Cheetara of the Thundercats
Author's Notes
One of the complaints about Thundercats 2011 was the lack of development in Cheetara's character. I wasn't particularly bothered by this, but I understand where other fans were coming from. Instead of making Cheetara some princess or daughter of nobles, I stuck with the canon idea that the cheetah was an orphan and built my story around that. This is my interpretation. I use some scripted dialogue (not much) and claim fair use. I also created some original characters, but their purpose is to support the main characters and move the narrative along, not to influence the outcome in any way. I hope you enjoy "Cheetara of the Thundercats." Please feel free to leave comments.
Chapter 1: Beginning
Sumi writhed in pain on the narrow bed in the birthing hut. Her claws dug into the midwife's paw, and a piercing shriek erupted from her throat. Slowly, the contraction subsided, and the cheetah panted in quick, shallow breaths. She peered desperately at the midwife with tormented eyes.
"How…much…longer?" she managed to ask.
The old cheetah's gaze was sympathetic, and she shook her head as if to say, who can know?
Sumi's labor began one full day ago, and her strength was flagging. Why wouldn't the cub drop? It couldn't possibly know the cruel and feckless world it was coming into, and having that knowledge, it was defying its fate and refusing to leave Sumi's womb; could it? Another sharp pain tore through the laboring cheetah's belly, and this time she growled her agony; her claws were ripping the midwife's paw to shreds.
Remarkably, the old cheetah did not flinch or tear away from Sumi's grasp. She'd stood with countless laboring mothers and bore the pain they inflicted on her silently and with great fortitude. The midwife felt it was her duty and the least she could do while they suffered to bring a young one into the world. She looked at her companion, who was positioned at the foot of the bed; her worldview was between Sumi's legs. She had a spectacular view of the cheetah's crotch. This last contraction brought the sight they had been waiting for. The cub's head appeared.
"Push," the second midwife instructed. "Push!"
Another pain, more intense and nerve-shattering than the last, tore through Sumi's body. She grunted and cried and pushed.
"Push! Push!" both midwives chanted.
Sumi felt as if she would split in two. She didn't know if she had the strength to push this damnable cub out, but she bore down, grunted, and growled and pushed with all her might. Sumi thought she endured the pain and pressure for hours, but it was only a few minutes more when she felt her burden pop free. Suddenly, she was extremely wet, as if she had urinated all over herself. The scent of blood, her blood, filled her nostrils. Sumi gagged, then vomited. The second midwife's voice seemed far away. "Oh, it's a girl. A beautiful little girl!" Sumi's grip on the world slipped, and she was sucked into oblivion.
– o –
Sumi gazed at the infant sleeping in its makeshift crib fashioned from willows that grew behind the little hut she called home. She didn't have the slightest maternal urge as she regarded the cub. It was three days old, and Sumi was worried. She could not keep it. It was not her mate's child, and Taka would be furious; no, he would be murderous if he returned home and found a cub not of his making. Sumi and Taka had been childhood sweethearts, and they suited each other completely. She was a tawny coated beauty with huge orange eyes enhanced by thick black lashes and bold "tear" streaks. Taka was a handsome cheetah with penetrating eyes of gold and a pale buff coat covered in perfectly spaced black spots. The pair became inseparable shortly after meeting and bonded in a formal ceremony in a matter of months. Their union was uncomplicated and a happy one until Taka went off to fight in the lizard wars. Somewhat spoiled and selfish, Sumi became unbearably lonely. She missed the constant attention and affection of her mate, and before long, she was looking at other cats.
Sumi knew better than to play fast and loose in the town where she and Taka lived, so she devised a plan. She sent word to Taka that she would visit a distant cousin to ease her loneliness while he was away. Sumi told him that her cousin lived in Tabbetown, several hundred miles away. Taka did not object; he'd never had reason not to trust his mate. The cheetah did not have a cousin in Tabbetown, but she found lots of male company to keep herself occupied. It wasn't long before Sumi found herself with cub, and she had no idea who the father was. And sadly, even if she did, the best Sumi could hope for was that he would take full responsibility for the cub once it was born. Sumi's playmates disappeared when they learned of her condition. As the weeks passed, she fretted over her situation and grew round with a cub she did not want and could not pass off as Taka's.
