When Catra had enough wherewithal to recognize sensation, she felt her body engulfed in pain. Inside her chest were mangled lungs and a heart that pounded against her skull, wailing mercilessly on her brain. The light that invaded her eyelids and the irritating chirping of birds lit her senses on fire and she groaned.
She didn't know how many days had passed since Hordak had suffocated her to unconsciousness, but she knew that it was a stroke of providence—whether divine or demonic remained to be seen—that she was still alive.
"Where am I?" She asked, croaking into the air. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and even her tongue had dried in her mouth. She was terribly dehydrated.
Demonic providence it was—barely awake and she was already at death's doorstep.
She would have laughed if she had the strength. She would have been angry if she had the energy. Presently, she didn't have either, and that gaping hole of nothingness inside her soul couldn't help but fill with a twisted sense of gratitude. There was an end to the suffering. Maybe it was divine after all.
In the stillness of her being, thoughts that she'd done well to avoid found their foothold and flitted about like tiny flames.
Catra thought about Adora, and where she could be now. Instinct still called out to her for help, even if logic dictated it as a lesson in futility. She'd left so easily, like the flip of a coin. It baffled Catra she ever depended on her at all.
Catra thought about Shadow Weaver, how her disappearance had been the death sentence that landed Catra where she lay now, squinting against painfully bright foliage. The old woman would finally get her wish, to be rid of the girl who wanted nothing but her approval.
Catra thought about Hordak, and how short her stint as second in command had been. She'd made such great strides. Adora could disapprove all she wanted, but Catra had gotten the Horde closer to victory than anyone else. No one could say that she didn't have a talent for plans and tactics. Why wasn't that enough? She thought she was finally getting things right.
Catra thought about others; Scorpia and what she would do when she found out Catra had been shipped to…where ever this hell hole was (though she had one educated guess), Entrapta and her work with Hordak—Catra hoped the kooky scientist wouldn't be discarded as callously as her. She thought about Lonnie. She thought about Kyle. She thought about Rogelio. She thought about the many many soldiers that littered the metallic walls of the Fright Zone.
Each thought burnt holes into her brain and widened the emptiness that threatened to engulf her. She ached to embrace it and closed her eyes. She could sleep, and maybe this time, it could be her that did the leaving.
She'd gotten acclimated to the pain enough to distinguish the individual noises that rushed into her ears, the wind across the branches, the blue jay and it's mate, a woodpecker, and a babbling brook…
A brook?
Catra's ears angled towards the distinctive sound of gushing water. It was close. If she could make it, then she knew she could survive for a little while longer.
She grunted.
It shouldn't have been a question. Somewhere in her beaten, broken body, there was just enough fuel to make it. There had to be. Catra was never the type to give up, but the thought began to slip between the burnt edges of her mind.
With a sigh, she pushed the thoughts away, an act that was surprisingly more difficult than twisting her body until she could push up on her elbows and knees. Though that was agony too, like every torn muscle, burn, and scrape coalesced into a single entity. It rested squarely against Catra's form like a hot skillet. She pushed past it until she was on her knees. Panting and barely conscious, she began to crawl towards the gurgling of the brook.
"Force Captain!"
Adora whipped her head towards the sound. She saw Kyle at a dead sprint, the bow of a rebel soldier aimed at his retreating form. On instinct, Adora lunged at his feet, tripping him and causing the arrow to wiz harmlessly above them.
"Let's go!" Adora heaved the boy to his feet and practically dragged him behind a boulder. "What is it, Kyle?" She snapped. Her patience was thin, worsened by a suspicion that she already knew what Kyle needed to say.
A boom rattled the earth beneath them and Adora could see the massive green vines that rocketed upward—Horde soldiers tangled into the messy heap—from the meager cover of the bolder.
"The princesses have incapacitated more than 70% of our troops. I don't know how much longer we can hold them off."
"Casualties?"
"None sir, but they are taking prisoners."
Adora grit her teeth. Even if she predicted it, it was still a hard kick in the gut to know that another mission had failed, but there was nothing for it now. She needed to act fast before more Horde soldiers were taken away. "Tell all the troops to fall back to the Fright Zone. We're done here."
Kyle did a salute and ran off, barely missed by another arrow. It was almost captivating to watch. Luck is definitely on his side, she thought. She took off in a run towards her waiting skiff while grabbing her communicator from her belt. "All troops fall back! I repeat all troops fall back! Now!"
There was a flash of pink and all of a sudden, she was careening down over a pink haired, pink clothed, pink everythinged woman. She grabbed Adora by the torso. Before Adora could even register what was happening, she was flipping to toss the princess over her hip. She fell with a hard thud.
"Glimmer!" The bowman, tan skinned and curly haired, raced towards them.
The princess was dazed enough that she didn't think to grab Adora again, but she still called loud enough to make her pause. "Adora wait!"
The bowman had reached the princess. They huddled together, looking at her with their wide eyes and concerned expressions.
There was a pull on Adora's mind, a recollection of something familiar, but oh so distant, like a fraying thread.
Another bang echoed across the battlefield, and an icicle, the size of a great oak, sprung from the ground several feet away. With it, the thread that yanked on Adora's mind broke, and she turned, back into her sprint. She didn't even dare think back on the events until she was closer to the Fright Zone than the Whispering Wood.
Another battle ended just like it had ended for the past five years since she became Force Captain. Another tie. Another stalemate. Another defeat.
