Catra rushed down the bot corridors, the great, blue sword clasped to her body and an army of voices trailing behind them.
"Here let me take him."
"Kill him. Do not kill him. I do not care!"
"That's…She-Ra?"
"Help him…please."
"I said 'I've got him!'" She roared. The walls shrank inward, the red lights glowed until the filaments in them became long trails of red lightning, lashing her body. She curled around the sword and tumbled forward, guarding her prize. She didn't care that she would slice her arms open on the blade. So long as they all just stayed away!
She needed it. She needed it for her plan to get Adora back.
"To get back at Adora!" She snarled to herself. The red lights glowed hotter and her breathing thinned to little puffs of rage.
She left you. A black shadow formed amidst the red light, its eyes two angry slits glowing white one moment and killer red the next. She knew how cruel you could be.
"I'm not like that!" She hissed against the vanishing air. "I saved him! I wanted to save her!" The burden in her hands yipped with fright and started squirming. "Hey!" She blinked rapidly and saw the boy in place of the sword. "Where is it?! What'd you do with it?!" She grabbed the front of his tunic, shaking him. "Tell me! Right now!"
"Nnnn!" He tried to squirm free and Catra slapped him hard across the face. She reared her hand back and swung again, the boy caught her forearm in his teeth and bit down hard. She wrenched her arm free and slapped him again.
"You little animal," she hissed. The child cried out in terror pulling his hood down tight over his face. "Look at me! Look at me!" The boy squirmed away, squeezing into a hole in the wall, blue-eyes scorching at her from the dark. "You better come out right now or-"
"B-by the Power of Grayskull!" She saw a glint of blue metal and shoved her arm into the duct up to her elbow, searching for the feel of cold metal.
"Give me the sword," she yelled, "I need it! It's mine!"
"By the Power of Grayskull!" Lightning blasted her backwards, burning away the red light and melting a hole in the wall that spread until the Fright Zone was turned to molten metal and then to nothing. Trees loomed high overhead, a figure stood before her, radiant, its long golden hair caught in the wind.
She-Ra looked down on her, a sneer on her perfect face.
"Hey, Adora," Catra snarled, grinning madly, "I have a surprise for you!"
"Eyes," She-Ra growled, her voice someone else's, "See. You."
"Do you like what you see?" Catra leapt forward, claws unsheathing. She'd rip her apart with her bare hands if she had to. "And then I'll never think about you again!" She passed through She-Ra like the warrior was made of mist.
"See. You." She-Ra held the boy in her arms, cradled protectively against her shoulder. "Evil." Catra lunged forward. A broad hand struck her down with a single slap and she went rolling across the forest floor. "Leaving."
"No…we had a deal! You promised!" Catra struggled to her feet, cradling her cheek, "you can't leave!" She-Ra's back turned on her and the boy hid his face in his hood as they both vanished into the treeline. Catra found herself unable to move. She was so tired all of a sudden. So very tired. "Please," she whispered, cradling her stinging cheek, tears spilling down her face, "I'm not like that…I'm not! I didn't mean it!"
The forest was silent and empty and lonely. She glanced up and looked around, feeling small and afraid.
"Come back," she called out, voice weak, "please…come back…I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to." She buried her face in her arms, sobbing hard, and heard a gasp before her. She looked up, saw a boy in a hooded tunic staring at her. Catra felt a rush of disbelief and then deep joy.
"You came back?" she wanted to say.
What she actually said was more along the lines of this:
"Mmo kayme baff?" She lifted her face off the mattress in time to see the boy scurry back under her bed, "wait…oh…oh, right. What time is it?" She swung her legs to the floor as she glanced at the digital clock sunken in the wall above her. "0400 Hours? Ow!" She winced as the slightest pressure irritated her ankle. "Cold compress. Yup, need one. Don't get excited, stinky, just going to my washroom."
She stood gingerly, her shoulder and nose politely reminding her that they too were quite sore. The door slid slowly open for her after she waved her hand over the plastic door lock. She felt cold tiles under her feet and winced at the blinding fluorescents as they buzzed to life.
She seldom used the washroom for actual washing, as nice a luxury as it was, since she despised the feeling of wet fur and preferred more traditional feline bathing. Still, the fluffy towels were a godsend at the moment, as was the easy access to water, an often necessary evil. She turned on the spigot and soaked a white face-towel until it was gray and heavy with moisture.
She wrung it out, grimaced at the slimy feel of wet cloth against her fur, and checked her reflection in the personal mirror. She nearly jolted at the sight of a tiny hooded head peeking around the doorway. The boy leaned in, squinting at the bright lights, and Catra saw the harsh red mark on his cheek.
I don't remember hitting him that hard. The sting was likely gone, but she had a queasy feeling it might bruise. Well... I wouldn't have done that if I was thinking straight. Besides… it's not like he never hit me last night. She got the towel to a sufficient dampness and took a deep breath. It wasn't a big deal, in the grand scheme of things, an accident that wasn't her fault. Not precisely.
Yet, she couldn't stop looking at the mark on his cheek. Oh, whatever. He better get used to it anyway. If Hordak even lets him stay, he'll have plenty more of it in his future. She was awake already, though her fatigue still clawed at her joints with every movement.
"Hey there, ya big booger," she turned, "come over here and-" the boy bolted from sight, "oh, can we not do this again?!" She limped out into the room, nearly tripping when she saw him crouched by the bed but not hiding yet. "Ok. Ok. Good."
"Mmm," the boy said, glancing between her and the bed. She approached slowly, sitting on the edge of the mattress, keeping her back to him the whole time, then nodded to the spot in front of her.
"Come on," she said, "cooome on." She grinned and tried to tease him. "What, you scared?" The boy gulped and shrank. "Stupid fangs." She arranged a toothless smile. "See? I can be nice."
