Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a brief scene depicting child abuse.

...

Catra's tail had barely slipped past the closing doors of Hordak's lab before they sealed shut with a hiss of air.

Precious, precious air.

Her lungs and throat hurt with every breath. She was hyper aware of every injury from throughout the night; her shoulder, right foot, and nose all felt like they'd been struck a second ago.

She needed to sit down. Catch some wind. She hissed over each step down from the dias and nearly crumpled forward as she sat on the last step. The boy made no sounds but a metronome of slow, steady breaths.

We almost died. Catra felt fresh horror squeezing the back of her brain. I almost died! And all I could think about was…

"C'mon, open..." Scorpia's voice grunted, "up already!" There was a little cry of alarm and the sound of someone falling heavily to the floor. Scorpia groaned and pulled herself up. "Catra?"

"Here," Catra called over, "on the stairs." Her ears flickered at the heavy clomp of Scorpia's boots as she rushed towards them. "I've got the kid."

"Oh no, is he…"

"Dead to the world, maybe, but don't worry. He's still kicking," Catra grumbled, shooting a glare at the dozing child. She bet it must have been nice to be all cozy, and have someone carry you. "Lucky kid. He's lucky to be alive."

"Phew," Scorpia crouched, resting her face in her pincers, "I was so worried. Little boy on our conscience? No thanks, right? On top of everything else… uh, listen, boss? There's a lot going on out there right now. I squeezed by, but its… uh… pretty tense out there, let me tell ya. Hang on." Scorpia gave her some distance and began to talk rapidly to someone in her badge.

Catra grimaced. She shifted the child in her arms, he was agitating her hip with how he sat on her. She took a deep breath, still shaken from Hordak's strange device. She caught a strong whiff of the boy's perfume as she did.

"Ack!-Gross-ack!-ugh," she could not get herself to breathe through her mouth, "oh. Kid…you really smell." No response came from beneath the curtain of greasy hair hiding the boy's whole head.

"Uh," Scorpia glanced back, still talking into her badge, "sure, sir. I mean 'yes, Admiral'. No…just her. I'll ask-"

A generator kicked on in the walls with a thunderous boom of steel. The green light-tubing glowed once more, showing a dim, murky view of the Fright Zone outside. Catra idly glanced towards Doom Tower. The floodlights on the giant smokestack arrogantly displayed the Horde symbol in full light as if the power-outage had never happened. The doors of the throne room whined open.

"Aww, c'mon! I could've waited two minutes? Would've spared my back," Scorpia whined. There was a heavy wave of noise coming up the concrete steps outside. Catra tucked her face to her chest as the beams of a powerful searchlight came blasting into the dimly-lit room. She fumbled for her badge and pressed it.

"Whoever's pointing a light into the throne room," she growled, "knock it off, now!" The light vanished, just as blinding in its sudden absence. She heard an airship engine whine as it banked away into the sky. Airships. Jeez. They moved real quick the minute I didn't need 'em. She glanced at the boy again, grimacing against his stench. We did all the work.

The door slid open and green-faced shadows flooded in four at a time. They spread out and began to line the path towards the three of them until twenty Horde troopers made a corridor from one end to the other.

Wait, she thought as her eyes adjusted. Those aren't regular troopers.

The nearest soldiers wore armor much sleeker than the bulky gear of her regiment. The line to her left displayed their right shoulders were emblazoned with a stylized Horde symbol. It was gold and the batwings acted as the flukes of an anchor.

"Horde Marines?" she whispered, "here, now!?" She blinked and woke up enough to question Scorpia. "Did you say 'Admiral' earlier?"

"Admiral Leech showed up last," Scorpia said, taking a space to her right side, and looking as concerned as ever, "but he seems to be kinda running the show, keeping everything relaxed. Or, well, he's trying to..."

"'Showed up last'?" Catra asked. Before she could question further, a line of marines marched, stoic and powerful, up to the last step then turned sharply out to face the square, blocking the stairway. A squat figure waddled into the room.

"Ah," a warbly basso voice said, "the Force Captain Catra. A great relief to see you alive." The shortest person stood in the front, exuding the most authority. He stood a little shorter than her was was twice her width.

A portly, amphibious man of a species she didn't recognize. His belly billowed out his sharp, Horde Admiral's uniform like a black sail trimmed with gold. The shoulder cape, black with a red Horde-anchor symbol, gave him an asymmetrical girth.

"Bout time," Catra said, ignoring the voice in her head that spoke with Shadow Weaver's voice, always warning her to be subordinate, "so what took her so long?" Leech's lips, huge and aqua-green, turned downwards in a frown.

"Whom do you speak of, Force Captain?"

"Shadow Weaver," Catra huffed, "surprised she's not here already. Where's she been?" She shivered at the memory of the creature, 'Dark Dream', floating in her mind. It had been magic for certain. Shadow Weaver had to know what it was. Frankly, she probably had something to do with it.

"No one has been able to reach her for some time," Admiral Leech said, voice a strange, watery bubble, "we are…still awaiting orders." An unexpected thrill of terror ran through Catra's heart.

Shadow Weaver…dead? The idea should not have made her feel so afraid. She shook her head, burying her reaction under all the sarcasm she could muster. "Great, so nobody is going to be any help today," she spat, "what's going on out there, Admiral? Cuz I can't imagine it was anything worse than the night I've had." Scorpia gulped audibly next to her and the marines around them tensed. Admiral Leech simply shrugged his shoulders, the fringe of his epaulettes on them swaying as he did so.

"Exactly what I, and others, hope to learn from you, Force Captain," he glanced backwards at a sudden shout from the square outside. "I'll give you the room for a moment. But then I must insist you come outside. Explanation may not wait more than sixty seconds."

