For the next week, Mungojerrie seemed to be deep in thought. He wasn’t his usual self around the other cats. The kittens were confused. Normally he would play with them and teach them tricks, but now he was sullen and unresponsive. Mungo knew that they noticed something was wrong, but even he couldn’t place his paw on it. All he knew was that he had to find that apparition.

Munkustrap was particularly worried. The handsome, muscular silver tabby studied the calico tom asleep on the hood of an old abandoned car in the Jellicle Junkyard. Lately, whenever anyone questioned Mungojerrie, he just stared back with a blank face and didn’t respond. Also, nobody knew what was in that little black bag of his. Munk shuffled over to the magical twins, Tantomille and Coricopat. ‘If anybody would know what is going on, it would be them.’ He mulled to himself. The twins were lounging on the tire when Munkustrap walked up to them. “I’m worried about…” he started but was interrupted.

“…about Mungojerrie. We know.” the twins said in unison.

Munku looked startled but regained his composure. “I don’t know what is going on. All he ever does lately is mope and sleep. Can you guys see anything wrong?” he asked, hope filling his eyes.

The twins exchanged looks and then said simultaneously, “There is nothing wrong. We cannot sense anything.”

He looked disappointed.

Tantomille spoke suddenly, “It does seem weird, but…”

“…It can’t be magic.” finished Coricopat.

Munkustrap sighed heavily. “You mean that you guys can’t sense anything?”

They spoke again, “We are the most powerful magical cats along with Mistoffelees, and there is no hint of magic. The last powerful magic cats were imprisoned 5 years ago by someone and they haven’t been released. As for Macavity, we can sense that he is losing his power. His aura isn’t as strong as it once was.”

“That, we can’t explain either.” Tantomille added offhandedly.

“There’s nothing we can do but be thankful that he isn’t as powerful as he was.” Coricopat concluded.

“What about Misto. Can he sense anything?” Munk asked.

“Huh? Did someone say my name?” A voice rang out as a shape materialized from the shadows. The new arrival was solid black except for a white chest patch and part of his face.

Munkustrap looked at him and repeated the question. “Can you see anything wrong with Mungojerrie?”

Mistoffelees looked solemnly at the sleeping calico. Finally after several minutes, he shook his head saying, “What are you talking about? There isn’t anything wrong with him. He’s probably just tired. And as for the bag around his neck, maybe it’s something he ‘picked up’ on a job.”

Munkustrap sighed again and rubbed his paw across his forehead. “It appears to be useless to do anything. Correct?”

The twins and Misto nodded.