Harbinger

by TC 2014

ThunderCats 2014 Season One - See profile or author(s) note for details. "A group of cats is drawn together and one of them has a secret, and a blade of sacred power. The heart of the world palpitates. Terror is growing. And the Harbinger, consumer of galaxies, is stirring again."

1. Chapter 1

ThunderCats

ThunderCats is the property of WB and its affiliates. Any concepts not originating from the TC universe is/are the property of these creator(s) unless otherwise noted.

Characters will not completely resemble the 1985 rendition, nor the 2011 rendition. This is a reimagining of the Thundercats series as a whole and not entirely based on either series. Nor is it based on any other fan work. The creator(s) of this work reserve the right not to answer any questions or respond to any reviews. This is meant to mimic a professional work and will be conducted as such.

ThunderCats will be updated weekly at nine pm EST on Fridays. Requests for it to be more or less frequently updated will be ignored. Requests for certain occurrences will also be ignored. The refusal to answer questions is not out of disrespect for the fandom but for a semblance of professionalism. Comments are generally read but are not guaranteed to be personally replied to by any of the affiliate(s) taking part in the construction of this series. Keep in mind each of us have lives, families, and a variety of projects.

All parties reading this will likely have questions about ships, original series characters and changes to the overall storyline, and they cannot be answered at this time due to spoilers. However, the creator(s) of this work profess a desire to be as fair as possible to fans and that a certain sector of the fanbase has long been denied satisfaction in the shipping department, in both the 2011 rendition and the DC/Wildstorm comics. This reboot is NOT dedicated solely to ships or catering to a particular sector, but be aware that the creator(s) of this reboot will seek to administer fairness in this respect.

We're not talking about Lion-O and Wilykit, so please refrain from asking. There will be no pedophilia of any sort. Nobody on this creative team supports such things.

This story is recommended for ages thirteen and up for the following:

Reference to fantasy drugs, alcohol, fantasy drug trade.

Mild suggestive material.

Violence and frightening scenes.

---

Pilot

Stranger on a Mission, Part 1

---

His fingers batted the thin gold and it rang on his stubby claws. He tried it with his toes next and found that even more enjoyable, chunky legs flailing.

Inside the bassinet the music played, and the baby kicked at the four-legged cats dangling from the machine again. They swayed, still turning to the chimes. He babbled and the sound echoed uncomfortably in the high temple, pale stone and pillars throwing it back. The ceiling rained a thousand shades and tints of light through the stained glass, melting the gold trim into rainbows and bronze.

"May the Creator's Will be done. May we follow the Code. May the heir be Chosen." After this a chorus of roars from everyone in the room made the baby stop playing and begin to cry. An old cat approached with a bowl and the baby was marked with red paint on his forehead, heart, and right hand in spite of his frantic wiggling. His fat fingers closed and opened unhappily, pulling at the foreign knuckles. "The blood of those that have come before you guard your path. May they keep your mind pure, your heart pure, your strength pure. Only the Creator will keep your soul pure."

Rimming the room were cats, twelve of them, a combination of priests and prophetesses. They exchanged looks and as their leader retreated from the bassinet with his bowl of red paint, they lowered their heads and said, "For the Code."

Their baskets were lifted high and swift, and the stones inside flew out, glittering like a dark hailstorm. It took a few long seconds for the lots to clatter on the tiles, a thousand skeletal toes. Half landed with the red garnet sides up and the others with black obsidian.

When they finally stopped rattling Jaga looked to the king.

"The ceremony is complete." He stepped away from the newborn prince – still bawling in the basket – and examined the stones, winding between the pieces without ever touching one. His aged toe claws made brittle creaking noises, tail keeping his balance. "I do not see anything remarkable. There is no pattern."

The king's tawny hair and beard fell down the scaled armor like melted gold, framing the stone face and ending in a thick braid. "Very well. Collect them and put them away. I am meeting with the captains soon and they won't come into a room with these things; the cadets are superstitious." He stood up and made his way down the white and gold stairs toward the dais where the baby's bassinet rested. It was the seventh hour of his seventh day, and now that the lots had been thrown the ceremonies were over; the heir was to be named after his mother. Le-On from Le-Onna. A plain, princely name for a plain, princely child. It was ordinary and the king approved it. If his mother could not guard him in life, he would be placed under the protection of her name in light of her death.

Two of the priests came forward with the carved stone box that housed the lots. Both wore masks laced with gold and silver, lined with fur and red paint. They represented the presence of the spirit pride, their ancestors that ran in paradise at the Creator's whim. Jaga looked from them to the child, tired of the crying already. He was one more heir on the list he'd seen, the seventh one, and he wondered if perhaps the lots were not wasted. All they did was scare infants and make them scream with their noise.

One priest shrieked. Jaga's head snapped up at the crash of the stone box hitting the floor. The clawed hands were limp, numb, and the cat backed away from the cub. His eyes bulged behind the mask. "The stones!"

The rasp of jewel on tile turned everyone's eyes to the middle of the room. One jagged piece, black side up, moved across the floor. Then another, scarlet as new blood, shifted in the opposite direction. It was as if invisible fingers were sliding them like puzzle pieces across a table.

No one dared to breathe. The sunlight in the stained glass windows seemed colder. Jaga realized the child had stopped crying.

And then all the lots whirled across the floor like locusts, rolling and swirling without mortal touch. Red and amber lights refracted off the jewels, dazzlingly fast. Many rose into the air in a massive spiral, lowering into new places. Jaga twitched, looking at the newborn cub.

He simply sat, chubby and interested, squinty eyes following a few rocks. None of them touched him.

The roar of the pieces slowly died like an old wave, falling into stillness. None of the priests around the room dared to move. Jaga forced himself to breathe.

The baby giggled and Jaga noticed the little one's tail swishing around happily. Claudus was the first to move toward him, lifting the heir naked from the bassinet and setting him on his shoulder, eliciting another squeal. His cold eyes followed something and he gestured for Jaga to come to him. To do this the old cat would have to step on some of the lots and he shook his head; he wouldn't tread that ground for any king in the world.

"Look at the pattern, Jaga. Tell me what it means." The king's voice was harsh, cutting, and Jaga obeyed. The smooth dark line of a silhouette, the piercing angle of a tooth, a red place for an eye-

The image of Thundera's guardian loomed black and red on the floor, surrounding the bassinet. Something –someone – had arranged the ceremonial lots into the image of the Great Cat in completion of the baby's final dedication as the heir to the throne.

The cub burbled and drooled, sucking on his own tail tuft.

---

"If you can't pay your tab, you can't have any beer today. So get – out!"

The pot-bellied cat half-flopped, half-rolled out the inn door. She gave him a good foot to the behind to push him well out of the way. The sign above the door swung as if to clear the air, the chubby cat on it looking smug. "And don't come back until you have the silver to pay for that chair you broke either. Your wife called looking for you last night and you show up breaking things, that's the last straw!" she snapped. Staff resting hot in her hand, she used the butt of it to smack his leg. He yowled and bared his teeth at her.

"Little slut! Who're you to kick me out?"

"I'm the security for the Fancy Feline Inn and Tavern. You don't like it, take a hike." Her dark brown eyes grew darker and she twisted her hands; the flat ends of the staff opened and several blades slid out, crackling. The marks around her eyes were nearly black and made her look venomous in the flash. He eyed the staff more soberly than before, the yellow gleam of the metal reflecting the white electricity. She shifted her hair so it was behind her back, out of the way and spun the staff. "She's not elegant but she's reliable."

Muttering about outrageous beer and wild women, the cat got to his flat feet and stomped off, calling her all manner of colorful names. She switched her staff back to standby mode and it shortened until it was the length of her hand. Placing it in its holder on her belt, the woman headed back into the bar, spotted tail lifted haughtily.

Cheetara felt a certain grim satisfaction kicking drunks out of the bar. It opened up more places for paying customers to sit, and she hated mopping up puke the tipsy ones tended to leave. If they'd been a refined winery in the Imperial City there would have been money and fine liquor and silken beds, but in Dera's Run – or "Thundera's Runs" as the high folk passing through called it – people were lucky to get a good ale and a warm bed afterwards in a slum's inn. Not to mention a clean place to use the bathroom. "Runs of the west" indeed.

They kept the inn as well as they could. It wasn't fancy like the name suggested, but it was a place for the traveler to lay their head down long enough to rest in safety. Cheetara valued that reputation, and anyone who tried to interfere with it met her staff. Papa had found it swaddled in her blanket with her on the doorstep, and she never let it out of her sight.

"Anyone else have a problem paying their tab? Our prices aren't that high men." A couple of cats laughed and one tossed her a copper. She grinned at him. "I'll write that down for you, Ferrol."

"You do that. No man with a brain wants to be thrown out of the only decent bar in Dera's Run by the prettiest gal around." He raised his tankard in her direction and the regulars sitting around the worn oaken bench cheered, lifting their own bawdy glasses.

"Be careful your wife doesn't hear you saying that sort of thing," Cheetara said. The older cat laughed as his fellows hollered and she rounded the room, taking up a wooden platter as she did. Whisking dirty cups off the tables, she paused occasionally to check a flickering light bulb, tightening the loose ones. She balanced the platter masterfully while she did this and returned to the bar, putting it down.

"Daddy, mark off a copper for Ferrol and two silvers for Mittens! And we need three fizzing whiskers and a tabby shot for the new table." A Siamese cat poked his head up from behind the counter, portly and smooth-coated. His dark face was benign and his short beard was scruffy.

"Coming up. I could've seen to that ruffian, kitten."

"Oh Daddy, really, you'll take all the fun out of my job…"

Cheetara paused to brush off her clothes, picking a stray hair off her shirt and her brown breeches. A little beer had gotten onto her fur, amber on the gold, and she licked her thumb and scrubbed at the spot.

The doors opened and shut again. She didn't look up but her dad smiled. "Ah, Tygra. I didn't expect you back from your mother's so soon."

"Well, I wanted to beat the ice." Cheetara waved at him when she'd cleaned her fur satisfactorily and his familiar, pale face was pleased. "Cheetara…just as proper as ever. You missed some on your arm."

"Can it Tygra, you still owe me two coppers for when I spotted you." He rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, tossing her the coins. She gave him a hug, noticing that his winter fur was still in the process of shedding. "Thank you. It's good to see you. How's your Mom?"

"Pretty good. Still hates Dad's guts, still doting on yours truly. Helping everyone that knocks on the door, sainted woman." Tygra dressed down when he came to the tavern, and for good reason; they didn't stand for criminals in the building but there was no way to keep all seedy folk out. The son of one of the few nobles in town could attract the wrong kind of attention in his nice clothes. Not that he couldn't handle a fight or two himself.

