They woke tangled together. There was little other way to wake when they were squeezed into a ramshackle bed made for one, but still. When Adora opened her eyes and took a deep, bracing breath in preparation to meet the day, it shifted Catra's head on her chest so she surfaced from sleep as well.
The brunette groaned, much preferring to stay asleep and pretend like they didn't have shit to do, but Adora curled her arm around her to rub her shoulder rousingly.
"Come on, Catra," she murmured, continuing the motion of her hand until Catra groaned again and rolled off of her.
Only, the edge of the bed was closer than Catra thought, and she tipped over the edge with a yelp. Her ass smacking into the dirt floor effectively jarred her into full awareness. "Ow," she grumbled, rubbing her tailbone with one hand and smoothing her mussed hair down with the other. When Adora leaned over the edge of the bed to give her a teasing smile, she looked up with a deepening scowl. "You think that's funny?"
"Mm-hm," Adora hummed, eyes still sparkling, and leaned over to give Catra a soothing peck on the forehead. "I'm sure you'll live."
Catra wanted to tilt her chin up and steal a kiss somewhere better, but her mouth tasted gross from sleep, so instead she pushed to her feet and flicked Adora in her own forehead.
"Hey!" yelped the other girl, and Catra was too thankful for this lighthearted moment to feet bad about repaying her so annoyingly. She was glad Adora could laugh at all right now when she had such pressure weighing on her shoulders.
But the moment couldn't last. Worry caught up to Adora, and her eyes gradually shadowed, looking gray in the filtered morning light. She took Catra's near hand in her own and pressed it to her cheek for comfort, letting out a long sigh.
"We'd better go talk to Light Hope," she mumbled without much conviction.
Catra adjusted her grip to cradle Adora's cheek more tenderly, coaxing her gaze up to meet her mismatched one. "I'm with you," she encouraged. "We'll figure this out."
Adora closed her eyes and nodded gratefully with another sigh. They remained that way for a moment before Adora seemed to collect herself and climbed out of the bed, not without a final squeeze of Catra's hand. She straightened and looked around the room, her eyes landing on the chest against the wall. "Let me clean up first."
Catra let her, and Adora crossed to pick out a fresh set of clothes from the trunk before heading for the tiny washroom on the opposite wall. Catra figured she should straighten up as well, but she wasn't about to barge in on Adora bathing, so she perched on the nightstand and picked at her nails while she waited for her to finish.
Adora was out in twenty minutes, skin freshly scrubbed, hair damp brown, and a clean green tunic wrapped around her. Her hat was abandoned to her duffel bag, because there was little use in hiding her identity now. Catra might have flirted with her for looking so nice if the situation had been less tense. Instead she slid off the nightstand and took her turn in the steamy washroom with just a bolstering half-smile in her partner's direction. She really couldn't wait to be done with this place, if only to see Adora back to normal again. At the same time she knew that this was a demon Adora would have to face, or her normal wouldn't ever truly be normal. She'd seen enough of Adora's constant inner conflict that she acknowledged that hard truth.
She took as little time washing up as she could, so Adora wouldn't have to stew in her dread for long. When she emerged as clean as she ever got, Adora was standing a little awkwardly at the foot of the bed, her hand on the mattress over a pile of folded clothes. Catra's eyes cut from Adora's expression to the clothes and immediately took a guess what was coming, and she opened her mouth to protest.
"Catra," Adora stopped her before she could. "Would you—" Her gaze lowered and her grip tightened on the sleeveless brown tunic on top of the pile. "Would you consider accepting these? I know you always say you don't want help but—"
"You want me to make a good impression on your old buddies, huh?" Catra responded, pacing toward her slowly, and an age ago she may have sounded bitter, but now her voice was soft, understanding.
Adora looked up in surprise, maybe expecting that old asperity, and shook her head. As Catra approached she reached out to meet her halfway, sliding her hands up Catra's arms to hold her shoulders gently. "I want to provide for you," she whispered. Her throat jumped in a swallow. "The way you've provided for me."