Catra was caught off-guard to see the Admiral depart without another word, his marines dutifully shuffling out with him. That had been different than her usual experience with Horde officers. Far fewer explicit threats of death, if any what-so-ever.

"Scorpia, explain." She glared when she found Scorpia leaning down to try and look at the boy in her arms. "Forget him for a second. What happened?"

"Ok, short version. So you ran into the throne room and I started panicking. Pacing. Talking myself up into following you-"

"Short version?" Catra narrowed her eyes. Scorpia glanced nervously outside.

"About two seconds after you went in here, people started showing up! Crazy fast. The 4th Expeditionary Division. The Castle Condor Air-Regiment. They all have their Force Captains here, and I swear, I thought they were gonna start fighting each other! Then Admiral Leech came in, and he started talking everyone down." Catra's ears flattened.

"Just like that," she mumbled as she realized the implications, "how? What happened exactly?" Scorpia looked up, tapping her chin in thought.

"Well, a whole battalion of medics started shoving through everybody, yelling stuff…hurtful stuff at times, to people who can't help being born broad and tall."

"Scorpia…"

"I mean if someone would've just told me where to stand instead of shouting..."

"Focus," Catra said, "tell me, did the marines come in right after?" Scorpia's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her accuracy. "Yup. Just what I thought. Right through the holes the medics punched into the crowd. Faster than you can say 'military coup' I'll bet." Catra rose to her feet, grimacing. "Come on. They're waiting."

"For what?" Scorpia said. "Why's everyone so worked up?" Catra adjusted her grip on the boy, groaning as he unconsciously nuzzled his stinky hair against her shoulder.

"To figure out if Lord Hordak's dead or not."

When they stepped onto the stairwell overlooking Horde Square, Catra smiled a little as she was proven right. Two tanks, spray-painted with hazard-yellow fours on the tread skirts, had their muzzles trained on the doorway. Troopers milled about on the floor, resting on or next to Chainsaws, the obnoxiously loud motorbikes favored by the scouting and rapid-assault regiments. Above them, Eleberonian troopers used their natural gift of flight to fill the sky like black-armored fairies, bolstered by two or three airships.

Marines stood at each of the four corners of Horde Square, overwhelmingly the most numerous of the present factions. Catra couldn't help admiring the small Admiral Leech for his careful maneuvering. Show up last, show up with the most firepower. Sheer numbers gave him an advantage.

Shadow Weaver was nowhere in sight, as the Admiral had said. She felt a fresh wave of concern for the old witch's health. Ugh. Stop! She doesn't care about you, why should you care about her?

"Catra?" Scorpia was a bundle of nerves next to her, intimidated by the sheer number of people, not to mention weapons and heavy ordinance, directed up at them. Catra forced herself into the present, focusing her remaining strength. She had a very long journey to her quarters in front of her.

"Soak it in," she managed to purr, "we are the most important people in the Fright Zone right now."

"I'll be honest, I don't like it," Scorpia said, "it feels like they can't figure out if they should kill us or not!"

"Yeah," Catra grinned, "like I said, most important people in the Fright Zone." Catra began her descent, biting back the urge to rest her ankle. A clearing had formed in the center of the small army for the wounded to be organized and attended to by a battalion of Horde medics.

They're gonna be working late tonight too. As they passed through the throng, she could feel the eyes shifting from her face to the boy in her arms. A few of the flying regiment actually descended in altitude for a better view, but seemed wary of the marines holding command over the square. Admiral Leech was looking rather bored and annoyed as another figure barked at him.

She was dressed in motorcycle leathers, black with bright red accents on the shoulder, elbow, and knee padding. Her helmet and the large Force Captain's shield stylized on her back, clashed horribly. They featured a reflective silver Horde insignia on a caution-yellow field, the better to be seen while riding in the dark. Admiral Leech gestured and the Force Captain turned to face Catra, flicking the visor of her helmet up. A strip of deep olive skin tensed as stormy-grey eyes narrowed.

"About friggin time," the Force Captain, storming over. Catra bristled as the woman, who was half-a-foot taller than her, expressed zero respect for her personal space and . "This is it? You're just a kid! I thought we were waiting on a Force Captain."Her badge was worn upside down like a watch on the wrist of a prosthetic left hand. She tapped her right foot, also a prosthetic, and shook her head.

"He alive?" Catra glanced at the kid, nodding. The woman scoffed. "Jeez, gotta really hold your hand, huh? I'm talking 'bout our boss, junior-grade. That clear enough for you?" Catra's first five responses were cut off by an approaching drone like the wings like a giant insect.

A tall air-trooper descended on thin scaled wings that vibrated rapidly to keep the soldier airborne. Catra wondered at the need for it. Most Horde air-troopers were chosen from the moth-folk found near Elberon. The wings he sported were fake, attached to a compact metal square on his upper back, and they warbled slowly to a halt as his boots touched the ground.

He had the right uniform. A thickly insulated oil-black flight-suit, woll padded at the neck and cuffs,, tightened and bundled up so not an inch of skin was exposed. Blood-red gloves and boots. His helmet seemed less than standard issue, however. Painted to match his gloves, it was a triangular shape with an odd, tapering muzzle that made her think uncharitably of a proboscis. A small tube went from under the chin into his neck. His Force Captain's Badge, Black symbol on red, was on a collar around his neck.

"Can't stop making friends, huh, Dragstor?" the new arrival said. There was an odd insectoid-whine to his deep voice that Catra realized came from a voice prosthesis. That helmet must've been hiding a seriously damaged face.

"Don't listen to gas-guzzler here, she's just bitter she missed a fight," he addressed the other Force Captains before turning the black-bubble eye-lenses on Catra, "Mosquitor, Force Captain of the Castle Condor Air-Regiment, reporting. What's the situation?"