He was wearing a blue tunic and breeches, whip on his belt and his tail coiling peaceably. He kept his hair all in long braids tied back, cat's eye beads sealing each braid end. It was a tiger thing, something to do with his family line and an old tradition passed down from tiger tribal customs. And his pretty face looked interested, entertained, yellow eyes dancing with news and politics.

Very wary of any pranks, Cheetara jerked her thumb toward the bar. "The usual? Or are you here for the gossip?"

"Both, actually. Came to dish with a little of my own too." He made his way to one of the stools and watched her dad whip up the drinks in clean glass mugs and pour a shot in a few seconds. "Yamese, have you had many nonfels in lately?"

Cheetara grimaced at the slang for non-felines but said nothing. Her father poured one more drink – a fizzing whisker with the addition of a shot of Candyfruit juice, the tiger's preferred drink when he couldn't get ahold of a hot mug of tea – and slid it down to Tygra, who passed back a letter. It had the mark of his father, Xiame, in the wax seal. "Thank you, I was hoping your father would respond. And I have, actually. Had a few jackalmen in yesterday and a whole pack of wolves the day before. Seems like they're moving through early this year."

Switching the drinks to her platter, Cheetara ran them to their table and was back midway through Tygra saying, "-I met a few myself. Sounds like Mutation is heavily traded in the north. Our enemies are looking for people to generate it for them and they're looking for more sources for ingredients. Of course you won't get anyone to admit that when you ask. All hearsay."

Somebody brushed past her toward the door, stopping beside it to look at the wall. "Someone took that week-long security job, huh?"

"Yeah, sorry. Better luck next month." Cheetara scanned the pages still pinned up – it was a notice board of sorts, a place to advertise for jobs and services when cats couldn't afford to hire announcers or rent newspaper ads – and took one other one down. "That's one's old too."

Someone else tried to cop a feel as she sidled past but one of the regulars scowled at him and slapped him. There was honor among drinkers, if not drunks. Not to mention this one had been friends with Yamese for thirteen years. The other hiccupped and Cheetara rolled her eyes. "You're at the end of yours, sir. We encourage the appreciation of a good drink, not throwing up and passing out."

His eyes blinked out of sync and she sighed, leaving him. Daddy would handle him. She couldn't lift the fellow to help him up.

The tavern had been in Yamese's family for generations. It had started out as a wooden hut where the local merchants swapped ale and stories and grown into an inn with ten rooms and a little bar and kitchen. Cheetara lived with her parents in the highest room of the place, a glorified attic. It wasn't much but it wasn't the side of the street. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"We haven't seen any Mutation this far down, but it's only a matter of time. I wonder why the king has lessened his attack?" Her father slid out from behind the bar with a practiced sucking-in of the gut and escorted the drunk fellow out, off the paneled wood floor and out into the road. He came back and returned to Tygra.

"He's more worried about civil unrest in the east I guess. I'm beginning to think an empire can only get so big. Apparently lizardmen are fighting with cats, complaining about their lot in life." Tygra seemed placating, humoring, and Cheetara snorted.

"You'd be pretty unhappy if you had to work twice as long as a cat by law to have a home to call your own."

"If they don't like it they can leave. Thundera doesn't make them stay." He swirled the contents of his glass.

"And go out where there's no food at all and the Alliance will try to rope them into their ranks? More employers would hire lizards if they didn't have to have a certain percentage of feline employees. The laws are causing more problems here than anything."

Tygra didn't get angry, resting his chin on his hand. "So we get rid of them. And then we'll have high unemployment among cats causing more civil unrest. Great job, Empress Cheetara."

"I'm for market freedom and responsible people. Government seeking to control the market never works out. I have a little more faith in the average person than you I guess."

It was an old spat between them, the situation of the peoples and kinds. Yamese just ignored it, letting them argue.

The door opened again and Cheetara looked to it. "Be right with you!"

The person was in a dark cloak with the hood up. They nodded and moved to the bar, sitting down and looking around. They seemed intrigued.

"In an ideal world, Cheetara. Like I was saying before, the king has to worry about a lot more than some black market trading of Mutation. But the Imperial City hasn't been making many announcements for months. Everybody's starting to wonder what's going on up there."

Cheetara heard something clatter in the kitchen and poked her head through the window by the bar. "Mama, you okay?"

Sai was picking up pots and pans, muttering to herself. She was a thick woman but taller than her husband by a few inches, and her tail was better groomed. Her pale fur was nearly the color of toasted sugar, but edged on gold in the light. "Fine, fine…I've got three orders for stew and five for honey-bread and the oven's making that noise again, but I'm fine back here."

Tygra poked his head through the window too, shooting her a smile. "Hello."

Her irritated expression vanished. "Tygra, sweetie! When did you get back? And how is your mother?"

"Just now. She's doing well thank you. Need any help?"

"Oh, I can't ask you…unless you could look at the oven…"

The black machine sputtered and out of the top a plume of black smoke rolled sluggishly. Her smile didn't flicker. "It's always doing that."

"Sure thing." Rather than taking the door like a normal person he slipped through the window, landing on his feet easily. "Let's see…ah, there's the problem. How did you get tangled there?" Tygra was crouched by the machine, picking around behind it.

Cheetara tapped her claws nervously. "Hey, remember the last time you messed with a power line, you ended up-"

There was a noise like a whip and the smell of burnt fur. The oven made one more noise and seemed to purr, humming properly. Tygra turned around and Cheetara shook her head; his face was covered in soot and his fur was standing on end.

"…I still fixed it." His fingers twitched. Her mother began to fuss, running some water and wetting a clean dish towel, dabbing at his facial fur. Cheetara laughed; Tygra had burnt himself and his fur more times than she could count, and he was an amazing healer. The soot was coming off and his fur was glossy under it. Perhaps ash was good for the complexion.

Yamese had already reached the cloaked cat. "What can I get for you?"

In all the tumult of the bar, this person was the only one with his head covered. "I think I'd just like a spring water please." One of their nonalcoholic beverages, spring waters were just that – a glass of clean water from the springs outside of town, flavored with a little mint and juice. Cheetara headed into the back to the barrels where they kept the wine and waters, stacked in the corner of the kitchen. She turned the knob of one, drawing a generous helping of clean water from it and grabbing a sprig of mint and a bottle, mixing the contents as she walked back out.

"One spring water." He slid a coin across the bar with two fingers. Pleased – strangers didn't always pay up front and the water took a day to bring back – Cheetara accepted the coin and examined it, biting it to verify its purity. "Huh. Imperial money. You from the west, stranger?"

"Yes. I was hoping to find a cartographer in town. You wouldn't happen to know of any would you?" This wasn't strange, and Cheetara tried to think of the shops nearby as he took a drink. "This is very good. Thank you." She eyed him; his manners were western all right, not raucous at all. Strange scene for his kind.

"No problem. We have a couple of map makers around, old Tabbsy for one. He can map out any of the eastern lands up to the Plutarran Bogs."

He didn't take down his hood, and the only thing she could see of his eyes was something glassy and dark. They looked like goggles or funky glasses. Cheetara didn't ask; people wore what they wore. "And…what about world maps?"

She paused. Someone was calling for a refill and she'd just taken out a bottle. "World map…a detailed one? That would cost a lot on paper. Now, if you wanted a chip with a world map downloaded on it I think that could be done. Tabbsy could complete one in a day."

He perked up. "That would be better. I didn't know there were any people around here that could design them."

"Dera's Run is little and junky but she's not primitive." She poured another cup and handed it to the waiting hand. "Three streets down. You staying anywhere? We have vacancies for while you wait."

"I'm staying outside of town. Thank you for the help." He drained the glass and gave it back to her.

"That's dangerous. You're not alone are you?" she asked. He shook his head and got off the bar stool.

"I'm with a friend. He's around town, scoping it out."

Before he turned to leave he hesitated. "I heard the tiger talking about Mutation. Has there been any around Dera's Run?"

"Not much. There's more in the bigger cities north of us. Our markets don't have enough gold to tempt the processors." This seemed to please him, and his light brown mouth smiled.

"Thanks. I'll be going now." And with that and the ripple of his cloak he was off, out into the streets again. Cheetara watched him go and shrugged, heading back to the kitchen. Her mother would need help baking if she was to keep up with the tenants' requests and help Tygra with his fur.

---

"I always wanted to be golden-haired." Sai's tiny fingers drew the comb through her hair and Cheetara shut her eyes, enjoying the hard teeth on her scalp. Her hair was almost to the small of her back and usually she kept it partly tied, but right now her hair was all over the place, speckles and dots flowing over her head and arms. "Half a braid?"

"Please Mama. It saves me time in the morning." She handed a brown hair tie to her mother and felt the warm wood and rug under her as she leaned back, head against her mother's knees. The rocker squeaked under Sai and the pleasant pull of her hair being woven made her purr. "Did you get Tygra cleaned up?"

"Yes. He's such a handsome cat, Cheetara. It's a pity you won't ask him out…"

"Mama, he's great as a friend. We wouldn't last three months as a couple." She heard Yamese in the other room and made sure her nightdress wasn't hiking up; Dad didn't need that kind of view. It was a loose, comfortable white thing, made from an old sheet her mother had, but it required some maintenance to cover her long, lean legs.

"Fine, fine. I do hope to see some grandchildren in a few years is all," her mother chided.

Sai had never been able to have children, so Cheetara – a foundling – was their only daughter. Cheetara was tall and skinny, a sprinting cheetah, so it was hard to find clothes for her at the shops the short Siamese cats frequented. It was easier to make clothes for her rather than go looking for larger sizes – more fabric meant the clothing was more expensive.

He entered at last, carrying a stack of papers, the letter Tygra had brought resting on top. He looked tired, gray whiskers threading through his darker fur. "It's official; Mi-Ao's contact isn't going to ship us mead next month. The fighting up north has raised his prices because he has to pay higher rates for security. We can't afford the new price. He sends his apologies. And something else is going on, but they're having trouble communicating. Xiame is going to be working on the situation."

Sai finished tying the braid. "It's not his fault. Everyone's suffering because of these wars and all these Mutation addicts. Mi-Ao's a good cat, he wouldn't raise prices for nothing. We'll have to get supply elsewhere. Maybe start making our own again."

