((A/N: Hello all! Before you get started you should know, I hated how inaccurate the portrayal of the Hordes' military was in the show, so I've 'fixed' a few things like: equipment, ranks, strategies, eta. I'm also using some strong language and military lingo because I think it's more realistic. Also very importantly, I'd like to mention that everyone portrayed is an adult over the age of 18! Catra specifically being 23 at this point in the story.
Military acronym guide for Chapter One:
EOD: Explosive Ordinance Disposal
MP: Military Police
IFAK: Individual First Aid Kit
CO: Commanding Officer
NCO: Non-Commissioned Officer
MIA: Missing In Action
*Trigger Warning: mentions of death, self-harm, and graphic descriptions of sexual assault))
Thick clouds of smoke rose over the ground before slowly dissipating above the battlefield, a landscape which was once beautiful was now filled with nothing but shattered trees and rubble, populated by hollow helmets, empty shells, and the discarded weapons of soldiers who were now corpses. Squinted eyes scanned the plain, combing the area three or four times over. The silence lasted only a few short moments. Soldiers trickled back onto the field as new orders were issued, medics scoured for survivors, dressing what wounds they could, and making comfortable those who wouldn't survive. Infantryman wondered, some would occasionally stop, and eye the faces of their fallen comrades, faces which were so recently filled with life. Some fell to their knees, some cried to themselves, some screamed, some would pretend it didn't affect them at all, picking up useable armor and munitions left by friend and foe alike. The captain had seen enough, she turned around, blinked, and let out sigh. The battle may be over, but the aftermath was always worse.
"Catra!" A harsh voice cracked through the air, causing the Force Captain to snap to attention.
"Shadow Weaver," Catra greeted half-heartedly, letting her gaze make its way to her superior.
"Report," the commanding voice returned.
Catra's ear twitched, as she made a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. "Are you serious? Report What? The fighting ended not five minutes ago."
"I understand that, but I need numbers by 1600."
Catra scoffed, turning her attention away from the general. "1600? I just gave the order to pick through everything, it's gonna take longer than two hours."
"I didn't say I needed the full report, Catra, just the numbers." There was a pause. "I have to tell him something, you know."
"Then tell him we won. We don't need to give him numbers for that." The more Catra spoke, the more her frustration became audible.
"You know I can't do that, Catra, I need something tangible. Just get me the numbers."
"Then get outta my way, and let me coordinate head-counts with the other captains," Catra growled, bumping shoulders with the cloaked women as she walked past.
•••
Four buildings stood about six miles back, remnants of a village which was taken months ago was now a base for high-ranking officers. Doors and windows were boarded over, and sandbags along with large metal scraps were piled together to form defensive positions. Inside the largest building, a small room was illuminated with light from a screen, a button flashed green before it was pressed.
"Lord Hordak," The shadowy woman greeted.
"Shadow Weaver, I trust you have good news," the voice replied through the screen.
"Yes. It seems our months long stalemate at Fort Gibbons has finally come to a close. We haven't sent out recon yet, but it appears all rebel forces have either retreated, been captured, or perished. We should be clear to move West soon. Three weeks by my estimations."
"Losses?"
"We did loose twenty-three bots, four skiffs, two mortars, and one tank, other than that nothing worthy of note, 271 total casualties, 68 of which are now stable, most were conscripts."
"And the rebels?"
"437 dead. Survivors were all interrogated and most were executed, none proved particularly useful. Although, two of them had radios."
An eyebrow raised on screen. "Any transmissions?"
"None yet, but they may have switched frequencies in anticipation of their capture, it's hard to say. We're keeping an ear on it."
"Very well. When should I expect a report?"
"I only have two so far, the recovery process is moving rather slowly, given how much ground we have to cover–"
"I'll expect it tomorrow morning then. If your captains cannot perform their duties it is your job to find more suitable replacements."
"Of course, Lord Hordak, consider it done."
"That's what I like to hear."
With a click the man was gone, and the room faded into total darkness once again.
•••
Six miles ahead, the fort was nothing but commotion. Soldiers scrambled to finish orders, collecting dog tags, armor, weapons, munitions, aid, and removing what debris were light enough to carry. A strained Force Captain barked orders at grunts and officers alike, while frantically scribbling notes into a clipboard.
