Disclaimer: I don't own She Ra in any form!

Title: Forest Fires

Summary: Adora picks a fight with a tree and her cruddy childhood and wins.

Warnings: Mentions of broken bones

…

Adora can't quite look these people in the eye and admit that she doesn't know to build anything- kill, knock out, do laps around the castle until the grass has flattened into a dirty trek, sure- but give her a hammer and nails and she's useless. But they give her a hammer and nails, and Adora isn't about to make an idiot of herself, so she takes the damn hammer and nails and does her best to eye the others as they work.

She hates this shed.

Well, not the shed. The shed is important. It can contain a family, keep them warm and safe, and Adora feels a burst of pride at that. But the shed comes from the remains of the Terrible Tree, and she hates the Terrible Tree.

Nighttime comes before they're finished. Adora sits awkwardly around a circle of builders and soldiers, painfully aware of her bright red jacket, and eats as little as possible. It all makes her stomach gurgle and retch. She's still decently shocked they let her come along to settle a score with a stupid tree.

When no one's looking, Adora steals a worker's knife, slipping it into one of her many hidden pockets. It will come in handy later.

"Nice view," someone whispers, but she's too sleepy to respond.

"The view's great from here," Catra calls down, smug. The mangled machinery in the Horde is her playground. Adora, several feet below and trying in vain to find footholds, kind of wishes her friend's tail was low enough to grab and yank. Hard. "You're gonna miss the whole parade, slowpoke!"

"We don't all have freakish claw feet, Catra," she puffs.

That only makes Catra smile wider. "Sooo what you're saying is that I'm objectively better than you?"

"Don't make me get the laser pointer!"

A strong hand wraps around her forearm, helping Adora up. "You're such a wimp," Catra chuckled, but Adora knows it's fond from the way her tail lightly brushes her side. "The Princesses'll never fear you at this rate."

Adora, not knowing that she would someday be much taller, buffer, and a traitor, says what she feels is right. "I'll kill so many Princesses, the Queen'll surrender!"

"Maybe," she allows, leading the charge over to the railing. "But then I'll kill the Queen."

Adora bows low to Angella as she approaches. Her outfit is stained with mud and sweat, generally unappealing, but she didn't think it wise to try and slip into Her Majesty's showers without a proper greeting. "I've returned."

Queen Angella has her nose buried in a book. Her chair is big and plush, the likes of which Adora would have never seen in the Horde. Once or twice, when Shadow Weaver was feeling sore, she had dragged a squished footstool over to her, but it paled in comparison to the sheer fluff packed into this chair alone. Beside the chair and table was a window, and just outside was the setting sun, dying the sky a light pink.

She doesn't look up. "How'd it go?"

Adora straightened. "We built a couple of new huts to make up for those lost, ma'am. Nothing fancy."

"The tree is gone?"

"Completely, ma'am."

"Good to hear. It seemed to bother you."

She felt herself getting warm. Stars, how pathetic she must look- having a grudge against a plant. "I'm just glad it was of use." Adora paused, contemplating, before going on. "Is Bow...?"

"He's awake," she said. "He's woke not long after you left, actually."

"Ah."

Angella closed her book and turned to look at her. "Adora, it was just a broken arm. You've seen him in far more dire straits. What is it about this that sets you on edge?"

Catra and Hordak both flash in her mind, but neither is an answer she's willing to give. "I just... hate when I can't do anything, I guess. At least, when he's hurt in a fight, I can sucker-punch whoever did it."

"So that's what this was? Sucker-punching the tree?"

Adora shrugged, sheepish.

To her surprise, the Queen smiled. "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, Adora. Get some rest."

"Get some rest, Catra."

Adora gingerly ran her fingers through Catra's mane. She knew not to mention the bruises on her arms and legs, just as she knew not to ask where she got the cast from. It wrapped firmly around her friend's arm as she sprawled out on what was technically Adora's bed, but they'd never really learned to separate space from one another.

Despite being banged up, Catra still has the energy to glare at her. "Don't tell me what to do."

"Sorry."

