Are You Proud Now, Mum?

The last time that she had seen them, they had been small enough to hold in her arms. She had been scared, unprepared. She had run, knowing that for their sakes it was better for them. Grizabella would never have dreamed that she would again see the kittens that she had abandoned so long ago.

Tattered, torn, worn ragged by years of suffering alone on the streets without the support of her Tribe, Grizabella met the sons she had abandoned face to face. They towered over her.

They met her tired golden eyes with nothing but contempt. The face of her younger son was twisted in hatred as he bowed "graciously" to her. His golden fur shone in the moonlight, his posture a silent challenge, taller still than his brother even when he was stooped.

Her elder son rose to his full height before her, arms outstretched, poised, defensive. His silver fur was like the moon against the sun of his brother's gold. Every sinew of their bodies told her that they remembered her. Every tensed muscle told her that her betrayal of their newborn trusts was the sort of thing that came back in their nightmares, when the blind, deaf, helpless darkness closed in. Every inch of their postures dared her to say that they weren't better off without her.

Cat help her, she didn't even know their names.

--

A sequel, in a way, to this picture. Technically, there are a lot of cockups with this picture. But oh, I'm so done with it. I like how the colouring came out. Especially Griz. I was colouring Griz while watching Memory. Fffuu I need to stop drawing so much CATS.