Chapter 2: Becoming, Part 1
Cheetara took better care of herself, regained her strength, and prepared to leave the only home she'd known. She packed a small bag with a change of clothes, a few tins of non-perishable food and looked around the little cottage one last time. A twinge of sadness tugged at her, but there was also excitement. She was taking the first step in realizing her dream, and she knew Nana approved. The fabled city-state Thundera was a considerable distance from Tabbetown, but she set a leisurely pace. The spotted cat did not want to use her extraordinary speed the entire journey, and a young cheetah traveling alone had to be cautious. Occasionally she met other travelers who were going in the same direction. Usually, they were families with children, and Cheetara felt more comfortable joining their caravans.
She arrived in Thundera within a fortnight. Cheetara stepped through the city gates and was awestruck. She'd never seen a place as large or as prosperous as Thundera seemed to be. It seemed that everyone she saw was well-dressed, well-fed, and beautiful. Cheetara felt like a country bumpkin by comparison, wildly out of place, but she plucked up her courage and charged ahead. She stopped a tony couple with kind faces and asked for directions to the royal palace. Cheetara pretended not to notice the once over they gave her, taking in her simple dress and rustic manner. She refrained from rolling her eyes, thanked them politely, and made her way through the posh gardens and carefully manicured boulevards standing between her and her destination.
Soon the gleaming white walls and elegant rotundas of the palace were in sight. Cheetara's breath caught in her throat a second time as her eyes swept over the sophisticated grandeur of the king's domain. The two-story structure was constructed of moonstone and curved around the main entrance, forming a half-circle, and sentinel towers capped each end. A colossal cat's head, carved from ebony, watched over the clean open space of the courtyard. Beneath it, the symbol of the Thundercats, a gleaming circle carved from red fire rock, proclaimed the power and majesty of the royal family. Cheetara realized she was staring like a tourist while everyone around her was going about their business. She told herself to stop gawking as if she'd never seen anything so grand, even if she hadn't, then noticed someone guarding the entrance and approached him.
"Can you tell me where the clerics reside?"
The cat turned to her, and she saw he was a tiger, not much older than herself, if that, and she stood at least an inch or two taller. He was dressed in light armor suited for someone of his size and age. His big brown eyes widened considerably as they swept over her and his cheeks turned the same shade of pink as the mask around her eyes. He stammered, blushed even brighter, and stammered again. He was cute, but she did not have time for gibberish. Cheetara decided to find the clerics herself and dashed up the stairs with a burst of speed, leaving the tongue-tied youth gaping after her.
He hurried to catch up, but the weight of his armor held him down. Gasping for air, he reached the top. "Wow! You're fast."
"Wow! You can talk."
He grinned and said she needed a proper seal to enter the royal grounds. Cheetara had never engaged in conversation with a boy before, and now here she was—in the space of a few minutes—thinking one was cute and dabbling a toe in the flirtation pool.
"You gonna turn me in?"
He shook his head no and showed her the way to the clerisy. The massive door adorned with iron studs was intimidating, but Cheetara hadn't come this far for nothing. She took a deep breath and pounded on the door.
"What do you want with the clerics anyway?" the tiger cutie asked.
"I'm here to join. It's been my dream since I was a cub."
He looked skeptical. "They only take the best."
Cheetara was offended. The nerve! You don't know anything about me! She frowned, and the tiger realized his error immediately. He recovered as best he could by wishing her luck. Cheetara continued to pound on the door, and finally, a tall jaguar who seemed to have some authority responded. His gray eyes swept over the young cheetah, piercing and deliberate. He asked her to state her business and to identify her clan.
"I'm here to join," Cheetara announced, adding in a smaller, less confident voice, "I don't have a clan."
"There is no shame in that," the cleric replied and invited her inside. He closed the door firmly in the tiger's face.
