The Jellicle Chronicles - Year Seven

A Blue Christmas

The circle had now closed. Rumblepurr had placed the last of his old notes into the Seventh Volume. For one more time, he held the tome in his paws and wondered who would find it, and who would read it. He seemed to be doing this all over again. Tarfur… He wrote something years ago, centuries, maybe even a few millennium ago. As the Scholar’s world was coming to an end, he wrote about the Tribe, about the heroes, the heroines, and all the ones in between. Rumblepurr looked up and saw the quilt had been folded up and its occupant had left for a lair. As he looked up from his place, he knew she did not go to their lair in the crates. He would check later, but he knew instinctively that she would not go there. 

      Did Tarfur remember Adrasteia as he died in the caverns under Sanctuary? As he faced his death, did he ask the Everlasting Cat to take him to her? Try as he might, Rumblepurr did not hear the whispers that held the answers. He did know, somehow, that the Scholar on that long lost planet performed his job to the end. And it seemed that his place was the same. For this Jellicle Tribe, he was Tarfur, even though his colors did not have much black. He flicked his tail, and knew its tip held he only bit of darkness he had. 

      He did know that he did not want to die alone, and he did not want to sit here without Altaica. Setting the volume and his writing supplies off near the edge of the ceramic wall, he stood. Taking a blanket, and wrapping it around his shoulders, he exited the Nursery. He was not sure where he was going. As he wandered in the direction of the Square, he really did not care…

      Tonight was cold… nose biting, finger and toe numbing, bone-chilling cold! If the Jellicles had gotten that old Philco radio to work, they would have heard the weather news. A low-pressure center, full of artic air practically straight from Greenland, had dropped in the lower parts of the islands and the continent. At the moment, there were no pockets of moisture in the cold air, so the sleet and snow stayed away. But it was possible at anytime… 

      Quaxo did not even try going out to his perch of the cars. Even with rug and blankets, he would remain there until the Spring thaws if he went up there. As it was, he needed Scatterburr with him in the blanket to keep him comfortable. Not that either he or she minded. The Brown Tabby Queen luxuriated in his warmth and enjoyed the proximity of his muscular body 

      For the umpteenth time, Scatty eased under his arm and looked up at him. When he looked down at her, the same thing happened again. Her arm would snake around his neck, and her mouth would be warm and hard against his. This time, she moaned as a paw closed around her breast. Then, she mewed in vain protest as he pulled her beneath him, and shuddered with sheer pleasure when he joined with her. 

      Afterward, trembling from the lovemaking, she held him. “That was different,” she finally gasped. “You never made love to me like that before.” 

      His mouth kept kissing her on the throat, the jaw, the chin, and back to her mouth. Finally, he moved just far enough away to gaze down at her. “Maybe I have never really loved you this much before…” 

      “Dearest?” 

      “Memories, Lady Scatterburr. Remember? Something about this time reminds me that I pledged myself to a beautiful Queen during this moon period. It was about this time in Winter, that we conceived Plato. Since then, I have been trying to recapture the moment when we created him.” 

      “Oohhh, Beloved, you had better not have,” Scatty said, pushing him off her and over on his back. She rolled above him and then planted her mouth on his. When she finally released him, she stroked his face. “I don’t know if I could raise another kitten, especially another big one like Plato!”