The boy sidled forward, sticking to the side of the bed like a soldier under sniper fire, gazing at the damp towel in her hand. Catra held out her right hand, offering the towel as a little folded up square of wet cloth. He reached out one hand, eyes wide and cautious, snatched it from her palm and backed up about three feet. Catra laughed.
"Bye," she giggled, "off you go, faster than lightning." She tried pantomiming instructions for him. "Go on. Press that to your cheek, it'll…feel…what are you doing?" The boy pressed the towel to his cracked lips and started sucking the moisture from it. Little slurping noises filled the room and Catra's mind slowly processed what she was seeing. She rose slowly to her feet, stepping closer to him. "Kid, you don't have to…annnd there you go again." She sighed as the towel slapped wetly to the floor and the boy darted under the bed. "This is going great so far." She plucked the cloth off the floor with the edges of two claws, sticking her tongue out at the potential germs. "You gotta toughen up, kid, cuz there's a whole world of bad stuff coming your way soon."
She tossed it into a small hamper and prepared another towel for her ankle, taking a hand-towel for her nose. She perched on the edge of the sink and wrapped her ankle in the cloth, huffing pleasantly at the soothing coldness. She left the faucet to hiss water into the sink for a moment, relaxing to the sound. She didn't like water, but the noise of it running was oddly pleasant.
"That's good," she purred, "so much better." There was a cry of wonder that made her honk in surprise. The boy bravely stepped into the room, his sheer uncleanliness thrown into stark contrast by the white tiles and bright lights. She noted a little strip of red skin on his nose and cheeks, just under his big, expressive eyes. There was little white peeling off it and she recalled seeing troopers stationed at the Northern Perimeter Outpost getting 'windburn' from the cold gusts that blew down from the Northern Reach.
"Oh, hey," she said, "so why don't we start with something easy. Your name?"
"Ah!" The boy seemed to have forgotten she was there and tensed to run but kept staring longingly at the running faucet.
"Still thirsty?" Catra snickered. "Yeah I bet. Well? Go ahead. It's got a gross metal-y taste to it, but it's free." She gestured at the faucet and the boy crept forward hesitantly. Catra rolled her eyes and slid herself further from the sink. "I am not getting up for you. Get brave or dehydrate, booger."
The war that played across his face was almost comically exaggerated. Finally, he pressed his back to the wall, eyes locked suspiciously on Catra, and scooted himself along. With every step the bones on his tunic clicked in a rhythm that made Catra bite back a laugh. Scoot-clack-scoot-clackity-clack!
All at once he jumped forward and cupped his hands under the stream of water.
"Oooooooooo," he said, wonderstruck at the water's steady flow. Then he began gulping down big handfuls of water. Water splashed down the front of his tunic, trickling to the floor, and his face was splitting into a huge grin.
"Alright," Catra leaned forward, "so let's try and lay some ground rules-pfffft! Hey!" He'd forgotten she was there again and tossed a handful of water right into her face, pressing against the wall. "Seriously?!" She wrenched the faucet off and watched his face fall like a miracle had just been abruptly ended. "What was that for, huh? Do you still not get it? That I'm the only one on your side? That you'd be dead without-" she swallowed her anger and tried to calm down, daubing her face with the hand-towel and grunting. "I'm just... gonna assume that was an accident." She glanced at the mark on his cheek.
"Oh!" He chirped when she wet the hand-towel under the faucet and wrung it out.
"Come here," she said, pointing at the spot in front of her. He fiddled with the bones of his tunic, casting a wary eye around the room and determined that he had no better options. He tiptoed forward, gulping audibly as Catra crooked her finger, and carefully rubbed at his sore cheek. She leaned down, paused, and held out an open hand. The boy, wonder growing in his eyes, carefully laid his small palm against hers.
"Now," Catra said softly, dabbing the cloth on his hand, "see how nice that feels? If you put it here…" she moved extra slow, pressing the square of cloth against his injured cheek. The boy's eyes fluttered shut and a huge goofy grin split his face.
Good, he's starting to trust me. Next, we need information. If you could just give me something, kid, just a hint of what your deal is, then I'll have something to show Hordak. We need him to see you're worth keeping. Thoughts then started to worm in, disturbing her slightly. Though few knew Hordak personally, all knew his temperament. Shadow Weaver, for all her power and rank, was herself quite careful to never cow him. And that's someone he respects... well, kinda. How about someone who tried to kill him? What am I gonna say that'll possibly keep him from-
She noticed then that the boy had pressed his face into her hand, nuzzling into the soothing cloth. She rolled her eyes and gently replaced her hand with one of his. He blinked, looking slightly disappointed but holding the hand-towel onto his cheek all the same.
"Ok, stinky," Catra said, "you keep doing that. I'm gonna go grab you some soap and then," she pointed at the shower stall, "you're gonna go in there and come out a couple pounds lighter , cuz I can't take your smell!"
"Ah?" the boy asked, still cradling his face to the cloth. Catra shook her head, raised and arm mimed smelling her armpit. The boy mimicked her and winced a little when he sniffed his bare-armpit. An embarrassed flush dusted his cheeks and he shrugged, making a non-committal noise.
"Oh trust me," Catra said, rising slowly and smiling when he didn't run off, "you stink." She grinned and held her nose. "Stinky!" The boy grumbled as she left the washroom. She took the lavender soap off her dresser, eyeing the ration bars hungrily. She sighed and turned away from them.
"Not now. Later, when he's not a problem anymore. Ugh…I'm such a good person," she grumbled with utter contempt for herself. Her bangs fell in front of her face and she swept them away with a finger and scratched at her forehead. "Forget how nice it is to go maskless sometimes. Ok, kid, time to….NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
"Ah!" The boy stumbled backwards from the toilet where he'd been splashing one hand in the basin. He dropped the towel and his whole demeanor shifted. He glared at her, shrinking into a corner and hissing. Catra's lip curled over her fangs and she felt a growl build in her throat.