"We don't have the land to grow crops anymore, not with all these citizens moving in. It's one of the favorite brands too. We'll just have to see if we can't get a local supplier of quality." He settled into his armchair, a squashy seat that was broken in all the right places. He thumbed through the pages he was holding and chewed his lip. Cheetara let her head rest in her mother's lap, listening to the rustle. Their most popular brand of liquor was the Fat Cat's Delight; they'd be losing it? That would hurt revenues pretty bad.

"Sure have been a lot of attacks lately. I wonder what's up?" Sai stroked her back, claws tracing the spots.

"From what Tygra was saying it sounds like our enemies are taking advantage of how upset everyone is over issues like Mutation and civil rights for other species." Yamese looked at the heater and its red vents, like some great metal fireplace installed in the wall. "We'll make it through. We always do. I just hope Mutation doesn't come here any more often."

"What kind of low crook could afford pure Mutation? That's for the big dogs." Cheetara stood up, heater light playing over her spots until they looked red. She was mentally calculating approximately how much in a day people spent on Fat Cat. Sixty percent of their income was based on the bar, and about half the patrons bought at least one round of it…maybe thirty percent. Her stomach knotted; there had been bad years before, but this sounded like it would beat all those easily.

Yamese shook his head as she wandered to the window. "I don't want you fighting anyone with that in them. They say it changes people if they take enough, turns bad men wicked." Cheetara waved her tail flippantly, leaning on the window sill and looking out through the dusty glass.

Dera's Run was a metal and wood town, carts running alongside mechanized bikes and – very rarely – a beat up, compact airship drifted along overhead. The nobles and merchants lived comfortably in the distance, their houses looking like little white matchboxes from here. None of them were near Imperial level, but it was hard to imagine riches like that. The Imperial City was said to have stone paths overlaid with gold, and buildings with pure marble bricks. Even the "poor" were supposed to make small fortunes. Of course, these were all tales of a big place, carried by the wind to tiny Dera's Run.

It was a dirty town but Cheetara loved it. Home was home, even if it smelled like exhaust and burnt pies and they struggled to make it.

"Cheetara?" Sai started rocking. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Just thinking about whether the fighting will come here. Dera's not much but she's pretty peaceful. I'd hate for that to change. I wish the king would deal with the threats." She turned away and ducked to kiss her mother's cheek. "'Night Mama. I'll run Tygra's tunic up to his house tomorrow before work if you want."

"Oh, I forgot. I finished mending that patch for him. Nice of him to fix the oven…I just wish he would be more careful. He's going to blow something up, and I'm afraid it's going to be him one of these days." Cheetara laughed and kissed her father too before heading to her bed. It was more of a cot really, fit into a snug closet. She had a door and some privacy, and that was all she could ask.

Cheetara went to sleep with relative ease after saying a prayer and considering things. Mutation, here? No…Dera's Run was too small and insignificant. Nothing important to Thundera's enemies were here, so it was safe. Home would always be safe. And they could substitute a similar brand of beer. It might be difficult at first, but they'd manage.

They always had.

---

"I don't like you wandering on your own. I'm your bodyguard, so I should go with you."

"It'll attract attention. Besides, you're not exactly the warmest person. You might scare someone."

"Good."

"It's more important that you can help me get the supplies. I can get a map easily. You worry about material for traps and food for the journey. You understand that kind of thing better than me."

"…Any sign of enemies?"

"No. Not yet. I'll keep hidden."

Silence in the dark of the evening fell and a dark face was warmed by the firelight. "All right. But if you need help-"

"I'll scream like a banshee and you'll come smashing in. Yes, great." He sounded moderately annoyed, staring into the fire. "I know you're supposed to protect me. But I'm not as helpless as most would be. I've studied about the world, even if I haven't seen it."

"I know. Just watch your back, kid."

They didn't speak again for the rest of the night.

---

"You don't have to walk me back."

"I'm insulted. I'd think you don't want me around." Tygra assumed a wounded look and Cheetara bit the inside of her cheek.

"Look, I can be honest with you, right?"

"I should hope so."

"Okay. I really don't need you hanging around underfoot. You distract Mama and Daddy. We're busy enough in the morning with cleaning without keeping you entertained." She said all this gently, airily, and Tygra did not seem offended.

"I can entertain myself, thank you. Besides, Father's going to a merchant's meeting today. What else am I supposed to do? Dera's not got much in the way of excitement. I'll be good…mostly."

The path was cool and quiet in the morning, only a few other cats on the road. One rode by in a cart and Cheetara shifted to avoid the wheels. The market moved from street to street in Dera's Run, as few merchants had the money to purchase a permanent storefront. Slings of colored cloth and metal tables and counters were set up along this street; some of the local farmers had brought their goods today and were sitting behind the crops.

She'd meant to drop off the mended tunic with one of the maids but Tygra had been up and – of course – decided to grace her with his company on the way back to the Fancy Feline Inn and Tavern. Other than travel and help with his father's business and carry messages there wasn't much else he had to do; he was technically a noble and therefore obligated toward politics but he always had his hand in some new hobby or toy, particularly engineering. It was easy to see why someone so flighty would get bored in a place like this. "You like being around your mother. If you're so bored in Dera, why do you come back?"

"Well, other than to bask in your delightful company…"

"Uh huh." Her arms crossed and she snorted.

"It's always freezing up there, and I've got too much of Dad in me to tolerate the ice for long. And Dad likes me around. I think it would hurt him if I stayed with her permanently." This last part was added with slightly less bravado and Cheetara's amusement faded.

"I see." The separation was an unpleasant subject that had to be handled like a hot plate. Tygra didn't say anything else though; he paused and nudged her arm. She stopped and followed his gaze past a market stall. A wolf was there, leaning on a bench and panting heavily. Most skirted around him, giving him uneasy glances. Cheetara took a few steps toward him even when Tygra sucked in a breath of disapproval. "Excuse me, are you okay?"

He didn't look up. Naked, the wolf was jet black and lean, probably her age. His nose was handsome for a canine and he was tall, haunches shivering, and she felt heat from him even here. His ears were flat against his skull, mouth open. Perhaps he'd been mugged.

Cheetara stopped when she saw the drool running down his gums and heard the popping of bubbles. Foam was in his throat. She took a slow step away.

The wolf's head snapped up, green eyes wide and tearing. His nose was running and he made a choking noise, making the spittle course harder, dripping on the ground. Cheetara felt for her staff and her ear twitched when she heard some of the cats shutting doors and locking windows.

"What's wrong with him?" Tygra asked softly. "Rabies?" It was a dreaded disease, but rare. It made Cheetara take another step back.

The wheezing breaths sounding like ripping lungs and the wolf bared his teeth in a snarl. He was hunched over now, curled knuckles nearly hitting the ground. His spine jutted and his body seized.

And then it seemed to swell, muscles breaking and fur stretching to cover newer, bigger body. Cheetara's fur stood on end and she heard Tygra take the Creator's name in vain. What had been a bipedal wolf stood on four legs, thick as bent young trees. Its chest was as big as an ale barrel and its neck bulged with a bark. His fingers had shortened and thickened, hands turning into meaty claws and paws and pads.

The beast tore its front paws from the ground and howled, primal. Cheetara clapped her hands to her ears; it felt like someone had crushed her head between two boulders.

When the noise stopped her ears rang, and she activated her staff, both ends extending and the blades sliding out. The wolf hunched up, tail crooked, and cocked its head.

Then it was running, legs pumping toward them, shaking the earth with its weight.

Cheetara heard the crack of a whip and lowered herself into a run, feet darting out like flames. The wolf skidded as she passed, snapping at her, teeth closing only on the wind. Cheetara whirled around to see the creature sniffing, puzzled by her disappearance. She whistled and it peered over its own tail to see her fifty feet away.

No one was as fast as she was. Not even a four-legged, mad beast.

The spit-laden mouth dripped more when it snarled, turning toward her, but its throat suddenly closed and it began to choke. Tygra shimmered into view, his invisibility wearing off as he used his whip to cut off the wolf's air. "You need a doctor my fine, hairy nonfel." He clung to the thick ruff as the wolf shook and flailed, tossing its head. "Cheetara, give him a few volts! He'll wreck the stalls!"

As he yelled one great paw lashed out, shattering a wooden stand and sending young plants flying across the street. Cheetara nodded and Tygra jumped clear, springing to the top of the nearest stall.

To build up a charge in her staff required speed – the internal mechanisms responded to the friction of air molecules moving through it, or so Tygra had decided – and that was something she had plenty of. One side and then the other, Cheetara rebounded against the walls in two seconds and leaped high into the air, landing on the back of the wolf. She stabbed the end of her staff down, deep into the dirty, thick fur.

Lights flashed in her eyes and a high yelp, constricted and faint, told her the wolf was done. She jumped down to the ground and watched as the beast wavered, fur smoking. Then he fell, tottering over and slumping on the ground. Cheetara then darted forward, hastily undoing the whip. Tygra seemed annoyed by the gesture but she couldn't leave the creature to suffocate like that.

One by one cats began coming out of the stores, shaking and whispering. Cheetara felt the heaviness of one of the limp paws and found she could barely lift one of its forelegs. "We're going to need chains for him when he wakes up."

Tygra stooped beside her, looking at the feral wet face. "I can think of an easier way of dealing with a crazy mutt…"

She gave him a deadly look and he shut up. Touching the bruises around its neck, Cheetara felt something strange; a small knot in his pelt rolled between her fingers. "There's something under his skin here."

The clatter of armor made them stand up. There weren't many guards patrolling the city but there were several to guard the nobles' homes, and the sound of screaming and howling had drawn a few to the stalls. Their armor was rough and brown and their chests were emblazoned with the black and red Cat of Thundera. What metal there was to their armor was often poor-fitting.

Their faces were white under their fur, but to their credit the guards brought powerful binders for the creature's legs and a muzzle for his teeth, and they attached them with care. Cheetara watched in silence, even when it took ten of them to haul the beast onto a cart meant for transporting meat from the butcher's store. It was the only one strong enough to bear something so heavy. A crowd ended up gathering to watch the procession. Dera's Run only had so many exciting things happen after all.

Cheetara put her staff away, realizing that her heart had finally started to slow and that there was sweat where her hair met her fur. She'd never seen anything quite like that, and the warmth of the morning felt cold in its wake.

"What was wrong with that guy?" she asked aloud.

"He didn't react well to the new Mutation. Most people don't."

Cheetara turned around and Tygra followed suit, eyes narrowing at the speaker. She recognized the hood and cloak from yesterday, along with the gleaming goggles. "Excuse me?"

"Mutation. You've heard of it, you were talking about it yesterday." The cat's voice was calm, interested, not terribly deep. He was watching the cart shrink as the guards toted it further and further away.