Sumi paced back and forth, casting troubled eyes at the proof of her infidelity. She frowned and pressed her paws against her now flat and trim stomach. She wouldn't be in this predicament if Taka hadn't gone off to war. What was she going to do? Unhinged thoughts fought for pride of place in her mind. She could leave the cub in the woods for wild animals to find. She could drown the cub in a bucket of water or smother it while it slept. Sumi's paws moved to massage her temples, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Was she losing her mind? She couldn't compound her iniquity with murder.
She stopped pacing and bent over the cub. It—she—was so tiny. She was covered in the palest buff-colored down; her little paws were tipped with transparent claws. She was perfectly formed and helpless. The cub still hadn't opened her eyes, so Sumi didn't know if they were orange like hers or gold like those of one of her many lovers. For a moment, Sumi wondered if she could present the cub as an orphan she'd taken in, but she discarded that thought as quickly as it formed in her mind. There was no way she'd be able to pull off such an outrageous lie, and Taka would never believe her in any case. She wasn't charitable by nature.
Sumi sank into a chair across the room from the sleeping infant and sighed, drumming her claws against its wooden arms. She was making this too complicated, not to mention scary. There was only one thing she could do, and she would do it at first light.
The only thing the denizens of Tabbetown knew about Sumi was that she called herself Luna and had light skirts. No one was surprised when they saw her belly grow and they were even less surprised when she disappeared less than a week after the girl-cub's birth. What did surprise them was that she abandoned an infant in the little hut without a word.
No one was quite sure when 'Luna' left town; they only knew they heard crying on and off from the hut for a few days. On what would have been the cub's final day, the midwife, who had held Sumi's hand during labor, was on her way home when she heard a weak mewling from the hut as she passed by. Alarmed, the midwife marched up to the door and pushed it open to a pitiful sight. The little cub she'd help bring into the world was failing. Her little face was pinched and grey. The nappy she wore was horribly soiled, and her tiny limbs hung listlessly when the midwife picked her up. The cub's breathing was shallow, and her fur was matted in dead-looking clumps.
"Oh, my stars! Oh, my stars!" the midwife exclaimed.
Horrified, she wrapped the cub in her shawl and hurried home. The midwife didn't know if the cub would survive, but she would do her very best to save her.
– o –
In the beginning, it was touch and go, but somehow the girl-cub survived. She not only survived; she thrived. The midwife hadn't quite decided what she was going to do with the infant, but it didn't take long for her to fall in love with the cub's resilience and spunk, and not being a wildly imaginative cat, she named the little orphan Cheetara.
Bayo, the midwife's best friend, and fellow midwife, folded her bony arms across her chest and pursed her lips. "What are you going to do with that cub, Zala?"
Zala cradled the baby in her arms and rubbed a clawed finger gently across the cub's cheek. The fur was soft as thistledown and just as fine.
"I haven't thought on it," she said, admiring the little creature's delicate features. She tried to see something of the mother in the cub, but Cheetara's eyes were a startling shade of pink, unlike any Zala had ever seen. While her mother's dark markings were absent, Zala noticed a trace of color starting to appear around her eyes. The baby's buff-colored fur was beginning to darken except on her chest and belly, and black spots were popping out everywhere.
"It's been more than six weeks. You must have given it some thought!" Bayo insisted.
"Perhaps I'll keep her and raise her up myself."
Bayo gasped, scandalized. "You're too old! You'll be blind and drooling by the time she's of age."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Zala sniffed. She wrapped the cub snuggly in a blanket and placed her in a cradle. Her voice was hushed when she spoke again as to not disturb the cub. "I'm not that old, and I will give Cheetara the love and home her shameless mother deprived her of."
Bayo sucked her teeth. "I knew you'd become attached. And couldn't you think of a better name than Cheetara? Why not Samiya or Behati?" Bayo shook her head and attempted to discourage her friend. "What will you do if the mother comes back and wants her cub?"
"There's a better chance of the great King Claudus riding into Tabbetown and asking me to be his queen."
The midwife clutched Bayo's elbow and guided her through the door of her small cottage. The sun was bright and warm on their faces; bees buzzed happily around the flowers in Zala's garden. It was a perfect day, and Zala felt younger than her fifty-five summers.
Zala never married, never had children of her own. She'd found her calling early in life, following her own mother's footsteps, and over the years, she'd birthed too many cubs to count. Zala saw and felt the joy and love every mother exhibited once the newborn was placed in her arms. And she knew that if she was ever fortunate enough to have a family of her own, she would be a wonderful mother. But the gods had not set her feet on that particular path until now.
