The Silver Protector And Me

A Raven and A Red Queen

Munkustrap considered leaving Jazzie where she was, but her shivering made him decide to move her to somewhere warmer, seeing as she probably wouldn't appreciate being left alone on a cold, hard floor.

Very stiffly, because his neck was sore (in fact, all of him was) he picked her up and carried her across to the bed, easing her onto the pillows and trying not to be too clumsy about it.

However, the problem came when he tried to remove his arm.

As delicate as he set out to be, an accidental jolt caused her to flinch and make a noise of complaint.

He covered her with a blanket, like he used to do with his older kittens when they were small, and prayed that would be enough. She didn't look much older herself. Possibly no more than four years of age, with an innocence about her that was at odds with her harsh introduction to life.

As she slowly lulled herself back to sleep, he found it hard to look away. She had a peculiar affect on him, and that unsettled him to some degree.

He lived the majority of his existence in a state of dutiful numbness, in a world that was regimented and disciplined, and that was just how he liked it. People whispered that he was cold hearted and subfusc, but he didn't care. Feelings were for the weak minded, and that was something he simply couldn't afford to be.

Disregarding her for the time being, he headed for the door. He had an appointment to keep and he realised he was running abnormally late. With a nod to one of the guards to keep an eye on things, he slipped out of the gate and headed in a South Easterly direction.

His thirty minute trek was largely uneventful, save for a few herring gulls who tried to mob him as he took one of their fledglings. He ate the bird in relative safety, behind someone's tool shed, but kept a bit of the meat, carrying it between his teeth.

As he traversed through the hustle and bustle of the city, with its Aston Martins and Bentleys that refused to stop for pedestrians, and pedestrians who were too busy to stop for them, he moved silently and purposely, keeping to the undergrowth when there was a scant amount be had, and to fleeting shadows wherever else. To humans who spotted him, he appeared as a large tabby feline, with silver fur that was a touch on the shaggy side, as it shed the last vestiges of winter growth. From the look of his tufted ears, those in the know would have guessed his breeding to be Maine Coon. Whereas those with rather less insight would have sworn blind that they'd spotted a lynx in the middle of London.

As soon as he ventured out of human sight, he appeared in his true form. A cat man of around six foot and two inches in height, which was above average for most Jellicles, but average for a Protector.

Going at a leisurely trot, he eventually arrived at an area called St. Kathryn and Wapping, stopping just outside The Tower of London. There, he held out the meat, cupped a paw to his mouth and made a series of vaguely corvid-like calls.

After a few seconds, a dark shape swooped out of the twilight and glided to a stall, landing gracefully on his arm. With a blink of its beady eye, it snapped up the meat in its dagger-like bill, then hopped up onto his shoulder.

"Good evening, Quawar. Thank you for your help last night."

The raven made a grating rasp in the back of its throat, cocking its head to the side as Munkustrap scanned across the river, the wind ruffling his long fur. "I need another favour."