Then she hissed like a mad tigress. The kid's eyes shrank in terror and he curled up into a trembling ball of purple fur. Think you're scary, kid? She thought smugly.
She advanced with a snarl and stopped short when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Blue eye and gold eye flickering with action, all sharp fangs bared in a mocking smile, fur bristled to increase her size, and tension in every muscle in her body like she was about to spring. She was normally proud at how scary she could make herself look. Here, she sensed it was working against her.
Of course you scared him, her bitter thoughts turned on her, he doesn't even know what a toilet is! What must he think of you? Things can't go on like this, Catra, you gotta try something different or he'll fight you every chance. Come on! You're taking over Etheria, you can handle one little kid.
"Look," she said, the boy stopped whimpering and glanced slowly out from his hood, "I'm sure this is all very weird and very spooky to you," she paused, crouching down smoothing her fur down, "but I'm trying to make this clear. That?" She pointed at the toilet and shook her head emphatically. "Is not for playtime."
The boy shook his head back at her, mimicking her once more, confusion on his face. She wanted to give up and go back to bed but…he was dirty. He needed to clean himself and get into fresh clothes and have something to eat. She had to help him do that. That was the deal.
That's my ticket. The deal I made with the big guy. The deal will keep him alive. Hopefully me too, while he's at it.
"That," she pointed at the sink, nodding, "is…fine, I guess. Somebody somewhere else won't be able to brush their teeth today but whatever. Go buck wild, but please don't flood the place." The boy pointed at the sink and nodded then at the toilet and shook his head. A serious expression of thought came over his face. "Wow. This is the life I'm living, huh?" Catra pinched the bridge of her nose. "Teaching a magic ten-year-old not to play in the toilet a couple hours after he knocked me off my feet." The boy moved. "What are you doing?"
He marched to the toilet, a serious expression on his face, and shook his head. Then, turning on his heel, he strode to the sink nodding. He looked at Catra, reaching a hand out slowly and turning the spigot on.
How did he…when I wet the cloth earlier. He was watching me that closely? Alright, so maybe you're sharper than I'm giving you credit. There's something to that, I could make a case for that. Quick wit makes good soldiers, right? The boy splashed his hands in the water and nodded at Catra curiously. Catra nodded back.
"Yup." she said, "you little goofball." He pointed at the toilet and made a dismissive gesture as he shook his head. She shook her head too, letting the smile on her face grow a little. The whole situation was too bizarre not to be funny. "Noooo. No playing in the toilet."
"No," he said back, nodding.
"No," she repeated, looking into his face intently, "you got it? 'No'."
"No!" the boy grinned, his messy hair whipping like a tornado as he shook his head.
"Hooray for you," Catra rolled her eyes, "you figured it out. Next you'll be helping Lord Hordak draw up battle tactics. Ooooooo." She tamped down the flicker of fear that the idea of Hordak brought up in her. The boy had giggled at her, entertained by her sarcastic expressions. "Wow. You really are just a little kid, huh? What's your name?"
"Hmmm?" The boy frowned. Catra pointed at herself.
"Name? As in…you! A name is what you call yourself. What other people call you. 'Catra' is my name." She poked her finger at her chest a few times, "Ca-tra. You?" She pointed at him, watching him go cross-eyed looking at her finger. "Even you gotta have a name… Right? Ugu Buga? Cave Boy? Anything?"
"Um," the boy, full of uncertainty, pointed at the sink again and nodded yes.
"Oh for…nevermind, booger. We'll find a name for you. You won't be the first one to get a name after you joined the Horde." She stood up, cracking her back. "Ugh. So achy."
She flexed both arms, the boy made a little noise and picked up the hand-towel he'd dropped earlier. He wet it, wrung it out, and came over to the Catra, staring at her right forearm. "What?" He held up the towel, gesturing at her arm, he threw back his hood and let his hair tumble out to its long, smelly length.
His face grew sad. Then, to her surprise it grew contrite, he nodded at the marks on her arm and looked away in shame. Catra grimaced.
"Kid," she said, "I don't need you taking care of me. Understand?" She waved the towel away, making him look even sadder. "And school that face of yours. If you think big sad eyes are going to help you around here you couldn't be more wrong. If you're gonna bite someone, never apologize. Bite and kick and cling to life! Feelings won't matter." The boy looked between the cloth and her.
"No?" He asked. She shook her head. He put the cloth on the sink, nodding sadly.
She herded him into the shower stall. Curiosity overcame him once more and he began crinkling the plastic curtain in his fingers with ooo's of wonder. He apparently needed to touch everything and squeaked his palms along the tiled walls. Catra's ear twitched and she tried not to interrupt him, much as the display was keeping her from sleeping.
Just let him do his thing. She told herself, tossing the wet hand-towel into the sink. He'll get bored in a minute and-
"Ooooo," the boy said, "nyuuh!" He stuck out his tongue at the warped reflection of his face in the dial handle. He reached out for it.
"Wait," Catra said. He turned, a dark eyebrow arched at her, "not yet. First. Soap." She held out the purple bottle of lavender soap and paused, realizing he might not understand. She pointed at him and pinched her nostrils shut. He blushed again, stomping one bare foot.
"No," he mumbled in his own defense.
"Oh, 'yes'," she nodded, "you are, Stinky. But this?" She popped the cap and made a show of wafting the scent to her face. "This…smells like someone I hate, honestly. But! It still smells a lot better than you." She put a dollop on her hand and held it out to him. He sniffed it curiously then sneezed, before leaning in to sniff more. He licked his lips and stuck his tongue out. Catra pulled her hand back.
"…no?" the boy asked. Catra shut her eyes and tried to breathe evenly as she felt her face turn hot.
"No," she responded, "don't eat soap, please." She smoothed her hand across his crown, as she'd done earlier to soothe him, and he grinned at the feeling. Then he frowned and hummed at the sensation of the soap applied to his scalp.