Catra felt, for a moment, the full weight of power her words would carry. She'd have this advantage until she finished speaking. She had to make it count.

"Listen up," she said, raising her voice against the sudden silence in the square, the medics alone still made any noise as they went about their work, "Lord Hordak is alive."

"Aww, sorry, Dragstor," Mosquitor buzzed, "I know you must be disappointed. Drove in all the way from the flats for bupkis." Dragstor gave Mosquitor the high-hand salute.

"You're all class, hu?"

"The intruder has been dealt with," Catra nodded at the boy, "and Hordak has, personally, placed him in my custody." She saw the way each commander glanced at the tiny, sleeping child in her arms. "I'm responsible for him."

"Lord Hordak," Admiral Leech burbled meaningfully, "gave you orders personally? And for the rest of us? What are we to make of all this, Force Captain Catra?"

"Catra's telling the truth," Scorpia butted in, Catra ground her teeth in frustration, "I believe her." Like spectators at a tennis match, the officers turned to her in unison.

"Go knock on his door," Catra said quickly, grabbing hold before anyone else could interject, "ask him yourself. Word of warning, the last thing he said to me was literally 'get out or die'."

"I really don't like your attitude, kid," Dragstor growled, "some sergeant didn't smack you around enough when you were tiny."

"So what? You gonna try and fill in for 'em now… gaz-guzzler?" Catra smirked at the way Dragstor sputtered at that.

"Easy now," Mosquitor said, "we're all just a little anxious. Sand Valley got a general alert, then it started fading in and out." His helmet dipped as he looked at the kid. "So, that's…She-Ra?"

"No," Catra snorted, "the kid, he's…well. That's a need to know." Four pairs of eyes drilled into her and she stood her ground resolutely. "Lord Hordak gave me the kid and I'm looking after him. All I can say."

"Need to know," Dragstor grunted, "you've been a Force Captain, what? A month? Less than that, right? You don't tell us what's need to know, junior-grade. Scorpia told us what he is. Why would anyone trust him with someone as grass-green as you? You're lying, kid."

"Well, if you'd been here on time, you woulda seen the truth yourself," Catra said the words before appreciating their impact. Dragstor actually stepped forward, prosthetic hand rising briefly like she'd throw a right hook.

"There was mustering," Leech said, "and arming our troops to consider."

"Not a soldier here isn't ready to go to war for our home, Force Captain," Mosquitor said firmly, "we answered the call. Same as you."

"If you're even thinking of saying any of us lagged on purpose," Dragstor trailed off into a furious silence before adding, "we rode from the Northern Perimeter Outpost in record time! Where'd you come from, huh? Some bed in your quarters I'm guessing!"

"Hopefully Lord Hordak understands that," Catra taunted. There was no retreating now. She pressed further, seeing ground opening up before her. "Like I said. He's up there. If you want to talk to him yourselves, that's your funeral. I've had a busy night. And I got more stuff to do. So if we're done, I'd like to get to it."

There was a long silence as the commanders weighed her words. Catra could feel the army around them holding its breath, ready to act on whatever orders came down. She had no backup plan if they decided to jump her. Either this bluff would work, or it wouldn't. A small, shrill beeping surprised them all. Their badges were a bright red and began emitting Lord Hordak's voice a moment later. The speakers around them, and throughout the Fright Zone, sounded in perfect sync, like Hordak's voice was filling the whole world.

"All is well," Lord Hordak said, dispassionately and, to Catra's ears, nowhere near as injured or exhausted as he'd sounded a few moments ago, "return to your normal operating patterns. The Horde continues its mission. All is well."

It's a recording. Catra thought, eyes widening. She watched the other officers slowly coming to terms with that and waited for the storm to break or evaporate. The air-troopers slowly took V-Formation, the marines shuffled a little tighter together, and the fast-attack riders mounted up slowly.

"Well!" Scorpia said loudly, grinning. "That's a relief! Right, everybody?"

"Yeah," Force Captain Mosquitor said after a moment, "sure is. Alright, I'm going back to Sand Valley. Can't leave Castle Condor for two seconds without something happening." He spoke, his badge lightning up without him touching it, "Lieutenant Riza, get the sergeants into formation. We're flying home." He nodded to his colleagues. "Admiral, Force Captains...gaz-guzzler."

"Go head and get caught in a sandstorm for me, Mosquitor," Dragstor growled. Mosquitor's wings extended and began to hum once more. Before he lifted off he turned to Catra.

"Good luck, Force Captain Catra."

What's that supposed to mean? She watched him rise into the air and gather his troopers like a queen insect leading its swarm. Dragstor barked into the badge on her wrist.

"Pagan, get the tanks out of here." With efficient, practiced speed the Horde armor backed up, rotated and made for the Northern Gateway. "As for you, junior-grade, don't ever let me catch out on the flats when I'm patrolling." She got in Catra's face. "Might mistake you for a sand-rat and run you over." She reached out and caught a strand of the boy's hair, yanking it slightly. He mumbled and shook his head, still sleeping. Catra didn't have her hands free enough to stop her.

"Guess I'll see this kid again when they…y'know...," she drew her prosthetic hand across her throat, "maybe you'll get more 'personal orders' for that too."

She raised her right hand, held up four fingers, and then made a grabbing motion twice. A horrible wave of roaring noise filled the square as her scouting squads revved their engines. She strode back to her Chainsaw, threw one leg over it and slid into place. She flipped the visor down closed but Catra could feel her glaring through the thin it. Dragstor revved the modified handle twice and popped a wheelie as she led her troops after the tanks she'd dismissed.

The boy mumbled in Catra's arms, shifting himself around to get comfy. Admiral Leech simply looked over the medics still attending the wounded and his wide mouth straightened.

