#old jacky

The gal

@ambitiousauthor

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The first thing I picture is always old lady who willingly leads other innocent cats to their deaths.

But what if there’s more.

What if she wasn’t expecting to have kits? What if she wasn’t ready?

And what if food was scarce and times were hard, and one of the kits died? And there was so little meat…Jacky had no choice but to feed her remaining kits.

And Jacky became determined to make her daughters thrive. Even if they became horrible monsters, they are still her little girls that she worked so hard to keep alive.

So she allows them to be monsters. Maybe she even encouraged it, believing cruelty would only aid their survival.

Maybe she even started to believe it herself. Trying to play by the rules and be kind cost her kit its life. Trying to be caring lead to feeding her kits their own littermate because what other choice did they have?

But when they were vicious, mean, cruel, they thrived? So she’s mean and cruel, and guess what? They thrive.

And maybe while all her kits were still alive, they tried to hunt on Clan territory and were attacked for it? They could have had meals, just one nice mouse, but no.

Then years later, Clan cats come to her, asking for help. So where does she send them? To her daughters—the vulnerable kits that they had once turned away.

It was justice

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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The three cats walked slowly, their energy drained with every step as much as their hope had been seeped out of their hearts with every kittypet or alleyway loner they spoke to, all giving the same answer.

No one had seen Meadowtree or Feathergaze, or any Clan cat besides them, for that matter.

Nightdrift glanced ahead at Twistedshine, who’s muzzle was locked and eyes were narrowed in determination. Determined to find her sister, or determined to still believe that she would, he couldn’t tell. 

A sigh brought his attention to Bramblefin, walking beside him. He leaned over and whispered in the brown tabby’s ear. “Were you two close?” he asked.

Bramblefin looked at Nightdrift, then at his own paws, caked with the dust that littered the strange pathways that lined the Twolegplace. “Been friends since we were young,” he answered.

“Mates?” 

Bramblefin shook his head, and Nightdrift could see that it pained him. “No,” he responded through what sounded like a lump in his throat. “I mean…I caught feelings, but…”

“She never did?” Nightdrift guessed sympathetically.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have the courage to ask before, and now…I’ll never know what her answer would have been.” His lips trembled, and the dark cloud over his eyes watered with fresh emotion. Nightdrift stepped closer, hoping to press against him and soothe as much pain as he could, but before his paw could touch the dusty ground, Twistedshine whirled around, bristling.

“Don’t say that” she hissed, saliva swinging from her snapping teeth. “We WILL find her, safe and sound, and you WILL have your answer!” Before either tom could respond, she whipped back around and continued on, tail lashing.

Nightdrift lowered his voice to a whisper, and spoke again into Bramblefin’s ear. “Has she been doing okay? Other than now?” He wanted to know if Twistedshine felt better when she was surrounded by other loved ones, her kits, her friends, or if the distraction of everyday life was enough to quiet the beast that grief brought. If it was different from now, when Feathergaze–and Meadowtree-was the front and centre of all their thoughts. He wasn’t sure why. Pity, probably.

Bramblefin shrugged. “I think she just hides it well,” he murmured back. “Feathergaze is more than a sister to her. She was–is–her best friend, and in a way, her daughter.”

“I heard.” Nightdrift wondered what it would be like to raise your younger sibling as your own kit. He guessed that Twistedshine didn’t have much of a choice. He didn’t know what kind of parents they had or how bad they were, he only knew that Twistedshine took it upon herself to take care of her kit-sister so that she would be happier than Twistedshine had been.

His eyes rested on the blind she-cat, who stomped on with a growl. What must it be like to lose the one cat you swore to always keep happy? What must she feel, knowing that the sister she must have sworn to protect is surely dead–or at least, will never be found by the Clans again?

Nightdrift’s chest ached as a storm of ice swept through his lungs and up his throat, where it sat as heavy as a rock. He tried to swallow it, stumbling, but it didn’t budge.  If this was how bad he felt just thinking about these cats’ pain, how could they move on, feeling it, expecting to live and hunt and patrol as if they don’t?