"Sure, but I've seen Mutation users. They're junkies, not freaks of nature," Tygra said. His yellow eyes searched the unfamiliar face. "Who are you anyway?"

"Just a traveler. But Mutation is what caused that change, and it's not the same kind it's been. It's been in the north until now." The stranger's lips lowered in a frown. "You both did very well. I'm glad it was a weaker one."

"'Weaker one?' Excuse me?" Tygra began, indignant. Cheetara put a hand in front of his face, hushing him.

"How do you know Mutation caused that? I've only ever heard of it making people stronger and mean, not…monsters."

The cat started walking and Cheetara found herself following along beside him. It took Tygra a moment to start forward. "The enemies of Thundera have been altering the formula from a temporary drug into something else, and one's genetic structure determines how they react. That poor guy might not have known what he was getting. He was probably only expecting a boost for a fight." He paused. "I'll be back tonight, I think I can help him. I have to get something."

Tygra was on his other side now, disbelieving. "And you happen to know about all this how?"

The cat shrugged. "I live out west. All the gossip makes its way west."

Cheetara couldn't see his arms or belt under his cloak, so she kept one eye trained on his torso in case he went for a knife – one could never be too careful with strangers – and the other watched her path ahead. "So Mutation really has been increasing in trade up north."

"Unfortunately. Maybe not just there." He hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I've said too much as it is. I have an errand to run, so if you don't mind…"

"That's it? You expect to tell us some random fact and then shoo us away? I don't think so," Tygra said. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm after a map or two at the moment. I was on my way to pick it up." The cat glanced at them and Cheetara met his eye. At least, she thought she did. The reflective surface hid his irises.

"You're from the Imperial City, right?" He lifted a shoulder. "What else have you heard about Mutation?"

He kept walking. "I've heard it's spreading and that it's making travel even more dangerous. It's causing trade issues and Thundera's enemies are at the center of it, and it's present in most every country at this point."

"Real informative, aren't you?" Tygra observed wryly. The cat said nothing and Tygra waved a hand in dismissal. "Whatever. Cheetara, we'd better get to the tavern. Your parents will worry if they hear about this."

"I guess so." She nearly stopped following the other cat but suddenly started again. "You know what, you go ahead and tell them what happened. I'll be back soon."

"What?" Tygra gave the other cat a mistrustful look and the hood turned as if uneasy at their presence. "Cheetara, you don't even know this guy."

"I do know Tabbsy though. Don't worry, I just have a couple questions. Have you ever met anyone that could best me in a fight?" She patted the staff at her belt. "Go on. I'll be back before an hour's passed."

Tygra's face darkened and he turned around. "Fine. Do what you want." The hooded figure slowed as Tygra left, watching him walk away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you fight with your boyfriend."

"He's just a friend. And we're always fighting. We like it." Cheetara walked beside him now, close enough that they were both out of the way of the carts and people in the earthy road. "Not that it's any of your business."

"It's probably not. Nor is the reason I need a map any of yours," he added. She could just see his mouth beyond the edge of the hood and it seemed to be quirked in amusement.

"Touché. I'll settle for finding out what you know about Mutation in the north. My family's business relies on trade being good and if things don't get better soon, we're going to lose a supplier to our tavern. Dera's Run imports what it can't make itself, which is a lot unfortunately." They turned a corner and she saw his smile fade under the shadow of taller, marginally newer buildings. The smell of metal was stronger here, the clink of technology bright. "We rely on low prices to survive."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

She folded her arms behind her back, lowering her eyelids. "You said something about Mutation changing. Is it becoming a more potent drug or something? Cheaper? What is it?"

He stopped by a door made of glass and metal frames and reached under his hood. Removing the goggles, he set them on his forehead and Cheetara blinked; his eyes were blue like her father's, but a few shades darker. He had a pert little nose and a young face, her age or perhaps a smidge younger. But his face was an unfamiliar color, light brown, and darker brown on the upper half of his face and cutting dark angles on his cheeks made her tilt her head. He was exotic compared to the mixed breeds around here. She couldn't quite see what color his hair was. Altogether he was rather cute. "The royals in the Imperial City have been receiving reports about the Alliance using a new form of Mutation. They seem to be…infecting others. And sometimes these people disappear."

The Alliance…Cheetara's fur bristled. Made up of several species, the Alliance was a large force that attacked Thundera's cities when they were at their weakest. It was a few hundred years old, many of the members the descendants of the original founders. There was fighting and plenty of murder within the group, and half the time the commanders had already been killed, replaced, and then killed again by the time the cats learned a new name. The kings had always been able to beat them back, letting them survive outside Thundera and leaving them alone for the most part. The Alliance was always weak, a confused clan of dissimilar beings with no real order, no real chance. "Nonfel scum" would've been Tygra's description. It would have been more effort and cost than it was worth to head into the wilds to hunt down every single one of the inept groups.

And then Mutation was created.

It took the form of a green powder initially, derived from a crystalline green mineral, and could be smoked or ingested. Either way it provided several hours of increased strength and ferocity afterwards. Once the stuff of Coliseum battles for the sport of higher ups in the cities, a few black-hearted merchants had gotten their greasy hands on the substance and learned to synthesize the drug themselves. Suddenly hundreds of cats were using it for fights, for self-defense, for anything that could be solved with a strong arm. Criminals stole it and victims bought it so they could stand a chance in a fight.

Mutation was quickly outlawed in Thundera, and use was hidden in the dark alleys and the outskirts of towns. It was only a matter of time before the Alliance got their claws into it and tried to use it themselves. "Changing it huh? How?" Cheetara waited as he considered her question.

"You saw the wolf. They're making it more powerful. It makes the users strong by mutating their bodies, and they're always looking for ways to make the change last longer, be better. It also comes in a liquid form now for easy injection."

"Could they stand against Thundera's armies?"

"Not right now. Not on their own. But that's another thing…we're not sure they're on their own anymore." He turned to the door and opened it, pausing and looking at her, stepping aside so she could precede him. She raised an eyebrow. "You're following me anyway, aren't you?"

Cheetara felt for her staff and then entered Tabbsy's store. She'd been there twice and knew its owner well enough to trust it was safe. The corners were cluttered with boxes of paper and parchment, but the walls had screens installed, all of them showing digital maps of different places. The floor was designed to look like one big, ancient map of the Imperial City, but untold numbers of feet and soles had worn it away until only the borders of the grand city were left. The store had once made a tidy profit, but there were few enough explorers anymore. Cheetara looked to the front desk where Tabbsy was, sitting and tinkering with something. He looked up, an old brown cat with silver in his fur and chipped claws. He held a chip in his hands and smiled. "Hello Cheetara. Is this a friend of yours?"

She glanced at the cat. He had not removed his hood. "Not exactly. Just having a conversation."

Tabbsy got up, bowed back creaking like his chair. "Well, I've finished your order young cat. It's a rather interesting request, but I've gotten the most in depth map together that it's possible to get." He showed him the small, silvery chip and said, "It should be compatible with any machine reader that's been crafted in the last thirty years to whatever comes out next moon turn."

He walked to one of the screens and placed it in the dark box under it. Immediately the screen began displaying a map, latitudes and longitudes and tiny symbols. "If you want a particular place you look it up. Enter the name and it'll find it." The cat examined the map and nodded.

"It looks great, thanks. And the other one…?"

Tabbsy took out the chip and returned to his desk, picking up a worn piece of parchment and unrolling it, displaying its contents. "A map of all the legendary things and places of Third Earth. Can't say I think it's sensible, but it goes all the way back to ancient times, when the spirit pride ran strong in the land. Or so the legends say." He handed it over and gave the cat a doubtful look. "Are you sure you can afford these? No offense, but they're not cheap to make and find."

In answer the blue-eyed cat took out a coin pouch and placed it in Tabbsy's hand. Tabbsy turned it over, emptying its contents into his hand. His yellow eyes widened; gold pieces glittered up at him, twenty of them.

"Thank you for your help; I'm sure these maps will be very useful." The cat smiled and turned to leave. Cheetara had never seen so much gold and gave the stranger a hard look before following him, not even telling the stunned Tabbsy goodbye.

"…So what is a guy that can drop twenty gold pieces on a map doing in Dera's Run? Since, y'know, you're not going to tell me your name or anything." Cheetara tried to see the paper map but he'd folded it neatly and put it in his cloak before she could read anything.

"Getting a good map. And besides, you never introduced yourself to me either." Cheetara blinked, trying to recall their snatched conversations.

"You know my name. You've heard people say it."

"That doesn't count as an introduction."

She crossed her arms. "All right, you win. My name is Cheetara. And you are?"

He smiled and said nothing. Cheetara's claws tensed. "Now you're just being annoying."

"You said I wouldn't tell you my name. I wouldn't want to make a lady wrong." He said this almost sincerely and Cheetara resisted the urge to curse. Noticing her frigid silence, he actually turned his head to look at her. "I'm sorry. I'm on a mission and I can't risk telling anyone too much about it. I've told you far too much already."

"A mission from the Imperial City and you know a lot about Mutation…how interesting. Perhaps you've been sent from a noble's house?" He looked surprised and blushed, brow furrowing. "Yes, someone important sends you to do…what? Get maps? Why would you need maps? Particularly old ones? Are you traveling to an old place? Why wouldn't they send you with maps in the first place?"

The cat gave her a long, irritated look. "You're making this very difficult."

Cheetara gazed at his face and couldn't help but snort. His mouth was pretty and small in annoyance and his big, blue eyes were hard to take seriously combined with his pout. "I'm not trying to offend you, but you look like an angry bunny. Anyone ever tell you that you have a rabbit nose?" It was a term for straight, pert noses that was common in Thundera, if not exactly a compliment.

His expression cooled almost to stone, and Cheetara was alarmed and sorry at the same time. "Yes." Trying to walk faster, he tried to avoid her by ducking around another person. He didn't get far; she was much faster than he, cutting him off before he could take five steps.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's actually kind of cute. Lots of girls like a little nose like that. It's much better than some gigantic beak, isn't it?" She tweaked it and he looked so dumbfounded that she had to fight the urge to laugh again. "All I want is your name. I accept that you've got some important duties to attend to. But I'd like to be able to attach a name to a face."

The cat stopped in the shade of a clothing store and Cheetara extended a hand. "Let's start this again. My name's Cheetara. You are?"

It took a moment but at last the cat put out his arm in turn and gripped her hand gently. He kissed the middle knuckle of her middle finger in the Imperial City style. "My name is Lion-O."

"'Lion-O' huh? 'A son of Leon, a king of beasts.' I would assume you're a lion then."

