming attention and responsibility that came with being the Guardian’s mate. In the years since she had wondered many times if she had made the right choice.

They arrived at Skimble and Jenny’s den to find that almost every other cat in the Junkyard was also there, either loitering about to try to catch a glimpse of the newcomer or actively introducing themselves in turns. They waded through the crowd until Munkustrap caught sight of Jellylorum and led Demeter over. Jellylorum gave the two of them a warm smile and a maternal embrace each in greeting.

“Hello, you two! What brings you over here to me? Don’t you know the main attraction is that way?” Munkustrap and Demeter both laughed, eyeing the massive crowd in front of them.

“Dem was actually looking for you, Jellylorum. I’m just here in case she needed to climb on my head to find you.” He shot a teasing grin towards Demeter, who grinned in response.

“Yes, he’s very good in large crowds. I wanted to ask if you felt like practicing, with the Ball being two days away, just to make sure we had everything down.” Demeter was only half-listening to Jellylorum’s response inquiring about Bombalurina’s whereabouts, as her attention was on Munkustrap. He was regarding the crowd a few feet away, craning his neck to see over their heads into the den. Suddenly, he excused himself and walked away towards the crowd. Demeter panicked and followed after.

“Munk, where are you going?” Munkustrap turned back to Demeter, distracted.

“I think I’m going to go visit Kellaline for a while. That’s the new queen’s name,” he added after a pause. “I’d like to talk to her, and she probably needs a break from all the gawking.” Demeter was silent for a moment, trying to think of something to say before he walked off.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight, Munk? I can catch something and have it for you at my den by the time you’re done.” She waited a beat, then added, “I wish we spent more time together. I miss spending time with you.” Munkustrap gave her a soft look, followed by an embrace.

“Me too, Dem. I already had dinner, if you can call it that, with Tugger earlier, but maybe tomorrow?” She nodded at him, heart in her stomach as she smiled. They said their goodbyes and Demeter walked back over to Jellylorum where, as she had expected, they spent more time gossiping than practicing.

After a few minutes, the crowd parted, and Munkustrap walked out with the newcomer. Demeter felt a surge of envy as they strolled out towards the deeper parts of the junkyard, talking as if they were old friends.

“I’ve already told ye scoundrels, we’re not havin’ more visitors at this ti- oh, hello Munk!” Munkustrap was confronted at the entrance to the den by Skimble, whose fur was impressively bristled in indignation. Skimble stepped back to allow Munkustrap entry before growling at the gawkers outside. Jenny and Kellaline sat further into the den, Kellaline apologizing profusely for the disturbance caused by her presence and Jenny apologizing for her fellow Jellicles being so nosy. Munkustrap laughed inwardly at the irony and greeted them, sitting down across from Kellaline. She looked slightly miserable.

“How are you settling in, Kellaline?” She sighed in annoyance, glancing towards the den entrance.

“If I’d known coming here would cause this much chaos I would have just stayed in Northampton.” Skimble and Jenny both began to protest, Skimble slightly more sincerely than Jenny, that their guest should not blame herself for the uproar. The conversation continued for a few moments until Munkustrap interrupted, speaking to Kellaline.

“Would you like to take a walk? I’ll make sure the crowd stays here.” Kellaline gave a grateful smile and stood.

“I would like that very much, if only to get a little peace. And maybe some for Jenny and Skimble too.” Skimble shot Munkustrap a slightly guilty glance, after a hard stare from Jenny.

“Munk, d’you think you could, uh, make the crowd stay somewhere that isn’t here? My Jenny needs her rest with the Ball coming up.” Munkustrap agreed, and as he escorted Kellaline out he made several genial, if not slightly pointed, comments to various members of the crowd asking about rehearsals and dinner plans and, in one instance, guard duty.

