THE SNOW QUEEN CAT
A Jellicle Adventure in Seven Stories
Story the First - The First Time They Ever Heard of the Snow Queen
All right, let us begin, and, when this tale comes to an end, we shall know much more than we know already. The first time the two of them ever heard of the Snow Queen was around after the local production of the Nutcracker that winter when both of them were about to come of age. The waltz of the flowers and the Spanish dance had stood out for both theatre kittens, but it was the human ballerina who starred in that part of the snowflake waltz that really took their breath away.
Backstage there were a lot of stage props, and behind the little district theatre, in one of those vacant lots so hard to find in the cramped Soho, there was a little vacant lot full of wildflowers; a real little garden with a rose bush, tassel hyacinths, primroses, pansies, dandelions -- as lush as any village green, where Mistoffelees and Victoria play-fought, chased insects, and staged their little stories (both those they'd seen on the stage from behind and those they made up themselves) all springtime and summer long. There, they had been Bottom and Titania, Marius and Cosette, or even the sorcerer Quaxo and his ladylove Lily-la-Rose in the story Victoria herself had dreamed up. She was a cheerful and hyperactive white Bengal who loved to make up new games and tales full of adventure. He was a kind and friendly tux, always ready to help others, though reserved and shy, and always reluctant to fight.
In winter, however, it was far cozier to curl up in the warmth of the quinquet ghost-light, once the theatre was empty, and listen to the tales of their guardian Asparagus, or Gus for short, a rake-thin and shabby old thespian tomcat, about his glory days and the stellar parts he had played decades ago, as well as the plots of the shows he had starred in. It was thanks to the old theatre cat taking both orphans in that they learned to dream, to imagine, to think up other realities. And on that December night, when they were praising the human Snow Queen ballerina, he worriedly told them that there was a real Snow Queen Cat out there, in an icy fortelesque palace far to the north. "She can fly, for of course she is a Jellicle like we are, but immensely more powerful, being far more in touch with nature than we Londoners have ever been." He necked down another sip of gin before resuming. "In winter, she brings the cold down south, through woods and streets alike; she strokes the windowpanes with her cold whiskers and the glass is soon blooming with frost flowers." The windows of the Egyptian Theatre were frosted in that very evening, and thus the kittens supposed that a real Snow Queen, a Jellicle cat like they were, existed. "If she could always have her way, she would freeze everything to ice... even your warm hearts," he put the gin bottle to his lips once more, looking worried at both youngsters.
"Let her try if she dares!" Misto defiantly challenged her, in a fit of unlikely pluck, though at heart he was exceedingly frightened,
"Worry not, my lad," Gus reassured him in a far more slurred tone. "She is only able to conquer your heart if you allow her."
That very same night, when Mistoffelees retired to his nestlike bed of old theatre curtains, a gentle winter snow began to sift down, and the tux kitten peered through a frosted window, to watch the flakes fall. All of a sudden, the flakes began to merge and take the shape of a beautiful adult queen-cat, who appeared to be of ice, with frost for fur and icy blue chips of ice for eyes, head decked with a crown of icicles; far whiter and far colder than Victoria. She gazed down at Misto with a piercing blue look.
The Snow Queen! he thought as he stared back in awe. With eager haste, he flung the skylight window wide open, letting in a gale as cutting as a blade.
The Snow Queen reached out a paw and stroked Mistoffelees' incipient whiskers. An icy shudder, or shiver, ran down his spine. Without breathing a word, the winter cat disappeared becoming a whirl of dazzling snowflakes once more. All he could do was stare back as he swaddled himself in the curtain covers once more.
Misto never told his female friend that he had seen the Snow Queen that night. He even came to think that it had all been just a dream. Winter passed by, and he gradually forgot her. Springtime came, the roses bloomed, the pansies and primroses shot up, and the two kittens began to play as usual in the theatre backlot.
Story the Second - Estrangement Leading to a Wintry Enticement
However, Mistoffelees was no longer his former self. He no longer enjoyed the warm sun and wished for winter to return once more. He also had a change of heart for something completely different, and for each and every day he became colder, more aloof, more detached.
