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Chapter Text

When the pure white kitten was born, her grandfather knew she would need a regal name befitting of one so immaculate and elegant. Her mother wholeheartedly agreed, and they named the kitten in the same fashion as the late great queen of Great Britain: Victoria.

            The regular patrons of the theater also took notice of the snow-colored newborn, ogling and fawning over her on their way in and out (and often in between). Many of them offered to adopt Victoria when she was old enough, and while her grandfather was pleased that the humans had the sense to adore such a rare beauty, he could not let her be taken by simply anyone; he would not have his little diamond thrown into the rough, thank you very much, so he and his daughter carefully examined each candidate that spoke with their handler, and when the right one came along they made their approval very clear.

            And so it was that Victoria came to live in Victoria Grove, a very well-to-do neighborhood with a regal name fit for a regal cat. She was kept clean and well-fed in a beautiful house with a doting human family and a dazzling diamond collar sitting upon her dazzling white neck. Her new home was not too far from her old one in the West End so that her mother could still visit her frequently. Her mother also brought her on trips to a junkyard that served as a meeting place for Jellicles, where Victoria was introduced to other members of the Jellicle clowder. There were two other kittens there that she loved to play with: her cousin George (also regally named), and Plato, a quiet kitten whom she had no relation to. She wished she could play with them more often than she already did, but her mother forbade her from leaving her humans’ house alone.

            “Curiosity killed the cat, Victoria,” her mother would always say, and so she would sit in the windowsill and sigh as she watched cars and people putter idly by.

            All of the other cats in Victoria Grove were very much grown, and though they loved the pretty white kitten and always treated her cordially, they had no interest in play; they were far too posh and proper at this point in their lives, or “stuffy and boring” as Victoria saw it.

            That was why a certain pair of calicos that also made their home in Victoria Grove caught her eye. They were not like the others; unsophisticated and unrestrainable, she had seen them climbing about in the oddest places at the oddest times and had more than once caught a glimpse of at least one of them in her human’s house. Most often she would see them slinking off down the street until she could see them no more, and always she wondered where it was they were going. She had asked the other cats along her street, but they had all dismissed her question, telling her not to get involved with those two. This, of course, had the opposite of the intended effect and only served to intrigue her more. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were their names, and Victoria was determined to discover what she could about them.

            So when it happened that, on a moonless night when the weather was warm and the light was low, the two calicos passed under the open window that the white kitten was lounging in carrying a mysterious bag, she took it as an opportunity to follow and find out.

            It is not easy to hide when one has a pristine white coat, but with little light for her bright fur to reflect, Victoria had a better chance at going unnoticed. As silently as she could she crept several paces behind the two, dodging and crouching at their slightest turn of the head or twitch of the ear. With each new corner turned and new street made known to her, Victoria’s excitement and wonder tripled. Though the rest of the world was asleep, her senses were still inundated with a whirl of new sights, sounds, and scents, and she relished every minute of her exploration as she continued in her venture.

            It was some time later that she was sobered by the realization that they were still walking with no end in sight, and she had no idea how to get back. For a moment she froze in fear, regret crawling from her paws up to her ears, but she quickly shook it off.

            They’ll be going back home eventually, so I’ll just follow them when they do, she reasoned, but her high spirits had undoubtedly sunken quite a bit nevertheless. She was starting to get tired of walking, and wished she were back home, curled up and cozy in her windowsill with the gentle breeze tickling her whiskers as she slept. But she wanted to know where Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were going, and she was so far already, certainly the reward of knowing would be worth it.

            It was then that the two calicos stopped at what appeared to be a basement entrance to a building and began talking to another cat, and Victoria quickly hid as she tried to listen, taking in the sight and setting before her.

            So this is where they’re always going? She pondered in confusion, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly interesting about it. Maybe it’s the cat they came to see?

            “This is all you’ve brought back?” said the cat, his voice rough and clearly lower-class.

            “Oi! There’s some pretty good stuff in there, make no mistake!” Mungojerrie replied, taking the bag back as if he were offended.