The midwife had never seen a cat as detached and unwelcoming as Luna had been towards her child. And while Zala was surprised when she discovered the half-dead cub in Luna's hut, she was hardly shocked that the cheetah had done so. The cheetah's heartless act had been a gift. Zala took a deep breath and smiled at her friend. At that moment, the midwife made up her mind. Never mind that Bayo, and probably everyone else in town, would think she was crazy. Zala would keep the cub. She would be Cheetara's grandmama, and she would do right by the child no one wanted.
– o –
Zala raised the cheetah cub with lots of love, but she did not spoil the child. She taught her to be kind and thoughtful but also to be independent and strong. The midwife was firm when she needed to be but also quick to smile and praise. She recognized the little cub's abilities early and instilled in her a sense of purpose. Cheetara learned to love and respect nature through the midwife and feel the earth's magic and power by simply opening her heart and mind. When the child was old enough to ask questions about all manner of things, the midwife was straightforward and honest in her answers, seeking to empower as well as to teach. Each night Zala tucked Cheetara into bed and told her marvelous stories about heroes and heroines, battles between good and evil, and tales of powerful sorcerers. Cheetara loved the midwife she called "Nana" from the moment she could speak, and her childhood in Tabbetown was ordinary and uneventful.
The midwife knelt in the rich dark soil and placed seedlings into the holes she'd made earlier. A streak of color glinting gold in the sun raced past her, and she paused in her work and smiled. Cheetara was three, and her energy seemed boundless; the midwife felt winded just watching her. Zala was amazed by the toddler's speed and agility. Of course, cheetahs were known for their speed and flexibility, but the midwife had never seen a child as quick and bold at such a young age. The little cheetah sensed her grandmama's eyes on her and screeched to a halt beside her. Cheetara threw her arms around the midwife's neck and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, then dashed off again. Zala laughed and shook her head, then continued with her work.
A few minutes later, Cheetara's sing-song voice rose in the air. "Nana! Nana! Look at me!"
The midwife's eyes widened as she looked up. The child was perched in the apricot tree on a branch high above her head. Zala dropped the garden trowel and scrambled to her feet. Although frightened, she kept her voice calm so as not to startle Cheetara.
"What are you doing up there, little one?"
The cub's claws dug into the branch she squatted on; she pointed a claw-tipped finger higher still. "Bird!"
Zala squinted past branches and leaves to see a robin hovering over its nest, feeding a brood of chicks. The toddler's eyes were sharp.
"That's nice, child, but I think you should come down," she coaxed.
The cub giggled; her eyes gleamed in the dappled light. "I want to see birds!"
The midwife held out her arms and used her 'steel wrapped in velvet' voice. "That's enough, Cheetara. Listen to me. Come down. Now."
Whenever Nana called her "Cheetara" instead of an endearment, she knew the elder meant business. The little cheetah groaned dramatically, released her hold on the branch, and dropped into Zala's arms. The midwife cradled the child close, kissed her cheek, and sniffed the outdoorsy tangle of spotted curls fluttering in the breeze.
"That's a good girl," she whispered. "My precious, sweet girl."
At the age of five, Cheetara began having dreams; they were vivid and filled with adventure causing her to have restless nights. Some nights the cub would kick the bedcovers off and thrash about wildly, crying out in her sleep. Alarmed, the midwife would rush to Cheetara's bedside, soothing her brow and speaking softly until the child settled down. Most times, upon waking, Cheetara didn't remember the dreams, but she would tell the midwife about them on the few occasions that she did. The child's dreams were filled with strange cats and grand buildings; there were battles and fire. Sometimes Cheetara was one of the cats dressed in ceremonial robes. The midwife would sit and listen quietly. Her expression was thoughtful as she wondered what the visions meant.
As Cheetara grew a little older, the midwife revealed some of the mysteries of childbirth and took her into the nearby woods, where she taught her which roots and herbs were beneficial in treating various ailments. Cheetara loved spending time in the woods. She found peace and serenity unlike anywhere else in Tabbetown, walking through the underbrush beneath the towering trees. There was much to see and discover if one but took the time to look. Cheetara thought the woods were magical. But her first love was running free through the countryside. She loved the feel of the wind rushing past her ears, her hair streaming behind her like a golden banner, and her claws digging into the ground before she exploded, practically taking flight. Cheetara was faster than any cheetah in Tabbetown. Nana said she was faster than any cheetah she'd ever heard of, and this singular achievement filled Cheetara with pride. The countryside was reduced to a blur as she ran, but her vision was precise. The young cat ran down anything she set her sights on.