One day, when they were chasing white cabbage butterflies, Misto suddenly winced in pain: "Ow, my eyes!" Then, he stopped and put his right paw to his chest, left paw hanging slack by his side, breathing heavily in more intense pain: "In... my... chest... don't know... what I've... got..."
"Misto! MISTO! What's going on with you?" Victoria asked him with utmost concern. She came closer and peered into his clear blue eyes, but saw nothing strange; his breathing had also returned to normal.
What had happened was that, when Mistoffelees had opened the window to see the Snow Queen from up closer, tiny shards of ice from her whiskers had lodged in his eye lenses, and he had breathed in a third one, that had entered his heart. The magical ice was increasing more and more in power. The shards in the eyes were already warping everything he saw for the worse; the one in his heart was freezing and hardening it, without any cure.
"Twattery to chase such creepy bugs, isn't it?" he grumbled, sauntering back into the theatre.
"Let's ask good old Gus to tell us a Shakespeare story instead," Victoria chimed in.
"Bo-ring!" Misto replied. "I don't want to see you again. I'm going out on the town, for a drink or two with some real tomcats!"
Victoria was so stunned that she couldn't find the right words. She just stood there stunned, staring with wide honey eyes at Misto climb up the fence of the backlot. He was no longer the kitten that she knew.
Spring and summer went by, autumn as well, and winter came once more, but Mistoffelees remained discontented. He had become more aloof and rude than ever, and nothing could now make him happy.
One day, when he left the local pub reeling and about to collapse, a large white sleigh pulled by winged reindeer appeared. It was the Snow Queen herself, as both driver and passenger. The queen smiled upon seeing the little one and her eyes shone icy blue. Misto was out of his wits.
Sobering up and mustering all his strength, he ran in pursuit of the sleigh until it finally stopped. The Snow Queen flicked a paw at him and told him: "Come with me..."
The young tux leapt up into the sleigh, without thinking twice. The Snow Queen wrapped an arm lined with frosty fur coat around his shoulders, and Misto felt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift. Then, the queen kissed him on the lips, and the inside of his chest froze completely. Her second kiss completely froze the skin under his shorthair coat; Misto was left unable to feel anything, and he forgot everything he had been through, his mind a blank slate.
The sleigh left London town avoiding railway tracks, leaving a trail of powdered snow. The older Jellicle toms at the pub kept on drinking and playing darts, as if they had never noticed anything strange.
Seeing that Misto had not come home yet, little Victoria asked the patrons at the pub if they had seen him, but not one of them was able to recall anything.
Oh, dear, Victoria thought. He liked to hang out on the banks of the Thames. Hope he hasn't frozen to death in a watery grave...
Victoria and her thespian guardian spent winter weeks without end, mourning the poor lost tux kitten.
Story the Third - A Whimsical Teacher and her Society Fiancé
Springtime came and no Mistoffelees was to be seen. Victoria looked through the window out into the green flowering backlot and missed him very much.
Everyone else thought that Misto had fallen into the icy Thames and frozen to death, but Victoria, in the bottom of her heart, knew that he was still alive somewhere. She could hear his voice, or at least hear him purr, from the theatre roof above, all winter and springtime long. One day, when the swallows had returned, she went out for a walk about the riverbank. She hopped onto a small empty coracle that was moored on the bank, when... suddenly the rope mooring slipped and the current carried the rowboat further downstream.
"Oh, Father Thames, are you taking me to see Misto?" Victoria asked.
The Thames didn't bother to ask her and took Victoria further away, through vast flowerbeds and lush forested English gardens, further away than she had ever travelled before.
At the end, she came to a bend of the river, where there was a little flowering country garden in front of a quaint thatched cottage, in the middle of a blossoming cherry orchard. The coracle approached the riverbank, and Victoria hopped onto the shore. She was still without knowing where to find Mistoffelees when she suddenly crossed paths with a large green jewel beetle bombinating right in front of her.
"Buzz, buzz," the bug hummed.
