Whilst Michael was busy dancing with his acting partner on the stage, Kotov was rubbing his paws in glee. Here was that young devil and soon he would be in chains. Kotov beckoned to the korsack soldiers who followed him with grim expressions towards the sounds of cheery singing.
The innocent actors expected nothing as Kotov appeared from the bushes but Michael saw him and at once a look of shock entered his eyes. Still dancing, Michael kept his gaze fixed on Kotov who had begun to lead the soldiers out from the hedgerows, Kotov was smiling in satisfaction: a devilish grin that contorted his face.
Only when the soldiers rushed into the area of the stage did Michael hitch up his dress and make a break for it, his fur bristling in alarm and terror as the korsack soldiers tore after him, waving swords and clubs. So Alexander was right! Thought the poor cat as he scurried past the shrieking audience.
At once the merry air was turned into that of chaos.
Losing the soldiers amidst the onlookers, Michael leapt up onto the stage, closely followed by Kotov who was snarling in frustration as his quarry got away.
As he stumbled between shocked dancers and panicking actors, Michael leapt into the dressing room and with one swift movement, fuelled by desperation, lodged a chair under the door so that no body could get in.
Alone, but hearing the failed attempts of someone trying to break the door, Michael seized his sword just in time as Kotov burst into the room with a deafening bang as the door fell.
Michael was ready and met Kotov full on as violent fight broke out, Kotov panting and his eyes gleaming like a demons.  For what seemed like eternity but was really a few minutes, the two cats fought viciously, their blades thrusting at any opportunity as their loathing overtook them.
With a yell Michael bounded forwards as he seized an opportunity. Frightening the rival with a series of slashing white as Michaels sword whipped through the air like lightening,  Cossack forced Kotov back to the wall, parrying frantically with a glimmer of hidden panic etched on his face. 
Losing his footing, the training master crashed to the floor as his foot paws became entangled with a wooden bench. He knocked his head hard and was out cold for a few minutes.
This was all Michael needed for his escape. Keeping his sword close to him, the young cat leapt to the open window and, hindered by his frilly frock, half scrabbled, half fell through it. Casting a last backwards glance at the place, Michael hurried through the woody area where he disappeared into the night.

Kotov lay on the floor in the most awkward position, still bewildered that that devil had got away from him. Indeed all he could mutter was " he got away... He got away" over and over as if hardly believing it possible.
The door opened. In stepped what was definitely a rich, rather elderly tabby cat, clad in the finest of cloaks which was trimmed with feathers and mink fur. His white- furred face held a expression of dislike.
Kotov raised himself weakly and gasped in fear as he saw who had walked in. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he stuttered "your meant to be dead... I saw you, your meant to be dead"
Yurovokov, the name of the rich cat, simply toyed with his rapier.
"Ten years since you saw me Kotov. A lot can happen in ten years" was the reply he gave, turning to stare at the wretched cat on the ground.
Kotov began to whimper. It was a pathetic sound. "That Cossack nearly killed me... Nearly killed me"
He was stopped short as Yurovokov snarled disbelievingly. "No! I don't think so... I've known you better Kotov. I know that it would not go beyond you to arrest and innocent soul. I know you better than you think" there was the hint of a threat in his rasping voice.
With speed, contrary to his age, the richly clad cat hurled Kotov up roughly, walking him towards the door where a loud brouhaha was still heard to be taking place.
"Your coming with us"