Whether she meant just coming on this trip, offering her steadily encouraging presence, or even last night, Catra felt her cheeks flush at the sincerity of her sentiment. "Adora, you've already—"
"Please," Adora interrupted, freeing Catra's shoulders in favor of grabbing the clothes and holding them out to her. "Think of it as…a new start."
And, Catra could do that. She was perfectly willing—anxious, even—to leave behind her past in Republic City and all the ties that bound her to it. The faded blue tunic and baggy pants that she'd had for as long as she could remember were one of those ties, in a way. They carried the smell of má smoke, the stains of her experience with Weaver, the chill of her encounter with Amon; all things she would gladly be rid of. They carried the warmth of Adora's first touches, too, but that was something she could get back. That was something she could tie to this new start. This new chapter in her life. This better one.
If that notion hadn't convinced her, the look in Adora's eyes would have. Those blue-gray irises were so soft, so loving, and Catra wanted nothing more to please the girl who owned them.
"All right," she replied, taking the pile from Adora's hands. She met those eyes and tried to make Adora understand the depth of her words when she added, "Thank you."
Adora gave her a nod and a smile so gentle that it almost hurt. She remained standing there as Catra stepped back and stripped off her old clothes to replace them with the new ones, eyes respectfully averted (mostly).
Catra didn't just feel cleaner in the red-trimmed brown tunic and dark gathered breeches; she felt like an entirely different person. That might have bothered her, once; played off her insecurities and knocked her off balance, but now it felt freeing. She found herself grinning at the sensation, and when she looked up from straightening her tunic, Adora matched her expression.
"Pretty sexy," observed the taller girl teasingly.
Catra was so caught off guard that her eyebrows shot up and her face flamed against her will. "Uh—" For once she had no clue how to respond. I could say the same about you or oh, you're in that kind of mood? came to mind first, but somehow neither quite fit this moment.
Thankfully Adora saved her from floundering by laughing it off lightly and bumping her shoulder. Then her smile shrank to something more sober, and she tilted her head toward the curtained doorway. "Let's go see her."
Catra had known it was coming, but now that she was actually faced with the reality of the meeting with Light Hope—the one that would determine a major point in hers and Adora's lives—her heartbeat began to pick up nauseatingly. She nodded and headed toward the door regardless, trying to fight the feeling down. She couldn't imagine how Adora must be faring. Again, she wanted to take Adora's hand, but she was reluctant to make any shows of affection, however small, while Light Hope was watching. Instead she just chewed the inside of her cheek, closed her hands into fists at her sides, and tried to look strong as she followed Adora into the main area of the house.
Light Hope was not in the living area, which confused Catra, but Adora seemed to have expected this. She led the way across the carpeted and couched space to a wooden door in the back wall, which she pushed open. It led out onto a planked porch area raised a half foot off the ground, sheltered by a slanting roof and furnished with a couple of outdoor chairs. What caught Catra's attention was not the porch, however, nor the tall, slim figure seated in one of the chairs, but the scene beyond it.
The porch ended at a flattened dirt yard scattered with stone practice targets of all types: round, humanoid, many-armed, and even spiked. Markings had been painted on the ground around each grouping of targets, and though Catra didn't know exactly what they meant, they were clearly dedicated to training exercises. At the near end of the yard was a rack full of blunted practice weapons, and beside that a second rack of stone disks of various sizes.
This is what Adora's childhood looked like? Catra thought, aghast.
If that wasn't jarring enough, in the clearing past the yard where several other houses' backyards converged in a circular sort of courtyard, a small stone dais stood in the center. On it was a squared-off pillar reaching to about hip level, and from that pillar protruded the golden hilt of a sword.
"Holy shit," Catra murmured, suddenly breathless as the sight of the sword—the Sword—hit her like a blow. She completely forgot about making a good impression on Light Hope until she noticed Adora's jaw tighten in her peripheral vision. Then, oh, shit, was the phrase crossing her mind instead.