            “And it wasn’t a walk in the park getting it all, either!” Rumpleteazer added.

            “Well, now that’s not true, Teazer, you know these were from visitors in Hyde Park—”

            “It wasn’t easy nicking all that, is my point!”

            “ALRIGHT!” The gruff cat growled, “the diamond collar will likely make up for your shortcomings.” Both Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer responded with complete confusion, and Victoria wondered what that could mean when she was suddenly crushed under the weight of another cat, the dirty, musky smell of his fur filling her nose. She screamed and flailed in shock and fear, but to no avail; the cat sunk his teeth into her scruff and carried her paralyzed form over to the other three as more cats flanked his sides. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer looked shocked and horrified, but for once they had nothing to say.

            “Don’t tell me you didn’t know this little kitten was following you,” one of the rough cats said. The two calicos gulped and shook their heads. The cat tutted.

            “Lack of vigilance is a mark against you,” he said with a sardonic smile, “we’ll let the boss figure out what to do with you and the little intruder you led here once we get inside.”

            “W-wait, wait!” Victoria called, beginning to cry as complete panic took over her, but she was ignored. Oh, why hadn’t she just stayed in the house? The regret she had earlier suppressed mingled with her terror as they descended into the dank, dark entryway of what she could only assume was a dungeon. The clasp of the cat’s teeth on Victoria’s neck was sharp and tight, not at all like the gentle grip of her mother, and his breath was hot and heavy against her skin. The walls around were cold and grey, with stains and scratches that made a pit form in the white kitten’s stomach. She began to wail even louder when a cat in the group that she couldn’t see yelled at her to shut up; she heard her teeth snap together immediately and she stayed in stunned silence, trembling all the way.

            Finally she was dropped on the hard ground, but before she could move a heavy paw held her down, and she did not try to resist, instead fixating on the filthy floor in front of her. The sound of purring approached from the opposite direction, getting louder until whoever the cat was stopped and sat in front of the group, saying nothing.

            “Sir,” a tomcat said, “we’ve got a bit of a situation here. Mungo and Rumple had a little follower and didn’t even know it. Led this kitten right to headquarters.” For an agonizingly long moment Victoria heard no sound except for the purring of the other cat and her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

            “…a lovely collar,” was all he said when he finally spoke. He had a lovely, smooth voice, level and placid, but as calming as it was it simultaneously filled Victoria with absolute terror. Where am I?! her mind kept screaming.

            “Indeed it is! See, every cloud has its silver lining!” Rumpleteazer piped up. After a brief moment of silence she added quietly, “sir.” He said nothing more and stood again, coming towards the white kitten, and her heart leapt higher and higher into her throat as he loped closer and closer until she couldn’t take it any longer.

            “I’m sorry!” she squeaked, trying to position herself in a way that she could look up, “I didn’t know! Please let me go back home, I won’t tell anybody! I’m sorry! Please? I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Finally she wriggled enough that she could see the cat in front of her, and as soon as she did her voice died in her throat. The cat was huge, with wild, untamed fur the color of blood and eyes that glowed with a piercing electric yellow, the likes of which Victoria had never seen; all cats’ eyes reflected light in the dark, but this cat’s eyes were not reflecting but rather producing an unnatural and unnerving light all of their own. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his even though she desperately wanted to, and was only released from his gaze when he looked away to the other cats.

            “It is a shame she is so young,” he said with a sigh, “but we cannot have witnesses. She will not be leaving this building again. I unfortunately cannot think of any use for such a young molly kitten, so we may end up having to kill her.”

            “No, please, I wanna go home! I wanna go home!” Victoria screamed, but one sharp look from the red cat and again her voice instantly died.

            “Wait!” called a female voice, and all heads turned to see a gorgeous, fluffy white cat sashaying down the stairs, “Macavity, might I keep her? She is such a lovely-looking little thing, and it is not often I get to see another all-white cat. Why, she is so darling, she could be my mini-me!” The white cat swung her hips as she walked past, looking down at Victoria as if she were a diamond on display.