The cat, whose name she would later learn was Jaga, led the way into a large training room. A group of clerics dressed in robes and hooded veils stood in perfect formation, watching two others sparring vigorously. Cheetara could not help turning to watch as well. The clerics struck with force and skill; their staffs cracked viciously as they defended and attacked. It was hard to believe they were only practicing. The cheetah wondered if she would ever be able to master a staff as well. She realized the jaguar was waiting for her and moved along.
"Tell me, child, why should I consider you to be a cleric?"
"Because I'm the fastest cat you'll ever meet," Cheetara boasted.
They stopped in front of a collection of blades mounted on rods of different heights, rotating at various rates of speed, and spinning in different directions.
The jaguar challenged her to prove it. "If you can make it through these speed traps unscathed, we might consider your training."
Cheetara took a deep centering breath, narrowed her eyes, and sprang into action. She leaped, dodged, and slipped through each set of razor-sharp gears and deadly blades without so much as mussing her hair. The jaguar watched impassively; the child was making the test look far too easy. But the last trap tripped the cheetah up. Cheetara zigged when zagging might have been the better option. She hit the blade and was thrown across the floor; she landed at the cleric's feet. Dazed, she slowly picked herself up. The jaguar looked down his nose at her, his expression neither blamed nor sympathized.
"You are indeed quick," he said. "Perhaps too quick. The final trap was a test of patience."
To illustrate, he ran through the traps with effortless precision, but he stopped when he reached the last one. He waited as the blades swung back and forth until their movements synchronized, then he leaped through unharmed.
Cheetara gawked in disbelief. How could she not know that?
"Speed is a state of body," the cleric instructed. "Patience is a state of mind."
Cheetara had great prowess in the former, but as for the latter—the cleric shook his head, escorted her to the door, and gently pushed her through it. The massive portal closed with finality behind her. Cheetara couldn't believe what had happened. It wasn't fair!
She pounded on the door.
"Please! You can't!" Disappointment. Panic. Rejection. The emotions seared through her before settling in her stomach like bricks. "I've got nowhere else! No one else!" Cheetara pounded on the door until her paws hurt, but no one answered. She plopped down in front of it. She was scared, but her voice remained defiant.
"I'm not leaving; you hear me? I'm staying right here!"
When the jaguar ushered the cheetah inside the clerisy, the tiger climbed the wall and was able to see into the training hall. Cheetara was nimble and quick; he marveled at her ability to conquer the speed traps and was sure she'd pass the test. But the last one was her undoing. His face fell along with hers when she crashed into the floor. Now he saw her slouched outside the door, beaten but not yet defeated. The striped cat could see she was determined, but Jaga's decisions were never up for review. He didn't know why, but he felt the spotted cat was a kindred spirit. The tiger was sad for her and wished there was something he could do.
Cheetara remained rooted to the spot for the remainder of the day. People came and went, but the clerisy doors did not open again. The sun was hot, and Cheetara began to wilt. She longed for a bit of shade or a drink but refused to give in. Cheetara drew her knees up to her chest, folded her arms against them, and rested her head. She had to hold on. Night fell, and a new day dawned. Cheetara felt lightheaded and weak; a day without water or food took its toll on her. The tiger watched from a distance and sympathized. He wanted desperately to show his solidarity. When he had a moment, he slipped into the gardens. The royal gardens were a showcase for every unique and beautiful flower the landscapers could find. The young tiger's eyes scanned dozens of colorful blooms before he settled on one. He didn't know much about flowers, but he knew what he liked when it appeared. The one he chose had showy white petals and, as pretty as it was, it didn't have a scent. The tiger thought it would last longer. He snipped the blossom from its stem and handled it carefully until he reached his destination.
