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Plato calmly walked down the quiet street. The early morning mist hung in the air making it an eerie scene.
Plato was in a good mood. He had a peaceful sleep with no interruptions. Usually there was a lot of commotion in the area
where he lived. He held his furry brown and gray head high as he walked along.
He heard a loud metal bang from an alleyway
to his left and turned his head in the direction of the noise. He squinted his eyes trying to get a clear look at what he
heard. A tattered and dirty stray toppled out of the fallen over trash can and stumbled out of the alley not even noticing
Plato on the road.
“Are you alright?” Plato asked not moving from his place on the street.
The stray
jumped and turned his body toward Plato in a frightened and defensive posture. “Oh yes. I’m fine.” The stray
had a clear voice that was easy to understand. Most stray’s had a problem with speech because of their lack of nutrients
and weak bodies.
Plato nodded and continued walking. His fur was silky and well kept, unlike the brown tom standing
on the sidewalk. His body was strong and well built while the stray’s appearance was skinny and scrawny.
“Hey
wait up,” The stray ran up beside Plato and walked at his pace. “I’m Chachee.” He smiled his pearl
white teeth gleamed. It wasn’t odd since strays usually had foul breath and nasty yellow teeth.
“Plato,”
Plato smiled back as they walked, “Clever name you have.”
“Thank you,” Chachee replied still
smiling, “You’re name, Greek origin?”
Plato nodded, “Yes.” Not many recognized that
of his name. The stray really knew his stuff.
“What tribe are you from?” Chachee asked as if it were a
casual question. A lot of the time strays asked that question when they were seeing which tribe had dumbly come into their
personal territory.
“I’m Jellicle.” He answered proudly, “You’re stray right?”
”Ah,
the Jellicle tribe.” Chachee’s voices seemed to soften and have a hint of fear. “Yes, I am a stray.”
“I’m
sorry if I’ve come into your territory.” Plato apologized scratching the back of his head, “I didn’t
realize this area had been claimed.”
“Don’t worry, no harm done.” Chachee laughed warmly,
“Where are you headed anyways?”
“I’m on my way to the Junkyard actually. Care to join me?”
Plato offered.
Chachee stopped walking and his smile faded, “Really? You want me to come with you?”
“Yeah,
why not?” A grin spread across Plato’s face as he turned to him again.
“I’d like that.”
Chachee smiled slightly almost astonished that he was being invited to the Junkyard. Strays weren’t aloud in the Junkyard
(or even near it) and he felt honored that he was invited.
Plato walked into the Junkyard keeping his steady pace while
Chachee walked in slowly and nervously. He had heard stories of strays that had wandered into the Junkyard and barley made
it out with their lives.
Plato looked back at him, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,”
Chachee scurried to his side forcing a smile so he didn’t look so frightened.
After a few minutes or walking
Plato and his new friend were sitting on the car talking about this and that. “Did you have a human before you came
to the streets?” Plato asked.
“No, I’ve been on the streets since birth. My folks were… um…”
Chachee frowned, “Killed by Macavity’s henches.”
Plato frowned, “For what it’s worth,
I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My folks did what they knew was right. Their deaths weren’t for
nothing.”
Plato nodded deciding maybe that subject wasn’t the best one to be on. “I’ve been
with my tribe all my life.”
“I hear the Jellicles really watch our for one another.” Chachee smiled.
“We
do. We’re like one big family really.” Plato stared off across the Junkyard.
Munkustrap jumped up onto
the tire near the car, “Plato?”
Plato looked over at the strong silver tabby. He was only a few years older
but Plato still looked up to him as an elder, “Yes?”
“Whom are you talking to?” Munkustrap
asked curiously crawling across the tire towards him.
“Chachee he’s,” Plato looked back beside him,
but Chachee wasn’t there. Plato stood up and looked around, “Chachee?”
“Chachee?” Munkustrap
stood up as well, “Who’s Chachee?”
”He’s a stray I met on my way here.” Plato replied
still looking around for his missing friend.
“A stray?” Munkustrap almost hissed, “You brought a
stray into the Junkyard?”
Plato looked at him with a frown, “Is that bad?”
“Bad?”
Munkustrap snapped, “What were you thinking?”
Plato flattened his ears against his skull, “Chachee
is my friend.”
“Have you any idea what stray’s have done to this tribe in the past?” Munkustrap
snapped again bringing his faces inches away from Plato’s.