"Yech," he said, picking at it. Catra filled both her palms with soap and thoroughly globbed it all along his hair, taking whole handfuls of it to avoid yanking at any knots. By the end his dirty hair was plastered to his head, and hung down in sticky lengths. His nose twitched and he pulled some of it across his face to inhale the scent. Catra rubbed her hands clean on his tunic.
"Yuck, this stuff feels like mud," she grumbled, "but I bet you're used to rolling around in that. Now, how do we get this thing off…" she started fiddling with the bones holding his tunic shut. His hand shot down and smacked her wrist. "Yow! You greasy brat!" She stood up and glared at him. He held the bones tight, backing away with a look of betrayal. "I am trying to help you. Seriously kid, you need to chill out, ASAP." She stood aside and pointed out into the room. "Still think you don't need me? Then go. Go be smelly and dirty. You know what happens then, kid? You get sick and the Horde gets rid of you. So, go. Go if that's what you want!"
The boy didn't go, mouth moving as he tried to sound out some of her words, eyes searching suspiciously as she shook her head.
"Lets… try something else," she sighed, holding out the lavender soap bottle, "you like this?" She shook it. "Smells nice, right? How'd you like the whole thing?" The boy reached a hand out to take it and frowned when she pulled back. "Lesson One of the Fright Zone: you never get something for nothing. The tunic." She gestured meaningfully at it. "You'll get new clothes that don't smell like death's sweaty sock drawer."
"Mmmmmm," the boy hummed, sniffing at his hair. Finally he nodded, unclipping the bones. Catra turned her back and held a hand out behind her.
"Just tell me when you…," the boy walked around from behind her to hold the tunic out in both hands, "oh, hey… yeah, you don't care at all, huh?" He was bare underneath and seemed utterly unashamed or conscious of that fact. Catra rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time but any sarcasm died away as she saw how thin he was. His tunic gave him a deceptive fullness.
His belly was small and the most meat he had on him was at his biceps and his calves. Something about the sight of it filled her with a deep sadness she didn't know she was capable of. The Horde was frugal to a fault, always withholding even the most basic of essentials, but it never let children get this underweight. This complicated things. If he was malnourished, he was weak. Weakness would not help his case. She thought bitterly of the warrior.
'Help him'. Huh? And what have you done for him, I wonder? Not many favors, it looks like. He's so skinny, it's crazy.
She exchanged her soap for the tunic, holding it with the tips of her fingers, well away from her. She tossed it in the hamper for lack of another place to put it. She'd throw it away tomorrow. He didn't need it anymore, and it would make him stand-out. That was dangerous.
"You can eat after you're clean," she said, miming putting food in her mouth, "ok?" The boy nodded without looking up, entranced by the smell of the soap and the noise it made when he drummed his fingers on it. Catra scoffed, but a little smile snuck up on her. He seemed completely mentally insulated from how bad he looked, smelled, and must've felt. There was something about that, the unconscious strength it must have taken, that made her want to laugh. Not at him, exactly, but for him. Maybe he had a chance, if he could survive wherever he came from, to make it here.
"Alright, now march," she pointed into the shower and the boy stepped in, still fascinated by the soap. "Now…why don't you show me if you can figure this out?" She indicated the dial-knob. The boy scratched his soaped up scalp and gave a little 'ah-ha!'. He stepped forward and twisted the knob carefully. He backed away with a start when water rattled through the piping in the walls.
"There you go," Catra said, "you got it." Yeah. He learns real quick. That's definitely useful. The shower spat a mouthful of water out and then sprayed full with strength. Ice-cold water slammed down onto the child. He shrieked and Catra had to juke quickly to her left to block him from running.
"Dang it, Catra, you idiot!" She yelled at herself. "It's fine! It's fine! Hey!" She pulled the curtain between them to keep her fur dry. "Look, it's just water! Just water. Here." She fought to keep him in place and held out her right hand, palm up. "Brrr. Cold! I forgot how cold it is at first. It'll warm up, but see? It's just water, it won't hurt you." One step forward. Two steps back.
The boy pressed himself to her. He lifted a shaky hand up and held it out like she did. He pulled it back with a little yip.
"It's ok! It's ok! Come on, you couldn't stop punching me earlier, you're not scared of a little water, are you?" She craned her neck to observe his palm. She saw that the skin of his fingers and palm were tough and pale. He was a climber like she was. She felt him trying to take her hand and pulled back.
"No," he said sadly, nodding. He relaxed, his face becoming curious all over again and he actually smiled when the water finally warmed. He cocked his head as the spray snapped loudly against the linoleum, unwinding himself from the curtain to stand under the water.
"Oooh," he murmured happily, standing on his tip-toes to get closer to the shower head, before opening his mouth up wide to catch another drink. "Mmmm!" Catra ruffled his hair, lathering the soap up into white suds. The boy breathed in wonder, rubbing at his scalp and making a noise at the tingling feeling it left behind. He turned to Catra and showed her his sudsy hands. She snorted.
"I know," she said, "will the wonders never cease? Now." She drew a big circle around him. "Do that everywhere." She smiled as he squirted a handful of soap into his palm and slapped it against his chest. He looked up at her and she nodded. "Yup."
He grinned scrubbing the white suds all around his shoulders. Catra closed the curtain and returned to the sink. Her ankle twinged and she picked up the cloth he prepared for her, using it to soothe her ankle.
"That's the stuff," she sighed, "so, kid, how bout that name. Any updates?" She heard water splash to the floor, like tiny cupped hands had filled up and dropped it. A happy giggle rose with the shower steam. He really had no idea the danger he was in.
"I'd tell you not to mess around," Catra said, "but you wouldn't understand anyway. So whatever. I'm counting to four hundred and then I'm getting you out." She leaned back, wincing at her injuries. "What a weird night. Is anyone even still up in Horde Square?"
"One more," the medic says, "woof, this is a big one. Ok, on three." He grabbed the handles of one of the two stretchers they'd slipped under Octavia's back.