            “I do not have time to waste on this kitten, Griddlebone,” the red cat, apparently called Macavity, said flatly. The white cat, Griddlebone, swished her tail in dismissal.

            “I said she would be mine, silly. You would not have to worry about it in the slightest. Come on, how about it? She can be a Little Griddle!” she said. Macavity looked from Griddlebone to Victoria and back, then shrugged.

            “Whatever suits you. Just make sure to keep her out of the way,” he said nonchalantly as he turned away, “Mungojerrie! Rumpleteazer! My office, now.” The toms dispersed as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer followed Macavity up the stairs, their ears down and tails tucked and stealing quick glances back at Victoria. Within seconds she found herself alone with the flamboyant, fluffy white cat, stuck in this building full of strange, evil cats and the horrible reality of never being able to go home again.

            Her mother always told her curiosity killed the cat. If only she’d listened.

Chapter Text

As she sat staring uncertainly at the white cat before her, Victoria had a nagging feeling that she had heard the name Griddlebone before. The cat in question was still appraising the kitten like a novelty item she had won at some prestigious auction, her fluffy white tail twitching with excitement as she looked her over. Victoria wasn’t quite sure what to make of her; it seemed that she had saved her life, and that made her inclined to think Griddlebone might be good, but what would a good cat be doing here with all those evil cats? Victoria had a hard time trying to figure it out; her world had been so safe and simple, and now in one night seemingly everything she understood had been scrambled.

            “Alright, Little Griddle, I am going to retire to bed, as I had been before all this ruckus you caused woke me. Come along!” Griddlebone said, turning and walking away proudly without looking back. Victoria froze, still in shock over everything, and watched with unsurety as the white cat gracefully climbed the stairs. She stopped halfway, having noticed she was not being followed, and glared down at the kitten as her tail wagged irritably.

            “I said come along,” she growled menacingly, “and I won’t say it a third time.” Fear of punishment was enough to jolt Victoria from her paralysis, kickstarting her into action. She darted over to the stairs and struggled up each too-tall step with as much speed as she could muster, panting heavily by the time she reached the top. Still she ran to catch up with the other cat, only slowing down once she’d fallen into step behind her.

            “Don’t breathe so heavily, it’s very unappealing,” Griddlebone said without looking back.

            “But I just climbed up the—”

            “Do NOT talk back to me, and don’t make excuses!” the older cat said, smacking Victoria with her big fluffy tail, “I don’t pant like a dog, and if you are to be my Little Griddle, you shouldn’t either.”

            As Victoria walked in silence it finally came to her where she had heard the name Griddlebone before; her grandfather had been in a nearly innumerous amount of stage productions throughout his long acting career, and one of his famous roles was as the titular Growltiger of the Growltiger’s Last Stand opera. The lead female role, nearly always played by Victoria’s mother, was Growltiger’s girlfriend, the Lady Griddlebone. Victoria knew the opera had been based on actual events, and as such knew that the real Growltiger was quite dead; but she had never considered that the real Lady Griddlebone would still be alive.

She remembered the familiar fluffy white costume her mother would wear for the role that hid her cream tabby coat everywhere save for her face. Victoria had loved curling up in that costume, her nostrils filled with the smell of perfume and her mother’s scent, and her mother would pretend that she could not find her amidst all that white fluff. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go back to those times.

            “Stop crying! No one wants to listen to you wail, and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise,” Griddlebone snapped, this time looking back with sharp eyes. Again Victoria clamped her jaw shut; she hadn’t realized she was crying. She wondered as a fleeting, futile hope if she might be able to play a similar game with this Griddlebone, or find any sort of familiarity and comfort in her at all. Her doubt was strong, but her heart was desperate.