The cheetah's face was still buried in her arms when he approached. He moved silently so as not to alert her to his presence. He placed the flower beside her and slipped away. Long moments passed before Cheetara stirred. She wasn't sure if she'd slept or fainted from the heat, but she saw something white out the corner of her eye. She raised her head and focused; her movements were slow, lethargic. A flower. Who? She picked it up and took a closer look. She knew this plant. She scanned the courtyard for her benefactor, and that's when she saw him peeking out from behind a statue. Cheetara's smile was genuine and heartfelt. The tiger smiled back. Encouraged by her reaction, he started to walk towards her, but Jaga appeared suddenly, and the striped cat retreated to his hiding place.
Cheetara rose and smiled. She hoped the cleric would see she was serious, committed and give her another chance. But the jaguar remained unmoved. He told her to go home. Disappointed, the cheetah sank to the ground again. She plucked a petal from the flower and sucked it. The jaguar came and went for another three days. Sometimes he deigned to acknowledge the spotted cat's presence, but most times, he ignored her. Each day Cheetara plucked a snow-white petal, sucked it, and tried to remain hopeful. She was unaware the tiger was keeping watch, too. The third day brought a rainstorm, and without shelter to protect her, Cheetara was soon soaked through. She looked more like a drenched rat than a cheetah. The rainstorm passed, the sun appeared, and the puddles that gathered throughout the courtyard reflected fluffy white clouds sailing across a perfect blue sky. Cheetara's fur began to dry, and she fell asleep propped against the door. Slowly she began leaning sideways and would have toppled over entirely if the jaguar had not caught her.
"It seems you can show patience after all," he said. "The clerics accept you." He picked her up in his arms and carried her inside.
The tiger saw this, and while he was happy she'd been taken in, he was disappointed that they'd never been able to talk. He didn't know why it should feel so important that they connect, but it did, and he ran to the door, not knowing what he expected to find. He saw the remains of the flower he'd given her crumpled on the doorstep. Sadness crept over him. Whatever pull he felt towards the cheetah, it seemed it was not the same for her. He wasn't even an afterthought, much like the flower she'd left behind.
– o –
Cheetara's life changed drastically once she was accepted by the clerisy. In Tabbetown, she and Nana were a clan of two. But here, in Thundera, she was part of an elite host or would be, one day.
The first six months were dedicated to orientation and learning what was expected of her. Cheetara had no idea how intricate the doctrine was or how regimented her life would become. She was grouped with five other females, who, like herself, were newly accepted young cats with certain gifts. They ranged in age from ten to fourteen; she fell in the middle. She realized rather quickly that most of the felines were from well-placed, noble families, but rank and privilege were stripped away upon entering the clerisy. Everyone started with the same privileges and rank, none. Most of the novices accepted this humbly, the first step in becoming a cleric, but a few retained their haughtiness, especially when teachers were not present.
Cheetara did not have a respected family name, but Nana taught her to respect herself and be proud of who she was. The spotted cat held her head high and concentrated on her classes. She paid little attention to those who gave themselves airs and were the antithesis of the disciplines they were being taught. Schedules were strict and intense, between various classes, weapons training, meditation, and exercises; there was little time to oneself. Leisure time consisted of soaking in the communal bath or taking air in the garden. Neophytes were not allowed beyond the walls of the clerisy.
Cheetara's first six months were not without difficulty. The cheetah's penchant for impatience, cheekiness, and flashiness when it came to her gift of speed landed her in hot water with some of the elders. Their exasperation with these less than desirable traits earned the spotted cat many extra hours in the quiet room.
Novices shared their rooms, two to a chamber, and were allowed few possessions. The clothing they arrived in was collected and recycled into something that could be used later. They were given two uniforms consisting of lightweight tops and bottoms, one set white, the other dark blue, and a pair of dark-colored spats for their feet. The chambers were large enough for two beds, set against opposite walls, one large wardrobe chest, with baskets for each occupant, and two small tables, one beside each bed, large enough to hold a candle. An oval window was set into the wall between the beds and above the chest. The finishing touch was a washbowl and water jug for personal cleanliness; these items left little space on top of the wardrobe for anything else. Each novice was given a small wooden box to hold any trinkets they might have. Cheetara kept hers in her basket beneath the spare uniform. It contained two items—a tuft of Nana's fur and the heart of the flower that had sustained her during her ordeal.