"On three," Scorpia said, managing Octavia's feet without any help, "means 1-2-Go, right?"
"No," said the medic, "1-2-3-Go."
"It does not," piped up one of the two medics on Octavia's sides, "the Force Captain had it right. 1-2-Go. Right, Clay?" The medic on the other side shrugged.
"Honestly, I thought we were doing 3-2-1."
"No, Clay, that'd be a countdown not-"
"One," interrupted the head medic, "Two, Three!" the Horde medics and Scorpia lifted the huge lady off the ground, grunting and complaining as they crab-walked towards a skiff with a red cross spray-painted on the metal wind-sail. "Grox has another Force Captain coming his way. Give him a heads-up."
"Anything I can do?" Scorpia asked. The head medic's cloth mask crinkled with a smile. He slapped her armored shoulder once.
"Done a great deal, already, Cap," he said, "it's our battle now. Can we give you a lift back to your quarters?"
"Nah," Scorpia yawned, stretching her pincers, "you all get underway. You got wounded." She flushed at the open admiration on the faces before her. "C'mon. It's not a big deal. Anybody would-"
"Quite a few folks did not," a warbling basso said. Admiral Leech approached, flanked by Horde Marines. "A credit to the badge, Force Captain Scorpia. Doctor, you heard her."
"Sir," the medics saluted, "Force Captain. You ever need a favor. Just ask."
"Well," Scorpia said, remembering the thin little boy, "maybe I've got one already. But it can wait til tomorrow. Thanks!" The skiff engines glowed and whined, setting the vehicle forward at a steady pace. "You good, Admiral? Anything I can do to help you?"
"Hmm," Leech frowned, "I wonder if there's anything I can help you with." Scorpia gave him an awkward smile and rubbed the back of her head. She shrugged. "Oh, now, Force Captain Scorpia, please. I've heard that Shadow Weaver hasn't given you a detachment yet. You're still…working with Force Captain Catra?" Scorpia tried not to show her nerves. She had very strict orders regarding her 'work' with Catra. 'Tell no-one' being the first and most important of them.
"Catra's on her way to the top," Scorpia said, sounding less convincing than she wanted to, "I'm glad to tag along and give her a pincer…whenever I can!"
"But is that all?" Admiral Leech asked. "Surely, there must be more to it than that! Commander Serket's daughter? Playing second fiddle to someone so…" the man trailed off politely.
"Ambitious," Scorpia offered, becoming a tad defensive, "and dedicated to the Horde's mission!" The marine on Leech's right coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like the word 'sure'. "I know what I want, Admiral, and I'm happy where I am."
"If you ever change your mind," Admiral Leech said, "I'd be happy to find a spot for you on a ship."
"I do love boats," Scorpia said, glancing away and imagining herself with a big, feathered hat and crew of swashbuckling cutthroats. Rescuing fair beauties (and of course everyone else! Beauty standards were made-up, after all!) from sea-monsters. Oddly enough, a lot of those fictional damsels were magicats. "Uh…but no. Catra needs me right now, Admiral."
"Very well," the old man bowed, "I know when to retreat. And I am far too old a lamprey for this time of morning. Be well, Force Captain. The Horde prevails."
"The Horde prevails," Scorpia beamed, saluting. The last of his marines left with him and Scorpia found herself largely alone in Horde Square. "And now…I guess I just go back to my room. Sleep. Wake up. Alone. Oh, jeez, Scorpia! You just had an amazing, heart-stopping, hair-raising adventure and you're getting the Scaries all of the sudden."
Something in Leech's comments had filled her head with the images of long years without advancing. Of always chasing after Catra and never telling her how she was starting to feel for the fiery young woman. Or, worse, never figuring out exactly how she was starting to feel for the fiery young woman.
"Saving you from the big guy, helping you fight that shadow," she sighed, making her way towards the east gate, "it was… kinda… the best night of my life! I felt so alive, so useful! I felt so happy when that little light went on in your eyes, and you realized you were safe. When you looked at me, and I could see how relieved you were. You looked so thankful I was there! I felt… well, I didn't feel like…"
A disappointment. She thought to herself, shivering and glancing up at the sky, terrified she'd see the pair of red-eyes had returned. Aw, what did it even know about me? I know who I am. I know what I want. Just like Catra! I just…don't know how to quite say it out loud yet! Or in my head!
"Oh, man," she said, "I wish I had something to get my mind off this stuff. Anything. It could fall right out the sky-"
There was a metal bending noise from overhead and a sad, scared mrowl. A small, green cub with butterscotch stripes did not fall out of the sky. More 'fell off a one-story roof and smacked her on the head'.
"Wha?!" Scorpia grappled the strange creature in her claws, holding it to her chest and blinking into a pair of startled amber eyes. The cub chuffed and sniffed her face. "Oh. Oh!" Horde Square rang with a single, joyful gasp.
"A kitty!"
Ok, Catra thought, so if Lord Hordak says 'he's too dangerous' I'll say 'I already have him obeying my orders'. That's technically correct. If he says 'he needs to answer for what happened in Horde Square' I'll say 'it was the big guy, not the kid.' That's a start, at least. And if...if he decides none of that matters and the kid's going to Beast Island because that's just how it is… I'll… ugh! Not now. Take a break.
"Ok, kid," Catra said, flexing her foot, smiling at how much better it felt, "time's up." She stepped toward the shower stall and reached in blindly. She grumbled at the way the warm water soaked her fur from hand to elbow but quested until she found the dial-knob.
"Eh!" The boy said as the water shut off.
"Yeah-yeah, I'm a monster," Catra snatched a body-towel off the rack and dropped it over the boy's head, "dry off. Come on out when you're not soaking." Catra walked into her room and groaned miserably at the mess everywhere. She righted the boy's cot, tossed the blanket back onto it, replaced her dresser drawers, and stowed her clothing inside them.