One side of his mouth rose. "I hope so."

Such a name was fairly common among Imperials and she was a little disappointed by that. It didn't tell her anything. "Well, 'Lion-O,' if ever you did feel like divulging a little more information, you remember where the Fancy Feline is. I might buy you a drink if you were up for a chat." She turned away, tail flicking. "I mean it. People in Dera's Run are getting scared. Any news, even bad, would be appreciated."

Lion-O said nothing and she left, let down. But there was work to be done and a business to tend.

---

Cheetara turned the dial on the wall so the music playing was less static-y. The machine installed was getting old, and some fuses needed replacing, but the stations from the closer transmitters came through clear enough. She picked up more dirty plates with one hand and carried them back to Yamese.

What she'd said had been true; people in Dera's Run were getting scared. It had been slight before, but now the fear would certainly grow with tales of a wolf turning into something rabid. Cheetara thought of the hot breath and the violence in his jaws and couldn't help but check for her staff again. A "weaker one?" What was a strong one then?

"Kitten, are you all right? You missed a tip Ferrol left you." She started, noticing the copper and taking it, tucking it into a pouch on her belt. She saved what she made and helped pay bills with what she could, and it wasn't like her to miss such generosity.

"Sorry Daddy. I was thinking about the wolf from earlier." Cheetara had told her parents what had happened – Tygra tended to dramatize a bit, and she didn't recall him rescuing anyone or running along rooftops – and both of them had been alarmed. Still, no one had been hurt and Cheetara had never been bested yet. A short rebuke had been administered and Cheetara filed it away.

Her fighting skills were unconventional and she was only partly trained, which made her particularly dangerous. She fought like someone who aimed to win, not like someone in a match, and she combined her speed with the moves she'd observed in street fights all her life to blend an unpredictable sort of style. Not that she wouldn't love to train in actual fighting styles. There were enough creeps asking for a beating out there that learning how to do it proper could be useful.

Yamese shook his head slightly, indicating she shouldn't talk about the wolf around the evening crowd. Sore tempers were present after bad days at work and this was their chance to unwind, not get more upset. His forehead creased in worry and she kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, everything's fine. I was just wondering about where he came from."

"I'd prefer him to be sent back there and that be the end of it. The last thing we need are ruffians." He patted her arm. "You're tired, sweetheart. Why don't you sit down, I'll have Mama whip up some dinner for you. Take an evening off."

"You don't need to do that Daddy. I'm fine." But he clucked his tongue and prodded her until she rolled her eyes and sat down. "Honestly…"

The door opened and Yamese smiled at those who entered. Cheetara's shoulders tensed. It wasn't a very warm smile, just an automatic response. She dared to look over her shoulder.

It looked like a group of about twenty men, the leader of which was a paunchy lizard. He had a webbed crest and pebbly skin, darker green on his back than his sickly pale front. Hard muscles bulged in his thighs like a bullfrog's, and Cheetara took in the weapon on his back. It was a massive double-headed ax, and it was made of silver and black metal. Lizardmen mined ore and refined it black for battle. It was nearly unbreakable to hear the stories.

Behind him were a few lizardmen and a couple of wolves, both black as ink with long whiskers. He approached the bar and his bland eyes reminded her of eggs wrapped in loose sacks. "I'm looking for a wolf."

The voice was precise, hissing. Cheetara hoped her mother would stay in the back.

"A wolf? I can't say I've seen many here. We have a few jackalmen, and a pack of wolves did stop by a few days ago." Yamese offered the lizard a list of their drinks. The eyes took it in and slid back up without accepting it.

"This one would be black. We tracked him to this city. He had a chip implanted in him, so we know he's here."

The entire tavern was silent, no one lifting their drinks. Cheetara thought back to the hard object in the wolf's skin and rested her elbows on the counter, thinking. If he'd had a chip in him, he must have either been a criminal – they were chipped if they were murderers in Thundera, although the practice was rare nowadays because a smart man with steady hands and hard nerve could dig one out – or he might have been a member of the Alliance. Cheetara had heard they chipped all their operatives so they could find them if they were captured.

But this mad creature wouldn't have been able to get rid of the chip or take orders. Something about this smelled rotten indeed.

"Ah. Well, I can't say I've seen him then." Yamese wouldn't have known what the wolf looked like, but Cheetara didn't like the way the lizard was looking around.

"…That is unhelpful." Some of the lizards were looking at each other with their gleaming eyes and Cheetara had to fight to keep her hackles down when the head lizard's hand drifted to his belt, claws flexing.

"He was arrested earlier," she said. Yamese shot her a look but the lizard turned his gaze to her, and the swollen sac under his throat made her feel sick. She wondered if there were venom glands in there or some kind of air sac for swimming. "A black wolf was wandering around and started acting crazy. There was a chip in him. The guards took him away. I saw it in the street."

This didn't please the lizard. His expression grew surlier and Cheetara wondered if she'd made a mistake, placing her claws gently on her staff. "It would have been difficult to arrest him."

"Yeah, well, Dera's Run had dealt with a few threats before," she said, not combatively.

"Is that so? And where might the prison be in this…city?"

Cheetara lowered her brows, putting a girlish finger to her chin. "Not sure. You could ask a guard, see if you could pay his bail or something. They should be making the night rounds."

Unfortunately the lizard was not stupid and picked up on her lie, if the way his lower teeth suddenly became slightly visible. They were tiny and sharp, and his lips were wet. "I don't think you're being honest, girl."

"Don't pay her any mind," Yamese said quickly. "She's a bit fiery, but she means well. My daughter's a bit too used to the tavern scene, it's my fault I suppose-"

She turned away from the bar and stood up. She was taller than the lizard and she loomed over him quietly. "I think it'd be best if you left, sir. Surely a guard would be of better assistance." Her fingers closed around her staff and she smiled widely. Showing her sharp, pearly teeth. The patrons glowered at the newcomers, eyes bright as candles.

The lizard's lips curled. Before he could say anything, a hand touched his shoulder and he blinked, looking up.

A familiar blue hood was next to them. Cheetara glanced at the door. She hadn't heard Lion-O come in. "The prison is in the center of the city. Three streets over and a league forward will take you to her." He smiled naively.

The lizard jerked his arm out of the lion's grip. "Who said you could touch me?"

"Sorry. Just wanted to help." Cheetara frowned at him and the lizardmen murmured in their own language, clicks and hisses.

"I was talking to the lady. But I suppose you've answered my question." But when he turned away the lizard's thick tail swatted Lion-O, knocking him forward and into the counter, upending a bottle that splashed brown liquid over his clothes. He grunted and Cheetara stared, wondering at how strong the lizard was to knock over a grown cat with such ease. Maybe Lion-O was just a wuss. "Whoops. Sorry."

Titters around the bar made her glare at the customers before kneeling to help Lion-O up. He didn't seem upset, brushing himself off with a vague, silly smile. "No problem."

The lizard grunted and with that his group filed out, leaving the tavern without another word. One of them opened his large hand and raked his claws against the wall, leaving languid scratches on the wood. The scratching noise took a while to fade, as if the nails had run against their eardrums. After the lizardmen left the conversation returned, building to a dull roar, washing out the silence.

Lion-O's smile faded and he looked at her with a dark, serious stiffness to his jaw. "Those guys could have destroyed this tavern without a problem. Don't cross their path on your own."

Cheetara bristled and her hackles finally rose. "Excuse me? I'm not some little barmaid. Who are you to order me around?"

He shut his eyes and his nostrils flared. "You're a good fighter. But going up against all of those guys at once in a little bar would have been a bad idea. They're not above smashing a place to pieces. I had no idea they would be in this city…"

"Do you know them? Or are you just stalking me as retribution for me stalking you earlier?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed. "I know of them. And I'm pretty sure coming in here to keep your family's business from being completely destroyed in a fight does not constitute stalking, Cheetara." She noticed the beer dripping down his cloak and face and she felt a little bad. "They meant to get that wolf back and they're going to, one way or the other."

Lion-O turned around and started for the door. "Hey, where are you-?"

"You want the prison destroyed? I'm going to see what I can do to get things resolved without putting anyone in danger." He put on the goggles and adjusted his hood so his face was better concealed. "Just stay here. This doesn't concern you or anyone in Dera's Run."

And with that he was gone, out into the evening air and orange light. Cheetara stared after him, aware that her father was watching. "You're not following him," he said at last.

"…I guess not." She sat back down at the bar, leaning on the counter. The alcohol smelled harsh and Yamese mopped it up with a clean cloth. "Something weird is going to happen, Dad. I don't like this."

He paused. "Are you getting one of those feelings?"

"Yeah." Cheetara had good instincts, and this was not the first time she'd gotten a weird impression. It made her head hurt and she got a dry feeling on her tongue. Anticipation. Her mother – unaware that anything had happened – poked her head through the window to the back of the bar.

"Honey, do you want me to cut the bread on your plate into quarters?"

Cheetara blinked. "Mom, I don't need you to cut the bread anymore. I'm a grown cat."

"Oh, I suppose I don't remember last week when you wanted it cut into fourths just like when you were little and would pretend they were tea cakes for your dollies-"

"Mom!"

---

"I can't believe that! What kind of uppity lizard does something like this to a cat's business?" Tygra was inspecting the scratch marks with an outraged expression, running his thumb over the uneven surface.

"We can buff those out for the most part." Cheetara nudged him. "You're blocking the door."

"That's not the point! They think they can get away with making trouble here, where is it going to go? They're forgetting their place." Tygra put his hands on his hips and Cheetara dragged him by the sleeve so he was by the bar.

"You're something, you know that? The first thing out of your mouth is about how a 'lizard' did something instead of, 'Are you guys okay?' I don't care if it's a lizard or the king himself scratching up the walls."

Tygra had the shame to look chastened. "Well…you guys are okay right?"

"Obviously."

"Well, then, what's the point of asking?" He shook his head. "Women. You say one thing and they rip it out of context…"

Deciding to ignore this Cheetara looked at the stain on the counter where the beer had splashed. It would come out with some scrubbing, but that wasn't what bothered her. "I'm still wondering about what that Lion-O guy knew."

Tygra crossed his arms, quirking a brow. "Is this going to become a thing with you? You get obsessed with random weirdoes?"

"Hush, I'm trying to think. He said he was going to the prison last night. The lizardmen were heading there after that wolf." Cheetara moodily leaned through the kitchen window. "Mama, I'm going to get some more ingredients, what do you need?"