Tabbetown itself was hardly a major metropolis like the faraway cities of Thundera. It was little more than a village, whose founders' ambitions were grander than its population would ever be. The town consisted of several shops, a small marketplace, a one-room schoolhouse, and several dozen homes scattered around them like so many brightly colored wooden blocks thrown about carelessly by a child. The midwife's small cottage and enviable garden were on the farthest stretches of the perimeter. The townsfolk were polite but incurious. People tended to keep to themselves and minded their own business. Their children attended school but didn't spend much time interacting outside of it; thus, the midwife's child did not have what would be called true friends.
By the time Cheetara was ten, the midwife had begun feeling her age; after all, she had seen sixty-five full seasons, and there were days when she felt poorly enough to be the one who needed care. Zala sat before the fire wrapped in an old woolen blanket and patchwork shawl on such a day. Outside the cottage, the first frost lightly covered the ground and sparkled off the leaves still clinging to branches in the watery autumn sun. Cheetara scooped broth into a bowl and placed it in the midwife's gnarled hand.
Zala sampled a spoonful of the rich brown broth. She rolled it around her tongue, savoring its flavor and texture before announcing, "This is good."
"Should be," Cheetara grinned. "It's your recipe."
Zala chuckled. When the midwife finished her soup, Cheetara took the bowl away and returned to sit at her feet. She tucked the blanket tighter around Zala's legs.
"Are you warm enough?"
"Yes." She touched Cheetara's head and smoothed her hair.
The beloved child lay her cheek against the midwife's knee. She remained like this for a time, watching the fire crackle and snap in the hearth, enjoying the moment of closeness with Nana. The midwife's breathing was slow and rhythmic. She began to doze off.
"Nana, tell me about my parents."
The midwife's eyes popped open. Cheetara's question was hardly a surprise; she knew one day the young one would ask. It was just that she didn't expect to hear it today. Zala breathed slowly, in measured beats, giving herself time to find the right words. The midwife's mind traveled back through the years to the time of Cheetara's birth and the few events Zala knew that preceded it. Finally, she stroked the child's head and began to speak.
"There isn't much to tell, sweet girl. Your mother arrived in Tabbetown from parts unknown. She was alone, and outside of entertaining, she kept to herself. After your birth, she left as suddenly as she appeared. I never knew your father."
Cheetara sat upright; Zala's hand fell away from her head. Her sapphire gaze bore into the midwife's face. Disbelief, along with a million questions, swirled in her pink eyes.
"How could you know so little?" the question was almost an accusation. "You never talked to her? Why didn't you know my father?"
"Cheetara, you know very well people keep to themselves here. I scarcely know about the cats who've lived here all their lives. If someone wants to keep secrets, remain a mystery, a town full of cheetahs is the place to hide."
The young cheetah pondered Nana's response. What she said was fact, and besides, Nana had never told her anything that was not true.
"You think my mother was hiding?"
"She may not have been. I don't know. I only know that she lived for a time in a little hut not far from here, and she had many male friends. One of them was your father, but I know not who he was. I only attended your mother once, the night you were born."
"She left me with you." It was not a question but a statement.
The midwife clucked her tongue and rearranged the shawl about her thin shoulders. She would not withhold the truth from the child, no matter how ugly.
"No. Your mother left you alone in the hut. She told no one you were there. I found you and nursed you back to health. I vowed to love and protect you, and I have."
Cheetara realized her Nana was not her blood, only a kind stranger who'd taken pity on an abandoned baby left to die. Cheetara didn't know she'd begun to cry until the tears rolled down her cheeks and fell like a waterfall on her pawlike hands. The midwife felt a sharp and sudden pain move through her chest and wished she could take the heartbreak away from her beloved child. But there was nothing she could say or do to soften the truth of the cheetah's creation or the rejection of the one who bore her. Cheetara leaned into Zala's lap and clung to her; she cried until she felt weak and there were no more tears to shed.