"Good morning to you, Sir Beetle," Victoria politely replied.
To her astonishment, her new six-footed acquaintance began to speak in her language. "Since it appears that you can't speak Bugspeak, I'll try to speak Jellicle instead, like you do. Anyway, whither are you heading, so alone in this whole wide world?"
Victoria told her whole tale, from the stage props at the Egyptian Theatre and the primroses in its backlot to her search for young Mistoffelees. She also told him of that she had to make haste in order to find her missing friend.
The beetle cocked an antenna. "You Jellicle cats are all equal, but it is possible that I might have seen your friend. You see, I learned your language and many a useful fact and skill in a grand mansion, not far from here, along with many other rodents and insects in this district as fellow students. Our teacher, a Jellicle tabby queen-cat, was however worn-out by giving lecture after lecture on military drilling, sailor knots, music, crochet, tatting... so to find some respite she looked for a husband; yet all the toms she had met were good-looking but empty-headed, until one day a dapper young tux from another district stepped into her classroom, intrigued by her new style of bloodless pest control. He wore white spats, was cocky but nevertheless bright and well-read and knew the finer things in life, and the teacher fell head over heels for him! Now she lives part-time with him at the same gentry's clubs..."
"It could be Misto!" Victoria squealed with elation. "He wears white spats and he's very clever and knows a lot about the performing arts! Couldn't you please take me to the club?"
The jewel beetle kept on showing her the way through the forest-like English garden, until they reached a cobbled street of white neoclassical townhouses that looked like temples for gods.
The green bug approached a pedimented threshold with a loud buzz and a pair of cockroaches came out the front entrance to receive them. All three kept on buzzing for a while first; then the jewel beetle turned to Victoria to explain the situation to her:
"You won't be allowed through the front gate of the club the way you are," the green beetle commented at last. "Only aristocats are allowed to enter. But I can take you to see this tux."
Night fell, and all the windows on the street and in the whole district were lit up; the sound of dancing streamed in through the windows as waltzes, gavottes, csárdás... The jewel beetle flew over the garden wall, while Victoria found a hole wide enough to crawl through it. They kept on waiting in the shade of hydrangeas, listening to the dance tunes, until the lights were put out one after the other, and then the beetle buzzed: "Follow me!"
They entered the club through the kitchen door. With catlike tread, never better said, they kept on climbing, in the dark, up stairs that led to a hall carpeted in red velvet. Victoria's bare cold paws were thankful for how warm and fuzzy the carpets were.
The beetle showed Victoria to a carved mahogany door. Upon opening it, they saw a drawing room lined with portraits of Jellicle cats in cavalier and eighteenth-century clothes, with a large chaise-longue in the middle. With their backs turned to the white kitten and her bug friend, there sat on the chaise-longue two Jellicles; a ginger tabby, doubtless the teacher, and a tux whose head was hidden by her arm, in her embrace.
Without thinking twice, Victoria approached and prepared to lay a paw on his shoulder. "Misto? Mistoffelees? It's me, Victoria," she whispered close to his ear.
The tux tomcat bounded up, astounded, and looked at Victoria without understanding a thing. "Victoria? Who are you?" he asked.
Victoria could not restrain a stifled sob. This tomcat was not Misto, but an older perfect stranger, his whiskers waxed on point, his ribcage remarkably stouter, his waistline remarkably rounder.
"Pardon me very much indeed. I was convinced you were someone else..." she said, looking down.
The chubby tabby teacher was equally surprised. "Whom are you looking for?" she asked. "Maybe we can help."
Victoria told the newlyweds her whole tale, from the stage props at the Egyptian Theatre and the primroses in its backlot to her search for young Mistoffelees; and also how the jewel beetle had helped her.
Jenny Anydots, the tabby teacher, looked at the jewel beetle with warm golden eyes. "As a reward for helping this young kitten," she said, "you will get promoted to Lieutenant Colonel of our Beetle Tattoo for the rest of your lifetime."
"Buzz!" the green beetle buzzed most contentedly.