 They turned and went into a room that was rather incongruous with the industrial dungeon-like feel of the rest of the building. It may have had the same walls and floor, but they were covered with all sorts of rugs, curtains, cushions, and blankets made of fur, velvet, or silk in varying shades of white, pink, and red. There was a great deal of jewels and gemstones adorning the place, whether on their own or as part of some other delicately crafted object, and a couple marble statues stood watch over it all. The shiny gemstones made Victoria look down at her own diamond collar, and she got the strange feeling that she was simply another addition to the collection.

            “See that little pink pillow there? You would look so pretty perched on that. You will sleep there,” Griddlebone said as she pointed out the pillow in question.

            “Are you going to help me get back home tomorrow?” Victoria asked, her anxiety rising as she thought about sleeping in a strange place.

            “Were you paying any attention back there? Forget about whatever place you came from, this is where you will be from now on. You belong to me now, Little Griddle,” Griddlebone said irritably.

            “My name is Victoria—”

            “Do not speak unless spoken to!” the fluffy white cat shrieked, swatting the kitten hard on the head with claws extended, “whatever name you had before is irrelevant and erased. You are Little Griddle because you are mine, and you will do what I want. Is that clear?”

            Victoria was stunned as she felt the hot sting of the scratches on her head. She had never been struck in such a way before—her mother had certainly scolded her with a bop on the head or rear, but not nearly so hard and never with her claws out. Whatever illusion she had had that this Griddlebone might be at all like the Griddlebone she had once loved and recognized as her mother had, in that moment, been completely and irrevocably shattered.

            “I said, is that clear?” The real Griddlebone repeated with a growl. Victoria swallowed hard and nodded, too scared and upset to speak. The fluffy white cat’s demeanor changed in an instant, perking up with a satisfied smile.

            “Very good,” she said cheerfully, and licked the blood from the wound on the kitten’s head. Victoria could tell that it was not done out of love, but rather so that her pristine white fur wouldn’t be stained. When Griddlebone was satisfied with her work she motioned for the kitten to go over to the pillow, turning the lights out and laying herself down to lounge on a mound of pillows.

            Victoria shakily curled up on the pink pillow, exhausted beyond belief but entirely unable to sleep. She sat staring into the darkness, her stomach churning and her mouth dry, and the room was torturously silent save for the sound of her and Griddlebone’s quiet breathing. The pads of her paws were sweating and everything about her felt…wrong as she waited for what seemed like both forever and no time at all, for there was no proof of the passing of time except for the rhythmic inhale, exhale that she wished she could ignore. Finally, when it seemed that the other cat was thoroughly and deeply asleep, Victoria buried her face in her paws and the pillow and unleashed all the sobs she had worked so hard to suppress.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, Little Griddle!” came the falsely cheerful voice.

Victoria woke with a start. She didn’t remember ever falling asleep, but evidently she had. As the fog slowly lifted from her mind she came to the horrible realization that the events of last night had not been some horrible dream, and her heart sank as the reality set in.

            “Oh, don’t start that again!” Griddlebone scolded, “you know I told you no more crying or pouting, so nip it in the bud! Now, I’ve got some breakfast for you and I expect you to eat as I eat. Here you go.” And she batted a single mouse over to the kitten before heading over to her own bowl. Victoria carefully padded over and sniffed at the dead mouse; nothing about it smelled off, and it had been so recently killed that it still held a trace of warmth. Realizing then just how hungry she was, she began tearing into the thing, biting off a big chunk and chewing quickly.

            “Hey!” Griddlebone snapped, and the little kitten jumped at the sound, meat still hanging from her mouth, “I said to eat as I eat. You’re going to have to have nice table manners if you’re my mini-me. Now, watch carefully and follow along.” The fluffy white cat daintily bit into her food—of which, Victoria noted, there was significantly more—making sure that it touched only her teeth, and used her claws to slice a small piece off with precision. She chewed with her eyes closed and paws crossed elegantly before swallowing, then opened her eyes to stare at Victoria expectantly. Not a drop of food had touched her fur.