As the crowd dispersed he led Kellaline off toward the deeper parts of the Junkyard, for some privacy. They chatted as they wound their way up a mountain of garbage, mostly him pointing out various interesting features of the Junkyard that could be seen from their vantage point. Finally they reached the peak of the heap, a refrigerator sitting bolt upright to form a tall, skinny mesa from which the entire Junkyard could be seen, border to border. Munkustrap waited to let Kellaline catch her breath and admire the view before he started asking questions.

“So, what brings you to the Junkyard from Northampton?” Kellaline stretched briefly and arranged her tail and paws neatly around herself before answering.

“It’s quite a long story.” Munkustrap settled down on the refrigerator in a pose of casual attention, friendly enough to invite conversation but not so relaxed as to lose his air of authority.

“I enjoy long stories. Let’s hear it.” Kellaline mirrored his casual demeanor, sitting down across from him.

“My parents were both born here, in the Junkyard, but were taken in by a businessman and his wife not long after. Our human family lived in Kensington, until Mister Phillips came into some trouble at work and lost his job. He had another one right away but had to move to Northampton for it. He took my parents with him. Mother was in kit at the time, with myself and my siblings.” So, she was a housecat. That on its own was cause for concern; having been raised so far away from the tribe in the domain of the humans, her loyalties couldn’t be trusted for now. Munkustrap watched her carefully for any signs of deceit. Her tail remained still, and her ears were up and alert; nothing caught his attention.

“My litter was born a month after they arrived in Northampton. They kept all of us for a while, but after two or three months Mister Phillips decided that they could not support so many and gave my siblings away to other families. I was only kept because I was Mrs. Phillips’ favorite.” She fell silent for a moment, fur bristling in distress. Anger rose in Munkustrap’s chest; he objected strongly to cohabitation of humans and cats, and the separation of families and loss of heritage was one of the foremost reasons. Human sympathizer or not, Kellaline’s grief was tangible and he was sorry for it.

“I have seen many kittens lost to misguided humans in my time as Guardian. I’m sorry that it happened to you.” Kellaline shook herself and got to her feet, walking to the edge of the cliff created by the refrigerator’s sheer face. He followed, sitting as close as he dared without touching her. They sat in silence for a moment before she leaned against him for the briefest of moments, purring.

“Thank you.” She sat upright again, tail twitching behind her. “They called me Rosie. They called my mother Violet and my father Basil. Their real names were Jennelbren and Lorikopik. She was a tabby like yourself, he was a Russian Blue.” Munkustrap nodded knowingly.

“I had been wondering, you have unusual color for a tabby.” He paused to scratch at an ear before continuing. “What happened after?”

“My parents both passed three years later. Mother was sick, and Father lasted perhaps two months after she was gone. He was too heartsick to continue. It was at that point that I began planning my escape.” She glanced at Munkustrap and gave him a small smile.

“Mrs. Phillips had begun talking about getting a new cat to keep me company, and I was terrified that it would end up being a Pollicle. There are not many Jellicles in Northampton, and those that are there do not tend to advertise it as the town is full of Pols. And of course, I wouldn’t be allowed any say in the matter.”

“So, you plotted to escape and come here to London and the Junkyard?”

“Exactly. Once my parents were gone, I had nothing to hold me there. I decided that the best thing to do would be to connect with my parents’ tribe, and perhaps find a home here.”

Munkustrap considered this for a moment. His position as Guardian meant that he was to protect the Tribe from outsiders. She was an outsider, but she was also a Jellicle, or at least she said she was. If her story was true she hadn’t left on her own as the old Glamour Cat had done, but been taken from the embrace of the Tribe before even being born. A Jellicle, but not. What did one do with that?  

“How did you come to meet Skimbleshanks?” Kellaline’s face brightened at the thought of the cheerful Scotch cat.

“I convinced a Jellicle dog to escort me to the rail station, and he stood watch while I sneaked into the mail car. I managed to avoid the humans for several hours but eventually Skimble came in for his inspection and caught me right away, hiding in one of the letter sacks!” They both chuckled at the image of the ginger cat in his smart waistcoat, sniffing out hitchhikers and layabouts with his keen, discerning nose.