"I will remain here. Until the wounded have been taken care of. Force Captain Catra, your detachment is being sent to Infirmary 23."

"Cool, sure," Catra muttered, looking past him to the doorway to the South Eastern Wing. It took everything in her power to not collapse then and there. She was almost through and then everything that needed to be done could be done tomorrow. After blessed sleep.

"Hey, maybe let me take him, Catra," Scorpia said, reaching out, "I can tell your ankle is-"

"I'm fine," she growled, "follow me if you're coming with me but don't stop me." The marines parted, watching her impassively from behind their green visors. A realization crept into her mind as they began to make their way out of Horde Square. Marines flanked them for another hundred yards then dwindled away. Catra turned a sharp right to take the bot corridors back towards her quarters, wanting to avoid any further distractions.

The red light and the close walls reminded her unpleasantly of Hordak's bizarre air-stealing machine. Her heart-beat picked up and she felt herself breathing harder to compensate for the sudden fear of airlessness. Tiny fingers curled into the stretchy material of her shirt and acted as a reminder.

I'm alive. She thought. I'm safe. She glanced down at the sleeping face. We're safe. Well, for now.

It was odd how the weight in her arms, much as it pained her shoulder, gave her something to focus on, anchoring her in the moment. Away from the noise and the danger, she found herself thinking about the boy and the monumental implications of his powers.

Another She-Ra. Are there more? Where are they coming from? What does he have to do with Adora? Does he even have anything to do with Adora? She grinned slowly, remembering the frantic, but certain, way that the warrior had agreed to her deal. Now I just gotta hold up my end of the bargain and get that sword back to you somehow.

"Awwwww," Scorpia squealed quietly, "Catra, you look so sweet when you hold him like that and smile. You're glowing!" Catra flinched at the word 'cute' like it was rearing cobra.

"There's red lights everywhere," she snapped, "the hallway is glowing!" There was a mumble from the child and then a gasp. Catra looked down and found wide, sleepy blue eyes staring at her through dirty hair. "Oh shoot. Go back to sleep. Don't freak out!" Her eyes darted to Scorpia. "Help!"

"Ah?" The boy started wriggling, taking in the strange, ominously lit corridor around them with little noises of alarm. "Ah!"

"Hmmm," Scorpia hummed, "Oh! Catra! Just gently run your fingers through his hair." Catra looked at her like she just suggested they go start a business in the Crimson Wastes. "Trust me. I know what's gonna calm and soothe him. I've got this." She winked.

"His hair is so…why can't you do it?" Catra asked, mortified at the idea. Scorpia smiled and held out her dark red pincers. "Right. Nevermind." She grunted as she felt bare feet brace against her stomach and push hard. "Stop squirming, kid! Relax! Hey!"

"Catra," Scorpia said steadily, "he's just scared. Alright? It'll calm him, I promise." Catra grumbled at the sheer unfairness of it all and, feeling the boy slipping free, sat down to fix her hold on him. She slipped a hand around the right side of his face, grimacing at how sticky his hair was on her fingers. It was like a mass of spiderwebs. She stroked her hand through his hair and he yelped loudly as she pulled at about a dozen matted knots.

"Ah!" He shook his whole body to break her grip. His eyes were bleary and he seemed to swim in and out of sleep as he moved but he'd be fully awake in a few seconds, and Catra's life would become that much harder.

"Oh, great idea!" Catra snapped at Scorpia. She unwound her hand, wincing at how he cried out when she pulled his hair by accident. "Just stop freaking out!"

"Catra," Scorpia said quickly, keeping her voice low, "Yelling's just gonna scare him more! Calmness. Caaalmness. Patiently and carefully. Try again, just…pet him!"

She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, certain everyone in the Fright Zone would round the corner in a second, and pressed her palm to his crown. She gave a few feather-light strokes, fingers angled to keep from tangling in his hair.

"Good," Scorpia said, "now we talk to him."

"H-how? What am I supposed to say?"

"It's ok," Scorpia said to the boy, "it's alright. See? We're not gonna hurt you."

"So long as you don't freak out," Catra mumbled, "it's ok you little…grease… child. It's ok." Her petting pushed his hair back over his shoulder and unveiled a wide pair of ears. His eyes found hers. She fought the urge to gag at his overpowering smell and kept stroking. "It's ok." She felt his heart-beat slowing, her own setting a matching pace, and watched his pupils shrinking like black islands vanishing into a blue sea. "It's ok."

A soft mezzo then entered the air of the corridor.

"From the dusty mesa," Scorpia sang, in a low, careful pace, pronouncing each lyric, "Her looming shadow grows. Hidden in the branches of the desert creosote." Catra's ears flattened and she resisted the urge to groan out loud. Of course Scorpia was singing. The boy turned his head and smacked her in the face with a bushel of his nasty hair. She felt her gorge rise in her throat, but heroically kept petting his scalp as Scorpia sang.

This kid is cleaning himself ASAP. I'll need to get him soap. She bit back a yelp as his tunic rubbed on her arm like steel wool. Clothes too. Ugh. Remember, this will get you a She-Ra. Your own She-Ra! Ugh. His hair is a mess! Like he dipped it in oil and tried mopping the floor with it.

"I came walking with the wind," Scorpia crouched, looking into the boy's with a growing fondness, "to watch the cactus bloom. So rise with me forever, across the silent dunes. And the wind will be my voice. And your eyes will be the moons."

She hummed the tune onward, a grin splitting across her face. Catra felt the boy relax against her chest, head lolling into place on her left shoulder. Her eyes watered even as she realized he'd fallen back to sleep. He stank like a giant armpit.