There was an awkward pause during which Light Hope turned her head to regard the two girls with her icy blue eyes (which were no warmer in the sunlight), but said nothing.
Adora took the initiative. She cleared her throat and then, in a voice Catra would almost call timid, greeted, "Good morning, Sifu Light Hope," with a shallow bow. Catra caught on quickly and echoed the motion herself.
Light Hope acknowledged them with barely a nod. "Hello, Adora. Are you ready to explain yourself?"
This woman really didn't waste any time, did she? Catra felt the back of her neck prickle with anxiety and glanced at Adora, who didn't glance back.
Instead she held her ground against her old mentor and asked, "May we sit?"
Light Hope inclined her head a fraction again, and Catra and Adora navigated to the two chairs situated across the porch from hers, facing her. Adora shifted awkwardly for a moment, trying to find a comfortable position, before giving up and sitting straight-backed with her hands on her knees, almost like some form of attention. Light Hope's expression didn't waver, so it was impossible to tell whether she approved or not.
What did this woman do to her?
"There was a—conflict, in Republic City," Adora began tightly. Light Hope watched her steadily, and Catra could tell the other girl was trying not to squirm in her seat. "A man tried to lead a revolution against benders, saying they were oppressing people somehow. They called themselves Equalists. He—" Here she glanced away, and her eyes met Catra's in a silent apology before continuing. "He had the power to take away people's bending. He—he did that to Catra." She slid her gaze back to Light Hope; intense, pleading before she even posed the question: "We have to get to the South Pole so the Avatar can heal her, but we need funds. Will you help us?"
For a long, agonizing minute, Light Hope was silent. The only noise around them was the gust of the wind through the desert passage and the pounding of their hearts in anxious anticipation of her answer. She never took that pale gaze from Adora's face, even as she slowly leaned back in her chair and crossed one long leg over the other.
Finally, she said, "I have a feeling you already know what I am going to say."
Instantly Adora's eyes deadened, and the soldier-like stiffness slipped from her shoulders. "The stupid sword," she said shortly, no longer trying to keep up her respectful façade. "Yeah. I figured."
Light Hope made a tsk-ing sound in her throat and leaned forward to place her chin delicately on her fist, bringing that piercing gaze even closer to her victim. "That attitude may not be the best way to earn my favor, Adora."
"What do you want me to say, Light Hope?" Adora burst out, miserably frustrated that this conversation had gone exactly where she'd thought it would. Where she'd feared it would. "That fucking thing tainted my childhood and uprooted my life and you expect me to be happy about it?" Catra could see the shimmer of tears beginning to well in her eyes and her heart ached in sympathy. All she wanted to do was take Adora in her arms and get her out of this suffocating place.
Light Hope's expression didn't change, though. She showed no sign of even caring that Adora was in such pain. "I will say it again, Adora," she responded flatly, "That attitude will not gain you my favor."
She really is the most robotic woman I've ever met.
"Then what do you want me to do?" Adora demanded, slumping back in her chair defeatedly.
"Touch the sword."
"If I touch it, will you give us enough money for a return trip from the South Pole?"
Light Hope, if possible, went even more still. Her eyes finally moved away from Adora's face to scan Catra's instead. Catra tried not to let her anger at this woman show, figuring it would indeed be a poor way to earn her favor, but inside she was fuming. She would have already dragged Adora up and out from under this bitch's thumb if their future didn't depend on her generosity. She wished it didn't. She wished they'd never even had to come here. She wished she still had her bending. She wished a lot of things.
Maybe she succeeded in hiding her feelings, or maybe she failed and the fire in her eyes was what convinced Light Hope, but eventually the woman looked back at Adora and said simply, "Yes."
Adora let out a long sigh, and Catra didn't know whether it was one of disappointment or relief. Spots of red stained her cheeks from the height of her emotion. She swiped a hand across her eyes to dash away any trace of tears and nodded. At first it was barely a twitch of her head, but then she looked up, straight into Light Hope's unforgiving obs, and the gesture became convicted.