"Catra!" a familiar voice rang out.
"Shit," Catra breathed, before turning around to reply, "Shadow Weaver."
"This looks... chaotic." The woman said, gesturing vaguely.
"Very helpful General, thank you," Catra replied sarcastically, flipping through the sheets on her clipboard.
"Watch yourself, Force Captain. Based on your terrible mood, I'm assuming you haven't finished your report."
Catra sighed, "Look, this recovery obviously isn't going smoothly, I just need–"
"Force Captain!" A private called out.
The felines' ears cocked back as she slumped in place, turning her attention to the soldier. "What? And this better not be something you could've asked Sergeant Johnson again!"
"N-no, we're searching the rebel corpses– and they– there's— Some of them have explosives! A-a-and—" He stuttered.
"Calm down. Improvised explosive devices are pretty run of the mill, and it's an EOD problem. Go bother them about it, east tent, green flag."
"Y-yes ma'am!" The soldier replied with a salute.
"And what did I tell you about calling me that? Fuck off!" Catra shouted, waving dismissively.
"Y-yes sir!" The private corrected before quickly scurrying off.
"...You were saying?" Shadow Weaver inquired irritably.
Catra let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. "To be frank, this whole thing is a shitstorm. I can't coordinate my troops 'cause I lost half my CO's, two of which are MIA, and these useless boots keep asking me stupid shit I can't be bothered with right now."
"So? You have four companies out here. Borrow a couple sergeants."
Catra shook her head. "No, no. Riley and Kimball both need their men, I can't just take them."
"Captain Riley and Captain Kimball have both already submitted their reports, I'm waiting on yours," Shadow Weaver remarked, poking the felines chest.
Catra stepped back slightly, and shook her head, flipping through the pages on her clipboard once again. "Well Riley and Kimball aren't Force Captains, so I have to take both of their reports into account when I write mine. You know it will be the most comprehensive, of course it's gonna take the longest!"
"So you need help."
"No," Catra shot back.
"It wasn't a question. Go to your tent, write your report, I'll handle things out here."
Catra's ears cocked back again as her eyebrows furrowed, then a pause. "I still need numbers for arms and munitions... IFAKs too."
"I'll get it, start writing," Shadow Weaver insisted, her tone more irritable than charitable.
Catra let out a barely audible "Thanks." before starting toward her tent.
There were several tents scattered around Fort Gibbons and the ruins surrounding it, each captain given their own as a sort of command center. Even though, Catra's was the biggest, she rarely used hers. She stepped inside, nodding to the MPs that guarded it on her way in. With a heavy sigh she tossed her clipboard down onto the table and took her seat, booting up her portable terminal. She rubbed her forehead, starring at her reflection in the screen. Her hair was a mess, and the bags under her droopy eyes weren't helping either.
'Holy shit, when was the last time I slept for than four hours?' She wondered, then shook her head. 'Doesn't matter, just write.'
The feline glanced at her notes, a terrible scribbled mess, then began typing. After a few hours, she had nearly completed it. The only thing missing was the information that her superior had agreed to get for it. She saved her progress and minimized the program, closing her portable terminal before standing up to leave. It was then, of course, that the general walked in.
"Hey," Catra started before returning to her seat to restart her terminal.
"'Hey'? Is that how you usually greet your superiors?"
"Usually my superiors don't do my work for me."
"Catra, I'm trying to help, you would–"
Catra exhaled sharply, cutting the general off, "I don't need your help."
Shadow Weaver scoffed. "Clearly." There was a pause. "Look, I know you're under a lot of pressure. No doubt this is a stressful position to be in right now, but there's more at stake here than you know."
"And what? You do?" Catra sneered.
Shadow Weaver stopped, and looked Catra in the eye, though the feline couldn't see hers.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"
"I'm trying—"
"Bull-shit!"
"Catra, you know I won't take this from you. I'm trying to be nice, but if you want me to treat you like every other captain, just say the word."
The Force Captain fell silent, unsure how to respond.
"That's what I thought," Shadow Weaver continued, "Now, your company still has 178 rifles with approximately 18,000 bullets, 87 sidearms with approximately 1300 power cartridges, and 92 IFAKs."