"I," she whispered, "wanna all kinds of barf. This kid smells sooo bad." Scorpia leaned forward, a reluctant curiousness on her face and sniffed. She tried to hide her wincing. Catra shook her head, parsing out the stink into its component smells. "Oh, please, you're getting off easy. I can smell… every kind of gross on him! Animals, body odor, some... things I don't wanna even think about while I'm holding him, and…and…" a pungent, coppery smell had stood out. Her voice trailed off as she recognized it. She glanced at the sleeping face and felt an unfamiliar twinge of sympathy.

"And?" Scorpia asked, pincer over her nose as she backed away a few steps.

"And blood," she said, voice softer than a moment before, "a lot of old, blood smells." Scorpia's pincer fell to her mouth to cover a gasp. Her eyes were big and concerned.

"Poor little guy. Being a kid is hard enough without…blood smells. He must've been terrified when he came out!"

"Hey, don't forget this is the big guy's other half, or whatever. And he's a little scrapper too," Catra said, her nose stinging with the memory of a head-butt, "so don't count him out." With peace restored a question rose in her mind and out her mouth. "What am I even gonna do with him?"

"I mean," Scorpia said, looking uncomfortable, "Hordak said he was your prisoner, right? But then again… you're not gonna put him in, like, an actual cell or something, right?" Catra rolled her eyes.

"Why not? He's magic. He's dangerous. Doesn't keeping him in a cell sound safest?"

"He's so little," Scorpia countered sadly, eyes huge with tenderness, "he doesn't look like he'd be much trouble." Unbidden, Catra remembered the look on Adora's face as she made her decision, back at the Battle of Thaymor, the Horde's retreat acting like a chaotic painting background in her mind. She remembered the emptiness of her hand when Adora ripped her arm free of her. The emptiness that had spread through her body to her stomach and then her heart.

"Looks can be deceiving," Catra said, "we definitely can't put him with any of the kids his age. That will end badly." Scorpia crept closer and brushed a pincer along the hem of his tunic, frowning mightily.

"This doesn't seem very comfortable," she said, "and his legs are so skinny, even for a little kid."

"He's definitely underweight," Catra found herself saying, thinking about how light he was. A fire burned in Scorpia's eyes as she looked the boy over. "What's with you?" She cradled the child closer on instinct.

"Who could've let this happen to a kid?!" Scorpia whined. "How could someone do this? Who'd send him here to get beat up and not even give him socks? It's so awful." She took a deep breath, gagged a little and backed away. "And so smelly, poor thing. Who are his parents? Where'd he come from?"

"From straight outta nowhere," Catra said, suddenly wondering that, "now that I think about it, the big guy was angry about some machine in Hordak's lab… and he did seem to freak out when we said he was on Etheria…ugh, what?" Scorpia had gasped dramatically and gotten lost in contemplative thought.

"Maybe…maybe he's not from Etheria," Scorpia finally said. Catra rolled her eyes.

"So what, he fell off one of the moons? Where there's no people? Or air? Or anything?" Scorpia waved her pincers frantically.

"No no no," she said, "I mean…from another dimension." Catra stared at her for a full minute, her expression not changing.

"Scorpia," she whispered, "I say this a lot, but this time I mean it. That is. The single most idiotic thing I have ever heard in my life."

"Aw," Scorpia winced, "come on. Ever?" Catra got slowly to her feet, which was difficult to do when your arms are holding a sleeping ten-year-old child, and nodded.

"Ever."

"So where did he come from then? He had to come from somewhere on Etheria." Catra let the boy's head rest on her shoulder, finally able to shut her nose off and breath through her mouth.

"Who knows," she said, her voice low and nasally, "more questions for when he wakes up. Which I would like to happen only when he's not able to head-butt me again. So let's keep moving. He's staying with me."

"Not in a cell?" Scorpia asked hopefully.

"No. Not in a cell, you wuss," Catra said, "if someone else takes the kid to Hordak before I can, this'll all be for nothing. I need to make a case for him first. I'll just... keep an eye on him myself, I guess." She hated the flash of concern that idea still summoned in her. "I am so tired. I feel like this morning was last year."

"Ho yeah," Scorpia snickered, walking behind her and leaning down to look at the boy, "this one seems pretty tuckered out too. He's kinda cute, honestly." Catra scoffed. "What? Oh, come on. You must think so too!"

"I don't," Catra said, "listen Scorpia, this isn't just us playing babysitter for fun. It's a matter of investment. The big guy and I made a deal. I look after the boy, and he fights for me. So long as we do, this kid could be our ticket to the top." She grimaced at the thought of how her using 'we' just then was probably thrilling Scorpia, but if she needed her help anyway, this would have to work. "Here on out, I need you to do whatever necessary to help me keep that promise. AND keep this between the two of us. Okay?" Scorpia saluted.

"Yes, ma'am, Operation Boy From Nowhere is a go," she said. Catra groaned at the name. "How can I help? I can sing to him again!" Catra hissed, pressing a finger to her lips and glancing meaningfully at the sleeping child.

"No, no more singing," Catra said, "that was a one time thing. You wanna help go ahead without me and set a cot up in my room." Scorpia beamed with excitement. "For the kid. Not you."

"Oh," Scorpia said, "yeah. Can I go after that? Or do you need me more?" Catra snorted, a cruel smirk playing across her face.

"You have somewhere else to be?" She asked.

"Well, I wanna head back to Horde Square and help them out with the wounded," Scorpia looked sad again, "there's a lot, to be honest, and some of them seem like they're still havin' a fit." She gulped and looked around them, eyeing the red shadows warily. "That…that thing did something to them." Catra shuddered, suddenly remembering Dark Dream and the way it had escaped.

Is it watching us? She thought. Is it following us?

"What'd it do to you?" Catra asked, hoping to take her mind off her fear. Scorpia's face twisted a few times, uncomfortable. "That… thing we fought. How bad was it for you?" Scorpia suddenly looked empty of her usual sunniness.