So distressed and distracted by these thoughts, he didn’t realize that Twistedshine had stopped, and bumped into her rear.

“Watch it,” she growled.

“Sorry.” Nightdrift blinked, realizing with a start that Twistedshine had stopped because she was speaking to someone. It was hard to tell in the dark light–night had fully fallen, and the tall Twoleg lights that lined the Thunderpaths were absent in this small row of dens–but he was sure that she was a tortoiseshell cat. He waited for her eyes to flash towards him, but even as she clearly faced him, there wasn’t so much as a glimpse. Did she HAVE eyes?

“As I was saying,” Twistedshine huffed, “have you seen any Clan cats around?”

The elderly kittypet let out a chuckle. For some reason, it made Nightdrift flinch. “Haven’t seen anyone around, hon. Don’t have the equipment for it.”

Equip…what? Must be a kittypet word.

“Blind?” Twistedshine asked.

“That’s right. And if you had to ask, I take it you’s the same.”

“For about four seasons now,” Twistedshine told her. “Cataracts.”

“Ah, rough.”

“Excuse me.” Bramblefin pushed forward. “We’re looking for some cats. Have you–uhm–scented them around? Or know anyone who did? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

The old cat responded to his request for hast with a long, massive yawn that sent an unpleasant odour into the three cats’ faces. They couldn’t help themselves from flinching. “It’s possible I smelt them. It’s even possible I spoke to them.”

Twistedshine straightened. Brmablefin leaned forward, ears perked, and Nightdrift’s eyes widened. “You did?” Twistedshine gasped. “Were they okay?”

“Was a she-cat with them?” Bramblefin put in. “She would have smelt like the two of us.”

“And another would have smelt like me,” Nightdrift added.

“Which way did they go?”

“Did a Twoleg take them?”

“Were they injured?”

“How many did you see–uh hear?”

The old cat smacked her tail against the ground. “Quiet, would you? How many tongues you think I have?”

Nightdrift ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Twistedshine scratched her claws against the tan Thunderpath impatiently. “She’s my sister, so excuse me if I’m in a rush to find her.”

The old cat tilted her head to one side. “Oh, yes, it can be tough losing kin, can it? The pain so hard, like the death of your own heart right inside of you.” Her words were raspy, creaking like a broken branch. “My own little kit found out her son had died not too long ago. A sickness that could have been cured if some cats had just given him care took him away from us. Ah, maybe you know him. Maybe you hated him too, like the cats who killed him.”

What was she going on about? “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nightdrift told her earnestly, albeit with confusion. “Perhaps…you understand why we want to find our Clanmates so much?”

The old cat’s muzzle wrinkled, reminding Nightdrift of a hungry dog. “You don’t care about my loss. Listen to you! I tell you about my dead grandbaby and my poor daughter’s broken heart, and you only want me to stop talking so you can go find your kin. What selfishness!”

Nightdrift ducked his head. Was he being selfish? 

“We could talk to you about it…when we get back?” Bramblefin offered. 

“Ha!” The old cat’s laugh was sharp, slicing through the air as clear as a claw. “Don’t bother. I want nothing to do with you Clan cats if it ain’t sending you on your way.”

“And which way would that be?” Twistenshine’s question was more of a snap. 

The old cat curled her lip in distaste. She nodded across the Thunderpath. “That direction ‘til you find a little stream. Follow it to a bridge. That’s where I sent them.”

Twistedshine had already bounded across the path before she could finish, Bramblefin hard on her paws. 

“Thank you,” Nightdrift told the old she-cat. “This is the most news we’ve gotten since the Flood.”

“Then go, and get away from me before I change my mind!”

Without needing more insistence, Nightdrift raced after his companions, fresh hope lighting his steps.

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NEXT:

@ambitiousauthor

Bella-May: Ah, I see you speak from experience.

Old Jacky: I'm not even really sure who your father is

Bella-May: well, how many possibilities are there?

Old Jacky: well....

@ambitiousauthor

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