            Victoria’s attempts were significantly messier, and with all her efforts and retries it took a much longer time to finish the small mouse than it should have. Even so Griddlebone was still not finished with her meal, and the kitten, who was very much still hungry, watched her with longing. She bit her lip, knowing that if she said anything she was likely to be punished, but after a few minutes it became too much for her to bear.

            “May I have some?” she asked, her voice getting softer with each word. Griddlebone paused and opened her eyes, gazing at Victoria with an affronted look.

            “No, you may never eat my food, it’s not yours to eat. What makes you think you have the right to ask?” she replied.

            “You have a lot more left,” Victoria responded, her eyes fixed on the floor out of fear.

            “I’m bigger than you, darling, it takes more food to fuel me. Besides, you don’t want to eat too much or your figure will suffer. It doesn’t matter as much for me since my figure is hard to see under all my fur—not that I don’t have a great one, because I do—but unlike me, you’re a shorthair, and any gain or loss of weight will be clear for all the world to see. You want to be a pretty kitty, don’t you?” Griddlebone said, dangling a piece of meat in the air with her claw before carefully placing it in her jaw.

            Victoria did want to be a pretty kitty; as far as she knew she already was one, and she wanted to keep it that way. Something still did not sit right with her about the whole thing (and her stomach most certainly disagreed with the arrangements), but she wondered if there was indeed some merit to the fluffy cat’s words.

            Once breakfast was done Griddlebone cleaned Victoria, prodding and preening to remove all traces of the mess she’d made eating and making her coat look perfect. When she was finally satisfied with what she saw she sat down with the kitten, her tail twitching with anticipation that made Victoria nervous.

            “Now,” she said excitedly, “I have…I suppose you could call it a little game, for you and I. We’ll call it Copycat. I will do something, then you will copy what I do exactly how I do it. If you do not do it right, you lose. It will be very good practice for you. Let’s begin.”

            The kitten did like the idea of a game, and a spark of excitement lit up inside her; she might actually be able to still have fun in this horrible place! She watched with attentive eyes as Griddlebone gracefully stood up, waiting to see what she would do. A tense moment passed in silence as the two cats stared at each other, neither one moving, before the older cat suddenly swept her claws across Victoria’s cheek.

            “Brat! You didn’t even try!” she spat, her tail whipping in anger. Victoria gaped at her in bewilderment as blood beaded up on her cheek, her mind reeling as it searched for reasons that she was wrong.

            “But—”

            “Don’t talk back!” Griddlebone hissed, swiping hard at the kitten’s opposite cheek, “I try to make this more palatable for you for no other reason than out of the goodness and generosity of my heart, and this is how you act? Unacceptable!” She stalked off to the other side of the room, looking up toward the top of the curtains as she theatrically heaved calming breaths and fanned her face with her front paw. Victoria stared in stunned silence at the display, at a total loss on what to do. Her mother had always been a no-nonsense, practical sort of queen, so this cat’s behavior was so foreign and confusing that she could not make heads or tails of the situation. Griddlebone took one last deep breath, then let out a sigh as she turned back around and came to sit in front of the kitten again.

            “Everything I do you must copy to a T,” she said, “remember: I am Griddlebone, and you are Little Griddle, and your every movement must be a perfect mimicry of mine. So, when I stand up?” And again Griddlebone gracefully stood up.

            Oh, Victoria thought, and stood up as well. To her shock, the older cat smacked the top of her head hard anyway—though thankfully without claws this time.

            “Exactly as I do,” Griddlebone emphasized slowly, sitting down and standing up again. Victoria sat down and stood up again as gracefully as she could, making sure to copy the manner in which the older cat's muscles moved. She looked up cautiously, unsure if she was about to be hit again, and saw Griddlebone glaring at her with a gaze that seemed to be summing her up.

            “Better,” she said with decision, “now, again.”

It was with those words that Victoria knew it was going to be a very long day.

Chapter Text

Victoria was not sure which she disliked more: the constant hounding when in Griddlebone’s presence, or being stuck completely alone for hours on end when she was gone. After a maddeningly long practice session the fluffy cat had decided that she could not take the kitten around with her until she had had enough training, so she was left to her own devices.