Adora cursed. There would be a reckoning when Shadow Weaver got the report. And then, there would be another one when she had to report to Hordak. She also had to count the soldiers that hadn't made it and face the ones that did. She didn't know which pill held the most bitter emotion. They all seemed keen on splitting her into four anxious quadrants.
"Gods damn it!" She pushed the skiff faster, the terrain a blur of colors beneath her. When the hanger finally came in sight, her mind was in such a state that she almost ran right into it. Thankfully, she had just enough time to come to a grinding halt. As soon as she was able, she jumped out and began power walking away. She did a shoddy park job, she knew, but she needed to breathe, just for a little bit, before she interacted with anyone. If she didn't, there was a likely chance she would cry, stutter, or stumble. None of those options were thought of highly in the Horde, and she was starkly aware of her own dwindling reputation already.
Whisperings in the walls of the Fright Zone tended to echo, no matter how quiet they thought they were being. In fact, they tended to amplify the quieter you tried to be. It had been nice when she was Adora the cadet, the top of the class, the responsible one, the promising soldier. It was less nice as Adora the Force Captain, the losing streak leader, the idiot strategist, the brainless captain.
Her heavy footsteps shifted in tone as she stepped on a familiar balcony. The creaking of the grates under her feet were an immediate comfort, finally allowing herself a shaky breath. She leaned against the rusted guard rail and quietly allowed herself to weep. It was routine by now. After every failed mission, when the reality of her uselessness pressed on her, she couldn't help but break a little more each time. The moments between each break seemed shorter and shorter, and with no one to put her back together, she was on the fast track to falling apart.
If only Catra were there.
Catra.
Maybe it would have been different if they were together, someone to watch her back and tell her she was being stupid before she acted on it. Being force captain was not all it was cracked up to be, but if they were together, exploring the world, and planning missions just like they planned in their childhood, maybe it would be different. Maybe it would have been better.
So, where in Etheria was she?!
The quiet sobs evolved into an angry yell. Adora reeled, leaning back to give a mighty kick to the guard rail. It snapped at two rusted hinges and the top bar hurled to the ground, circling in the air as it arced away and down.
She heard a feral hiss to her left, and her heart nearly dropped out of her stomach.
"Catra?"
The cat just stared back at her, displaying irritation to a disturbingly human degree.
"Oh, sorry," she apologized before catching herself. "Not that you can understand, because you're a cat."
The tiny creature was actually more of a kitten, and it's golden eyes stared at her with curiosity.
Adora knelt towards it, stretching out a hand to beckon the creature over. "It's okay," she called. "I won't hurt you."
The kitten slowly approached, keeping its head bowed, its tiny nose twitching, sniffing the air between them for any hint of ill intent. Eventually, the kitten was right at Adora's waiting hand. It took one whiff, two whiffs, then nuzzled its cheek against the side of her palm. It rumbled with deep purrs and Adora's heart melted at the sight.
"You know something," she said, turning her hand over to gently caress the furry ears on its head, "you look a lot like an old friend." Adora trailed her hand down to the soft scruff of her neck where long strands of fur puffed out in wild angles. "Or maybe frenemy, if I want to believe Shadow Weaver. Catra has this wild mane of hair too. Your coloring is a little darker, but maybe you guys are related." Adora laughed to herself at the thought. "I should call you Catra jr."
The kitten seemed to mewl in protest, looking up from under Adora's hand.
"Yeah, I know. I suck at names."
Adora moved to the bottom of the kitten's chin and the mewls went back to contented purrs. The kitten lifted its head, granting Adora better access under its furry neck.
"You even like getting petted in the same places." Adora smiled sadly. "Or maybe I miss her so much I'm being delusional."
The kitten didn't acknowledge her pondering, lost in Adora's gentle ministrations.
"You know, I still don't know what happened to her," she contemplated. "They said she put me in a coma before disappearing, and that's why I can't remember some things." Adora shook her head, her face twisting in incredulity. "But that doesn't sound right. I can't help feeling like there's something I'm missing, something the others aren't telling me. Anytime I get close, it just disappears again like so much smoke. I don't know what to do, Catra," she paused before adding, " jr."
The kitten finally opened its eyes and stared at Adora. The irises were almost luminescent in the darkness, and Adora couldn't help feeling slightly unnerved. She retracted her hand, holding it to her chest.
The kitten gave a soft meow before crouching. It wiggled its tail in the air and leaped from the guard rail to a ventilation shaft. With a final look, the kitten jumped on the highest point on the roof, disappearing out of sight.
Adora watched it go, the anxiety that disappeared at the cat's arrival, slamming back into her at its departure.
She took another calming breath before retreating back into the cold halls. Shadow Weaver was probably already looking for her.
After Catra found the brook, she dunked her head and gulped the liquid down like honied elixir. It had a wonderful effect on her constitution, but only enough to assure she'd wake up again when she'd fallen asleep. She still felt weak and water only did so much to heal someone who was otherwise exposed to the elements. Already a stiff breeze was passing across her sweat soaked body as the sky deepened into a light purple hue.
No one can say I didn't try, she thought. There was no way she was able to move more than a few feet, much less gather supplies, and she was still so tired. She didn't know it was possible to be this tired after just waking up but, gods, did her body ache. With little else to do, she gave in to her compulsion and slept.
Her mind began to wander to the few happy memories she had in her mind. So deep was her delusion, she would even swear that a blue-eyed blondie had picked her up and started carrying her, ever so gently into the distance.