"Oh! Flour, eggs if there are any, two bushels of Candyfruit…and I think that's it. Do you need money?" Her mother had been writing on a checklist to take stock of the kitchen's larder. "Is Tygra going with you? Get him a little something, it's sweet of him to help out around here."

Cheetara's face was neutral. "Sure. And I've got money."

"Don't worry ma'am, I'll look after Cheetara. I know how to keep her out of trouble." Tygra smiled at her and Cheetara stepped on his foot very gently on her way to the door. "Ouch."

"Don't be a pansy. And you've gotten me in trouble more than I get you in trouble."

"True. But it's fun trouble, right?" She gave him a weird look and started walking.

However Cheetara did not turn in the direction of the farmer's stalls. She darted across the street and headed in the opposite direction and Tygra followed without protest for about three minutes, weaving in and out of the people on the road. It was early afternoon by now and the air smelled of lunch foods and steamed fish.

"So, where are you going exactly?" he asked, arms tucked neatly behind his back.

"Toward the prison. I'll stop by the market after that." Cheetara kept up a swift walk, not wanting Tygra to exhaust himself keeping up.

"Here's a good question; why?"

"To see if anything happened last night."

Tygra didn't ask anything else, merely sighing. Cheetara saw one of the dark guard towers of the prison before the bulk of the building came into view. It was black and brown, metal and dark stone, and as they drew closer the people thinned like soup in water until they were wandering thin, dank alleys alone. The prison was in a sparse place because no one wanted to be nearby if there were ever a breakout. Not to mention some of the guards had nasty tempers when they got off duty, which was bad for businesses to deal with. Nothing but old, abandoned houses littered the streets here, the prison being one of the oldest places built in Dera's Run.

It needed to be updated; it resembled nothing so much as an old dungeon with a few shiny machines installed in unfitting places. The thick metal bars blocking the gates and windows made observers feel safer, but Cheetara could smell blood and wondered if it always smelled that way. The rights of prisoners were even less argued than those of lizardmen.

"Wait. Something's wrong." Tygra caught her arm and sniffed the air. Cheetara glanced at him and watched his eyes search the great wall surrounding the prison. His ears perked. "There should be more noise. The guards are always talking. Do you hear them?"

She listened. Nothing but the wind greeted them. "No. Are they all inside?"

"It's against protocol." Tygra stepped up to the gate and looked inside the thick bars.

Then he grabbed her and took out his whip, slinging it around them. Cheetara felt the unpleasant sensation of icy water and realized that Tygra had turned them both invisible. "What is it?" she asked softly. He released her from his almost uncomfortable grip, the icy cord of the whip still twined around them.

"Look." He was breathless, terse, and Cheetara looked inside the bars and covered her mouth.

No fewer than twenty guards sat inside the yard, all bound together in groups of three and gagged with burlap. Some were slumped over with bloody helms, unconscious. And pacing around them, talking in the softest hisses imaginable, were the lizards and wolves from yesterday. Their fur and scales were bloody and dirty, and she felt her claws flex when the fat lizard came into view.

Tygra was invisible to her – only the bearer of the whip could see the invisible – but she felt him pushing her to the protection of the wall. "Don't say you told me so," he muttered. Cheetara pressed her back to the stone and peeked inside again when he reappeared. The whip couldn't keep two people invisible for long.

"Wasn't going to." She drew in a sharp breath. "It's Lion-O! He's in there too!"

"What?" Tygra followed her finger and cursed. Lion-O was awake and his hood was down for once, revealing thick, burgundy-red hair tied back in a short, messy ponytail. A few thick strands fell over his forehead and he looked decidedly rumpled. He was watching the lizard walk and Cheetara saw a little blood on his lip. He'd been in a fight, and his hands were cuffed with a set of manacles that the guards often carried. "Hey, it's that wolf from the other day too," Tygra noted. Cheetara saw him as well, sitting on his hindquarters and shivering, still naked. No longer a beast, he looked small and skinny and afraid, arms locked behind him in bindings. She almost felt sorry for him.

Lion-O's darker fur on his brow reminded her of bronze and his expression was a very neutral one. "I'm surprised you have enough Mutation to waste on random people."

"'Waste' nothing, cub. The one in charge has some big plans in the works, and the Alliance is the main force for it. In light of that, why worry about a little experimentation now? We'll have plenty soon." One of the lizards had spines all over his body and his tongue was forked. He knelt, grinning with his tiny, needle-like teeth. "You're not too bright following us here. Or haven't you dealt with the Alliance before?"

"Stop talking to him." The fat lizard stalked toward Lion-O and glowered at him. "He's playing dumb. He's trying to get information. A lion from the west can only be an Imperial spy for the noble houses."

Cheetara and Tygra exchanged a glance. A spy? Why would a spy be in Dera's Run?

"I suppose I might be. But what's that matter? I'm a hostage now, aren't I?" Lion-O looked around. "It's hard to find good guards I guess."

"Maybe they need a little mutant in them." One of the wolves kicked a guard. He coughed and slumped over. "There's an idea. We could test this on cats. We can use the chaos to slip out and head back up toward the mountain valley and meet the-"

"Shut up." The fat lizard grabbed Lion-O's hair and lifted him off the ground by it. Lion-O's face screwed up in pain and Cheetara felt the hairs on the back of her neck curl in sympathy. "He doesn't need to know about that. None of these cats do. But we have a little on us…let's set three of them loose on the city. We'll still have a good stock for the journey." The damp eyes became slits. "This one's first. One of you hold him and I'll get the hypodermic."

Cheetara looked at Tygra. "They're…I think they're going to use Mutation on him."

"One could assume that." He frowned and gestured for her to come with him. "We need to get more guards. There should be a reserve watching the market."

"Are you kidding? He needs help now!" Cheetara backed up from the wall, hopping from foot to foot to warm up her legs. "You go if you're scared. I'm fast, I'll beat them down before they can use any Mutation."

"Wait, no! You're going to get yourself killed over a stranger?" he demanded.

"There are about twenty guards in there that have lived here their whole lives. You call them strangers?" Her voice was cold and before he could speak again, Cheetara was charging forward toward the uneven wall.

She was a screech of golden light and she used the speed to propel herself up the short wall like she was running up a cobblestone hill, claws digging in. In a moment she was over the wall, and in another she was a golden blaze in the sky, staff aloft.

"What-?"

"Who-?"

Cheetara distinctly heard these words before she came crashing down like hellfire on the lizardmen and wolves, staff whirling. Three skulls connected with the metal and she rolled forward, ducking under the quickest ones' weapons. The blades came out on her staff and she stabbed backward and then forward, taking out the lizard right behind her and then the one right in front of her.

They had armor, but her speed made connecting with the staff feel like being hit with an electrified club.

Five of them hit the ground without a sound and Cheetara took a second to assess the situation. The remainder of the group looked stunned save for the fat one, who simply looked angry like a boiled egg.

Lion-O's expression changed for the first time, lips parting and brows high. She noticed that his goggles were around his neck like a little boy's. It was dorky and kind of cute. "Okay, who else wants to end up that way?"

The fat lizard approached, claws chipping bits of stone out of the ground under his weight. "You shouldn't be here, bargirl."

"Neither should you. Criminals belong behind 'bars.'" She lifted her staff when she saw him reaching for his ax. It was a magnificent thing, serrated and long, and Cheetara eyed the blades. It seemed immensely heavy; he wasn't all chub to be able to lift something like that.

He swung the ax and she just barely ducked back in time; the ax blade came loose, whirling toward her like a boomerang, and she felt the air over her face suddenly blast as it sliced into where her neck had been. With a singing note it returned to the ax handle and the lizard paced a little closer, hips shifting with predatory grace unfitting for such a large creature. It was a practiced move, one that didn't make him stumble at all.

This might be bad.

The sound of two more lizardmen collapsing made her jerk her head to the side. Tygra had kicked one from above and used his whip to pull another one into the wall. The lizard snarled. "How many more are we going to have to deal with?"

Cheetara heard a lizard behind her and turned around, staff meeting a curved sword. This lizard had dark scales, nearly black, and red spots on his face and back. He hissed at her and a frill of thin flesh rose up, startling her, but she kept her stance, shifting into the next one by swiping out with her leg and kicking his stomach. He grunted and swung his blade. Cheetara avoided it and then spun, feeling the hot breath of a wolf behind her. She kicked out, catching sight of Tygra between two lizards with his whip darting and stinging, but she also spotted another grungy lizard coming toward her. Three on one was something she'd faced before, but she sensed a difference between the untrained cats she'd fought and these.

These were brutish and poorly trained, but they were warriors. She felt method to their movements, and Cheetara realized that two semi-talented fighting cats versus a dozen warriors was going to end with someone furry getting hurt.

It didn't help that there were unconscious groups of bodies littering the ground, and one wrong move could lead to one getting beheaded. But leaving them to get pumped full of Mutation would hardly have been better, so she refused to doubt her decision.

Cheetara felt something hard nick her arm and she bit her lip, sprinting between two outstretched arms to get a short reprieve. Tygra did not have this luxury, but he used his whip to vanish, confusing the lizards. Cheetara ran up the wall until her momentum began to fade and she vaulted off of it to flip backwards send electricity through the next wolf that had been running toward the wall to pin her.

A blade sliced into her shoulder. Just a small slit, but it was enough to make her land wrong after bringing down the wolf. The fat lizard caught his blade again and Cheetara saw him pull his arms back as if he were going to release the blade in her direction, and she wondered if she'd be quick enough.

And then a brown blur hit him from behind, wielding a sword that reflected the sun, agonizingly bright. The lizard turned with his teeth bared, swinging the ax only to be met by the sword again.

Lion-O deflected the blade with a grunt and hit the flabby jaw with the flat of his sword, stunning the lizard. Cheetara didn't take time to wonder how he'd gotten free; the reptile in front of her was watching the fight and had left himself open for a staff to the head.

And then she became aware that there were no other lizardmen standing around them, and there was the foreign scent of a new cat. It was deep and muscular, completely unlike Lion-O's airy scent and Tygra huskier one. This one was like sweat and musk and heat, almost overbearing with strength.

A bright light shattered against her pupils and she screamed, hitting the ground. She heard Tygra doing the same and an unfamiliar voice uttering an oath. Heavy footsteps on the rock made her try to open her eyes but Cheetara regretted it when everything looked red and seemed to split her head in two.

It took about a minute but at last she could see without tearing and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What was that?"

"Flash pellet. Not exactly common to lizards, but General Slithe has never been a fool. That he'd see to this personally is scary." Cheetara slowly got to her feet and saw Lion-O leaning against a wall, still hanging on to a sword. He held his head and she saw Tygra getting up, slightly cross-eyed from the glare. "I thought I asked you to stay out of this."