Cheetara raised red and swollen eyes to the midwife. Her voice was raw when she spoke again, but strength and maturity tinged it.
"Thank you for telling me, Nana. You are all the family I need. I love you with all my heart."
– o –
A gentle breeze stirred the curtains hanging at the window beside Cheetara's bed, and with each outward billow, sunlight streamed across the young cheetah's face. She squeezed her eyes against the brightness, but light still managed to sneak past her eyelids. Giving up, Cheetara flung back the bed covers and bolted out of bed, having remembered—with some excitement—that today was her birthday. She was twelve!
She danced across the floor to a chest of drawers and studied her reflection in the mirror propped against the wall. She was losing her "baby" features. The pale pink mask surrounding her eyes was deepening, and more spots were appearing in her hair; the latter was growing thicker and longer, becoming a tawny-gold mass. Her figure was still slim and, as yet, without a hint of an adolescent's curves. Cheetara thought herself neither exceptional looking nor painfully plain, somewhere in between, she guessed, neither good nor bad. Turning away from the mirror, she snatched the curtain back that separated her bed from Nana's. The bed was empty, and Cheetara instantly panicked, but the sound of humming—thin and wispy—quickly settled her nerves.
Zala knelt by the hearth, poking at a large flat pan; bacon was frying on one side, pheasant eggs cooked on the other. The young cheetah was at the midwife's side in an instant. She kissed her cheek and pulled her away from the hearth.
"Nana! What are you doing fussing about?"
The midwife waved her away. "When haven't I made breakfast on your birthday?"
"I appreciate it," Cheetara said, motioning the elder to sit. "But you haven't been well, and I don't want you to overdo."
It was true. Nana's health was steadily declining, and Cheetara worried about her constantly. The carefree days of wandering through the woods or racing through the hills and farmlands surrounding Tabbetown were far and few in-between. The young cheetah wanted to stay close to home in case Nana needed her. The remedies Cheetara had learned from the midwife were not working as well as they once did. Zala had taken to sending her to an apothecary a dozen leagues away, whose tonics were more potent and effective against the midwife's increasing pain.
Nonetheless, Zala knew the remaining time with her beloved child was short, and there was still so much the girl needed to know. She was aware that Cheetara was interested in becoming a cleric. In fact, the young cheetah was more than interested; she wanted it more than anything. Cheetara had visions where she saw herself as a fully appointed member of the king's clerics, and the midwife believed them to be true. Zala had long ago stopped calling the child's visions dreams. Over the years, too many little things she'd dreamt had come to pass. When Cheetara was a mere toddler, Zala sensed the child was unique, perhaps with a destiny to claim. The midwife wanted Cheetara to fulfill her purpose, just as she had. And if it took her away before the midwife was gone, the gods would have desired it. But today was not the day for such grim contemplations. Today, they were celebrating her precious girl's twelfth year.
– o –
Summers were hot and lazy in Tabbetown. Most cats stayed inside during the day and only ventured out once the sun disappeared below the horizon. But while others hid away, the midwife spent summer afternoons beneath the shade of her apricot tree, sipping from a tall glass of lemongrass water and chasing flies away with a faded paper fan. Sometimes she dozed, and sometimes she imparted bits of wisdom to her darling girl…like today.
"You are coming of an age, and there are things you need to know."
"More life lessons?" It was too hot for lectures, and Cheetara couldn't disguise the boredom in her voice. She spritzed water about their faces in an attempt to keep from dying.
The heat did not seem to bother the midwife. "Yes."
Cheetara rolled her eyes.
"You know about babies—how they come into the world, but you don't know how they're made."
The obnoxious groan Cheetara had been holding in burst free dramatically. "Can't this wait until…I don't know…never?"
"Cheetara, you are on the brink of womanhood. You have your heart set on being a cleric, but that will not prevent the instincts that drive your body."
This sounded ominous; the young one pricked her ears. "What do you mean?"
"At some point, you will have an overwhelming desire to be with a male. It is biological. You cannot prevent it. But there are things you can do to minimize the…harm it can cause if you are not…committed."
"I don't understand."
The midwife's fan swished faster. She was mildly irritated and didn't feel like being delicate. "In a few more years, you will want to mate with a male; take him into yourself. The urge is primal. If you are not committed to a male, you will want anyone who crosses your path, and he will want you."