"It was about my mom," Scorpia managed, "how she died." Catra glanced at her, confused. "My other mom, I mean. Sadrafa."

"You have another…had another...I mean," Catra felt guilty, this time for someone she barely knew, which was new and unpleasant. She rushed to say anything, "You don't have to tell me anything else."

"Thanks," Scorpia smiled sadly, "but, if you want to talk about how you're feeling though. What it said to you-"

"No," Catra's voice was icy and it was as if a yawning chasm was opening in the floor between them, "I don't want to. Don't bring it up anymore."

"I just…I mean you asked-"

"I didn't ask you to take care of me!" Scorpia shushed her reflexively, looking down at the kid. Catra's teeth bared. "And don't tell me how to do this," she whispered, " I know, ok?"

"Sorry," Scorpia said, looking away, "But hey. Whatever it said to you, Catra, it doesn't know you. Not the real you."

"Ugh. I don't even remember what it said," Catra lied, "so it's not like I need a pep talk. Now please, go take care of that cot. You can get lost after that, do whatever you want."

"Sure," Scorpia came closer and Catra feared she'd try to go for a hug, "see you round, ok?" She pressed a pincer to the sleeping boy's cheek. "And see you later too, little guy. Sleep tight!"

"Why are you the only person I can count on?" Catra groaned. Scorpia winked with pure joy at the sound of those words.

"Cuz we're best friends!" She marched away before Catra could snarl at her.

Adora woke in a dark, empty space. There was a golden thread glowing in the air for the barest moment and the feeling of something pressing on her mind from the outside. Brief flashes of fear that began to double themselves inside her heart. She felt a strange, overwhelming connection to something else.

She was dimly aware that she was dreaming.

A weight filled her arms, whimpering. A sudden shock came over her from the outside force, surprise and alarm spearing into the bubble of peace that her sleeping mind enjoyed.

Her arms wrapped around the figure and curled up around it. It was small. Much smaller than her. She was almost wrapped around it in a fetal hug with her whole body.

You're safe. She thought…or said…or felt? There was something to this dream place that made her feel doubled in every way. It played on her deepest instincts and understanding. Here was someone in need of help.

Remember, cadets, she thought of an old sergeants voice, remember that the Horde's mission is to help Etheria. Always! Stranger and stranger. Those thoughts, in the waking world, always brought her so much conflict. Here was different, here she knew deep down what she wanted and who she was. No She-Ra. No Rebellion. Just Adora.

I want to help. You're safe. I'm here to help.

The other presence hesitated for a moment before squeezing her tightly. Emotions flooded her from the outside presence. Wonder, hope, and growing curiosity that filled her heart. The two emotional fonts swirled and mingled like they'd never been separate.

It was feeling understood in its purest forms. Adora was surprised to find that you can cry in a dream.

Thank you. The other presence thought it or maybe she did. She couldn't tell the difference anymore, it was a unified entity of gratitude and peace.

"Mdormph," someone muttered. Adora's dream shattered like a black window and revealed the reality just beyond it. She was on the floor, curled up in her sleeping bag, between Bow and Glimmer, where they'd fallen asleep after insisting on staying together to, as Bow had put it, 'fight the nightmares together'.

A bleary brown eye peeked through her fingers. Her right hand was cupped carefully over Bow's whole face. Adora blinked rapidly.

"Sorry," she whispered, shoving her hands in her pockets and rolling onto her back. Glimmer didn't stir from her spot, snoring loudly.

She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming about. But something about reaching her hand out had felt so familiar that she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done it before, once, a very long time ago. She dozed off before she could think anymore and dreamed no more that night.

Catra watched the boy's left hand crinkle into the thin blanket Scorpia had left atop the meager white cot. He was small. And seemed even smaller laid out before her like this. She walked out of her room, feeling invisible hooks dragging her towards her bed as the hallway swam around her.

"Almost," Catra murmured as she made her way through the halls towards Barracks 34, "almost done. Just a little more walking, then I can sleep." Years of familiarity carried her feet along ruts and divots in the concrete until she passed into the barracks, frowning at the sudden smell that hit her.

Before Adora left the barracks was a place of stale sweat and, once a week, the dull carpet scent of 'freshly', to abuse a word, laundered sheets. Now she couldn't stop thinking that the smell that overpowered them all was the sharp tang of boot polish and the wretchedly soothing tickle of lavender. Adora's scent.

"Lavender," Catra grumbled, making her way to her old bunk, "what even is that? Probably some kind of magic potion Shadow Weaver cooked up for her. Lavender. Purple goop. Adora's special so she gets special goop." She dug through personal drawers at the foot of the bed. Untouched since Adora had left for the Whispering Woods. It opened with a screech of rusty metal.

"Shoot!" She whispered, ducking low for a moment to remain unseen. She remembered then that her whole barracks was, at this point, in the infirmary. She took in the dead-quiet with a feeling of eerie deja-vu. When she was small she would sneak in here to be alone, where she could hide beneath a blanket and cry.

She'd pretend that, when her tears had dried, she'd emerge from her little cocoon not in the Fright Zone but somewhere else where nobody would ever call her names or yell at her. Most times, Adora found her first.

There you go again, she thought bitterly to herself, forget her. She had no problem forgetting you.

"Shirt, pants, socks, under-shorts," Catra said counted off, "wait, he probably doesn't need socks if he doesn't have shoes." She tossed those back into the drawer. "He'll be swimming in some of this stuff but, oh well. He's not staying in that gross tunic. Gotta get that thing off him and trash it before it kicks off an epidemic or something."

She shoved the boot-polish aside, tossed the little wooden brush away to clatter somewhere behind her, and snatched a soap bottle from its neglected corner. She sniffed it, wrinkling her nose at the strength of the scent. So strange, even after years of smelling it.