            “Stay put, darling, and don’t touch anything,” Griddlebone had said before leaving, “these are my treasures, not your play toys, so you had better keep your paws off of them if you want me to keep my paws off of you, is that clear? No nonsense or tomfoolery while I’m gone, and I will be able to tell when I get back!”

            Victoria had been relieved beyond belief when the older cat had finally left her alone, enjoying the temporary reprieve from the pressure being placed on her. She really did not want to be brought out around the other bad cats and find out what evil things they were doing, the very idea made her recoil in disgust. But a thought still nagged at her mind, and that was the words of that red cat Macavity, that she must be killed due to her lack of usefulness. Griddlebone had found a use for her, saving her life in the process, but if she never became good enough for the fluffy older cat, would her life once again be on the line? The little white kitten did not want to find that out either.

Victoria had the distinct impression that Griddlebone expected her to sit on her pink pillow the entire time she was away, still and stationary as the statues in the room, and at first that had seemed perfectly fine to her as she lay letting her mind wander. After some time, though, she began to run out of pleasant things to ponder, and the fluffy white cat had still not returned. Unsure of what else to do, Victoria let herself fall asleep, figuring that a catnap would be most effective in passing the time and that Griddlebone would wake her when she returned.

            When she did awake later, however, it was entirely of her own accord, and still she was alone. With her exhaustion from the last day or so now slept off, the kitten was getting very restless and found herself actually wishing her mistress would come back and alleviate her boredom, despite how much she dreaded her return. Victoria looked around the room for something, anything to occupy her mind with for the remaining time, and every tiny twinkle of reflected light from the various forbidden treasures teased her eyes, trying to tempt her into touching them. As much as Griddlebone wanted her to be one, she was not a statue, but rather a young kitten with a lot of energy begging to be spent. As strong as it was, though, the temptation to touch the treasures still could not overrule her fear of retribution.

            She never said you couldn’t look at them, though, a little voice in Victoria’s head said, and she had to agree with it. As long as she made no contact with anything she saw no reason that she could not take a little walkabout and observe, so she hopped off her pillow and went straight to one of the most tantalizing items in the room: a dazzling lamp laden with trains of hanging crystals that sparkled in every direction.

            Victoria went up to the lamp as close as she could, her eyes completely round as her view was filled with a seemingly infinite number of sparkles and rainbows. The lamp wasn’t even on, yet it still managed to perform wonders with just the light that came in from the one window high up on the wall. The white kitten’s light footfalls made the crystal chains twitch ever so slightly, and in that moment she wished more than anything that she could bat at them to make them swing more. She heaved a great sigh in longing, and as she did the chains twisted in their place, gripping her attention ever more tenaciously, and suddenly she realized that she could make them move without touching them.

            For a long time Victoria stood transfixed, completely dazzled and enamored by the swinging jewels as she blew on them. Her white coat became a canvas for all the colors coming from the rocking prisms and a shiver went down her spine in delight. Not until the sun had gone down and it was too dark to get much enjoyment out of the lamp did she finally stop. Griddlebone had not left any lights on in the room; she was not there, and as far as she was concerned there was no reason Little Griddle shouldn’t sit in the darkness until she returned like all the other items in her collection.

            Now Victoria’s attention was drawn to the window.  It was higher up on the wall than any cat could jump but the curtain next to it draped all the way down to the floor, forming as perfect a ladder as any for a young kitten to climb. She hopped up from her spot and immediately slowed, carefully squeezing, bending, and tiptoeing her way through the furniture as she made her way across the room. She was very conscious of every part of her body, making absolutely sure that nothing brushed up even slightly against the décor.