"Fine. Fine, Light Hope. I'll touch your stupid sword." She switched her gaze to Catra, who was struck by the intensity of it. "For Catra."
"It was foolish of you to try to run from your fate," said Adora's old mentor ominously, straightening to her feet to tower over the two girls. Her eyes bored into her spirit-marked pupil. "I will gather the elders. You will meet us at the shrine at midday."
Without waiting for confirmation—expecting for her word to be taken as law—she left the porch and strode off in the direction of the village center, almost gliding across the dirt with the smoothness of her step. Her path took her toward the largest building in the village: a long, flat stone structure with a multitude of ancient sigils out front—at least as many as were on the pillars of this one.
Catra watched her go before turning her attention to Adora.
The sun-haired girl was doubled over in her seat with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her back was rising and falling with too-quick breaths, and Catra was instantly worried. She'd only looked away for a moment! Adora was even less okay than she'd thought. She slid out of her own seat to fall to her knees in front of her partner, placing her hands on Adora's knees in an attempt at comfort.
"Adora," she prompted gently, insistently, "what do you need?"
Adora took a long second to answer. "I—I—I don't know." Her fingers pressed into her temples. "I can't do this. We came all this way and I can't—" She broke off in favor of gasping for breath, and when she raised her head to face Catra there was panic in her eyes. "Catra, this is why I ran in the first place."
"I know." Catra ran her hands from Adora's knees up to her arms, rubbing soothingly. "I know, baby. I get it. But you can." When Adora shook her head and wouldn't look at her, eyes focusing somewhere far away or perhaps inside, Catra shifted her hands again to cup the other girl's face. "Adora, you can. You're strong. You can do this." She sat up on her knees to bring herself within Adora's line of sight and met those moist blue-gray orbs. "And if you don't want to, then it's okay. We can leave. We can stay at the South Pole. We'll be okay."
Adora shook her head again, still taking painful, shuddering breaths. She placed shaky hands on Catra's waist and pulled her closer so she was sitting between her knees. "I have to get you back. I promised—"
"Adora, now that I've left Republic City, I don't care about going back," Catra interrupted. Then, softer, she admitted, "The only reason I'd go back is to be with you."
That made Adora snap into full focus. Her next labored breath came out a whimper, and her grip on Catra tightened. "Really?"
"Yeah," Catra responded, raising a hand to Adora's chin to tilt her head up slightly, eyes dropping to her lips. She didn't lean in, waiting for Adora to decide whether this was something she wanted right now. All she cared about was taking care of Adora.
But Adora seemed to want it. On a sharp inhale she leaned in to catch Catra's lips abruptly. Her touch was a little fevered; a little desperate, but Catra slid her hands up behind her head to hold her steady. She could feel the other girl's hands still trembling, her chest still hiccuping to get enough air, but as Catra grounded her with a deepening kiss, that tension slowly began to fade. Catra savored the return to warmth; the ability to provide Adora this comfort.
It was Adora who pulled away first with a final shuddering sigh. She kept her brow against Catra's and her eyes down, as if embarrassed.
"You'll really be okay even if this doesn't work?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yes," Catra said immediately, taking Adora's face in her hands to give her a soft kiss right beside her mouth. "You're enough, Adora. No matter what."
Adora's hands came up to catch her wrists, and Catra heard her breath hitch. She was concerned that Adora was spiralling again until she whispered fiercely, "I love you."
And—
Catra let those words flow over her without fighting them, finally. She let them bloom in her own mind and she acknowledged it without her usual fear, finally. She thought she might be able to say it back this time, finally, because after seeing Adora so vulnerable, there was no fear of feeling vulnerable herself anymore. She trusted Adora completely, and with that trust came the certainty of love.
But Adora seemed to anticipate her usual silence and didn't give her the time to answer, instead pulling her in for another kiss. As Catra tilted her head and parted her lips to give Adora easier access, their closeness filled her with contented warmth despite the hell of their situation, and she thought with the euphoria of new freedom,
Yeah. This is what love feels like.