“You can’t judge a stray from what a different
stray did in the past!” Plato argued.
“A stray was the reason for the huge conflict three years ago,”
Munkustrap growled, “Do you want to start something like that again?”
“Chachee isn’t like that.”
Plato growled back.
“How long have you known him?” Munkustrap questioned.
Plato didn’t answer
at first. He knew Munkustrap was going to lecture him and Plato wasn’t in the mood for it, “What’s your
point?”
“He could be planning an attempt just like before.” He grunted still glaring at Plato.
“That
had nothing to do with him!” Plato snapped walking passed Munkustrap in irritation. “Who are you to choose my
friends anyways?”
“I’m only telling you this so you’re not responsible for any fights that
start up!”
“There’s no need,” Plato hissed, “Nothing is going to happen!” Plato
ran off angrily ignoring whatever else Munkustrap had to say.
Chachee sat on an old dresser far off to the west of
where Plato had been. No matter how much his gut told him not to, he stayed in the Junkyard. Every moment there made him more
and more nervous.
Plato jumped up beside him softly. “Chachee?”
Chachee jumped up and went into
a defensive position, just like when they had first met.
“Chach, where did you go?” Plato frowned sitting
down next to him.
Chachee sighed relieved that it was only Plato, “I heard someone coming and knew it wasn’t
safe.” He answered sitting beside him.
“Look I’m sorry,” Plato looked away, “I didn’t
mean to make you feel like an outsider.”
“I am an outsider. You didn’t make me feel that way.”
Chachee smiled and nudged Plato with his elbow.
Plato looked back at Chachee, “You’re a good guy.”
Plato smiled, “I wish Munkustrap saw that.”
”Who’s Munkustrap?” Chachee asked.
“The
tribe protector. He’s always jumping to such stupid conclusions. Especially when it comes to strays.” Plato shook
his head, “Just because of that attack the strays had on the Junkyard a few years ago.”
“Strays?”
Chachee nearly snapped, “That was Macavity’s Henchcats! That’s why they killed my folks: they refused to
allow any stray to ruin the relationship the strays had with the Jellicles. After the attack the Jellicles seemed to hate
the strays. We assumed it was because you guys thought we turned away when you were attacked, which wasn’t the case.
We had no idea they were going to go ahead with the attack.”
“It was henches?” Plato’s eyes
grew wider.
Suddenly like lightening a silver blur flew passed Plato throwing him out of the way and off of the dresser.
Munkustrap slashed at Chachee, “I thought I told your kinda to stay out of the Junkyard!” He hissed holding Chachee
by the throat.
“Munkustrap stop it!” Plato cried and lunged at the silver tabby jumping onto his back,
gripping tightly onto him. Munkustrap threw Plato off of him, giving Chachee another slash. The commotion of Munkustrap and
Plato’s hissing and snarling caught Mungojerrie’s attention as he was passing by the Junkyard at the time.
Plato
shoved Munkustrap away from Chachee and stood in from of the trembling and weak stray tom.
Mungojerrie held Munkustrap
back with difficulty, “Whats all this? And who’s that?” Jerrie asked still having trouble holding Munkustrap
back.
“This is Chachee, and Munkustrap is trying to kill him for being a stray.” Plato exclaimed still
glaring at Munkustrap, “It wasn’t stray’s that attacked the Junkyard, it was Macavity’s Henchcats!
You’d have known that if you weren’t so fixed on hating strays!”
Munkustrap shook out of Mungojerrie’s
grip and took a breath to keep himself calm, “Henchcats? Right and who told you that, him?” Munkustrap sneered
referring to Chachee, “He could be lying.”
“He could be,” Mungojerrie spoke, “But
what if he isn’t? What if all this time we’ve been blaming the wrong tribe?”
Munkustrap looked at
Chachee who was so beaten he could barley stand on his own two feet. “I think Old Deuteronomy would have known who did
it.”
“Deuteronomy is dead,” Plato stated bluntly. “What reasons would the Strays have had to
attack us anyways? Deuteronomy was always kind and welcoming to the strays.”
Munkustrap looked away, not being
able to keep eye contact with Plato, “I…” Munkustrap fell to his knees burying his face in his hands, “Everlasting
Cat what have I become?” He cried into his hands. “I didn’t know.”
Chachee forced himself up
and set his hand on Munkustrap’s shoulder. He smiled warmly and said, “Don’t worry. No harm done.”
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