Cheetara shared her chamber with a lioness named Kefira, who was just a year older than she. On their first night together, Kefira told Cheetara she was the youngest of five daughters and that her father had been delighted when she announced she wished to remain unwed in favor of becoming a cleric. Her "sacrifice" had spared him the expense of a wedding and dowry. Cheetara liked Kefira, she was breezy and easy-going and made the cheetah laugh, but her best friend was a leopard named Nimrim, whose background was most like hers. Whenever they had downtime, they could be found together; either practicing with weapons, or quizzing each other on doctrine, or meditating in the quiet room. Nimrim was the only cat Cheetara confided in when she had one of her dreams.
As the cats grew more comfortable with life within the clerisy and struck up friendships among themselves, a weekly gathering under the lush lemon trees in the garden became routine. The participants generally numbered about a dozen girls; their names and faces changed often. The ringleader was one of the snobbier novices, a lioness from the rich summer country named Sheba. She delighted in regaling the others with her insider's knowledge of the king's court and other noble families. Whether real news or dubious gossip, no tidbit was too small or tawdry for Sheba to share. On one occasion, the king's family was the topic of discussion. Anything Cheetara heard during these get-togethers was news since being from Tabbetown put her far outside the reach of Thundera's social intrigues and rivalries between noble families.
"Well, as you know, the king has two sons, Lion-O, his natural-born son and heir, and an older adopted son, named Tygra, who happens to be a tiger."
"A tiger!" Nimrim exclaimed. "I thought only lions could be kings."
"Yes, that's true," Sheba said, "but the queen was unable to conceive for years and years. When a tiger cub fell into their laps, they adopted him immediately. The little tiger was in line to inherit the throne until the queen became pregnant with the king's very own cub. When she delivered her little lion, Tygra was out."
"Tygra is still in the line of succession," Tiaret, a gorgeous cougar, added. She adored the older prince and didn't care for Sheba's disparagement of him.
Another lioness, Ariel, squeaked in surprise. She was from the farmlands but just as affluent as Sheba, though younger than the others. "Where did Prince Tygra come from?"
"No one knows," Kefira replied. She liked annoying Sheba and did so whenever she could. Cheetara snickered, and Kefira added an extra off-hand remark. "But there are some who think Tygra would be a better king than Lion-O."
"Too early to tell," Sheba sniffed, "but wrong all the same. Lions sit the throne."
"Wait," Cheetara chimed in, "are there many tigers in Thundera?"
Sheba opened her mouth to answer, but Kefira interrupted again. "That would be a no. In fact, there's only one. The king's son."
"So…on the day I arrived, I met a tiger. He was a prince?"
Sheba glared at Kefira, daring her to speak. "Not a prince. Your prince. If you were on palace grounds, it's a safe bet."
The conversation turned to something else, but Cheetara was stunned. I talked to the prince?!
She remembered that he'd kind of turned her head, and she still thought of him from time to time. She couldn't get over it. A prince had taken time out of his princely day to show her kindness when she thought all was lost. Wow!
The next six months began the neophytes' real training; the upcoming year would determine which order they were best suited for. The clerisy was a hierarchical system, and there were several ranks within it open to them, with one of the most prestigious being the Guardians of the Crown. It was the second most renowned group after the Order of Sorcerers. Guardians were the best-trained fighters and protected the royal family. They also performed ceremonial activities required by the crown, and some were even adept in magic, though not as skilled as the sorcerers. Guardians never appeared in public out of ceremonial dress; this was to protect each cleric's identity. Cheetara set her sights on this rank and prepared herself for the hard work ahead to make this goal a reality.