Catra flipped her terminal open before she replied, almost chuckling, "They always loose the fucking shock sticks."
"Catra..." The shadowy woman started.
"Why do I always get a bad feeling when you say my name like that?"
"Your company took the most casualties–"
"You don't think I know that?" Catra snapped.
"Silence. Let me speak," She continued, "I know you had your own company take point for the most risky maneuvers, but you have double the casualties that Riley's company had–"
"I coordinated the entire attack, why does it matter whose company took the brunt of it? Especially when Hordak keeps giving me a bunch of piss-poor excuses for soldiers! How am I supposed to work with a bunch of conscripts when Riley and Kimball have volunteer soldiers and elite squadrons—?"
"How do you expect to be given elite squadrons when you've only just been promoted and have yet to prove that you can deliver results with minimal losses? The maneuvers you lost dozens of conscripts on likely could've been easily handled with one or two of Riley or Kimball's squads. And I know you know that."
Catra simply shook her head as she started typing.
Shadow Weaver pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, your results are usually good, impressive even on occasion. And I don't disagree with your tactics, what you do is largely what I've taught you. But you're starting to develop a pattern, Catra, and it's not necessarily one that Hordak has taken a liking to."
Catra stopped typing for a moment. "Why are you telling me this? Do you just like making me feel like shit? Is that it?"
"I told you, I'm trying to help you."
"Well, I don't need you to fucking babysit me, okay?! I'm not a cadet anymore!"
"Catra, that's not what this is," The women insisted, reaching out towards the captain.
"Then what the fuck is it?!" The feline demanded as she jerked away.
The women took a deep breath before starting again, "Catra listen, you let your emotions get out of hand. In the heat of battle they will control you, effect every decision you make, and cause you to fumble. Even now, when I'm simply trying to talk to you."
"Are you joking? We haven't been resupplied in months! I just lost 112 soldiers! I don't know where two of my company's CO's are! I think I'm alright to be a little on edge," Catra retorted.
"Stop."
"What?! You're–"
"Stop. Talking." Shadow Weaver repeated through a raised voice, before quieting back down again, "Stop making it seem like you can't handle this. Or your rank will go to someone who can."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm not doing anything, Catra. Your own decisions, their outcomes, and how Hordak receives them are the only threats to you right now."
Catra scoffed.
"I didn't have to get those numbers for you, you know." Shadow Weaver paused, then added, "If there's anything else I can do for you–"
"Yeah, actually, if you'd get the fuck outta my tent, I think my blood pressure'd drop 20 points!"
Shadow Weaver sighed deeply. "I'm going to let that one go, but you'd better show some respect next time I see you, or they'll be repercussions."
The feline didn't respond, not audibly at least. However, Shadow Weaver knew the captain well enough to know that flattened ears and a flicking tail were a sign of irritation, so with that, she left.
Catra sat still for a moment before opening the communications program on her terminal and requesting a call, cracking a small smile when it instantly connected to show a familiar face on screen.
"Hey," Catra greeted, probably colder than she meant to.
"Hey Wildcat, how's it going on the ground?"
Catra shrugged, then shook her head. "I don't know..."
Scorpia's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you alright?"
Another shrug. Scorpia could see the cracks starting to form in Catra's composure. Her ears were one obvious sign. Catra knew this, and tried making a conscious effort to position them normally, but every time it slipped her mind, they'd flatten back again, inadvertently making it more obvious. She had never been good at hiding what she felt, and it wasn't just written on her face, it was written everywhere.
"Was there... something you wanted to talk about?" Scorpia pried gently.
"I don't know, I–"
"I think you do."
That response caught Catra somewhat off-guard, she shifted in her seat as her tail flicked back and forth off camera. "We're winning, it just doesn't feel like it."
"What does it feel like?" Scorpia inquired.
Catra hesitated a moment, unsure whether she wanted to tell the truth or not. "Like my company took 41% of all casualties."
"Just now?"
Catra nodded, and Scorpia could've sworn she saw a glint in her eye for a moment.
"Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control..."
Catra shook her head. "What if I can do is lead soldiers into massacres?"