"I guess it smelled better on her," she said, then yanked one of her ears, "Ugh! Stop saying things like that out loud..." She assembled her loot next to her and paused at the sight of something of a corner of blocky plastic under Adora's neatly folded stack of pants. She grinned.

"Oh, yeah," she purred, "food… ugh, Brown ones? C'mon, Adora! Your busted taste buds are still ruining everything." Her stomach growled like a jungle cat as she plucked one free. "Whatever, the kid's a stick, no way he'll be complaining. I am starving though." Her fingers pressed on more plastic. She drew a second bar out. "Gray one. Yes!" She snickered to herself. "Sheesh, Adora, you managed to hustle two of 'em? For what, a midnight snack? Works in my case, one for me and one for the kid…"

She paused. Two bars. Enough for two people. One her favorite flavor. Her eyes danced between the ration bars in her hands and the bunk-beds before her. Two beds. For two people. She blinked and felt her tears as a warm dampness on her cheeks before she realized she was crying. She nearly crushed the ration bars in her hands, dropping them quickly to hug herself.

She glared into the darkness of Adora's bed, where she used to sleep. Where they both used to sleep. One bed for two people. She finally let her anger burst out when she remembered the barracks was empty and no-one would hear her.

"What did you do to me, Adora? Did you put something on me," she growled, hiccupping a little, "with magic or something? You're a princess now, you have magic. What'd you do, Adora? I almost died tonight and all I could think about was you. You. You... traitor!" She leapt forward onto the bed, claws unsheathing and digging into a mattress she'd already wrecked long ago. "It's not fair! It's not fair I still think about you! And you never, ever think about me!" She tried to keep her head forward, but like destiny itself was twisting her neck, she found her eyes turning to the defaced doodles they'd drawn there. Catra and Adora. Together forever.

"You left me!" She screamed at it. "You made the choice, Adora, not me! I was loyal, I was a good friend, I came to save you!" She crumpled into the bed, sobbing out the emotions that were pressing against the walls of her heart. She felt her eyes twitching, her breathing going short. "I almost died. Oh, man. I almost died tonight! I couldn't breathe, and you weren't here to help me! And I wasted my last breaths... thinking about you!"

She buried her face under the blanket. Wondering, if she stayed there long enough, if Adora might find her again.

"Adora," she whimpered, "if you were dying, who would you be thinking about?"

Adora dying. Bad image. Her heart beat faster as she remembered the faces of that night. Hordak looking down at her, uncaring while she gasped for breath. The Horde commanders looking down on her, judging her, weighing the cost and benefits of walking straight through her.. She recalled Mosquitor's last words to her before leaving. Good luck, Force Captain.

"Well, here I am again. In trouble. Big surprise. In deep over my head… and you're not here to save me this time. You left me to die alone, Adora, you decided to never come back." She barked the last word while sinking her claws into the bed. "Now I gotta watch my own back forever."

She pressed her nose into the mattress, wanting to do nothing more than sleep.

"I can't," she groaned, "the kid needs his stupid clothes and all the other garbage. He needs me to do that. And I will." She felt her tears like they were turning hotter and her grief roiled into something angrier. "I will because that was the deal. We made a promise. And I'm gonna keep my end of the deal. And you, Adora, you're gonna learn you can't just abandon people." She emerged from the blanket and glared at the drawing she'd clawed.

"You'll see that magic powers and that stupid sword don't make you so special after all. Yeah, you'll see. You'll see She-Ra doesn't make you special. And when I see that look in your face when you realize it... I'll never have to think about you again. Ever."

Catra gathered up her loot and kicked the drawer closed with a loud metal clang.

The boy yawned loudly as he woke up, smacking his dry lips. He'd need to get a drink from the cistern right away, he felt like he'd climbed every wall and run in circles around the courtyard. It was still dark, he'd feel better with his cub to keep him company. He moved his hand around, searching for warm fur and a heartbeat.

"Ah? Kskskss." He glanced around the room, trying to remember where he'd fallen asleep. The blanket slid off his shoulders. His eyes cracked open wide, stinging with lingering sleep, as he realized it all hadn't been some kind of strange dream.

He was in a whole new place, with people and with monsters. Bat-faced men who stole air from his lungs, women with the tails of scorpions, black-armored soldiers, red-eyed shadows, and, looming in his mind, a strange cat-eared lady with mis-matched eyes.

He ran his nails along the taut canvas bed he'd been laid on, briefly fascinated by the sound it made. The dark room took murky shape as his eyes adjusted and he saw walls of sleek metal, dim yellow lights, and furniture that, unlike in the old gray castle, wasn't rotten and falling apart.

He reached out to grasp his sword...and found nothing.

"Ah?" He scurried off the cot, searching vainly for it under the metal frame. Nowhere.

Find it! He jumped, startled, and tiptoed across the strangely textured floor. It was unlike the finely masoned stones of the castle. It was flat and rough on his calloused soles. He ran a hand along the walls, trying to find some kind of door, finally, his hands slipped into a depression that seemed like a thinner part of the wall.

"Ah?" It made no sense. How was he supposed to get in and out without a handle? Why was the door made of metal too? Could he get out? Was he stuck in here...forever?

"Mmmmm." Calm down. "Ksskssskss." The cub is not here. "Nnn!" Stay calm! Calm. You have to get free. You...have to...get...f r e e.

"Ah!" The Other One spoke again after a moment of silence, sounding strained.

You're very far away from the sword. You're... tired...get fr e e. F i nd i t…

The Other One was silent after that. The boy began to whimper in the quiet of his own head. He'd never been this alone before in his life. He'd never been without his sword.

He had to find it! He had to find a way out of this room! He threw himself against the metal door, yelping as he impacted.