At fourteen, Cheetara could no longer ignore the fact that her body was changing. Her breasts were rounder and fuller. She needed a sash to keep her bottoms around her waist, but they were too snug around her hips and derrière. Cheetara had put off a visit to the wardrobe caretaker for as long as she could. If she waited any longer, she'd be indecent, and a few males were already paying her new curves more attention than she was comfortable with. Thankfully, the physical changes had not affected her speed; she could still run faster than any cat in the clerisy. But a niggling worry haunted her. She remembered what Nana had told her about biological impulses. Although she knew it was likely futile, she prayed to the gods to deliver her from that fate or, if they could not, to at least hold off the affliction until she'd completed her training and had been officially sworn in as a guardian.
Biology was not Cheetara's only concern. She'd earned a reputation for being hardworking, disciplined, and focused. Under the guidance of Masters Wala and Preto, she'd become more serene and reflective in her second year, showing vast improvement over the year before. Her teachers praised the spotted cat to Jaga; they suggested the head cleric consider her for one of his magic classes, which would be helpful if she continued in the path of a guardian. This impressive recommendation, along with the cheetah's budding beauty, incredible speed, and growing mastery with the staff, annoyed one of her peers enough that she began actively antagonizing the cheetah. Her nemesis was another high-born lioness and a member of Sheba's coterie. Her name was Hafsa.
When the candidates for Jaga's class were announced, Hafsa made a disparaging remark about the cheetah in the dining hall for everyone present to hear. Cheetara ignored the insult and Hafsa but revealed her annoyance to Nimrim.
"Why is it always a lion?"
"Because they outnumber everyone here three to one." Nimrim yawned; lately, she was always tired.
"Yes, well, she needs to get over it," Cheetara growled. "It's not like I haven't busted my tail to get where I am."
"I know that, but you know how petty Hafsa is. She probably thinks you batted your pretty pink peepers at them, and they rolled over for you."
Cheetara scoffed. "Like that would work."
"You never know," Nimrim laughed. "It might."
"You're supposed to be on my side," Cheetara pouted in mock outrage.
Nimrim laughed even harder and hugged the cheetah. "I am! Always."
After a few days of ducking skirmishes with Hafsa, Cheetara skipped dinner in favor of a hot bath. Rarely did anyone miss a meal, so she was confident she'd be able to bathe quietly and alone. Cheetara peeled off her uniform, twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head, and stepped into one of the large tubs. The water was hot and soothing. She leaned back and let her mind drift. Steam rose about her face; the water worked its magic comforting overworked muscles and calming her spirit. Cheetara allowed herself to surrender to blissfulness until the first after-dinner bathers arrived. Reluctantly, she returned to the here and now, greeted the newcomers with a half-hearted smile, and relinquished the bath. Cheetara gathered her things, dried off, and dressed in the uniform she'd picked up earlier. This one better accommodated her new shape.
She went into the garden and followed a curving path that ran alongside the ten-foot wall separating the clerisy from the palace grounds. The palace wasn't precisely within arm's reach. There was a good two miles between the walled garden and lush tree-bordered field leading to the rear of the palatial estate. Cheetara was still prohibited from leaving the grounds, but she was not aware of any rules against climbing the wall to take in the view. It had been a while since the spotted cat had done anything even remotely rebellious, no one was around, and the sky was growing darker; twilight had passed. She took a step back then jumped up with minimal effort; she grabbed the edge of the wall and hoisted herself up until she stood on top of it. She took a deep breath and stretched her entire body, then sat cross-legged on the broad ledge. Cheetara gazed at the palace rising in the distance with new eyes. The tiger prince was somewhere behind those walls.
Her mind traveled back to the day they'd met. Cheetara remembered how he'd blushed and stuttered. She smiled at the memory—that was two years ago; he'd been very cute and very short. Considering how much she had changed, she wondered what he looked like now. The cheetah couldn't think of any reason she should be thinking about a tiger—prince or not—when she had so many more important things to think about.
