to be a remainder [c]

The sun was setting for the third time since his father’s death. Louse had scrambled once again to the summit of the mountain to watch the sun’s descent, Maggot in tow. His tail twitched anxiously, a remnant of kithood habits. Before it had been his claws, and paws flexing, but over time he’d gotten a hold on it. The grownups that had hung around father’s place hadn’t liked it, and while Louse didn’t want to care what they thought, he hadn’t wanted to be disliked. His efforts hadn’t mattered much seeing as they’d all died or left quite quickly once him and his siblings showed up. Now his father was dead, it had suddenly occurred to his siblings that they should all abandon one another. That was infinitely worse than Grub’s sacrifice. Grub Jnr had gone in one direction and Fish in the other. Maggot had stayed, and Louse had said nothing. It was naive, but he’d hoped they would have stayed together. They’d always been together before. but they were no different to anyone else it seemed. He huffed.

After they had left, the tom had made himself as comfortable as he could. “You don’t have to hang around.” he’d told the white cat as he moped “I’m only hanging around to make sure the dog has a more miserable death than our dad. Then I’ll do my own thing like everyone else.” Maggot hadn’t cared and stayed anyway, but that just meant they were prolonging their eventual parting of ways. In a way, Louse found that even worse, but he wasn’t going to chase them away. When he got peckish, he would announce he was off to the farm and come back with a chicken to share. There guardian was tied up at the foot of the mountain, and it gave him great pleasure to take a chicken and scarf it in front of the dog. The dog, of course, took great offence, lunging forward, jaws snapping, but it would never reach him. Grub had made sure of that. As the mutt whined and growled Louse would giggle and take another slow bite, savouring not only the taste but the hatred in the canid’s eyes. He relished in it because it was the same way he felt about the dog too.

Now it was the third sunset, and when he sauntered past the mutt this morning it had looked exceptionally defeated. When he’d dined in front of it, it had raised its eyebrows, sad, pleading, but had made no other move. Good. Its death would come soon. Another body for Maggot, Maggot who would leave too. As the sun sank lower, he realised it was probably his last night with one of his siblings by his side. It was unfortunate. He would move on, and the sun would rise again like it had when he’d killed the RiverClanner, like when Echo had left, like when Grub had died, like when Fish and Grub Jnr had left. The sun didn’t care and neither would Louse. “Will I see you tomorrow morning?” he asked quietly.