When she was finally in the clear she ran right up to the base of the drapes, only to once again abruptly stop. Did the drapes count as something she could not touch? Up until that moment Victoria had thought of them as being part of the room rather than something in it, and they were soft like her pillow, which she could touch, rather than shiny like the lamp, which she could not. Then again, she had not touched any of Griddlebone’s pillows or blankets, and those were also soft. The fluffy cat had told her not to touch anything. But Victoria had certainly touched the rugs when she walked on them, as there were so many that doing so was unavoidable, so the white kitten decided that if she could walk on the carpet then climbing the curtains should be just as well, and she leapt as high as she could and dug her claws into the cloth.

There was not much of a windowsill, only a slight ledge that stuck out. A larger cat would not have been able to stand on it, but a small kitten such as herself was able to balance on it well enough. There was not much to see outside other than the brick of another building and the cobblestones of a tight, dingy alley below. There were no streetlamps and the moon had disappeared quickly after it rose, having been engulfed by clouds. Victoria rested her forehead against the window and stared unseeing at the ground below, her arms hanging off of the middle mullion above her and her feet on their tiptoes on the sill.

She was brought out of her brief reverie by the sound of something hitting the window, and she looked up to see what it was. The sound came again, then again and again, until she realized that it had started to rain. Victoria closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass once more, indulging in the rhythmic pitter-patter percussion of the rain against the pane.

The metallic screech of the door opening startled her, her head whipping around with her ears flat against it in fear of whatever reprimand Griddlebone was about to give her. To her surprise, however, the cat that stood in the light of the door which opened on her was not the familiar flamboyant fluffy white one, but a much smaller cat. She was beautiful; her coat was black, with white on the tip of her tail and toes, nose, and belly, and different shades of orange brindled in that looked gold next to the dark fur. Her wild eyes scanned the room in slight dismay before landing on Victoria, and she let out a gasp.

“What are you doing?!” she whisper-shouted.

“Listening to the rain,” the white kitten answered, her voice small and unsure.

“Are you mad? Get down from there before you get caught!” the cat said hurriedly, looking out into the hallway and back. Victoria quickly climbed down the curtain and slowly wove her way to the door in reverse of how she had done before. The other cat did not question the strange way the kitten avoided touching everything, and kept readjusting her position when Victoria came too close so that she could not touch her.

“Who are you?” she asked, her wild eyes looking the kitten up and down.

“Little Griddle,” Victoria said begrudgingly; she would much rather say her real name.

“Little Griddle?” the cat said, turning her head with confusion and doubt, “…you cannot be…Griddlebone’s daughter…?”

The kitten shook her head.

“Ah. A toy then. You’re very pretty, it’s no wonder, and that diamond collar certainly helps…why were you up on the window like that?”

“I was…bored…”

“So you climbed her curtains? Not a great idea. I recommend you don’t do it again. Do you know when she’ll be back? I was sent to fetch her but evidently she is not here.”

Victoria shook her head no, the sadness and frustration that had built up over the course of the day clear in her expression. The strange cat closed her eyes and sighed, turning away to leave; she moved with a learned poise that had clearly been so ingrained that even with her nervous fidgeting her every movement was like a dance. With simultaneous precision and indecision she suddenly stopped, turning back to the kitten once more.

“Listen, Little Griddle: what Griddlebone wants is a doll, a pretty little thing she can play with and bend to her will. You certainly are a pretty little thing so it’s no wonder why she chose you, but you must play along if you want to survive. Do exactly as she tells you and never ask questions, of her or of anyone else. If you see something that you don’t understand, ignore it and forget you ever saw it; the only thing that is of concern to you is what Griddlebone wants of you. All you have to do is be pretty and obedient and silent and Griddlebone will love you. Do you understand?” the cat said, her wild eyes staring Victoria down with an intense gaze. The white kitten nodded vigorously, and the small cat nodded vacantly in response. She looked back out in the hall again then left, shutting the door and slinking away with her head down and her ears back.

            Immediately Victoria returned to her pink pillow, shaken by the cat’s words and demeanor, and as she sat in the darkness she decided that she would much rather be forced to find out what bad things happened outside the room than find out the consequences of staying in it.