Then, Jenny Anydots addressed Victoria:
"Tomorrow morning you will be escorted to King's Cross; we will put at our disposition a railway ticket for the Northern Mail train with the best service on board and a charming Jellicle conductor of my close acquaintance. We hope that this will make your search far easier."
Victoria was beside herself with elation and she didn't know how to thank or repay that much kindness.
The next morning, after a full English breakfast, her generous hosts showed her the way to the station, Victoria swaddled in a warm velvet cape lined with otter fur. Jenny Anydots and Bustopher Jones themselves helped her into the railway carriage, taking her leave of her, but before the train left there was a little delay all over the track: "Where is Skimble? Where is Skimble?"
In the end, a slender Jellicle tomcat with waxed curly whiskers, a ginger tabby wearing a conductor's flat cap and waistcoat, appeared like out of the blue and sauntered into the carriage. He and Jenny were elated to see each other, and, along with the leave-taking, Victoria was introduced by the female tabby to the one into whose care the trip up north, and Victoria's own safety, would proceed. Skimbleshanks was, indeed, as charming at first impression as Jenny Anydots had said, and he proved so dutiful that there was no better Jellicle train conductor to entrust any passengers or staff on board to.
Whistles blew and signal flags waved. As the train left the station and Victoria kept on waving Jenny and Bustopher goodbye, the lieutenant colonel beetle accompanied her on board the railway carriage for a long while, very often perched on Skimble's cap or on his shoulder. Then, when the train entered the northern region full of redbrick towns and sooty industrial mills, the jewel-like bug had flown out of sight.
Story the Fourth - The Attack on the Railway Train and its Aftermath
The steam train glistened among the shadows of the sooty factories, its whistle piercing the foggy northern air. It drew so much attention that, no sooner than it had entered the mills, some robber Jellicles leapt onto the rails and latched onto the carriages.
"This train is ours! Off with the driver, and the guards, but first of all with the conductor!" commanded in a cockney accent their leader, a dark ginger who was the tallest, thinnest tomcat Victoria or Skimbleshanks had ever seen, his right eye green as absinthe and his left eye icy blue.
"Macavity!" Skimble gasped, but no sooner had the name passed his lips that he was struck in the back of the head, knocked out like a light, and promptly paw-tied by twin young calicos.
"Now what are we going to do with li'l missy?" Macavity asked, peering into the other end of the railway carriage where Victoria was huddled, as the twin calicos led Skimbleshanks away.
A young dark tabby tom with a wild mane and frill of fur streaked in gold and black, and lustful golden eyes, now peered into the railway carriage as well and said: "I'll keep 'er as a mate!"
He opened wide the door to the railway carriage and forced Victoria to get out. Then, he tore the cloak from her shoulder and seized her at the wrist, pulling her forwards.
The gang returned as fast as they could, prisoners in tow, to their lair, a rundown and sooty steel mill half-claimed by the adjacent heather moors.
The Rum Tum Tugger, for that was how Victoria's captor styled himself, showed her around the dark corner that was his usual living quarters, when he wasn't out and about. Then, he leaned closer to a fenced patch of the very corner and produced poor Skimbleshanks, who was paw-tied to a ring on the wall with a sturdy rope.
"There you 'ave yer Skimble," he scoffed. "'E's tied up like this so 'e can't get out."
Victoria was lost in afterthought, wondering how the two of them would escape and make it back to the train on time, for the conductor knew the schedule of the Northern line by heart, professional trainspotter as he was.
Suddenly the Tugger cast a lustful look on Victoria and, producing long, sharp claw-nails from his left paw, he warned her:
"If you try to get out or free 'im, I scar that pretty face ov yours." Then he smiled. "Now tell me a tale. Make it a good one. If not, I may scar yer face..."
"Well, well, well," Victoria doubted. "The truth is that I don't know if this is a good tale, but it's a true story after all." Then, she told the Tugger her whole tale, from the stage props at the Egyptian Theatre and the primroses in its backlot to her search for young Mistoffelees; and also about the jewel beetle, the tabby teacher, and her aristocat husband who had helped her.