And yet, now that she was thinking about him, she couldn't ignore the feeling of tenderness surging through her. When Cheetara returned to her chamber, she dug inside the clothing basket for her box. She opened it and looked inside. Nana's fur caught her attention first. She touched it to her nose and was able to catch the faintest whiff of the midwife's scent. Her heart swelled with the burden she still carried. Oh, Nana! I miss you every day. She set the tuft of fur aside, picked up the flower heart, and held it gently in the palm of her hand. Cheetara carefully closed her fingers around it. Grief gave way to something else. One word formed in her mind. Tygra. For an instant, she thought she'd touched his mind with hers. Cheetara gasped, startled, and pulled back. She'd never felt anything like that before and couldn't be sure she didn't imagine it. She reached out again, but there was nothing. Cheetara returned the keepsake to the box.
"Stop being ridiculous!" she snapped, suddenly irritated.
"Who are you talking to?"
Cheetara turned to see Kefira entering the room. "Myself. I'm just being silly."
She placed the box under her clothes, pushed the basket back in place, and gave the lioness her full attention.
While Cheetara sat staring at the palace, Tygra crept through the thick grass, practicing his stealth moves. Before he started the exercise, he shielded himself with a snap of his Bolo whip, becoming invisible. So, while the cheetah was unaware of the striped cat lurking in the distance, he clearly saw her. Tygra stole nearer; cloaked by darkness and aided by invisibility, he was close enough now to see distinct features. A cheetah. He paused. Tygra had only met one with facial markings in that lovely shade of pink. He knew without a doubt the girl on the wall was his cheetah. He hadn't seen or heard from her since the day Jaga carried her into the clerisy, but a flurry of excitement seized the tiger. He still felt as drawn to her as he'd been the day they met, and he didn't even know her name. Tygra wondered how she was getting along and whether her dream of being a cleric was all she hoped it would be. A thought he didn't want to pursue crossed his mind. Does she ever think about me? Tygra forgot about his practice. Fixated on the spotted cat, he stood up and watched the cheetah until she disappeared behind the wall. Tygra lingered a few minutes more, then shook off his magic and jogged back to the palace.
– o –
Cheetara was summoned to Jaga's workroom, which was at the very top of the building. It seemed to be part solarium, part observatory, and part classroom, although none of those words accurately described the space. It was an enormous circular chamber with stonework walls that morphed into windows halfway and a vaulted glass ceiling the wizard could manipulate with magic. A winding staircase rose from the floor in the center of the room, allowing access to shelves of books and other artifacts suspended high above the cheetah's head. Worktables formed a half-circle around the staircase. Other tables were scattered throughout; they held bowls and chalices, containers and candles, and a collection of items Cheetara couldn't identify but thought were used for magical work. Beautiful spheres representing Third Earth, its sun, and moons floated in the air. Like the head cleric himself, the office was impressive and intimidating, and Cheetara wondered if she would ever feel comfortable there.
This would be her first meeting with the jaguar since he'd accepted her into the clerisy. She stood in the middle of the room next to the staircase and waited for him to appear. Cheetara hadn't begun magic training and wondered why the cleric wanted to see her. She was a little afraid he might revoke the invitation, although she couldn't imagine why he would.
"Cheetara." Jaga's monotonous baritone came from somewhere behind her, hovering above the tap-tap-tap his staff made against the stone floor.
She turned toward him and dipped her head respectfully. "Jaga. You wanted to see me?"
The wizard's eyes swept over her with the same piercing intensity she remembered, evaluating her from head to toe. "We have not spoken since you began your training, but I've followed your progress."
Cheetara was surprised to hear that.
"By all accounts, you have done well these past two years."
"I've done my best."
"Modesty," the wizard chuckled. "It was not your first choice when we met."
As she recalled, she had been a little boastful. Now her voice was feathery, humble. "I hope I've grown since then and taken my lessons to heart." Was she being tested?