She realized that she should change into her sleep-wear while the boy was occupied. It made her frown to imagine how much her basic routine would change as a result of this. She felt a little twinge of frustration as she imagined this same scenario playing out tomorrow, perhaps again and again for who-know-how-long.
"I can do this," she said, "I have to do this. If I want a pet She-Ra I can sick on Adora, then I gotta tough it out." She sighed. "But first I gotta just find an angle to keep this kid alive." She put on her single pair of tank-top and shorts, a fresh wave of sleep pulling her towards her bed. "Nooooo. Not yet." The boy stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Catra cupped her face in her hands when she saw him. "Not like that…"
He'd not dried himself, he'd simply wound the towel around his body like his tunic. He'd even made a little hood to keep his hair hidden. She knelt in front of him and took the sides of his head in either hand, rubbing firmly to dry the waves of hair under it.
"Nn!" The boy complained. She slowed down and used a gentler hand, muttering bitterly. Satisfied that his head wouldn't be soaked, she pushed the hood back to show him how he could dry the rest of himself. His hair tumbled free and Catra's mouth dropped open.
"What…in the world…"she said. The soap had done its job and then some. A complete transformation had come over the child's hair. She'd thought it was black or dark brown, but the sheer filth of it stood out now in contrast to the boy's true color. Hanging like the hood and mantle of cloak were long damp tresses of honey-blonde hair, shining gold in the doorway of the light behind him. "Take a few steps back."
The boy stood in the light and Catra finally looked him over clean and well lit. An uncanny feeling tickled the back of her head. His eyebrows were just a touch darker than his hair, closer to a rich, deep brown. His skin was tanned at the arms and legs. His chest and belly were a little paler. She cocked her head at him, reaching out to touch a little razor-thin line of a tiny scar on his right shoulder with her finger.
"What's your story, kid?" She asked, almost unconsciously. "Where'd you come from? Why do you look... so much like her?"
A hand reached out and touched her opposite bicep, fingers tracing the tabby-stripes on her arm. She pulled away as she realized how odd she was being. She gestured at him, showing him how he should dry himself and arranged Adora's clothes out on the bed. She tossed him the under-shorts first.
"If you try wearing those like a hat or something," she said, "I swear, I'm done." The boy understood enough, it seemed, and donned them correctly. "Good. This next." She handed over Adora's specially designed shirt, with the Horde Symbol sewn onto the back. Another gift to her from Shadow Weaver, like the lavender soap had been. Catra seethed and thought about her boss with a little shiver.
If she isn't dead, which I'm sure she's not knowing my luck, then I'll probably have to spend all day talking to her tomorrow. Maybe she'll know what that shadow thing was. That thing's the key, it was way bigger a threat than meathead was, but he offed it with barely any help. If he's on our side, then whoever sent that thing after us is toast. She'll know what it was, it looked a lot like her-
Something dark occurred to her then and there. A lot like her magic...
She shook her head. No. It attacked all of us, not just me. Shadow Weaver wouldn't attack her own side… Well, not without a reason. She hates me, but not that much. Right? Besides, that thing was after the kid. Could she already know about him?
She froze, eyes narrowing towards the room's darkest corner, waiting for red eyes to emerge. Get a hold of yourself. It's gone. But if that big guy had just killed it like I said…
"I hope you're seeing all this," she grumbled to the absent warrior, "I hope you're happy with the job I'm doing. Cuz this is all going on your tab, meathead." The boy made an inquisitive noise, head popping through the neckhole of the shirt. Catra reached over and twisted the shirt around so he wasn't wearing it backwards. His arms bulged like snakes under it, struggling to find the sleeves before both shot free. He looked himself over and hummed indignantly. His hands were lost in the sleeves like a straight jacket and the hem hung down to his knees. It looked ludicrous on his tiny frame.
Catra barked a laugh. He glared at her and tried to squirm out of the shirt. She reached out and stopped him, folding the sleeves up all the way to his shoulders. She took a claw to the hem of his shirt, slicing off the excess athletic fabric until it was closer to his waist. The boy tucked both hands under his long hair and fished it out of his collar. Catra grinned and poked him in the belly-button while he was distracted.
"You baby," she snickered as he waved a hand at her, "if I looked that silly, you'd laugh too." She handed him the gray pants next, he crossed his arms and shook his head. "Oh, no? Tough. These are called pants and they are non-negotiable. I'll fix them for you…I've been doing everything for you tonight already." The boy frowned, accepted the clothing and tried to put them on, letting them drop when it was clear they wouldn't fit.
He tried stepping out of them and Catra braced a hand on his shoulder, giving him a firm look.
"No?" The boy grumped.
"No," Catra shook her head, "you have to wear pants. Put 'em on." He allowed her to hike them up to his middle and yipped in surprise when she tightened the inner elastic belt so they were snug. They still sagged and she repurposed the excess cloth to make a little white sash that she knotted on his left hip as a belt. "And there we go. You're…mostly normal looking." She rolled the pant legs up until they sat around his ankles as fat tubes of gray canvas. "Bright side? I don't wear shoes so you don't have to either."
"Hmmm," the boy looked himself over, "blech!" He didn't like it.
"My heart is breaking for you," Catra groused, "was that really the worst thing ever? Food time." She mimed eating again and the boy's eyes lit up. "Yeah, of course you get that one right away." She handed him the brown ration bar and he frowned at it, rubbing his thumb on the plastic wrapper. Catra gave him a mean stink-eye. "You better not complain, cause that's all there is."
The boy licked the plastic wrap and made a face of pure suffering. Catra snatched it from him, locking eyes with him, and ripped the plastic open.
"How are you alive, kid?" she asked flatly, "There, eat." She shoved the brown bar at his face and watched him sniff it curiously. "Just eat…it..." She trailed in horror as the boy quite happily massacred the thing. His huge grin gnashing tiny bits that he gulped down greedily. She had a sudden bolt of caution.
