Author's Note: Two things may interest you in this story that I would like to note. The first is the pronunciation of Saoirse, a true Irish name, which is said SEER-sha. The second is the song Kashmir sings, 'Skibbereen'. This is also a real Irish song, an old folk song about the great potato famine in the mid -1800s.
Part One: Kashmir and her Friend
Mistoffelees was sleepy. He had spent the whole night guarding against Pekes on sentry duty, and even a cat needs a little rest every once and a while. He was just settling down inside the drain pipe when Skimbleshanks came barreling through, humming loudly and just making a whole lot of noise.
"Skimble!" Mistoffelees cried, annoyed. "What are you doing? What in Heaviside are you humming?"
"N' time for questions!" Skimble said, jumping on top of a trash can lid, which vibrated with a large 'clang'. "Get up! Get up! I have news!" With that he jumped inside the drain pipe, pushing Misto out, which wasn't difficult considering the fact the Misto wasn't a very large cat.
"All right! All right! I'm coming!" Misto surrendered with a groan, and followed Skimble dejectedly to where a forming group of Jellicles was sitting, all of which had had an average amount sleep.
When everyone, more or less (and less is more), had arrived, Skimbleshanks jumped to the front of the group and clapped his paws to claim everyone's attention. He cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "I just received a word fr'm a very small..." and here he lowered his voice, "...er, mouse, and thi' mouse has informed me that me distant cousin fr'm Ireland's a-cummin' to visit in two days time, and she's bringing a fri'nd of hers, too!" Skimbleshanks got off his bucket and said, "You can go back to sleep now, Misto." Everyone turned around and laughed gently at him, but Misto blushed and padded softly away.
Misto sincerely hoped that the two would enjoy their visit, but he also hoped that Skimble's cousin wasn't quite so loud, especially when there are cats trying not to be noticed.
The black cat, naturally, got his wish.
Skimble's cousin came promptly at exactly ten o'clock at night. She might not have been noticed if Skimble hadn't been looking for her. He rushed up to the small kitten, cried, "Kashmir! How are you, m' dear? How is dear Soairse?" and led her forward, with her friend, for everyone to see.
Kashmir didn't appear to enjoy being scrutinized, but stood still while everyone greeted her. "Hello," she said in a quiet voice, which had a faint Gaelic accent. "I'm Kashmir." The name fit her. The kitten's coat was deep, dark brown, near black, with even darker points. Her eyes, large even for a cat, were wide set and bright yellow-green. The very scent she gave off reminded one of the mountains, and she had an inwardly wild air about her.
Kashmir turned to her friend, who stood beside her. "This is my friend Victoria," she said.
Victoria was as close to being the opposite of Kashmir as you could come. She had a brilliant smile, and seemed rather outgoing and cheerful. Even their looks were far apart. While Kashmir was dark and mysterious almost, Victoria was pure white, and had an honest and open nature.
Mistoffelees stood staring at Victoria. She was the prettiest cat he'd ever seen. He realized his jaw had dropped open, and he reached up with one paw the shut it. He bit his tongue, hard, but didn't yelp. Victoria didn't return his gaze, and Misto sighed and went back to his drain pipe.
Later, he went to find Kashmir, hoping he could subtly draw some information on Victoria out of her. He decided now was not a good time, for Kashmir was sitting on the car trunk, talking to Skimble. Too late. He had been spotted.
"Misto!" Skimble cried heartily. "Just in time! I was just starting to tell Kashmir about our Jellicle ball."
"Oh, it's wonderful," Misto said, trying very hard to be enthusiastic. "There's dancing and singing and-"
"Singing?" Kashmir interrupted in her quiet way. "What do you sing?"
Mistoffelees was surprised at the question, but plunged ahead. "Oh, things like our origin, who we are, our history, that sort of thing."
"Oh," Kashmir said. "We have songs like that in Ireland."
"Do sing 'Skibbereen', lass," Skimbleshanks said eagerly. "You have such a lovely voice."
Kashmir looked, wide eyed, at Mistoffelees, who nodded. She took a deep breath and began.
"Oh father dear I ofttimes heard you talk of Erin's Isle
Her valleys green, her lofty scene, her mountains rude and wild.