“And I suppose he tried to throw you out right then and there? Skimble has no tolerance for disorder on his trains.” Kellaline shook her head in mock outrage.

“He would never do something so ungentlemanly! At first he was only going to let me stay on until the next stop, but after I told him my story he agreed to bring me here, to the Junkyard. I couldn’t just lounge about like a Pom, though. I had to work for my passage. He set me to keeping watch in the galley for pests.” Munkustrap gave her a wry smile.

“A duty which I’m sure you performed admirably.” She groaned and covered her face with her paws in embarrassment.

“I was awful at it! It was the first time I’d ever seen a mouse in my life.” She peeked at Munkustrap to find him trying to hold back a laugh. “It’s alright, you can laugh. Being a spoiled housecat left me woefully unprepared for the real world.” She fell silent, gazing out over the Junkyard and all the activity below.

Munkustrap took the opportunity to collect his thoughts. Her story was believable. He didn’t recognize the names she gave for her parents, but that could be checked with older members of the tribe. She was likeable enough (And very pretty to look at, though that has no bearing on the situation, he told himself sternly). His years living in the Junkyard told him that she wasn’t lying about being a housecat; she seemed slightly uncomfortable being outside and took care to avoid sitting on the dirtier spots on the refrigerator’s surface.

They spent a few more minutes talking about Northampton, then the Junkyard, before Kellaline turned to him abruptly.

“Did I pass?” Munkustrap, taken aback, stared at her for a second.

“What do you mean?” Kellaline swept her tail back and forth over the ground, watching him with amusement.

“You didn’t bring me up here just to admire the view, Munkustrap. You were interviewing me. How did I do?” Caught out, Munkustrap could only laugh as he walked over to sit beside her on the refrigerator’s edge.

“You’ll do for now.” He looked up at the moon, momentarily mesmerized by its great silver disc. “You know the Ball is in two days?” Kellaline’s face brightened.

“Really? I thought I’d missed it!” She looked up at the moon with him, amazed.

“You made it just in time. Will this be your first?” She was quiet a moment, before looking at him.

“My first actual one, yes. Mother held pretend ones when I was a kitten, but after she and Father died, I lost track. And we didn’t really have anyone to celebrate it with.” Munkustrap tore himself away from the moon to give her a sympathetic glance.

“Well, you have an entire Tribe to celebrate it with now.” He caught her gaze and held it for a moment, until by unspoken agreement they both stood and began the long climb down the mountain.

Chapter Text

Munkustrap had always been an unusually early riser, for a Jellicle. Most days he was awake within an hour or two of sunup, to check in with the night guards and inspect the Junkyard for anything that might be amiss. Once satisfied that all was well he would clean himself up, catch some breakfast, and then begin organizing the day’s activities; hunts, lessons for the kittens, sparring for the younger toms and queens to practice their skills, followed by visiting the elders to make sure their needs were attended to.

Today, however, he was up before the sun. Slipping out of the Junkyard, he trotted silently to the south. The Moon still hung low in the sky, and he had to tear his gaze from it as he walked; the Jellicle Ball was tonight, and he could already feel the madness rising in his blood. As he walked, his mind drifted to the same thought that had been nagging him for the past two days.

Why were the Pollicles congregating en masse, at night, so far ahead of the Hunt?

Somari and Arenno had returned the previous day with more information; the Pollicles were now roving brazenly through the neighborhoods surrounding their territory, attacking and tormenting creatures of all species and tribes. Arenno, translating for Somari, had explained how their numbers had swelled yet again, until the forests and fields of Richmond Park were filled to bursting with Pollicles. Most concerning, however, was the last of the information provided: multiple confirmed sightings of Macavity in various areas of London coinciding with a number of break-ins, thefts, assaults, and in one case, the death of a Jellicle dog.