Cheetara's eyes grew as large as one of Third Earth's moons; a look—part disgust, part horror—swallowed her face. She was only twelve!
The midwife continued. "You can become pregnant with a cub during this time if precautions are not taken. There are herbs one can take to prevent conception during mating if that is one's wish. Some herbs will dull the urge enough so that it can be controlled. That one is difficult because males will still be attracted to you, and it may be hard to turn them away. Finally, and this one is brutal, you can cloister yourself away for the fourteen days it takes to pass."
"By the gods!" Cheetara cried. "I don't want that. I can't even imagine that!"
The midwife remained silent.
"Is that what happened to my mother?"
"I doubt it."
Cheetara looked confused.
"It's not a constant state for females. It happens, but it's not predictable or regular. The rest of the time, a female can mate or not as she chooses."
"Then how do you know the difference?"
"Remember the times when you've been so hungry that you couldn't wait to eat? When you'd eat anything you came across to satisfy the gnawing inside?"
Cheetara nodded.
"That's what being in heat is like."
Cheetara thought about the midwife's words. Apprehension filled her. "So, this happens to all of us? And when it does, we're just slaves to our bodies?"
Zala nodded, but Cheetara thought her expression was odd and not entirely sympathetic.
"I think I understand but, Nana, I don't want this. I want to be a cleric! I don't want to be drugged or shut away, and I don't want anyone inside me!"
"I know, sweet girl," the midwife said, "but it's the price one pays for being one of nature's loveliest creatures."
Not long after that fateful day, the midwife took a turn for the worse. Zala curled into a ball from the pain, and her bones rattled with constant tremors. She had difficulty breathing; her cough was wet and foul. Cheetara had given the midwife the last of the apothecary's potion hours ago. She was desperate to make her Nana comfortable, if not better.
The young cheetah stoked the fire as high as she dared, bundled the midwife under all the blankets she could find, and administered the last of the licorice root and featherfew. Cheetara hoped the mixture would relieve the worst of Nana's symptoms until she returned with more of the apothecary's tincture.
The midwife clutched feebly at Cheetara's hand. "Dearest child," she gasped, "there's not much time."
"Hush, Nana. Please don't try to talk. Save your strength—"
The old cheetah struggled against Cheetara's gentle restraint; she was desperate to speak. "Listen to me now, child. My precious…darling…girl. You've been my…greatest joy."
Cheetara's eyes began to leak. "No! Nana, not yet!"
"You will do wonderful things…with your life. Sweet girl. I'll watch over you always."
The midwife's hand fell away. For one long and frightening moment, Cheetara feared her Nana was gone. Her lip trembled with grief, but the midwife's chest rose slowly, then fell beneath the blankets. The old cheetah took another ghastly breath.
"Hold on, Nana," Cheetara begged. "I'll be back with your medicine as fast as I can."
Cheetara raced from the cottage, and petals from the midwife's prized roses fluttered to the ground in her wake. She reached deep inside herself, calling on every ounce of energy and speed she possessed to propel her forward. The cheetah ran with breakneck speed past farms and over hills, down roads, and through fields; she stretched her legs as far as she could, lengthening her stride, chewing up the remaining miles between the shop and herself. Cheetara's eyes watered, and she tasted iron in the back of her throat, her lungs felt ready to explode, and her muscles burned from the stress, but she did not slow her pace. Nana needed the medicine, and she was almost there.
The lynx who dispensed potions and ointments in the apothecary's shop kept up a pleasant stream of chatter while mixing a concoction for one of his best customers, an attractive caracal with pretty ears and a neurotic disposition. He rather liked this female and, thinking himself a charmer of sorts, delayed in the task at hand to keep her in the shop longer. All was going according to plan when the door blew open as if struck by a gale-force wind and slammed against the wall. Bottles rattled and shook on their shelves, and a few crashed to the floor.
The apothecary and his customer jumped at the unexpected commotion. They gaped open-mouthed at the cheetah who banged into the counter before them. Cheetara was wild-eyed and breathless. Her lungs screamed for air; her muscles cramped, she clung to the countertop.
"Master Bakou, please! I need a tincture for my Nana! Quickly!"
The apothecary recovered from his surprise, drew himself up to his full height, and gave Miss Pretty Ears an apologetic glance. He glared at Cheetara. "There, girl; wait your turn! I'll be with you in a moment."