Jaga studied her while thinking about the reason for this audience. It was becoming more challenging to find suitable cats to fill positions in the more sensitive orders. Once, candidates came to the clerisy with honorable intentions desiring only to serve the crown and the realm, but now quite a few were looking for personal gain. These cats needed to be identified quickly and removed from consideration for higher ranks. Cheetara's pluckiness impressed him from the beginning; few would have withstood his test of patience.
Her teachers had successfully curbed her more rash tendencies, but they hadn't subverted her independence and spirit. Cheetara was a simple cat from a distant corner of the territory. She wasn't spoiled or titled or using the clerisy as a steppingstone to improve her rank or status. From what he'd learned from his quiet investigation of her background, the girl had no hidden agenda. She was dedicated, determined, hardworking, and loyal. Jaga thought the cheetah had the makings of someone who'd be perfect for the task he was considering.
The time quickly approached when he would need to assign several disciplined, trustworthy clerics to shadow and protect the princes. Cheetara seemed to be just the type of cat who could step into that role. But the girl was only halfway through her training and would need to be recognized as a guardian. Still, the head cleric was sizing her up along with several other candidates possessing similar traits.
The wizard remained silent for so long that Cheetara grew concerned. He was no longer looking at her but through her.
"Excuse me, but is something wrong? Am I no longer being considered for magic class?"
The jaguar's attention refocused on the spotted cat. "Not at all. I wanted you to know I'm pleased with your progress and ask if you have any concerns before your training begins."
Cheetara was baffled by the meeting but shrugged it off. She looked forward to studying under Jaga and told him so. The wizard thanked Cheetara for her time and waved her off. If it had been anyone else, Cheetara would have had one thought. Rude!
The next few months flew by Cheetara in a whirlwind. Her command of basic magic was good enough to earn a nod of approval from Jaga, and her skill with the staff, her weapon of choice, was moving her up the ranks as well. Cheetara regularly sparred with her peers, but when her speed and ferocity became too much for them, she was partnered with a few male clerics who found her both a refreshing challenge and easy on the eyes. Cheetara's group was still forbidden to leave the grounds, so she indulged her love of running by racing around the garden and through the building.
Often at twilight, Cheetara would climb the garden wall to gaze across the field at the palace. She didn't know when it became a habit to end most of her days this way. Staring at the moonstone walls reflecting light from inside the palace mesmerized her; somehow, her mind always managed to settle on the tiger prince. What was he doing? How did he spend his days? Was he promised to some fancy lady? Did he ever think about her? Why am I thinking about him so much?
Cheetara thought it was odd, considering all the time she spent sitting on the wall, that she never saw Tygra or even Lion-O hanging out in the lush space behind the palace. But one night, it happened. That evening, Lion-O challenged his brother to a race. They leaped atop their mounts, and a stable boy dropped a flag signaling the start of the race. The feline steeds reared, shrieked, and dashed across the field. At first, Lion-O was in the lead, but Tygra's mount quickly overtook him and carried the tiger to victory. Cheetara saw everything from her vantage point on the wall; her superior eyesight picked out detail and nuance. The familiar tender feeling enveloped the cheetah, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her prince. He was much changed from her memory. He had pushed past cute, and she blushed. He'd grown taller, and there was an excellent play of musculature going on about his arms and chest.
Tygra turned in his saddle at the finish line, laughing, and then he noticed Cheetara watching him. Their eyes met across the distance, catching both by surprise. Cheetara's breath caught in her throat. Tygra's heart dropped into his stomach. The striped cat spun his mount around and started across the field, ignoring his brother, who shouted after him. The cheetah was unprepared for this; she sprang to her feet and disappeared behind the wall. Tygra reined in his charger, disappointed, and Lion-O caught up to him.
"Where were you going, Tygra?"
The tiger looked upset and didn't answer. What would I say to her anyway?
Cheetara had never talked to the midwife about boys, so she didn't know if the sensations Tygra stirred in her were the beginning of more significant trouble or just normal "noticing the opposite sex" type behavior. But she liked him a lot. Cheetara didn't know why this should be when she really didn't know him at all, not like she knew Nimrim or Kefira or any of her other peers. However, she didn't feel comfortable discussing this with any adult females in her orbit, so she turned to her friends one evening at dinner.