All of a sudden, she heard a faint wince and a familiar tenor voice at the nape of her neck: Skimbleshanks was coming to. The twin calicos had, in the meantime, climbed up to the rafters and were also chatting:
"I've seen that young tux she spoke ov, 'Teazer. Wosn't he with de Snow Queen? But I don't know where they went."
The twin sister replied to her brother with a lilting laugh:
"Iknow where. This Snow Queen lives up north in the icy Far North, 'Jerrie, 'aven't you forgott'n?"
"SHUDDUP!" the Tugger suddenly yelled, so loudly that it frightened them all. After looking at Skimble and Victoria for a while, he suddenly said: "Yer tale woz a luvly one. And the twins seemed ready to 'elp; guess I must do the same as well..." He untied Skimbleshanks and asked him: "D'ya know de way to de Far North, Mr. Conducter?"
The conductor looked back at the young brigand with piercing green eyes, then nodded solemnly.
"Well, then get li'l Vic 'ere on the train and take 'er there till she finds 'er friend," the Tugger said. "Quick, 'fore I get a change o' heart!"
Then, when the next Northern Mail train was about to arrive, he escorted Victoria (whom he had already untied) and Skimble to the railway tracks, helped them to get on board the train, and gave them a pair of red herring kippers. "Wish you could find 'im," the Tugger brusquely said.
"Thanks..." Victoria replied. Without further delay and with a shrill whistle, the train picked up steam and kept on rolling northwards.
Story the Fifth - The Wise Old Matriarch in the Far North
For each and every hour, they were heading further and further up north, past Hadrian's Wall, past the heather moors, further up north where the ravens croaked and the gale slashed their faces through fur and skin. Suddenly, they saw mysterious emerald, coral, golden lights streaking the night sky.
"The aurora, or northern lights," Skimbleshanks told Victoria over their cups of tea laced with Scotch; "this means that we are about to reach the final station."
As Skimble helped her to get out of the train there at the little isolated railway station, the air was icy crisp and even brittle. Now there was nothing but an endless white wasteland in sight. After a short stop to share their now rock-hard kippers, they kept on trudging through snow and frost. Victoria was numb with cold, leaning on Skimble's back for warmth and support, clinging to his waistcoat with frozen paws for dear life.
In the end they reached a little cave, similar to a rabbit hole. Skimbleshanks waved a numb paw in front of the round entrance and a very old queen cat with a thick grey fur coat let them in, bowing low.
Inside the cozy den that had once been a rabbit-hole, a tea kettle whistled cheerily. Old Deuteronomy, the dowager matriarch most Jellicles revered as a living goddess for having lived nearly over a century and being their common ancestor, poured out cups of hot tea for both young cats to warm their paws and, as all three of them sipped, Skimbleshanks kept on telling the whole story.
"I know you are as wise as you are old, my lady," the conductor said in a velvety voice. "You have lived all the way since before the French Revolution, outlived ninety-nine husbands through the ages, and we your numerous progeny still thrive across this United Kingdom. Thus, would it matter to help this poor, lonely little thing?"
"But how?" old Deuteronomy asked.
"You could cast a spell that gives her the strength of twelve sabertooth tigers," Skimble suggested. "Thus, she could have a chance to defeat the Snow Queen."
The matriarch slowly shook her heavy head. "Twelve sabertooth tigers would not be able to defeat the Snow Queen, but this sweet little kitten can, just the way she is. Have you not realised what immense power she has? Beetles speak to her, high society welcomes her, even outlaws step in to help her. Her power is in her warm and noble heart, and, as long as she has that, no one will be able to conquer her."
Then, she told Skimbleshanks to escort Victoria further up north, where the barren frost-garden of the Snow Queen grew, and then leave her there and return to Deuteronomy's rabbit hole.
"But then... she will freeze to..." Skimble's words caught in his throat.
Victoria patted him on the back. "At least I will try."
And, having said those words, she took the conductor by the paw and left.