He was underfed. His belly was small. A new mountain of challenges rose before her and she tried not growl in frustration. She had to work at this or it wouldn't even matter.
"Wait," she reached out, "hang on, don't eat so fast you can't-wait!" The kid hissed and threw himself back. The clothes, the clean hair, and the fresh scent could do nothing to change the look of animal desperation in his eyes. He huddled into a ball, scarfing the rest of his meal rapidly. Catra reached her absolute limit. This wasn't working.
"Fine!" she roared, making the child shrivel further into himself. "Stuff your face! Eat it til you barf! Maybe you'll learn then. Maybe that'll finally teach you how good you have it. Cuz you know what, kid? Not everybody gets it as good as you do!" She leapt forward, landing on all fours and growling. "Most kids here don't get their own babysitter! They don't get all the time in the world to clean up, or eat! And most of all, we don't get someone who's constantly watching our backs! You do! You! The person who nearly killed me a couple times today, and I'm sick of it! What was I thinking? Why did I even bother with you?!
The boy pressed his back to the wall.
"I'm done," Catra growled, "I'm done helping you! You better get it on your own because as far as I'm concerned I've done my part! And whatever happens to you after this? It wasn't my fault, cuz I tried!" She turned, tossed herself onto her bed and ranted at a muffle into her mattress. "So if that big guy still even wants my help, he better knock down, like, a whole kingdom for me! I've earned more than that already! Honestly, two kingdoms!" She felt a weight crawl onto the bed. "No. There's no more. Go away!"
Before she could react, a tiny body snuggled against her side. A head of blonde, lavender scented hair wiggled under her arm. The boy pressed his face against the side of hers, almost like a kitten, resting his head on the mattress to sleep.
Catra scurried away into the corner like she'd been scalded. The boy flinched, realization dawning sadly in his cornflower-blue eyes.
"No?" He asked in a tiny voice. Catra bared her teeth and shook her head.
"No."
He glanced at the cot and then at her, glum and disconsolate, and nodded once. She nodded back and he looked ready to cry.
"Don't give me that," Catra huffed, "I've done enough for you, kid. Don't ask for more. It's greedy. Better you be disappointed now. You'll get over it." The kid slid off the bed and padded silently to his bed. Catra collapsed into her mattress and nearly roared when she heard a little noise next to her. "This better be good."
He was holding her mask out to her silently, not looking at her. She took it back and shooed him away.
"Go to bed," she said, "I'm done." She was asleep before she heard him make it back into his cot.
It was some time later that the boy's stomach began screaming at him, like a balloon was threatening to pop behind his navel. He rubbed at his stomach through the odd new clothing he was wearing. Sweat was making his hair stick to his forehead, swaddling him in the strange, wonderful smell that the cat-eared lady had given him in exchange for his tunic.
The cat-eared lady. She was so nice. Even if she could be scary when she yelled. The boy growled at himself. He was so stupid and greedy. He ate all her food! After she shared her water with him and gave him a place to sleep. After she talked to him, even if he couldn't understand her.
The sword was gone. His cub was gone. The Other One hadn't spoken in hours. And he'd gone and been so awful to the one person trying to help him. He couldn't help it! He'd been so so hungry. A strange part of his brain had told him if he didn't eat everything he might not eat again until who-knew-when.
But that was no excuse! Even in the worst of times, he'd never stolen food from his cub. He'd never kept all the water for himself. He knew better. He moaned and hugged his tummy. He knew he deserved to feel awful.
"Kid.." the cat-eared lady's raspy voice growled, "I... warned you. And you didn't listen. This is what I was trying to warn you about." Her snarl rippled through the dark room. The boy couldn't stop a moan from slipping out. "I know!" She roared. Then, softer, more tired than angry, she went on. "I know. I know your tummy hurts. Well, there's nothing I can do about that…nothing… Ugh, what did I get myself into?"
Great. She sounded awful and it was his fault. The first real person who ever…ever did anything for him. Or talked to him. Or tried to understand him. He would've cried if he had the energy.
"No," he called out sadly as he heard a door open. The cat-eared lady had left. Of course she did. He was too greedy, too noisy, and too wrong. Of course she left. What could he do for her?
"Roll over," her raspy voice whispered by his ear. He gasped. She was sneaky. Sneakier than even he was and he was the sneakiest thing he knew! He looked at her. "C'mon, uncurl. On your back." She put her hands on him and adjusted him, he groaned, resisting the urge to push her away and curl up. She smoothed his shirt up over his stomach.
A warm, wet cloth spread over his stomach and made him wince. Another towel. Fingers, ones that had claws that could shred the Other One's hard skin, pressed firmly into his belly, massaging. He moaned at first and then felt the pressure easing inside. It was like magic. The pain was pushed around at first and then slowly soothed away.
Mis-matched eyes glowed in the dark, watching his face carefully. They were like stars. Blue and gold and the only thing in the universe that he didn't have to fear. Stars looking at him and nothing else. He winced at a press, the lady adjusted the pressure and held up one hand, forefinger and thumb close together.
"Look, your belly is only this big," her voice was rough like sandstones but so quiet that it soothed his ears, even as he didn't understand the words, "you ate too much, too quick." She made her hand into a fist, then made an expanding motion. "But it'll grow in a few weeks, and then you can eat all you want… or... as much as I can find for you. Look, kid, you gotta listen to me, I'm trying to help you. I'm trying." The boy made the same expanding motion. "So, for now, just try to understand me back. Please? You can't even understand what I'm saying right now, but, I want you to survive here, I made a deal with that big guy to look after you. And I don't go back on my promises." She soothed him and looked closely at him. "We're gonna need each other the next few days. I… I don't know what's going to happen. But I'll try, and you'll try. Okay? Cuz that's… that's the best plan I've got right now. We'll go from there. Do you understand that?"
The boy nodded.