Munkustrap had been very generous with the ravens’ pay for this knowledge. In thanks, Arenno provided him with the name of a Richmond Park resident who would likely be willing to pass information, along with a meeting place and time. He hurried through alleyways and across bridges until he came to the park’s edge, climbing a tree to wait for his contact to appear.

He did not have to wait long. Over a nearby hill walked a doe, her ears perked as she listened carefully for predators. She grazed here and there in the grass, her graceful neck stretching to nip at the greenery. Eventually she made her way over to Munkustrap’s tree, where she sat down on the ground near the roots. After a few minutes she spoke, almost too quiet to hear.

“What is your name?” Munkustrap climbed down to a lower branch, one with few enough leaves that she could see him but not enough to leave him unshielded to outside eyes.

“Munkustrap, of the Jellicles. You are Rusulka?” The deer nodded slightly, still gazing serenely over the horizon.

“I am. How can I help you, Munkustrap?” Munkustrap began to speak but froze, heart pounding, as a howl rang out in the distance. After an agonizingly long time it faded away, and no other howls followed; a single Pollicle finding a meal, perhaps. The full Hunt was still in the future. Rusulka had also tensed upon hearing the howl, and released a long-held breath when it disappeared. After a few moments’ silence she spoke again.

“There are more of them every day. The herd is terrified. We fear for our fawns.” Munkustrap jumped down and crouched behind her, using Rusalka’s bulk to keep himself out of sight.

“How long has this been happening? Where are they coming from?”

“At least a month. They’re coming in small groups to disguise their numbers, but more are arriving each day. There are many more than is usual for this time of year. As for where…” Rusulka sighed. “I could not tell you. Everywhere. It seems every Pollicle in the land is congregating here in Richmond.” Munkustrap peeked over Rusulka’s back, scanning for Pollicles, then walked around to face her.

“Do you know why they’re here?” Rusulka held his gaze for a long moment, then stood. She looked at the dark thicket that loomed in the distance, menacing even in the velvety morning light.

“No. We do not go near their forest. We keep to our own.” Rusulka began to walk away, then turned back.

“Send word with the ravens if you have news. I will do the same. They are not gathering for any Hunt, Munkustrap. That I can tell you. This is something more.” Munkustrap watched her gracefully amble back over the hill, stopping to casually graze the grass as she did so. As she crested the hilltop a small fawn came staggering over, clearly only a few days old. Rusulka nosed its delicate ears gently before giving it a small nudge in the right direction. Munkustrap was struck by the fawn’s fragility, suddenly understanding exactly what Rusalka had risked speaking to him. As he turned to leave a quick movement caught his eye from the direction of the dark thicket; just a small rustle, a movement of branches so subtle it could have been just the breeze. He suddenly felt very exposed, his instincts all screaming for him to run.

Quietly he skulked back out of the park and onto the street, careful to keep low and take back routes that would put him high above the reach of any dogs he happened to run across. If Rusulka and the ravens were right, the streets around Richmond Park were a very bad place to be a Jellicle alone.

A quick jaunt over to the Theater District took Munkustrap to his next destination: the Lyceum. He shook off the pensiveness that still haunted him after Richmond Park; he was here to meet someone whom he didn’t wish to worry with heavy matters. Slipping into the alley and through the side door, he made his way backstage and began searching the prop rooms. After a few minutes he found what he was looking for: Old Gus, asleep on an ancient pile of silk shirts.

Munkustrap sat on the floor next to the pile, taking a minute to evaluate Gus and his state. The old theater cat was in very decrepit condition, rail-thin and covered in dust from his wanderings in the dark corners of the stage. Jellylorum did her best to take care of him, but she was only one cat and had more responsibilities than just Gus. He’d have to find someone to help her, and until then come visit Gus more often himself. Resting a paw lightly on Gus’ head, he gently woke the elderly cat.