The walls of the Snow Queen's garden were made of enormous blocks of blue ice. In that yard, nothing green ever grew, and it was snowing so heavily that there scarcely was any air to breathe in between snowflakes.
Victoria put her paws on Skimble's waist, in a reassuring embrace, and told him:
"Dear Skimbleshanks, hope we can see one another quite soon. Now, I must go save Mistoffelees."
Turning around, Victoria eagerly scaled the ice wall and entered the frozen garden.
At first, she saw nothing but snowflakes, each one larger than the previous. Then she realised that those flakes moved by themselves and tried to surround her with enormous swirls that took the forms of terrible beasts. Some were huge polar bears of ice; others, many-headed glacial serpents that could freeze the blood in the veins of the stoutest warrior.
"Please spare... my life..." a frightened Victoria pleaded.
Suddenly, the little white puffs that her breath condensed into clouds began to drift towards the ice monsters, causing their fangs to drip liquid and making them retreat, for fear of warmth, while the young queen-cat kept on advancing, always at the verge of collapse.
Story the Sixth - What Happened at the Snow Queen's Palace
Victoria arrived at the imposing, fortelesque blue palace with icicle towers, and crossed the huge icy front doors. Inside, walls and floors and windows were all of polished blue ice, and the ceilings were decorated with huge chandeliers made from thousands of icicles, but there was no other decoration to be seen. Never had there been any amusements in there, not even a little tea party or game of cards, so stern and serious was the royal ruler of this domain.
Victoria crossed cold empty hall after cold empty hall, the inside of the austere keep seemingly endless, until she reached a vast throne room in whose centre there was an enormous frozen lake with a cracked surface. On an island in the centre of the frozen lake stood the throne of the Snow Queen.
The throne was empty because, luckily, the Queen was absent. Ere she left to bring the winter down south once more, she had given Mistoffelees a task to keep them busy. "Spell out the words for what you miss the most with the runes on these blocks of ice," thus was her command. "If you are able, you will be your own lord and master of yourself. You will be able to go wherever you please, and I will also give you an icicle crown and throne by my side."
Ever since, Misto had been pushing puzzle pieces of ice from one place to another across the throne room, trying to spell out those runes. But he was nearly unable to think free, and did not know how to do. When Victoria entered the great throne room, she found him sitting on a block of ice, apparently a footstool, on the feet of the throne, completely still and despondent.
Victoria let out a scream of elation upon seeing him: "Misto, I've found you! I'VE FOUND YOU!" she yelled, running towards him, a trail of blood on the frozen-lake floor in her wake.
But Mistoffelees did not pay the slightest attention. The power of the Snow Queen had frozen his heart through and through; he sat there with that fixed expression, casting doubt on all she had to say. The look in his eyes, as he stared at Victoria, was completely lost and emotionless.
She clasped him as tight as she could, pressing him to her chest with all her strength. "I have crossed the whole of this kingdom to take you home, Misto..." she said in a broken voice. "I love you more than anything else..."
All of a sudden, a tiny sparkle contrived to light up the young tux's eyes. Victoria kissed him, and her body warmth seeped into him, through fur and skin and flesh. Another kiss of hers and his mind was clear once more, his limbs once more able to perform their functions.
All of a sudden, Misto remembered everything and recognised his very best friend. "Vic... how could I forget you?" he muttered in the same broken tone.
With warmth coursing through his whole self, the crystals he had in his eye lenses dissolved at last. The love his heart felt was also able to thaw the ice that lined his hardened heart, now warm and soft and throbbing once more. Now Mistoffelees had really returned to his old self.
Misto gave Victoria the strongest of hugs, and she replied with an equal one. The two burst into laughter, full of elation. Their laughs echoed through the entire throne room and made a precious melody chime among the icicles on the chandeliers.
Then, all of a sudden, something very strange occurred. All the rune-written blocks of ice in the vast room began to move. They're spelling out something, both young Jellicle cats thought.
"I can't believe it..." Misto whispered upon seeing that the ice blocks spelled out the three words that gave him his freedom: TRUE FREE LOVE.
"Vic, I'm free!" he exclaimed.