…
Midday couldn't have come soon enough.
Even though they were both dreading the meeting with the elders—the decision-making body of the traditionalist village—having nothing to do until then except stew was worse. Adora spent most of the morning perched on the edge of Light Hope's porch, staring across the training yard to the circular courtyard where the sword stood. Catra didn't know what to do to ease her worry, so she simply stayed by her side the whole time, reminding herself stronger together.
With their attention on the courtyard as it was, they saw the exact moment the elders emerged from the long stone building Light Hope had gone into. There were five of them, and though the woman at the head of the line was bent and white-haired, the other four did not look very elderly at all. They were all decked out in the usual Earth Kingdom neutrals, except for a mantle of vibrant green thrown over each of their shoulders. Light Hope's tall form trailed behind them, as if shepherding them along.
At the sight of them, Adora sucked in a steadying breath. "There they are," she observed, the trepidation clear in her voice.
Catra squinted at them as they filed across the courtyard toward the sword pedestal—what Light Hope had called the shrine. "Why don't they look old?" she asked, mostly in an attempt to get Adora's mind off of the impending trial, if for just a moment.
"The elders aren't necessarily the oldest in the village," said Adora, and when Catra shot her a confused glance she continued, "The title is more symbolic; left over from the old days. Now the council is chosen based on who's wisest and most respected." She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees and let her chin sink onto them. "Supposedly."
Catra let out a sympathetic sigh and reached across to massage Adora's near shoulder in an attempt at comfort. "Maybe they'll be wise enough to take your side."
Adora shook her head glumly. "The lady leading them…" She flicked her hand in halfhearted indication at the white-haired crone. "That's Zhen. She's been the head elder since I was a child. She knows all about the prophecy. All about me." All about what I'm supposed to be, was her underlying point.
Catra didn't know what to say to comfort her. As it turned out, she didn't get the chance to. Adora pushed herself to her feet in a sudden, swift motion, as if she didn't trust herself to complete it otherwise. Her posture looked painful, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.
"Adora—" Catra started, but received a hasty shake of the head to cut her off.
"It's time. I have to go," Adora said, audibly struggling to swallow down her fear.
When she went, Catra went with her.
As they began across the training yard toward the shrine where the elders had gathered, movement from between the surrounding houses caught Catra's eye. A scattering of regular villagers were straggling away from their daily duties to converge on the courtyard, apparently drawn by the news of Adora's decision. Catra threw a glance over at Light Hope, who was watching Adora intently. She must have done this on purpose. To pressure Adora. With more people watching, there was less likelihood of her backing out. Catra felt her lip curl as her distaste for the woman spiked.
Adora kept her eyes forward, intentionally ignoring the gathering crowd. Catra knew she was doing it to keep a hold on her nerves. If she thought too much, anxiety would take her again.
She approached the shrine where the golden hilt of the Sword of Protection glinted from the pillar of stone. The elders stood in a row before it, Zhen in the center. Close up, Catra could see that her figure vaguely resembled Razz's, although her face was haggard and pale and nowhere near as kind.
As Adora stopped in front of them, Catra at her shoulder, Zhen inclined her frizzy white head slightly. "Greetings, Shira," she said, and her voice was just as grating as her appearance.
Adora let out her breath in a disappointed sigh instantly. They really weren't going to give her an easy time of this. But she forced a respectful bow and replied anyway, "Greetings, Zhen-zŏng."
"You know why you have been called here." Zhen didn't phrase it as a question, but Adora nodded anyway. "It is about time you faced your destiny."
The haunting, condescending phrase reminded Catra of Light Hope, and her dislike extended to include this bent old woman. Was everyone intent on punishing Adora for something that wasn't her fault? Was everyone here a bitter, unforgiving hag?
She wanted to do something about it, but she doubted that decking the old woman would do much to help their case. So she held her tongue and kept her eyes down, trusting that Adora would remain strong under the abuse.