“Good morning, Gus. Did you sleep well?” Gus stared around at his surroundings, blinking his eyes in confusion, until he finally focused on Munkustrap. Slowly rolling to his feet, Gus tottered over and gave him an embrace.

“Good morning my boy! I slept very well, thank you. Have you come to see the show?” Gus walked on trembling paws to the door of the prop room, watching as the stagehands hoisted scenery and lights for the evening to come. Munkustrap followed closely, staying within a few steps of Gus to catch him should he fall. They sat together in the doorway.

“Gus, did you forget that tonight is the Ball?” Gus tilted his head, brow wrinkling as he fought to remember. Suddenly his face lit up.

“Oh yes, that’s right! Jellylorum is going to sing my song for me. I remember now.” He turned to Munkustrap. “Do you think that Old Deuteronomy will choose me, Munkustrap?”  

“I don’t know, Gus. We’ll find out tonight. I’ll certainly miss you if he does.” Gus gave him a grin, then returned to his fascinated observation of the stagehands. After a moment, Munkustrap spoke again.

“Gus, has Jellylorum told you that a new Jellicle has come to the Junkyard?”

“She did mention a newcomer, yes,” Gus said, distracted by the light reflecting off a metallic object meant to represent the sun.

“I was wondering if I could ask you about her parents. The new Jellicle, that is.” Gus tore himself away from the faux sun and walked unsteadily back to his bed of silks. Settling into it, he left a bit of room to one side and looked at Munkustrap expectantly. Munkustrap curled up next to him as he had when he was still just a kitten, when Gus would tell him and his littermates stories of his theatrical adventures. It had been a considerable amount of time since they had sat together like this, and Munkustrap was considerably bigger now than he was back then, but it still felt like home.

“What is her name, my dear boy? And her parents?” Munkustrap settled in, rearranging the shirts to get rid of the lumps Gus had created while lying on them.

“Her name is Kellaline, her parents were Jennelbren and Lorikopik. They were born in the colony here in the Junkyard but were removed by their humans. Kellaline was born in Northampton.” Gus frowned.

“Northampton? What a shame, to have been removed. Let me think, though…” As Gus pondered a moment, Munkustrap took the opportunity to detangle and smooth a section of the old tom’s wiry fur. Jellylorum bathed and groomed Gus every night, but he was difficult to keep in order. Gus suddenly exclaimed happily as the memory came back to him.

“Ah yes, I remember! She’s a tabby and he’s a blue, correct?” After Munkustrap confirmed this, he continued.

“I do remember the two. I knew him more than her, he’d come to the theater and watch the plays and then we’d go prowling together. Quite the hearty beast, was Lorikopik. If this Kellaline has any of her father in her she’ll be stubborn as a bulldog.” Gus let out a long, dry hacking cough before continuing.

“I knew her mother less, but she was a graceful creature. Very elegant, much like Madge Kendal. One had to work very hard to get her attention, and even harder to keep it.” He smiled softly, lost in memory. “I often wonder if that was how Lorikopik managed to keep her. He was never one to be told no, and she liked to be chased.”

“When did they leave?” Gus rolled over, revealing another tangle that needed to be worked out. As Munkustrap gently tugged at it, Gus spoke.

“I don’t recall exactly; it was sometime in the autumn. They just left and never came back. We went searching and found that their human family had vanished, and the house was for sale. As for what had happened to Jennelbren and Lorikopik…we couldn’t be sure that they had moved with their human family, but we couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t. Jennelbren was in kit, you see, so for them to move so far was a very unhappy thing indeed, whether on their own or with humans.” Munkustrap continued working on Gus’ fur, reflecting on the new information. Kellaline had so far been nothing but friendly and polite, the only sign of contrarianism having been her confronting him about his interrogation of her two nights before. He was satisfied, though, that she was at least telling the truth about her background.