Catra brooded the whole way back to her room. She needed to get the kid's sword back to him for her plan to work. She needed a plan to begin with. She needed sleep, more than anything. She'd collapse into bed and deal with it all in the morning. She got back to her quarters and pressed her hip, where her Force Captain's badge hung from her belt, into the scanner.

With a digital chirp the doors slid open. She took two steps inside and realized the place had been ripped apart after a vacant scan of the room. The spartan room needed effort to look ransacked but someone had gone the extra mile. The five drawers of her dressers were yanked out, her crimson leotards tossed about the floor.

The cot was overturned, the blanket hurled into a corner. The bedding on her mattress slipped off and rolled up under her bed.

She walked mechanically to her dresser and placed the items she'd taken from the barracks on top of it. She crouched down and glared at the ball of fabric under her bed.

"Okay, kid. I'm more tired right now than I've ever been my whole life. So you're getting the most laid back version of me that probably exists. That said, you have," she breathed heavily, "exactly four seconds before I drag you out from under there by your big ears." A muted growl was her answer. "Time's up." She reached in, snagged the corner of the bedding, and wrenched the wriggling body out with a snarl. The boy unrolled from his cocoon with both fists flying. Catra made an embarrassingly sharp squeak as one whizzed by her chin. "You're tiny, kid! It won't take you long to dig your own grave!"

She snatched his wrists and pulled him up, he growled at her and threw a headbutt, she pulled back. His foot found her stomach. She doubled forward with a howl of rage.

"You better stop," she growled, "I did NOT risk my neck all night for you to give me this! -NO! Off the bed, right now!" The boy backed up to the wall, face hidden under his hood, hissing with his dry little voice. "Don't you get it? I'm on your side, stupid! Now listen to me! No grimy gremlin feet on the Force Captain's bed! Down. Now!" She reached out a hand and he lunged forward, snapping his teeth a centimeter from her claws.

Catra was a soldier and had been trained rigorously to react, not hesitate. Her hand snapped backwards and, driven by frustration and instinct swung down to catch the boy's right cheek with the flat of her palm. The sound was like an old gun-powder firearm shooting off.

She really walloped him. He stumbled, tangled his legs in the bedding and crashed off the foot of her bed with a fall that sounded heavy for such a small body. Immediately, little pained whimpers filled the air, his hands vanished under his hoods to cradle his injuries.

"I didn't mean to…did you hit your head?" Catra rounded the bed, wincing at the pain in her foot, "I.. I only did that because you- you were...!" Fear of the damage she'd done mixed with the anger of feeling her ambitions falling apart, turning into a dark concoction in her chest. She suddenly found herself feeling like a child again, with the whole squad staring at her. "Y-you started it!" The sound of her voice cracking as she shouted made her want to give up on everything.

Regret bubbled in her stomach, nearly making her nauseous. Great start to her plan, alright. The big guy must've been real happy about that, wherever he was. "Look kid, I get that I'm sending mixed signals here, but I'm the best thing you've got right now. Trust me. So you need to just-OW!"

Two feet crashed into her injured foot and took her balance away. She fell onto her behind, tail spasming as the floor jolted her spine. The boy wriggled right back under her bed like a furry purple worm.

"Oh, you're gonna get it for that kid! Get back out here!" She reached a hand out up to her shoulder. She was done with this, if the kid wanted to play rough she could play rough. He wasn't much, after all, barely skin and bones.

CHOMP

And teeth.

"Stop!" She yowled, trying to pull her forearm away from his mouth. "Let go! Let go! Stop! You brat! I should be your freaking hero at this point! And this is the thanks I get?!"

The boy relented and Catra hissed in relief, gingerly holding her arm up. She frowned at the purple crescents bruising up through her fur, then flattened onto her belly and stared at him. He'd burrowed into the far corner of the bed, blue-eyes scorching with defiance. She could see him rub his cheek with a little wince. "This is my thank you?! You bit me!"

"Hssss!" She grabbed the rickety metal frame and shook the whole bed, the springs squeaking loudly. "Ah!" The boy cringed in on himself.

"You better come out right now or…"

"Or it will be that much worse for you," Shadow Weaver said in her head. Catra froze, raging at the sheer injustice of it all.

"I'm not like that," she growled, "I'm not!" She let go of the frame and buried her face in her forearms. "This isn't fair! I don't deserve any of this! I'm so tired! I can't…I can't…"

She glanced up, seeing the boy's face had changed. He was looking more confused than afraid.

"Nothing," she said to herself, "forget it." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I need sleep. Stay down there if you want. Or go use your cot. Fix it yourself." She pointed a claw at him, he shrank back. "But I'm a light sleeper, so don't try anything smart." He crept forward a millimeter, his eyes such a vibrant, clean color that contrasted the rest of him.

"Seriously, kid, I saved your life, she said, "like, a couple times. You owe me. And I'm gonna make sure you understand that." She realized, as shades of animal wariness crossed his face, that he didn't understand her at all. "You… you don't even know what I'm saying, do you? Can you... even speak?"

"Ah?"

Catra dragged herself up onto her bed and flopped onto it, defeated. She flung her mask off into the far corner of the room. The world was spinning. It was like someone tied sandbags to her arms and legs.

"It's fine," she mumbled, not quite remembering where she was or who she was speaking to. She just listened to the sound of scared breathing gently slowing down as she mumbled it over and over, until she'd drifted to sleep.

…

Author's Note:

Scorpia's Lullaby are reworked lyrics from the song 'Far From Any Road' By the Handsome Family.

I cleaned up the lyrics, as it's a dark song, but the desert imagery in it made me think of Scorpia's people.

As always, we hope everyone is safe and healthy in these troubling times. Black Lives Matter. Trans Lives Matter.

Thanks for reading, and to Hector for editing.