"Sure," her celestial eyes closed as she hung her head, "yea, I'm so sure you got all that." She kept massaging his belly, gently. In his head the words stirred something in a soft twinkle of golden light. The eyes looking down on him changed. Topaz with tiny black pupils and a warm light that was so full of kindness the boy couldn't believe it. They twinkled at him from beneath the wide brim of a pointed, candy-apple red, hat.
Go to sleep, little prince, a voice whispered. It wasn't the Other One. Or the Dark Dream. Or the cat-eared lady. It was someone familiar…he'd heard it before…he must have. The voice was high and thin. And patient.
Go to sleep, now. Didn't mean to wake you. The voice sung the words in a cutesy tone as blue hands, each with three long fingers, danced and made shapes before his eyes. This is just a teeny weeny little test! An activation phrase, y'see, for a little test. Just in case of... emergencies. Now…ahem…I want you to remember your name.
"You're lucky I know this stuff," the cat-eared lady started saying, the boy was in stunned silence, barely aware, "I had a…there was a person who I knew. She was skipping dinner as part of some stupid Future Force Captains assignment, we were like twelve-years-old or something. When she finally passed she chowed down so hard she was crumpled up for two days straight with stomach pains. Stupid. They even warned her not to overeat! But nooo. She knew better."
Now lets try the activation phrase. When you hear the words…oh, no, no no! Shh-shh! Go to sleep…! Ahem…when you hear the words 'what is your name'...you will remember...
The boy gasped. The golden memory was fading away from him, his fingers twitched to grab it.
"What? Too rough?" the cat-eared lady asked, "Look, I'll be careful. But this'll only help a little, you're gonna be cramped up all night, probably. So…where was I? Right. So she's doubled over and I'm just trying to figure out what to do with her. Had to sneak into an infirmary and swipe some medical pamphlets. But that's where I learned about this," she rubbed the towel, "cold and hot compresses. I did this for her and she could finally go to sleep."
You will remember, my prince….
"You're like her," the lady snickered, "blonde, clueless, and you eat too fast. Pfft. Just like Adora, alright."
Find her! The falcon flashed in his mind on a wave of golden light. Find…
"Adooora?" the boy asked. What a strange word. He whined as the lady stopped pressing on his belly, she grabbed his shoulders and sat him up.
"Ca-tra Caaaaa-t-rrrrrr-aaaa." She pointed at herself, "my name is Catra. Name. That word again! Like the memory had mentioned, but it was so distant. So hard to recall. What did it mean?
"Ad…Adoora?" Was that what 'name' meant. Apparently not, the cat-eared lady sighed.
"No, I'm not Adora," she said, "I'm Catra. Jeez. Of course you learn her name before mine. Never-mind kid. Go to sleep."
Go to sleep, Prince…the boy jolted up. It was like a sunrise in his head, bobbing up and down on the horizon of a long, lonely midnight. If he could just get closer. If he could just remember! You will remember…. that your name is Adam.
"A-Ad!" he pointed at himself. The lady's eyes closed and she huffed.
"No. Your name isn't Adora either. Forget it. It doesn't matter anyway."
"Shhh!"
"Uh, excuse me? No! You don't get to shush me!"
"Shhhhhh!"
"F-fine!" the lady pouted.
"Ad..Ada….uhhmmmm," almost there. If he could just say it. The lady's hand cupped his face, her thumbs running over his cheeks soothingly. Her eyes were a few inches from his, tired and empty, he could do this for her. To thank her. It'd be a start. 'Name'. 'Name'!
"Don't get so excited," she said, "you're gonna pop something, jeez. Just…go to sleep, please?" Your name is…
He froze, the syllables falling into place as a tear raced down his cheek. A name. Of course he had a name. How could he have forgotten? Everyone had a name. He looked into her eyes.
"Ca-tra," he said. Her eyes widened. A little smile touched her voice as she spoke.
"Yeah…yeah you got it. I'm Catra." The boy pointed at him himself, grasping at his name and trying to make it leave his mouth. He fought against the fog in his head. It was his name. He had a name!
"Hey," Catra cautioned, "easy kid…go to sleep, ok? We'll get you a name in the morning." …remember, your name is…
"ADAM!"
"Ah!" The lady's eyes went huge and fell backwards in surprise, falling like beautiful comets to the ground. "Ow!"
When you hear it…you'll remember that your name is Adam.
"Adam," Adam whispered to himself, "Ca-tra!" He crawled off the strange bed and felt through the dark until his hand found a fur-covered arm. He squeezed it tight, feeling the other person near him in the dark. So warm and alive. And her name was Catra. He pressed his teary face into her bicep.
And he had a name too. Adam. She had given him his name back.
"Hey-hey, easy, booger. Watch the arms. Those are my moneymakers...Wait, what did you say?"
"Adam!" He squeaked, she slipped herself free of him and stood, looking down with her eyes like stars. "Adam!" He saw a grin glinting at him in the dark.
"Adam," she repeated, "huh, alright. We're making progress again. That's a good sign, I guess. Now…go to sleep, Adam." She pointed at the cot. "Adam. Weird name..."
"Catra!" He exclaimed, a finger pointed at her. Catra snickered, tail flicking as she went back to her big bed.
"Ok," she said, 'that's enough for now. Sleep. Sleeeeeeep. For like a year. You be quiet. Shhh."
"Shhh," Adam said, nodding. He tiptoed to his cot, curling into his blanket, kicking away the wet towel he had on his belly. The pain was a distant memory now… he had a name!
"Okay, goodnight, Adam," Catra mumbled, "you get one free wake-up. If you do it again I'll flip that cot over while you're in it." She laughed around a yawn.
"Ca-tra," Adam whispered, watching her from across the room. He saw a blue eye crack open and wink at him.
"A-dam," she said, "shhhh. We'll figure it out tomorrow, kid. Go to sleep."
"Sleep, little prince…" the memory echoed as it drifted away.
"Shhh," Adam replied, snuggling into the blanket. Sleep found him still whispering his name and Catra's, together.