You said it was a pleasant place, wherein a prince might dwell.
Why have you then foresaken her? The reason to me tell."
The song was sad and sweet, and Mistoffelees shivered. Then Skimbleshanks joined in.
"Daughter, I loved our native land with energy and pride
Until a blight fell on the land and sheep and cattle died.
The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason why I left Old Skibbereen.
"It's well I do remember on a bleak November's day
The landlord and his agent came to drive us all away.
He set my house on fire with his demon yellow spleen
And that's another reason why I left Old Skibbereen.
"Your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground.
She fainted in her anguish of the desolation round.
She never rose, but went her way from life to death's long dream
And found a quiet grave, daughter, in lovely Skibbereen.
"It's well I do remember the year of forty-eight
When we arose with Erin's boys to fight against our fate.
I was hunted through the mountains as a traitor to the Queen,
And that's another reason that I left Old Skibbereen."
Skimble left off, and Kashmir did the final verse as a solo.
"Oh father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call
And we'll arise with Erin's boys and rally one and all.
I'll be the one to lead the van, beneath our flag of green
And loud and high we'll raise the cry, "Revenge for Skibbereen!"
Mistoffelees roused himself as if from a dream. "Wow," he said. "That was beautiful. But what's it truly about? A historical event?"
"You really don't know?" Kashmir said, raising her eyesbrows. "Ah well, I suppose they only teach you English history here. It's about the potato famine. Potatoes are the main source of an Irishman's food, and once, a blight killed almost all the potatoes, and over a million people died from starvation. The English and Protestant landlords were not merciful, and if you couldn't pay for your tiny cottage, he threw you out. But that was over a century ago," she finished with a sigh.
"You feel this deeply, don't you, Kashmir?" Mistoffelees said. "I suppose you and your friend hate us, then."
"Oh, no," Kashmir said, laughing faintly. "It's not your fault. If people held those kinds of grudges, would England be on good terms with America? As for Victoria, she herself is English, really. Her family came from here, in fact, but were called to Ireland by relatives. We lived in the same home."
"Well then, why did you decide to return?" Skimble questioned. "Is something wrong with Mistress Saoirse?"
"You didn't hear? Mistress Saoirse died two weeks ago. Father and Mother are long dead, of course, and Victoria's parents had been sold to somewhere we don't know. You're the only relative I know of, at least within walking distance, so Vicki and I decided to come here, at least for a visit, anyway. I say, where'd Mistoffelees go?"
Why, to look for Victoria, of course. Not necessarily talk to her, for Misto was the shy type, but just look, at least for the time being.
He crept along the top of the junk piles, walking along narrow furniture arms and legs. "Excuse me, sir," a bright and chipper voice said behind him, "What are you doing? I don't think I remember meeting you."
Mistoffelees jumped and spun around. He found himself face-to-face with Victoria. Her pretty white face was close to his, and looked at him with friendly questioning.
"I-I-I," Misto stuttered, "I was just, um, walking along, er, looking for, uh, something, um, interesting to do?" His voice rose with each word.
"Really," Victoria said, grinning. "Do you always walk along dangerously skinny segments of furniture? And you still haven't told me your name."
"Um, I'm, uh, Mistoffelees," Misto said, "and yes, I do frequently walk along very skinny segments of furniture. Can walk on the narrowest rail, you know."
"Really," Victoria repeated blankly. Then she laughed, a delicate, bell-like sound. "Yes, I see, of course! Well, maybe you can, and maybe I can, too, for that matter, but I am a bit nervous up here. What do you say we go back down to safer ground?" Victoria reached up and pulled Misto off the armchair he was sitting on.
"Okay," Misto said, in a daze. He leaped easily from an astonishing height to the ground.
"Don't do that!" Victoria said playfully when she came up beside him after taking a much safer route. "I thought you'd break every bone in your body! You scared me!"
"Did I?" Mistoffelees said, grinning. "Well then, I'll do it again." He disappeared in a shower of sparkles, and Vicki jumped back, startled. Misto reappeared a moment later.
"I have a feeling," Victoria said, "there's a lot about you I don't know." Mistoffolees' grin widened, but it slowly faded as she walked away.
