Kitten Chaos

Jayby had just had the kitten. He had JUST HAD THEM, IN HIS ARMS. Both of them had gotten too hot in their little jackets that their mother insisted they wear and at least bring along, and somewhere in the kneeling down, getting everything all undone, and put away, and back to holding the end of his tail, the little thing had vanished. His brother was sitting quietly while Jayby visibly fretted, hopping up on his clawtips with little puffs of his wings, looking over the tiny obstacles around the street. Not like there were a lot of places for a kid to hide; almost no one was out at this time of day, it was overcast and a little chilly, even Jayby had to admit, and there were no fairs or stalls or outdoor anything to block his view of the street. They had just gotten out of his "what once was a comic store" place of employment, now one part daycare, too, for a little walk to help burn off some energy. Both of the kittens had been bouncing off the walls, their mother having forgotten yet again to bring anything to really entertain them, and Jayby not having been warned or prepared for such a thing at all, he had been at a loss. Bundling everyone up and starting outside, each kitten with a tail wrapped around an arm and a tail tip held securely in a little paw, they set out onto the street, and then the pigeons had happened, and once the excitement calmed down both kits were complaining of how hot and stuffy the jackets were. And now the little one was GONE. Just vanished into thin air like he had never been there! Jayby threw his head back and forth from store to store, and it was with a cold and sharp feeling of dread prickling in his feathers that he laid eyes upon the textile shop just two doors down. He couldn't have. The other little kitten jumped up to his feet and gripped the little bit of tail tighter in his paw as they got set moving. Everyone thought the worst of him, and he was always beaten up, ears all torn to bits, scrapes on his cheeks and elbows and knees. Even his shirts often had little tears and rips and holes in them, and Jayby wasn't good enough with needle and thread to do anything about it. But the kid was sweet, even if the villain was always his favourite, and he spent more time helping with chores than playing - his own decision. He reached out to take the other little paw as they stepped into the fabric store, and every bad feeling Jayby had ever had in his life coalesced into this moment.

The shop was a wreck. It could not have been five minutes since he had lost sight of the tabby kit, and yet. Things had been pulled off of shelves in droves, with great glee; fabric unrolled and twisted around, ribbons cut from their winds or just pulled and pulled and pulled. Yarn skeins all on the floor, balls rolling out of displays, and even one little box carefully opened, the glittery ribbons inside ransacked and half the contents of the box tossed aside haplessly. In the middle of it all, the kitten, like a tiny tornado of terror, lunged for something, but Jayby jumped over the mess, pulling his legs up high to his chest like a bird in flight, pushed down with his wings once, and landed hard on his legs just as his arms wrapped around the miscreant. Terror, stopped, literally lifted off of the ground because his little legs were still pumping, adrenaline pounding at the excitement behind and the potential before. Like a ghost, the shopkeep was there, smiling, seeming genuinely not upset. Jayby put everything into stammering apologies, offerings, worry spilling out into vocal form as the coo knelt down in front of them. "Why don't you take this, instead?" on his palm, a tiny fabric mouse produced from somewhere; Jayby half believed he had made it in the same time the kitten had unmade his shop. The tabby kit's whole world came to focus on that one tiny spot, and his outstretched paws grew claws twice their length, making tiny grasping motions towards the prize.