"Awe, Catra... You can't think like that."
The feline lifted her legs up to her chest and hugged her knees. "Shadow Weaver said if my performance doesn't improve, Hordak's gonna demote me."
"Maybe that could be a good thing?" Scorpia suggested.
Catra snorted, but her composure was breaking, along with her voice. "Don't tell me, you don't think I'm cut out for this, either."
"That's not what I said, Wildcat–"
"Didn't have to," Catra shot back.
"That's not what I meant," Scorpia corrected, "I just... want you to see things more optimistically. Maybe less responsibility could be good for a change."
Catra scoffed weakly, her composure was gone, and the princess could see the glaze in her eyes that she was desperately trying to blink back.
"I'm sorry, I wish I could be there for you, Wildcat."
"Me too," Catra whispered faintly, it was all she could do to choke back the tears. In truth, she didn't know if she actually wanted Scorpia at her side, but she knew she didn't want to be alone.
There was a long pause, with the only sound being the occasional sniffle from Catra.
"What if... I came down for a few days?" Scorpia asked.
Catra's left ear perked forward as she looked back up at the screen. "Aren't you still assigned to supply?" She questioned. "There's no way he'll just let you leave."
"I might be able to pull some strings. Plus, I'm assuming your companies need resupplied, right?"
"You kidding? I submitted a resupply request two months ago. Half my soldiers are without armor."
Scorpia nodded. "I know, there's not a lot to go around. We're facing some pretty serious material shortages right now," she admitted.
"That's why this western front is so important. All their mines are within a few miles of here, if we can take their resources and supply our troops with it, we'll wipe the floor with them."
"I agree. That's why I think I could make this happen."
Catra nodded.
"I'm gonna get on that. I have some influence around here, but like I said, probably gonna have to pull a few strings, maybe call in a few favors."
"Hit me back when you have an update, okay?"
"Of course! And... get some rest Wildcat, please," Scorpia insisted, and with a click she was gone.
Catra closed her terminal, laying her head down on top of it for a moment. She was exhausted, but she didn't know if she would be able sleep. She begrudgingly picked herself up, stumbling over to the door as she typed into the keypad, listening to the latch lock with a clank. Turning back around she walked to bed, throwing herself on top of it. She laid there tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes, which never really closed, made their way over to the clock, 04:32.
'Fuck,' she thought, her soldiers would be in formation in only half an hour.
She growled wondering where the time had slipped. Another sleepless night. She hated this, she hated herself. What was she supposed to do? The Force Captain forced herself up, willing her limbs to put on a fresh uniform, brush her hair, comb her fur, and brush her teeth. She looked into her crackled mirror and sighed, hoping her troops would be more disheveled than herself. She picked up her clipboard and took one last glance at the clock before stepping out, 05:14. She nodded to the MPs as she left, briskly walking towards the open field where her company stood in formation, awaiting orders for the day. Their chatter was audible from more than 30 feet away, and this sent the Force Captain into a bad mood right off the bat.
"What? I'm 15 minutes late and now it's social hour?!" She yelled, making sure to cast glares at the COs and NCOs who hadn't kept them in line. "Clearly, you've all gotten too comfortable. Fortunately, I can fix that! Front leaning rest position, move!"
There was a collectivized groan.
"Oh really? Half way down! Move!" The captain barked, "And stay there until I tell you otherwise!"
Catra pointed to her Lieutenants, curling her index finger in a 'come here' sort of motion. Three officers poured out from their formations and stood at attention in front of their captain.
"Would anyone mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?" The feline questioned.
"Force Captain, sir, we figured the troops could use a little break, they've all been–"
"A break? A break?" She repeated. "I didn't get a break, did you?"
"N-no sir," the lieutenant replied, shaking his head.
Catra nodded. "Uh-huh. So why would they?"
The three were silent.
"That's what I thought, we have lots to get done today. Quincy, lead PT for the company then take your platoon and continue recovery. Grayson and Tomas, I'm assigning both your platoons to build up defensive fortifications, North and West sides respectively, I want this place invulnerable by the end of the day, understood?"
"Yes sir!" The three rang out in unison.