"Then, what are we waiting for?" Victoria replied, getting up. "Let's go home! Quick!" The two friends scrambled to get out of the throne room.
Suddenly, an icy whisper left them paralysed. "Who goes there, as silent as a phantom in the night?"
said a mezzo voice, that advanced quickly through endless corridors just like a long-clawed paw of ice.
Dread overtook both young hearts as they saw the Snow Queen Cat herself approach. She was running through hall after hall with all her composed, enormous coldness.
"Return to the throne room," she coldly commanded, with a look in her eyes so cold that it burned through flesh and bone.
"Nevermore, Your Grace," Mistoffelees valiantly denied. "The blocks of ice have spelled out the words TRUE FREE LOVE. Head for the throne, Your Grace, and see it with your very own eyes. Your power can no longer retain me here."
"Still, there is a certain... quid pro quo to be made here," her voice, for the first time in forever, sounded surprisingly warm.
"And what would you want in exchange?" Victoria asked, fixing a curious, intrigued look on the queen.
"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown," the latter replied, taking off her crown of icicles and putting it on Victoria's head. "Now that you have passed my test of character, with flying colours, it is time for you to share this royal burden, of which you are more than worthy."
All Mistoffeles could do was stare in awe at his crowned kittenhood friend. There was a regal air about her, one that made even the old Snow Queen pale in comparison.
"Give me but a year and a day down south to take my leave of those I love," the new young Snow Queen Victoria bowed her head as she made her honest plea.
"Permission conceded," the reply sounded equally earnest and honourable.
Thanking the old Snow Queen for her kindness, both friends bowed low and crossed at last the palace gates. They passed by ferocious beasts that were melting into fountains and roaring to salute their new queen.
Now nothing could stop Mistoffelees or Victoria, except for her new-found royal duties.
Story the Seventh - Long Live Snow Queen Victoria
Within a blink of an eye, they were once more at old Deuteronomy's, where Skimbleshanks had been waiting for Victoria for a while.
She and Misto told the whole story together, their cups of tea lending sparkle to their eyes and warmth to their faces. Then, Skimble showed the two youngsters the way to the little isolated station, and helped them to get on the train; all three began the journey back to London.
The train sped by so quickly that landscapes were blurred and the wheels hardly touched the rails. Little by little, white winter began disappearing from the countryside. Without stopping for an instant, they made it all the way to King's Cross, where they discovered they had picked up a stowaway, a fluffy yet fierce one whose disobliging ways were a matter of habit.
"'Ere you are, Mr. Mistoffelees, a fine fella to go gaddin' about!" the Tugger said as Skimbleshanks helped him to get out. "Wonder wot 'e's got that I've not, for Vic to go t' such lengths to find 'im at the ends ov the frickin' Earth!"
Once all three young Jellicles had gotten off the train, the time came for Victoria to thank the railway cat: "We know the way home from here... and, dear Skimble, you don't know how thankful we all three are for what you have done for us. Now the time has come for you to go home and be happy."
"Home is on the rails for yours truly; nevertheless I shall never forget any one of you," the conductor softly replied, lowering his head for the Tugger to take off his flat cap and mess with his head for a while.
At the end of the day, as the Tugger took to exploring the Soho all by himself, Gus the old thespian came out of the Egyptian Theatre to receive his adoptive grandchildren once more, unable to restrain his joy at seeing both of them safe and sound. "Now you are the ones who have stories to tell me!" he explained.
The two kittens had passed so much time away from home that springtime had returned, and they were now young adult cats. When Mistoffelees and Victoria climbed up to the skylight window, they watched their longed-for backlot and rose bush, which where now once more packed with flowers.
Of course that winter the old Snow Queen would come to fetch her successor, both Vic and Misto wistfully thought as they looked one another in the eye, honey locked with sapphire. Yet this was ages, worlds away, and, no matter the royal obligations that Snow Queen Victoria would have every winter in the tutelage of her predecessor, the two young lovers would still have one another, and a warm glorious springtime day, forever within their thoughts and their hearts.