Finishing up, he extricated himself from the pile of silk and stood. Gus gave him a disappointed look, which Munkustrap soothed with a smile.

“I’ll see you tonight, Gus. In the meantime, I’ll try to send someone over to bring you some food and keep you company until Jellylorum gets here. Try to go back to sleep, you’re going to have a long night ahead of you.” Gus stretched, already half asleep.

“See you tonight, dear boy.”

It was a long walk to the top of the High Street.

Munkustrap had to sit in the shade of a bush and rest before continuing the final push to his destination, watching the humans passing by with large, brightly colored parcels and paper bags in their hands. A few children stopped to say hello, and he permitted them to stroke his head and back for a few moments until it was time to move on. Their disappointed cries and attempts to bribe him with bits of ribbon and slivers of meat from half-eaten sandwiches fell on deaf ears; he had somewhere to be, and if he wanted to be back at the Junkyard in time for the Ball tonight, he needed to be there now.

Arriving at the quiet café courtyard in a small corner plaza, he jumped a wall and walked its narrow top until he came to a wide platform. On this platform was a large shaggy cat, almost ageless in his ancient presence. Old Deuteronomy smiled widely at his son and beckoned him closer, embracing him.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, my son. You’re about very early today. I hope you’re not still preparing for the Ball?” Munkustrap sighed, shaking his head.

“No, I’m about as prepared for that as I’m ever going to be. I’m here for advice, as Guardian.” He felt himself straighten a bit, sitting taller next to his father. The two of them governed the Jellicles as a unit: Munkustrap, the Guardian, was responsible for the physical wellbeing and safety of the Tribe; Old Deuteronomy governed in spiritual matters, as well as arbitrating any disputes or prosecuting any law-breaking that was beyond Munkustrap’s power to decide.

“What advice do you seek, Guardian?” Munkustrap took a moment to sort out his thoughts. It was difficult to know where to begin. Slipping into his persona as Guardian, he began his report.

“I’ve received some disturbing information over the last few days regarding the Pollicles. The ravens have told me that they are massing in the forest, many more than usual and many of them new faces that have never been seen in the city before. I discussed it with Alonzo and he thought it might be that they were just preparing for the Hunt, but the ravens are saying that they are very active at night.”

“Which doesn’t make sense to me if they’re preparing for the Hunt,” he said in frustration, “because I’ve never known them to spend this much time about in the night before. Also, there have been more confirmed sightings of Macavity, one in connection with the death of the Jellicle Wolfhound two weeks ago.” He paused to let his father take in the information, continuing when Old Deuteronomy motioned for him to go on.

“I spoke to a deer, Rusulka, who lives in the park. She was able to confirm some of this as well as the fact that they’re coming not just from the city but from everywhere. I’m concerned about what this means for us, in terms of our safety.” Old Deuteronomy stared off into space as he listened, nodding thoughtfully. Munkustrap waited for his reply impatiently, his worry eating at his nerves. After a painfully long time, Old Deuteronomy replied.

“Is there any connection between any incidents with Pollicles and the sightings of Macavity?” Munkustrap replied in the negative. He’d gone over the known events almost obsessively, first with Arenno, then Alonzo, then Tugger. None of them could find any overlap between the Pollicles and Macavity’s activities; it seemed he was simply more active than usual now for reasons known only to himself. It angered Munkustrap that proactivity was nigh-impossible when it came to Macavity; one could only hope that when he struck he was merely one or two steps ahead, instead of a dozen. Old Deuteronomy interrupted Munkustrap in the middle of his explanation.

“There is a question in all of this that needs to be answered before we act prematurely. How many Pollicles are there?” Munkustrap hesitated, unsure of exactly what his father was asking him.

“Do you mean in the city, or in the world? I don’t know the answer to either question.” Old Deuteronomy gave him a placid smile and stretched out in the sun.