"Have either of you ever had…a boyfriend?"
Nimrim and Kefira exchanged looks, wondering where this was coming from.
The leopard set a platter of meat on the table with a clunk. "Not really, though there was one boy I kind of liked back home. I thought he was cute."
Cheetara tore off a chunk of bread and kept her expression neutral. They get you with that cute thing.
"He wasn't my boyfriend," Kefira prefaced, "but I was sort of matched to this lion when I was still a cub." She made a face, clearly repulsed by the memory. "What kind of parent makes a life decision for someone who can't speak for themselves?"
Nimrim laughed. "Rich cat problems. My parents never did that, and neither did any of my friends' parents."
Both girls looked at Cheetara and asked, "Have you?"
She shook her head. "No, no. But—"
"You've met someone!" Nimrim squealed. "Who? Where?!"
Cheetara motioned for her to pipe down and glanced around them nervously. None of the others seated at the table were showing interest in their conversation—yet. "Shush! And no. I just wondered."
"You wouldn't be wondering if there wasn't someone who'd piqued your interest."
The cheetah hesitated. She wasn't sure how much she should say. "No one here and no one I've really met. Just someone I thought was cute, like you did, Nimrim."
"Just as well," Kefira said. "You know we won't be able to have relationships for a very long time, if ever."
Cheetara did know, although she hadn't given it any thought until now. "It's probably just a crush," she said unconvincingly. "I'll probably forget about it before long."
The lioness nodded. "Let's hope so. From my experience, they are never as nice as they look."
Tygra's fascination with Cheetara was getting the better of him. He was tired of chance sightings and not being able to talk to the girl. So, he took to concealing his presence, and, following Cheetara's example, he scaled the garden wall to watch for her. A week passed without success, but finally, she appeared in the garden with one of her friends. They positioned themselves leisurely beneath the lemon tree he was perched near, laughing and talking about their day. Excited, Tygra jumped from the ledge to a branch that, at first glance, seemed sturdy enough to support his weight. But once he landed, it took a plunge and creaked ominously, forcing him to scramble back to the ledge for safety. The branch rocked and shuddered, sending a flurry of leaves down over the girls. They looked up, expecting to see some animal scampering about. They didn't see anything, but Cheetara caught a scent, unlike any animal she would have anticipated.
"Do you smell that?"
Nimrim stretched forward, concentrated, and sniffed the air. "Yes, it's faint, but it smells like—"
"A little like vetiver, kind of spicy…earthy."
"Yeah, definitely a hint of musk. I don't see any male cats up there, though, do you?"
Cheetara laughed and pushed Nimrim away good-naturedly. "Wishful thinking unless he's invisible." She jumped up and grabbed hold of a limb.
"Cheetara! What are you doing?"
The cheetah crawled swiftly across the limb until she was a leap away from the wall. The scent was strong here, and she sensed something—someone?—within reach. She extended her hand, half thinking she was being silly and half expecting to touch something solid, but her clawed fingers only met air. The enticing scent faded quickly. Cheetara's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back, not at all convinced that she'd been a victim of an overactive imagination.
Tygra jerked away from Cheetara; her scent hit him hard. He jumped from the ledge, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. Still invisible to the eye, he sprinted to a stand of trees bordering the field. The striped cat became visible once he was completely shielded. Wow! That was close! But by the gods, she smelled good! Tygra only wanted to see her; he didn't want her to think he was some kind of pervert. With that in mind, the tiger decided to back off. The best way to do that was to spend less time thinking about the girl and more time tending to his princely duties. The latter would keep his father satisfied, and the former would keep him out of trouble with Jaga. He couldn't afford to have the jaguar find out he'd been hanging around the garden. But at least now he knew her name. Cheetara.