Cheetara leaned against the counter and rubbed her side to relieve a stitch. "Please."
Bakou spent a few minutes longer than necessary with the caracal. He repeated the instructions for her purchase a second time before wrapping a square green jar in paper and taking her money.
"Come back soon!" he called out pleasantly as the door closed behind her. The lynx turned a less welcoming expression on the cheetah. "How can I help you?"
Master Bakou's attention to Miss Pretty Ears gave Cheetara a chance to get her second wind. She was able to speak without wincing and gasping for air.
"My Nana is very ill. I need more of the tincture you prepare for her. And please, hurry!"
Something in the young cheetah's expression made Bakou think better of harassing her further. He gathered what he needed to mix the midwife's formula and went about it quickly, but it still seemed to take forever from Cheetara's point of view. Master Bakou wrapped a blue jar in paper, set it on the counter, and held out his paw. Cheetara dug inside her pocket, withdrew several coins, and slapped them on the counter.
"Thank you," she very nearly hissed.
Cheetara snatched up the jar and flew through the door with the same speed and ferocity with which she arrived. The young cheetah's return to the cottage was even faster if that were possible. But speed and grit were not enough to overcome the midwife's illness.
Nana is only sleeping, Cheetara thought. She was still warm to the touch, but Cheetara did not see her chest rise and fall, and she could not feel Nana's life force near her heart. The beloved child dropped the jar and sank to her knees beside the midwife's bed. Cheetara stroked Nana's cheek and smelled her hair. She gently took Nana's frail paw in her own and kissed it. Cheetara folded the midwife's hands on her chest, then sat back on her heels. She screamed and screamed and screamed. Great, wretched sobs erupted from her throat as if ripped from her very soul. Her heart was broken. She wept uncontrollably at the loss of the only family—the only mother—she'd ever known.
"Nana. Nana. Nana!"
Although the Tabbetown cheetahs were a solitary, tight-lipped bunch, Cheetara's screams brought a few of the adults running to the cottage. Ordinarily, they would not involve themselves with the funeral preparations for a neighbor. However, Cheetara was still a child and could not be expected to do what was necessary without help. The women bathed and anointed the midwife's body, and their mates erected the pyre. Cheetara watched it all as if from outside her body and behind a gossamer veil with lifeless pink eyes. She was numb, unable to think or act until Nana's funeral pyre was lit.
A solitary tear slipped down her cheek; she whispered, "Be at peace, Nana. Until we meet again."
Cheetara returned to the cottage and closed herself in. She slept all day and sat in the garden all night. Nana's absence was a crushing weight she could not crawl out from under. Cheetara blamed herself. What good was her speed when she hadn't been fast enough? A week passed. Then two. The young cheetah was turning into a wraith. She grew thinner, her hair hung in unkempt clumps about her head, and her fur lost its sheen. One night, as she sat in the garden, a shadow separated itself from the darkness of the trees. Cheetara did not trust her eyes and blinked several times to clear her vision. But the shadow did not disappear; it took shape and glided toward her. The young cheetah gasped.
"Nana?"
"Yes, sweet child."
Cheetara jumped to her feet and rushed forward, but the shadow motioned for her to stop.
"Oh, Nana! Is it really you? I miss you so much!"
"I know, sweet girl, I miss you, too. Yet, everything is as it should be." The midwife's voice was full of otherworldly wisdom. "I'm at peace now. I'm no longer suffering, but…your suffering keeps me near."
"I feel so alone, Nana. I don't know what to do without you."
"Cheetara, I will always watch over you."
"But I wish you were here!"
The shadow made a noise, it could have been a sigh, or it could have been the wind. Cheetara wasn't sure.
"Cheetara! Do you think I want to see you like this? You must rise above your grief and sadness. You are alive, sweet girl! Get on with your life! You have a purpose."
"To become a cleric," Cheetara said as if waking from a deep sleep.
"Yes! To become a cleric."
"But—"
"Follow your destiny!"
For the first time since Nana's death, Cheetara felt that maybe she could go on.
"I will. I promise."
Cheetara stirred to consciousness. She was in her bed; Third Earth's three moons cast the room in light and shadow. She sat up slowly, disoriented. What was she doing in bed? She'd been in the garden, hadn't she? Or had she been dreaming? She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. I guess it really doesn't matter, she thought. I know what I must do.