"Yeah, because you had the situation completely under control." She gestured to the bound guards, some of whom were starting to come around. Lion-O met her gaze and looked tired and slightly sick. "How'd you get out of those manacles?"

"I broke them before I put them on and slipped in with the guards. I let them think they caught me so I could find out more about their plans." Cheetara's jaw dropped but Lion-O didn't look annoyed so much as kind of embarrassed. "Not that it worked. Slithe is too suspicious for that. Dumb plan really."

"Wait, wait. That was a setup?" Cheetara held the bridge of her nose. "But you came here last night…you were going to try to keep people from getting hurt."

"Yes. I managed to distract them long enough to keep them from executing the hostages because I couldn't take them all on my own." Lion-O nodded at the guards, kneeling beside the nearest one so he could unbind his hands. "No lizard can resist trash talking and responding to trash talk. It wasn't a very good plan, but I got a little information and these men are alive."

Cheetara numbly began helping him. "Okay, time out. You pretend to be captured so you can talk to those creeps?" Tygra had not put away his whip yet and was watching Lion-O with cold yellow eyes. "You didn't try to help the guards fight them off? That's crazy…not to mention pretty treasonous."

A loud grunt behind him made him turn around. Cheetara's heart sank under the great shadow behind him and her fingers dropped the cords.

A massive cat stood behind Tygra, fur a stormy mixture of blacks, grays and the vaguest hint of violet where the sun hit him right. He was thickly furred and far taller than Tygra, not to mention twice as broad across the shoulders. His face looked like it had been carved from rock and set with hard features and then covered with a pelt. His nose was short and wide and his eyes were frost-colored. He had no hair, head shaved bald but for his short fur. Most interestingly he wore a black and silver armored tunic – spikes rimming the shoulders – and breeches. A red stone rested on the center of his chest. Within it was the black Cat and Tygra's eyes were about level with it.

"…Well. You're a large fellow, aren't you?" Tygra had to lean back to see his face properly and the cat crossed his muscular arms. Cheetara realized he had some kind of white tattoo on his left shoulder, more like a scar than anything. His biceps bulged and the wide nostrils flared. His jaw was set and Cheetara wondered if Tygra was about to get socked in the face.

"Panthro, it's okay, I've met them. They're not in on any of it." The large cat snorted again and said nothing, stepping around Tygra and striding toward Lion-O and the rest of the bound guards. He managed to undo the ropes and manacles with great ease and slight tugs broke metal and cord alike. "Oh, this is my bodyguard and traveling partner, Panthro," Lion-O added. "Panthro, this is Cheetara and…I think your name is Tygra, right?"

"Uh…yeah." Tygra seemed a little paler than usual in the presence of this massive cat. Cheetara looked around, realizing that this Panthro had been the one that had taken down all the remaining lizards. In mere seconds. Without making a sound.

"By the time I got here they'd already taken over the prison. They've been arguing over what to do with us for hours." Lion-O looked up at the dark cat sheepishly. "Sorry I didn't call for you earlier."

Panthro's jaw tightened and Cheetara heard him growl. "You said you needed antimutagen, and that you wouldn't leave the bar while I went to fetch it." Cheetara looked up when Panthro spoke, marveling at his voice. It was not quite as deep as she had thought, controlled and less frightening than she had imagined.

"I had a lead and I went! I meant to stay put until you came back, I really did, but all these guards would be dead if I didn't go!" Lion-O said. "I'm not completely hopeless at looking after myself."

Another grunt, more exasperated than disapproving. Lion-O seemed heartened. "I did learn a little. Sounds like Mutation's not only being traded in the north, it's being manufactured there and in some Thunderan areas. The Alliance has connections, which explains how lizards have been getting it all the way from the cold lands. And we might have to pass through there on our way, so it's worth knowing. They've been injecting prisoners and sending them out as experiments, but apparently something big is happening in Tropo."

The panther's eyes followed Lion-O as he knelt beside the shivering wolf. He hadn't moved from his place during the battle and Cheetara realized his eyes were bloodshot. "Hey. Are you okay?"

He didn't move and Lion-O felt his forehead. "He's burning up. Panthro, give me the antimutagen." Panthro seemed to disapprove – it took him a second – but he reached into his pocket and withdrew some sort of metal canister, handing it to Lion-O. Cheetara watched in silence, aware that Tygra was paying attention too.

Lion-O popped off the end of the metal tube and Cheetara shivered at the length of the needle that winked at her. Purple liquid flashed at her, the color of petals in wildflowers. "Whoa, hey, what are you-?"

Too late. Lion-O pressed the needle into the wolf's arm. He yipped in pain and Lion-O pursed his lips, pressing the plunger before removing it. Tygra's jaw dropped. "What did you do to the mutt?"

Cheetara was too appalled to get angry about the slight. "What was in that?"

"Antimutagen. Just watch." Lion-O waited beside the wolf, capping the empty needle and stowing it in a pouch on his belt. Cheetara realized she could see below his cloak for the first time, and his clothes were all varying shades of blue mixed with metal. It looked like a ragtag set of armor, and a yellow gauntlet rested on his hip, which was where he tucked the blade. A red stone with the Cat was on his chest as well.

"Y-You…I can talk…"

The wolf. He was panting now, tongue dripping. Tygra took a canteen from a guard – he was too out of it to care – and brought it. He grimaced, passing it to Lion-O who undid the cork and helped the wolf take a drink. It was water and the canine downed it greedily, getting spit all over Lion-O's hand. After half of the canteen was gone when Lion-O took it. "Slow down. You'll be feeling shaky for a while, but you'll be okay if you take things slow. What can you tell us about what happened to you?"

The wolf's shoulders heaved and he shut his eyes. "I…I just wanted some of the low stuff. I had some guys after me and I wanted to be prepared, y'know? Some guy said he could get me Mutation on the cheap because he traded with the Alliance and I took it, not realizing it was…"

He shivered. Lion-O nodded at Panthro, who crushed the manacles holding the wolf, letting him wrap his arms around himself. Tygra made a tutting noise but Cheetara ignored him. "I felt hot. It made me crazy. That northern stuff…I killed all the guys that were after me. I didn't mean to kill 'em like that…I think I ate them, I can't remember…"

Cheetara put her hand on his head and stroked back the dirty fur. Hysterical whimpering in the back of his throat made her ears ache. "And it didn't stop! I wandered here and turned again! It's not supposed to last that long!"

"Calm down. It's okay. That antimutagen will make sure the Mutation won't activate again. It'll work its way out of your system now that it's dormant. You'll be okay." Lion-O's eyes were soft and the wolf looked at him as if he didn't believe him. "It's only been made recently, and we don't have much. As payment, please tell me where you got that Mutation and who gave it to you. We'll see about getting rid of that chip in you so those lizardmen can't track you down again."

The wolf's eyes were streaming. "Thank the Creator for you." And then he embraced Lion-O, weeping. Lion-O seemed stunned at the contact, eyes wide, but then they softened and he hesitantly, awkwardly returned the motion, patting the wolf's back.

---

"I got that Mutation…from another wolf. We always trade within our own species, except for the merchants. We thought it was safer. He said the recipe came from Lune but that he traded for it in Tropo. I guess it was all a setup."

Talbot was the wolf's name. He didn't seem to care that he was rimmed by guards with bruises on their heads and bewildered scowls on their faces. All he cared about was devouring the rations he'd been given, and telling Lion-O everything he knew as fast as he could.

The mess hall of a prison was not exactly a place Cheetara had ever cared about seeing, but she did find it worthwhile to see how the guards frisked the lizardmen and other wolves, removing their weapons and several hypodermics from their clothes. They checked surprising places, such as in pants and under crests and in throat sacs, and Cheetara blinked when one reluctantly pulled a sealed needle out of his venom pouch in his mouth.

"Lune? Where the Luna live?" Cheetara had only seen a Luna twice in her life. Their flesh came in every shade from deep violet to light blue to icy white, and they had migrated to the planet's surface though they originated from Thundera's largest frozen moon. Nobody knew why they lived on Thundera, but they had been here for thousands of years if their histories were honest. They enjoyed colder temperatures and mountains, thriving where others fell.

"Mm-hm. He was with one of the packs that crossed the cold lands on his way to rest in Tropo while the women bore their pups. They travel to warmer places with more food if it's a bad year and they're going to have many pups. He had no mate so he stayed behind, trading Mutation. I think he bought it from the Luna. When I took the drug he plugged the chip in my back and ran." Talbot took another bite. "He was probably with the Alliance group that came to fetch me."

"Sounds sort of like they're being shanghaied into fighting for the Alliance. Or at least causing trouble for Thundera," Tygra muttered. He had – unwillingly – deigned to be the one to dig out the chip because of his fine claws and steady hand, and it sat bloody and square on the table beside the food. He was examining it, picking at different wires. The guards had managed to staunch the flow of blood with copious bandages. "These are so they can recover their little troops, or at least detect where they're killed. Probably a way of finding out how far these Mutation addicts get in Thundera's lands and seeing what it does to the different species."

The wolf paused and looked at the chip. It smelled of raw meat. "They would've dissected me. I heard them talking about it. They're in on the Mutation circle, and they're not out for money alone. There are stories about mass infections, but I never heard any details."

Lion-O looked up at the guards. "How far are Tropo and Lune? We're headed near Lune ourselves."

The captain was a grizzled man with white and black fur. He removed his helm respectfully, showing his round, striped ears. "Tropo is on the center line of the planet, on the edge of the peninsula of the ocean, near its borders with the Fel Sea. It has many boat traders, and if you went far enough to the east you could work your way along the coast of the ocean. Most prefer to follow the river to the ocean and travel by ship. It's safer."

Cheetara calculated this out and decided she could make it in a week if she pushed herself. Lion-O nodded. "And Lune?"

"That one is much further. It takes a year or more of walking in good weather to reach Lune's villages and caves, and it can take longer if the snows are moving through. Unless you can take a Luna flying ship it'll be a hard journey whatever way you take, but if you take the straight route from Tropo and you had some kind of vehicle and didn't stop it might take a couple months."

"If you made it there at all with the cutthroats on the way," one murmured softly. He seemed to be a cadet and he blushed when the captain looked at him.

"Granted. The routes are hazardous since the king stopped pressing his attacks against the Alliance's groups. If you start out from Tropo the route goes a little quicker because there's a valley pass through the mountains. The only problem is that an ice shelf forms along the route during the winter. The rest of the year it's fine. Easier journey in about the same amount of time, even if it's out of the way." The captain glanced down at the wolf. "Thank you for your help, young cats. Our men will send out parties to search for more lizardmen. And we shall send this dog west for a trial."

