The Jellicles spent many weeks mourning over the death of their dear friend. Cassandra kicked herself for not doing more to prevent it from even happening. Tantomile and Coricopat spent hours mulling over why they waited so long to come back to the Junkyard. Misto regretted not using his magic. Everyone tried to comfort everyone else. They told Cassie that she was under a spell; she was helpless. Tanta and Cori were told they did all they could, and at least they helped find Admetus before it really was too late. The Jellicles told Misto that it wasn’t his fault Dersoun and Asille placed a cloaking spell over the factory. Munkustrap, however, no one could approach. He alienated himself from the other Jellicles, refusing to speak with anyone.

Munkustrap looked out over the Junkyard from a perch high above. Everyone was so melancholy, and he blamed himself. “What kind of a leader kills one of his own?” he whispered.

“No leader does that,” a rich bass voice said from behind him, “and this leader didn’t.”

“Macavity,” Munkustrap sighed, “I killed Admetus. I took the dagger and stabbed him. And you’re saying I didn’t kill him?”

“You killed Kyppomardis, who took Admetus’s body as a home. Dersoun and Asille killed the Jellicle. Blame them, not yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Munkustrap muttered.

Macavity narrowed his eyes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean? You think I don’t punish myself everyday for my actions? I do. I didn’t chose my life; my life was chosen for me. In order to survive I had to be this way, and don’t you dare say that I like it.”

“What makes you think I want to be the next leader?” Munkustrap shot back. “The Jellicles live under a hierarchy. I can’t say no. What I wouldn’t give to be a normal tom, not having to worry about ‘Is this for the good of the tribe?’ and ‘What would Old Deuteronomy do?’ because I am sick of it!”

Macavity quietly nodded his head. “Looks as if we’re both products of our environment. But don’t let Admetus’s death kill you, too.” The two toms, of different backgrounds and lifestyles, but with a common bond, locked eyes for a moment before Macavity turned and left.

Once away from the Junkyard, Macavity escaped into an alley. Life was so full of paradoxes and hypocrisy that it was no wonder no one made it out alive. Running a paw across his face, he remembered why he went to Munkustrap in the first place. He found Asille wandering the streets the day after the incident, looking for the entire world a lost kitten. Macavity had approached her and learned she was also under a spell, preventing her from retaliating against her sister. Dersoun’s death freed her. Macavity shook his head as he recalled the final words he heard Asille speak. It was of the requirements of the toms used in their rituals. Asille was to find young, forgotten, and alone toms, who were often overlooked. Taking one last look at the bloodstained leather collar with the brass tag in his paw, Macavity left the alley to continue with the life given to him.