And she did. "I'm not doing it for you," was the sun-haired girl's terse response, and though a gasp went up from the crowd, she didn't waver.
At first Zhen looked angry, her brow wrinkling and her chin quivering with the force of the emotion, but then she seemed to remember herself and her bent posture relaxed. "No matter," she crooned. "The prophecy will be fulfilled, one way or another. Come, Shira."
Adora's jaw tightened, and her eyes were steely gray. But when Zhen stepped aside to open a path to the sword shrine and motioned for Adora to approach, she stepped forward wordlessly. Her absence from Catra's side left a chill in the air.
A thick, tense atmosphere hung over the circular courtyard. The modest crowd that had come to see the fate of their village decided was silent in anticipation. Adora was like a statue, back straight under the weight of their gazes, skin pale as marble. The elders watched her like a tasty meal being laid out before them.
The quiet seemed undercut by a faint, metallic buzz—at least to Catra's ears—the closer Adora got to the shining sword. She chalked it up to her nerves, just like her desert-dry throat and her racing heartbeat, but as it rose in volume and intensity it became hard to ignore. Catra watched Adora's back intently, noticing the light stain of anxious sweat along her spine, and tried not to be afraid for her. As Adora reached the pedestal and stopped, the buzzing became an insistent static. Catra shook her head slightly and raised a hand to her ear as if to swat it away, but it went somehow deeper than her physical sense.
Her motion caught the eye of the head elder, and the turn of the old woman's head was so prominent in the stillness of the courtyard that Catra's gaze flicked to hers of its own accord. Their eyes locked.
Zhen's widened. Her bent form abruptly unfolded, and her mouth dropped open in a gasp, deafening in the otherwise silence..
"Māo Meili!" she cried out. The villagers around her jumped and whipped around as if struck. The other elders wrenched their attention away from their precious Shira in favor of staring Catra down.
And—Catra vaguely recognized that name. Razz had called her the same. But where Razz had sounded fond and kind saying it, the head elder sounded positively outraged.
Catra took a step back, head on a swivel to try to keep track of all the hostile eyes on her at once. "What? Who?" she demanded desperately. She could feel panic crawling up her throat like it always did when she was backed into a corner. She sought out Adora's gaze in the crowd and gave her a look that said help! "I'm Catra."
"The spirit from legend in a new form!" Zhen ranted as if she hadn't spoken. She threw her arms up to gesticulate to the crowd, who hung on her every word like zealots. "The prophecy states that she will be identifiable by her eyes, which glow like sky and sun!"
Oh, no.
Oh, shit.
The prophecy. The spirit.
The cat.
Catra looked fearfully at Adora and Adora stared back with a mix of shock, horror and dread on her paling face. Then Catra shifted her gaze past her to Light Hope, wondering with sick suspicion whether she'd known the whole time and made Adora do this anyway. Light Hope was already watching her, and Catra felt rage burn up her throat. She knew. That bitch.
Speaking of bitch, Zhen the elder hadn't stopped hollering. "You are the enemy she must defeat once and for all!" she shrieked, jabbing a furious finger in Catra's direction as if ordering Adora to attack.
The rabid declaration made Catra take a step back, and her eyes flicked from Adora to the sword and back. This couldn't be. Adora wouldn't. She wouldn't hurt Catra. She couldn't. Right? She'd spurned the prophecy for this long; surely she could keep on doing it. They'd been through too much together to throw it all away now.
But old instinct made Catra afraid, and she shrank away from the girl she'd come to trust most in the world.
"It can't be." Adora's hard voice, echoing her thoughts, made Catra relax just a fraction. "I won't do it." The girl they thought to be Shira stepped away from the pedestal; the precious sword, and instead closed the distance back to Catra's side, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. She faced the disapproving glares of the elders with steely eyes, as if to say I am not your hero. Relief flooded through Catra and she found herself leaning into her partner's embrace. She felt ashamed to have doubted her. Adora remained stiff as a rock against her side.
