She ran through the woods bordering the sidewalk, a white streak of light dancing free in the morning sun. Reveling in her youthful expression of the joy of simply running, leaping, and cavorting. It was a perfect morning for the little white cat, no longer a kitten, but not quite a queen. She jumped a bush, and darted thru a clump of ferns, and climbed a tree. Panting with exertion, she paused on a high branch and surveyed the world from above. How small everything seemed from up here, when on the ground, she was the tiny one. Her ears twitched at a sudden noise, a distant bark of a pollicle dog. She grinned and, rested, jumped down from the tree and ran across the top of the wall bordering the street. Leaping down onto the sidewalk she sauntered between legs and wheels on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, a loud backfire caused her to instinctively leap sideways, right into the path of one of those odd two wheeled devices humans used. A flash of pain exploded in her brain, dimming her sight, and throwing her to the curb. The smell of blood was the last thing she was aware of, as darkness overcame the light.

She came to vaguely aware of pain, and someone weeping softly...being carried over the back of another cat...gently being laid on the ground. She was SO tired and something hurt badly in her side. She smelled several other cats all around her. But she didn't want to open her eyes, she was hurting so much. She just wanted to rest, to sleep, to dream away this awful feeling of dread that was slowly overcoming her. She sighed softly, and gave herself over to oblivion.

The Jellicles gathered around her, not sure what to do. The beautiful young white cat lay on the ground, a great gash in her side, blood staining her beautiful, soft fur. Two of the older queens were gently licking away the blood, trying their best to soothe and heal, but their efforts were weak against the terrible wound. A large ginger tom crouched nearby, eyes brimming with tears, and trying to not yowl with grief, for it was he who found her lying in the gutter, on one of his usual struts through the neighborhood. It was he who carried her back to the junkyard, not caring for once that his large yellow neck ruff was stained and sticky with the blood of this young queen of his tribe.

Suddenly he leaped to his feet, and tore off thru the yard, knowing that she had only one hope...if it was possible. It had to be. It MUST be possible. He had to find the one cat that, if anyone could save her, HE could. And, knowing that his quarry had loved the little white cat from afar, maybe that love would be strong enough, powerful enough, for the healing she needed. The gift of healing that the ginger tom just knew lay inside his friend. He only hoped he'd find him in time.