“Perhaps you should find out. If the original number is small, then ‘many’ may not be as many as you think. If it is large…” Old Deuteronomy trailed off, letting the thought sink in. “It would be wise to discover the truth of your opponent in a situation such as this.”

Munkustrap thought about the information he’d been given over the past two days. None had mentioned the actual numbers of the Pollicle gathering, just that there were ‘many’. And he did not know the original size of the Pollicle Tribe in the city. Old Deuteronomy was right, he needed more information, and he needed it fast.

“If it is possible, you should speak with this Rusalka again. She is your closest source to the Pollicles.” Munkustrap nodded, mind racing.

“Yes, I’ll send a message through the ravens. She should be able to tell me more about their movements as well. Then we can decide what needs to be done.” They sat in silence for a moment, watching the humans pass by below. Munkustrap’s mind was racing through the possibilities; the ravens could be overstating the numbers to create interest and receive more pay, and the Pols could truly just be gathering for the Hunt. Or there could be an army of Pols in the heart of the city, all of them itching for the chance to sink their teeth into a Jellicle neck. He couldn’t know for sure until he spoke to Rusalka again. Putting away the thought for the time being, his mind wandered to other subjects. It must have shown in his expression; after a few minutes studying his son, Old Deuteronomy spoke again.

“Is there something else on your mind, my son?” Munkustrap stayed silent a moment, realizing suddenly how trivial his concern over Kellaline seemed given other events of the day.

“I assume you’ve heard the news about the queen Skimble brought to the Junkyard two days ago?” Old Deuteronomy nodded slowly.

“I have had the news. She will be at the Ball?” Munkustrap nodded curtly.

“Yes. Her name is Kellaline, she arrived from Northampton. She says her parents were born here in the Junkyard.” He glanced over at his father, who appeared to be asleep in the sun. “Their names were Jennelbren and Lorikopik. Do you remember them?”

“Yes,” Old Deuteronomy said drowsily. “He was a bit of a nonconformist. She was beautiful, but cold. Not a pair I thought would last, but you say they had a family?” Munkustrap began pacing back and forth.

“Yes. Kellaline was the only one that the humans kept, but she had several brothers and sisters.” Old Deuteronomy hummed in acknowledgement, shifting to keep the sun at his back.

“And you’re concerned about her presence in the Junkyard.” Coming to the edge of the concrete ledge, Munkustrap turned back and began another lap.

“Yes, just like I am with any other newcomer. She’s an outsider, but she’s also a Jellicle. You and Gus have both confirmed her story. I don’t exactly know what to do with her.” Old Deuteronomy opened one eye and studied him for a moment.

“Do you think she is lying? Do you think she is dangerous?” Munkustrap paused his pacing and considered the question, thinking back on his conversation with Kellaline two nights before. He hadn’t had any time to interact with her again, and there had been nothing in that conversation that had seemed alarming, but he didn’t know.

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure.” Munkustrap seemed to be saying that quite a bit today. He didn’t like not knowing, not having the answers, particularly in front of his father. Old Deuteronomy smiled benevolently, sensing his son’s frustration.

“Trust your instincts and your judgement, Munkustrap. You were chosen as Guardian not because you are my son, but because of the abundance of good sense you inherited from your mother.” Munkustrap smiled at that, reminded of his mother’s warm, straightforward presence. She had died bearing the litter that had brought Tugger into the world, and Munkustrap strongly suspected that the lack of that firm hand was behind much of his brother’s wildness. Standing up, he gave Old Deuteronomy a deep nod.

“I will, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.” As Munkustrap turned to walk away, Old Deuteronomy called his name.

“Munkustrap?” He stopped and turned around to find Old Deuteronomy had opened his eyes and was looking intently at him.

“Yes, Father?”

“There are many, many Pollicles in Northampton.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment, both pensive. Munkustrap broke the silence, his tone troubled.

“…I know.” He turned and walked off the platform onto the wall, worry taking over his mind again as he began his journey back to the Junkyard.