"You cannot let the prophecy go unfulfilled," Zhen tried to insist, a crazy edge to her voice, like she couldn't comprehend that someone was neglecting her will. "Otherwise our village will remain vulnerable to this—this beast!" She waved furiously at Catra.
Adora's hand tightened on the curve of Catra's waist. "Catra is not a beast, and she's not evil. She's not going to hurt any of you," she said with absolute certainty, and Catra was floored by the weight of her love for this girl. Even though she had hurt her in the past—more than once—she defended her without question now. She sacrificed everything for her.
What did I ever do to deserve her?
The villagers were murmuring, complaining, trying to argue: "But the prophecy—!"
"Is wrong!" Adora cut them off fiercely. "There's no final battle to decide the fate of the village. It's just a stupid story."
"The struggle that our ancestors faced was real! And it was her fault!" the head elder shrieked in outrage. She turned to the crowd gathered behind her and leveled an accusing finger at Catra again. "Seize her!"
Many of the onlookers hesitated, but a group of young men broke off from the crowd and rushed her, probably eager to prove their worth to their elders. Adora began to step in front of her but Catra shouldered her away, falling into a fighting stance herself.
"Stronger together," she said tightly in response to Adora's surprised glance. What she really meant, faced with the snarling visages of six muscular young men and deprived of her bending, was we're going down together—because things were going downhill fast.
Catra figured she should have expected it, with her luck.
She met the first young man's rush with a deflection with her elbow and a counter to the gut, then the jaw, then a kick to the side of the knee that sent him sprawling. The next goon took his place instantly and landed a swing to her ribs before she could regain her stance. Catra grunted as her breath left her and twisted out of the way of another wild punch, jabbing her elbow out to give him a taste of his own medicine. He stumbled, but a third opponent was on her now, and she couldn't defend against two sets of flying limbs at once. Pain exploded from multiple points on her body as they surrounded her, and it was all she could do to raise her arms and shield her head from a knockout blow.
Based on what she could hear from Adora's side of the fight, she wasn't faring much better.
The truth was, stronger together or not, they were sorely outnumbered and Catra was off balance without her bending; off her game. Practically helpless.
The first man she'd hit came surging back into the fight then, and the three of them converged on her together.
The feeling of their iron grip closing around her arms, her hair, was painfully, terrifyingly familiar. Without meaning to, she cried out, "Adora," on a hoarse gasp.
She could not do this again. It was way too similar to her nightmare experience at Air Temple Island. Here she was getting dragged away again; reaching for Adora only to have her torn away from her grasp again, and she could feel fear like a cage closing around her chest and throat, tightening, cutting off her breath. Her lungs began to hurt as she gasped for air around the crushing barrier. "Adora!"
But this time, Adora did not let her go. In a sudden whirlwind of rage-fueled strikes, she knocked down all three men around her, then bounded over and felled the ones holding Catra too. Then she pushed Catra behind her taller form, placing herself between her and the rest of their opponents, and as the young men groaned on the ground, she faced the village elders.
"I won't let you hurt her," she said, dangerously soft. "If you want her dead, you'll have to take down your precious Shira, too."
Zhen and her compatriots fumed. "This is an outrage! How can you betray your own people this way?" she practically screamed, looking like she would have throttled them both herself if she weren't so frail.
"You aren't my people. Catra is," Adora said without a shred of doubt or hesitation.
Despite their predicament, Catra felt her heart soar. Yeah, I—I love you, she thought suddenly, and hoped she had not wasted all her chances to say it. She pressed close to her partner's side again.
But the elders' expressions darkened frightfully. There was a long pause, during which Zhen tested her angry gaze against Adora's and lost. Then, with a vicious snarl, she conceded: "Very well then. If you are not for us, you are against us." She flicked her hand to the crowd again. "Take them away."
It took a long moment for anyone to step forward this time, but when they did, the two girls did not resist.
…