"Hm?" Lion-O had gotten up and was pushing in his chair. "Why?"

"The law. He took part in illegal drug trade. He was part of an illegal group. Such a record could put him in prison for life, if not on the executioner's block." Talbot looked up expectantly, but his tail lowered and he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders more closely.

"He wasn't part of that group. He was their experiment. Granted he traded Mutation, but he didn't know what he was getting. The regular sentence is a few years of labor, not execution. Besides, after all he's been through, I doubt whether he'll even need rehabilitation." Talbot's ears perked at Lion-O's assessment. "I trust you won't be dumb enough to try that kind of substance again, right?"

"No. Never." His eyes widened and his nose dripped.

"Good." Lion-O tapped Panthro on the arm and the larger cat lowered his chin. "What do you think, Panthro? A few years' labor with food and shelter provision is the standard, right?"

He made another noncommittal noise. The captain exchanged glances with his men. "But…well, the sentence for cats is a few years. A non-feline that is found with Mutation is sentenced for at least twenty years…"

Lion-O's eyes narrowed, blue jewels in a copper setting. "The laws have actually been revised as of two months ago; Dera's Run hasn't been keeping up with regulations. According to the new amendment to prison sentencing, the non-feline population can't be given any more than five more years than a cat committing the same crime." He made a face. "It's not nearly fair, but it's a step in the right direction. Send a courier to the Imperial City if you don't believe me. Or better yet, use a message screen if you have one."

Cheetara watched the captain shift uncomfortably and then returned her attention to Lion-O, crossing her arms with distinct interest. An Imperial cat that believed in non-feline rights? He noticed her impressed gaze and glanced the other way. The edges of his ears seemed to redden under brown fur.

She smiled.

"…We'll send a transmission. Not that we don't believe you, it's just protocol." Sheepishly, the captain saluted him. "We owe all of you our lives. If you report back to the Imperial City anytime soon, know that we're going to double the guard in Dera's Run."

Lion-O placed his fingers to his chest, a polite gesture for those that were not in the Thunderan guard to show to those that were.

Panthro cleared his throat. "At ease. You'll do better to enforce the wall search with the new cadets than anything. Teach them how to search and restrain at the entrance to the city and all the gates. Don't bother with looking for more outside the city. Maintain the walls and the paths the traders take. You'll be doing all you can if you do that." Panthro spoke as a commander, and nothing in him brooked questioning.

The captain saluted him. "Sir. This is good advice."

Tygra leaned in. "He told him to be at ease. He's a higher rank if he can order him to do that," he muttered.

"I think we're done here. I'll check up on Talbot on my way back from Tropo and Lune." Lion-O offered nothing other than this and it was understood as a very modest warning. "If you don't mind I'll be leaving now."

"Sir…one question." One of the cadets shrank under his gaze but had the courage to ask, "That antimutagen…where did you get it?"

"A lab in the Imperial City has been working on them. And I'm afraid that's all I can say." Lion-O headed to the door and Panthro followed him. "Cheetara? May I speak with you and Tygra?" He asked this over his shoulder and Cheetara nodded, following him. She could see his tail for the first time and realized that his cloak had been torn quite badly. It had a thick tuft of red hair on its end and a scrape nearer the base.

It wasn't until they'd made it out of the prison gate that Lion-O spoke. "I was expecting it to take longer to get out."

"These men aren't trained very well." Panthro stopped to stand right beside Lion-O and turned at the same time he did. "I'd whip 'em into shape."

"They're doing their best, Panthro. Besides, what could such a small force really do?" Lion-O blinked and continued, "Not to insult Dera's Run you understand. She's a small place."

Tygra put one hand on his hip. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

"What?"

"Who are you? You waltz into town acting like you know a million secrets, you bug Cheetara with cryptic comments and then you pretend to be the hostage of a bunch of nonfels to get information about a drug trade, and think you can boss around the guards of Dera's prison?" Tygra would have taken a step toward him but Panthro smelled of a fight and hostility, so he settled for glaring at the lion. "We could have been killed trying to help you and those guards. I think you owe us a story."

"Tygra," Cheetara said. "You'll have to excuse him. He's nosy."

Lion-O smiled. "No, he's right. I apologize for all the trouble. Thank you for helping me, and the guards. It's nice to know there are those who live by the Code."

Tygra raised one eyebrow. "Huh?"

"'To aid those that are surrounded by trouble, to offer kindness to those in need.'" Lion-O paused and looked at Cheetara. "I'm sorry, I thought…"

"I know what you're saying. Tygra's just a big skeptic. He hasn't read the scriptures even once." Her tail flicked. "He's a good guy though. Or he tries to be."

"Oh, religious stuff." He said this as if he'd said, "Fleas." "Look, you two can get high on praises later; right now I want to hear what's going on in the real world." Tygra crossed his arms. "I helped you because Cheetara wanted me to. I would've gone to get more guards before stepping in like that. But she saved you, so you owe her some answers about all this information you've been dangling in her face."

Cheetara rolled her eyes. "I'm right here, thanks."

Lion-O gave her a curious look and finally said, "I suppose he's right. I owe you. Someone could have been seriously hurt if you guys didn't show up."

"I feel obligated to remind you that we can't discuss certain things," Panthro said lowly.

"I know, Panthro." Lion-O searched Cheetara's face and he said, "I'm not going to be able to tell you some things. And I can't tell you why. But I will fill you in on why I'm here."

Cheetara shifted her weight and put her hand to her chin. "Okay. Sounds fair enough."

Lion-O looked around. "Could we go to your family's tavern? It'd be best if we could talk under the cover of conversation." This seemed considerate – better than a dark alley at any rate – and Cheetara led the way back to the Fancy Feline. Panthro attracted wide eyes but after he passed people looked away. A cat was a cat, even if he was the size of a small building.

Cheetara heart was still a little fast from the fight, she realized. Her limbs were warm and her energy hadn't worn off, and her tail whipped back and forth. But something was tugging at her, and not just the anticipation of satisfaction. Her curiosity was flaring, but an alarm was going off.

She stopped. "The fat lizard. He wasn't with the others."

Lion-O bumped into her back and had to grab her arm to keep her from falling over. "What? Slithe?"

"If that's his name. He wasn't there. They didn't take him into the cells. Did he run away when he threw that flash pellet?"

"Most likely. He wouldn't be that easy to capture. It sounds like him to leave behind new recruits to take the heat while he slips away." Lion-O pulled his hood up and tucked what was left of his cloak over his torso. He took special care to cover the hilt of the sword.

The tavern was fairly empty, the lunch rush having left and dinner being a few hours off. Sai was sweeping up and Yamese was in the back, doing the dishes from the sound of plates clattering. "Cheetara, that took you a while. Didn't they have any flour…?"

Sai stopped talking when she looked up. Her eyes were about level with Panthro's belt and she had to tilt her head all the way back, dark ears lowering in surprise. "…Oh. Hello."

"Do we have company dear?" Yamese had suds on his arms and his whiskers stiffened when he saw the size of Panthro. "Good heavens. Um…Cheetara, we're nearly out of flour. I hope you got some in case our guest wants bread."

Panthro shook his head. "No thank you." He didn't sit until Lion-O had, planting himself in the seat right beside the lion. It looked funny, a short lion by a tall panther, a peaceful expression beside a rocky one.

"Sorry Mama. We…well, we ran into trouble. I'll pick up flour before the dinner rush." Instead of sitting down immediately, Cheetara went into the kitchen and returned with two flagons of spring water. She gave one to Lion-O and one to Panthro. "I said there'd be a drink on me if you were going to tell me about what's happening. And I'm pretty sure Panthro saved all our tails."

Lion-O accepted his and thanked her. Panthro did not immediately let him drink, lowering his head and sniffing each drink twice. He then nodded and Lion-O took a sip. "He's a little overprotective. It's his job," Lion-O said.

"We can't be too careful." Panthro tried his and seemed to think nothing of it, good or bad. "Let's get this over with."

"Cheetara? Tygra? Who are these cats?" Sai was appraising them with suspicion furrowing her brow.

"We're going to find that out, I hope," Cheetara said honestly. "Mama, I'll tell you later. They're okay, I know it."

She gave her daughter a worried look but quietly took to wiping down the bar. Cheetara, out of habit, looked for some dirty glasses to start cleaning. "Okay. So you're here from the Imperial City and you have a bodyguard. Why is this?"

Lion-O put down his glass. "Honestly? I'm on a mission that's going to take me through the north if the stories are right. I wanted to know about what was happening there because of this, and because the Imperial City is trying to gather information about what's happening in Thundera." He took another sip. "There's been a lot of unrest in the world lately, and we're trying to figure out the sources. A lot of it seems to be worst there."

Tygra's tail twitched, an irritated habit. "So you're a glorified messenger and agent of the Imperial City? Why do you have a high-ranking guard official looking after you then? It's an important cat that commands respect from captains and wears the seal on his chest." He gestured toward the gleaming red stone.

Panthro growled and Lion-O prodded him. "A fair question. I've been sent by someone pretty important." He paused and looked at them for a long moment, perusing their eyes. Cheetara felt weird when he stared at her without blinking, blue eyes completely still with his pupils dilated. The silence that fell over them was like mist, silent and heavy.

"…Okay. I can trust you. But you can't tell any others about this."

They exchanged a glance. He was singing a different tune? "Sure."

"I mean it. I need an oath that you won't share this information with anyone." He paused, checking for the other tavern guests. None of them were listening. "I suppose your parents are the exception, Cheetara. I can trust them." This was said so confidently that it made Cheetara feel nervous. How did he know that? Certainly her parents were not snitches, but he seemed to have no doubt.

"Okay. By the Cat," Tygra said. He was a little flippant and Cheetara gave him a disapproving look.

"By the Cat, my word." She said it reverently, feeling heavier once she'd said it. To make an oath by the Cat – the guardian spirit of Thundera, placed by the Creator himself – was to invite its wrath upon oneself if one's word was broken.

Lion-O nodded. Panthro said nothing, arms crossed as if he were ready to fight in less than a second. The air felt different when Lion-O exhaled, as though his chest had been unlocked and steam came from inside his lungs. "I've been sent on this journey by the royal family. I'm a servant to the king, and if I don't succeed in my mission, it might mean the destruction of Thundera in a matter of years."

The quiet that fell was thick as death, and Cheetara wondered, not for the first time, if they had gotten in over their heads.

---

End of Episode 1