Catra flinches back, alarmed. Normally they'd just devolve into their usual banter- not an apology. "Whatever. Just- get in here."

Adora shook her head. "Can't. Not tonight." She got to her feet, fighting the urge to tense up as a familiar dark creepiness appeared in the far corner of her eyes. "Shadow Weaver is expecting me."

The girl's eyes widened. "But you didn't-"

"You fell into a parade, Catra! Lord Hordak's parade!" Her hands clenched into fists as her voice softened. "Just... let me do this, okay?"

Catra still has her pride. Her ears fell flat. "I don't need you to baby me."

Suddenly, sharp fingernails dug into Adora's shoulders. Shadow Weaver's voice was sickeningly sweet just behind her. "Lord Hordak is waiting for us, Adora. He isn't pleased by your actions."

Catra hissed at her.

The woman's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "Yes, yes, you're very scary. You should feel lucky you got off with just a broken arm, whelp. After all, It was Adora that pushed you."

The girl opened her mouth to argue, but caught the desperation on Adora's face and turned her head away.

"I'm sorry, Catra," Adora said. It's just easier this way.

Adora is, frankly, not at her best when she opens and closes the door to her room, careful to keep it unlocked- the guards still aren't completely trusting of her, and she can't say as she blames them. Besides, the concept of personal space was hard for her to understand even now, so it didn't bother her as much as it might have someone- and goes to change. Her uniform looks more brown than it does red.

Distracted by her less-than-stellar looks, Adora doesn't notice she's not alone until said company yells at the top of her lungs and tackles her in a mid-air teleport hug. Adora almost punches on reflex, but Glimmer knows her well enough to get out of the way, raising her hands in silent apology for startling her.

"Where have you been?" Glimmer demanded, stomping a foot for good measure. "We were starting to think you died or something!"

"I went out to build houses."

"...Damnit, Adora, I can't be angry at you for doing volunteer work." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Just- say something next time, please? You just vanished."

Adora felt guilty. This wasn't her first time disappearing, but she usually tried to tell someone first. She showed her the knife. "I brought this back."

"Why?"

"So Bow can stab the stump in revenge for breaking his arm," she said, with the kind of tone that reeked of that being normal. "Duh?"

"You are the most baffling goddamn person-" Glimmer started, then stopped, sighing. "Thanks, Adora. I'm sure Bow will love it."

Something occurs to Adora. She looks at her bed and, sure enough, there's a soft blue blanket on it. "Have you been sleeping in here?"

"Yeeeesssss," groaned Glimmer, trying- and failing- to crack her back. "That thing is murder. How do you do it, Adora?"

"It's the second softest thing I've ever slept on." She gestured to her feather bed, tucked away like a broken toy. She was forcibly reminded of Catra, and how she'd sleep in her bunk when Adora was off for extra training or punishment or extra training as punishment. She always said she was trying to keep it warm for her. "But why are you sleeping on it?"

"I was worried, okay?" she scoffed, encircling her fingers around Adora's wrist. "You don't have to do this alone."

Adora let out a laugh, half-relieved, half wanting to cry. "I know."

"Adora," Lord Hordak rumbled, setting his chin on the tips of his fingers. "Shadow Weaver has told me about you and your little friend. She sees a great soldier in you. A great Force Captain."

The metal floor dug into her knee as Adora tried desperately to speak, to swallow the sheer terror and reply to the man who gave her and Catra the right and ability to live and breathe and eat. He didn't have to do that- the Horde as a whole didn't do it, usually, but Shadow Weaver had stuck her neck out, and here she was, facing Lord Hordak's wrath. "T-thank you, sir."

"Lord Hordak-" Shadow Weaver started to say.

He held up a hand for silence. She did so, begrudgingly. "I am not your babysitter. This isn't a daycare. I've been more than willing to leave all the details of raising children to Shadow Weaver."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know why I'm stepping in now?"

Adora nodded, swallowing. "Because Catra fell into your parade."

"Correct. It was a fine parade, Adora. The marchers had recently won a great battle, and destroyed a huge resource pipeline to the rebellion. War isn't easy, Adora. We have to get our pleasantries where we can." He paused for dramatic effect. "And your little stunt ruined that."

