Two hunters were unable to participate that day. Plaetoh was still recovering from his broken ribs, and Macavity was pretending to be sick. Well, not pretending, really. He still felt light-headed from the unintended transfer of the previous day, and didn't trust himself to keep his head while leading his own enemies on the hunt. So he sat under a tree outside the Jellicle chief's home and brooded.
He gave a start when a small head rubbed against him from behind. He turned and looked down into the wide black eyes of young Jemymah. "Are you feeling bad, Papa?"
"A little," he confessed uneasily.
"Poor Papa," Jemymah purred, licking her way up from his chest to his face.
Macavity had to force himself to relax and allow the pretty little kitten who looked so much like her mother to groom him. He even began to purr a little himself and licked her face in return. Then something hit him square between the shoulders, sending him and Jemymah sprawling and breaking up the touching father/daughter scene.
Macavity instinctively twisted around and batted his assailant away, dropping into a defensive crouch. He was a little surprised to see the black and red Elektrah shaking her head as she recovered from his blow.
"I was just playing, Papa," she said in a hurt tone. "You didn't have to hit so hard."
Even as Macavity mumbled a chagrined apology, Jemymah said scornfully, "It serves you right, Elektrah! You're as bad as Pouncival, always fighting." She gestured to where the older brown-patched kitten was tussling with his sister, Etsetera and getting the better of her as usual.
Elektrah swatted playfully at her younger sister, who hissed and ducked behind their father's protective form.
"That's enough," Macavity said sternly, though he was trying hard not to laugh. "Why don't you two go play with the other kittens and be good." Though doing both at the same time is probably impossible, he reflected to himself.
Elektrah needed no further encouragement and dragged Jemymah over to where Mistoffelees was starting a little magic show for Petrah and the strange alien creature called Mozu. Etsetera and Pouncival soon joined them. A little farther away, Macavity saw Plaetoh lying contentedly under a ghoesha tree, submitting to the attentions of the angelic Vyktorea; it wasn't often that he got a day off, after all, so he was making the most of it. And close to them were Ezotika and Tantomile, nursing their respective infants, Aurhyan and Quaxo.
Such a peaceful scene, Macavity mused, like I might see in my own tribe. Then he frowned. Except that none of those kittens is my own.
He looked again at Elektrah and Jemymah. They are Munkustrap's kittens, he thought, my bitter enemy, yet they seem no different from the Tyghurss kittens. His frown deepened. Munkustrap. What is he doing now? Is he even alive? I pray that he is, because I don't know how much longer I can deceive his tribe mates, particularly his mate and kittens.
His train of thought was interrupted when Grizabella sat down beside him. "Something weighs heavy on your mind," she noted. "Thinking of your own tribe?"
Macavity spared her a brief glance, then looked back at the kittens at play. "I'm just wondering how well Munkustrap is doing in my place,' he murmured.
"I'm sure Vyktorea is looking after him," Grizabella said, thinking wistfully of her younger sister. "Now if we can just figure out how to get you switched back…"
"All in good time, Mama," Macavity told her, adding under his breath, "I'm in no particular hurry."
Grizabella heard him, though. "I can tell that," she said harshly, "and I think you should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of your brother's mate like that."
Macavity snorted and shrugged, then his eyes widened as he realized what she had just said. "My brother's mate?" he sat up and stared at her in astonishment.
Grizabella's eyes went wide as she realized her slip. "Rats!" she cursed herself. "I meant to say 'another's mate.' "
"Are you telling me," Macavity said in a sinister whisper, "that wretched Jellicle chief is my brother?"
"You shouldn't be surprised," Grizabella said quickly, wilting a little under Macavity's intrusive stare. "You're my kitten and you knew I was a Jellicle, and he looks just like me, whereas you look like your father."
"And who is my father?" Macavity asked darkly. "Not the cat I'm named for, I take it."
"No," Grizabella said sadly as she thought of that other Macavity, a handsome white, red, and brown striped male who had disappeared shortly after the fight that led to her dismissal from the Jellicle tribe. "No, your father, and Munkustrap's, was Martus, former chief of this tribe."
Macavity was silent as he digested this. Finally, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"I didn't think you wanted to know," Grizabella said quietly. "Munkustrap still doesn't know, unless Vyktorea has told him."
"Well, it doesn't change anything," Macavity growled after a moment of thought. "I'm still a Tyghurss by adoption, and the Tyghurss will always be the sworn enemies of the Jellicles."
Grizabella sighed and shook her head. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected that to change. You were always stubborn, just like your father."
©1999 Delilah