She bowed her head.

Shadow Weaver tried again. "Lord Hordak, sir, surely it's Catra you wish to punish? She was the one-"

"If it were an accident, yes. But this wasn't an accident." Lord Hordak tilted his head slightly. "What drove you to do it, child?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Why did you push her?"

"I..." Adora couldn't answer that. Shadow Weaver didn't ask for whys and hows- she just struck. "I guess I wanted to see what it was like, sir. I- I didn't think she would fall into your parade, Lord Hordak. Honest."

"You wanted to see what it was like to hurt someone?"

Adora stared at the floor.

"Hmm," Lord Hordak said. "Well, you heard her, Shadow Weaver. She wants to learn. I think it's about time you teach her."

Shadows gripped her arm tight. Adora tensed reflexively, but she knew there was no escape. There was never any escape from Shadow Weaver.

"If that's what you wish, Lord Hordak."

"I've broken bones before," Adora says dubiously as she carefully writes her name in cursive on a bright cast. "But I've never seen this ritual. Is it new?"

Bow laughed. "It's about as old as the First Ones, I think. What's this I hear of you building houses?"

"They chopped down the tree that hit you. I chopped it into bits. Then we used the bits to help people." She flicked the knife out once again, setting it into her friend's good hand with a firm touch. "And I brought you the blade that did it as proof."

"Omigosh," Bow whispered, eyes welling up. "Adora, did you... avenge me?"

"Pretty much. There's still the stump if you wanted to get in some personal revenge, of course, but-"

Bow has his arm around her before she can finish speaking, squeezing her with what is best described as a shriek. "You're the kindest person ever I love you so much," he told her in a rush.

"Glimmer said it was weird."

"It is weird but in, like, the most precious way possible. You fought a tree for me!"

"You know I'd do anything for my friends," she replied.

Catra's eyes peer out from the blanket cocoon she's made in Adora's bed as the younger girl appears next to her. "Looks like they're handing those out for free now, huh?" she said, still a little hurt.

Adora laughed, rubbing awkwardly at the hard tissue of her cast. "Looks like we match."

The girl shifted over, holding the edge up. She crawled under. The blanket went over their heads, leaving just the two of them, all alone in the world, face-to-face. Their casts brushed against each other. Their breath blends together, creating an uncomfortably warm atmosphere.

Finally, Catra speaks. "You're too much of a wimp to push me."

"I know."

"Shadow Weaver and Hordak were dumb to believe you."

"I know," she repeated, shrugging.

There's the telltale thump-thump of Catra's tail when she's irritated. "I coulda handled it."

"They would've done worse to you," Adora admitted, hating that it was the truth. Hating that a broken arm was a light sentence for what was, in all actuality, just a very unfortunate accident. Hating that they'd been dumb enough to dare each other to walk the railing in the first place. "I had to protect you."

Catra scowls. It's too dark for Adora to catch. A clawed hand reaches out to touch her newly broken arm. "You shouldn't do stuff like this for me. I'm not your responsibility."

"No, you're not," she agreed. "You're my friend, and you know I'd do anything for you."

Author's Note: Whoo boy, this was a bit of a doozy to write. It's not overly long or anything, but it's got that kind of flashback-flashforward system that can get a little complicated.

I've actually had this headcanon for a while now- that young Catra and Adora went scaling the side of a building and Catra slipped into a local parade- she got out with only a broken arm to show for it, but it's so rare for her to slip that people assumed Adore had something to do with it- and Adora, not wanting Catra to get in trouble, went along with it. She got her arm broken as punishment. I guess it could also double as a symbolic thing for Adora and Catra facing everything together, but differently- Catra feeling like Adora is coddling her and not taking her seriously, while Adora feels like she's caring and protecting her.

Weirdly enough, I've never broken any bones before! I cracked my elbow when I was little (hit it just right on the leg of a table), but I don't recall much of it. So if there's smth about the care/movements of limbs in casts that I clearly did wrong here, please don't hesitate to say so! =)

-Mandaree1