"Dismissed," Catra ordered with a wave, before turning her attention back to the group. "Everybody at ease. We've all got a long day ahead of us, let's knock this shit out, hooah?"
A large "Hooah!" was echoed back as the troops stood themselves up.
First Lieutenant Quincy stepped up and took over to start PT, with that, Catra made her way back towards her make-shift command center. She walked inside, over to her terminal where a notification light pulsed. She flipped it open to see messages from both Shadow Weaver, and her fellow captain, Scorpia. She clicked the first one:
"Force Captain, you're late. I need your official report two hours ago. Don't make me tell you in person.
- General Shadow Weaver"
The feline rolled her eyes, then opened the second message:
"Heyo, strings pulled! I should be able to make it down in a day or two, weather permitting! Stay Strong! 3
- Force Captain Scorpia"
Catra sighed deeply, resting her face in her hands for a few moments before opening her report. She hated writing reports, it wasn't only tedious, it was tiring. And the last thing she wanted to do was relive the events from the last couple days. At least it wouldn't take long, or so she thought, she was still typing when her superior walked in.
"You have just some of the worst timing ever, you know that?" Catra teased, turning slightly to look at the general with a smirk on her face.
"Didn't I warn you I wouldn't be in the mood for your quips?" Shadow Weaver remarked dryly, closing the space between them in order to place her hands firmly atop the captain's shoulders.
A shiver shot up Catra's spine. "Look, I'm almost done, alright?"
The general peered down at the screen and hummed in response, lightly squeezing the captain's shoulders, causing her breathing to hitch.
"Good lord, you're tense," the shadowy women purred.
Catra swallowed hard, dreading the thought of where this might be headed when the women started massaging. "It's fine," she tried.
"Nonsense," Shadow Weaver refuted, "Do you think you lead better all wound up like this? Relax."
'Kinda hard to do with you here,' Catra thought, but couldn't bring herself to vocalize.
The shadowy women continued, slowly moving her right hand down the side of the feline's torso to caress the muscles on her abdomen, prompting her to inhale sharply as her breathing escalated.
"Easy captain, I'm not going to hurt you," the women reassured.
But reassuring it was not, Catra would rather Shadow Weaver hurt her, at least that she was used to. "I'm—I'm fine, really—" she tried to insist.
"You're shaking," Shadow Weaver replied, letting her left hand stop over Catra's, before taking it into her own, and pulling slightly. A signal that she wanted the captain to stand, which Catra complied with. "You need to de-stress, I can help with that," she whispered, pushing the captain backwards into the desk until their bodies pressed against one another.
What started as a sort of hug turned into grey hands gliding around Catra's waist, and finger tips with sharp nails digging underneath the seams and into the gaps of her uniform. Another shiver shot up Catra's spine. She considered retaliating, but knew it would only tempt the general to use her shadow manipulation, and that, was the one thing that could make this situation worse.
"Sh-Shadow Weaver..." Catra stuttered, grabbing at one of the women's hands with her own as her heart began pounding inside her chest.
"Hush," the women dismissed, easily evading Catra's hand as she began peeling her uniform off, gently petting the fur that was revealed underneath.
Catra whimpered, tightly gripping onto the table behind her. Shadow Weaver moved her left hand to caress the feline's face. She gently brushed brown hair out of the way, traced her thumb over Catra's lips, and pried her mouth open. She ran her thumb along the felines' tongue, then her sharp teeth. Catra's breathing turned shaky, and her body trembled, as some of her fur started to stand on end.
"Shh, it's okay," Shadow Weaver insisted, slowly bringing her face closer to the feline's.
It definitely wasn't okay, but Catra felt that there was nothing she could do. To her, it was either let it go and get it over with, or fight and be forced. So, like almost every other time, she let it go. She closed her eyes, shuttering when she heard the general slip her mask off, and felt their lips crash together. Soon the thumb in Catra's mouth was replaced with a tongue, causing her to gasp quietly.
Shadow Weaver hummed, flicking her tongue over the felines sharp teeth, rough tongue, and wet lips as she kissed the shorter officer over and over again. Cold hands wondered over the fur she had exposed as they made their way down to Catra's waist. Digging her fingers into the tufts of fur on either side, she firmly pressed the captains' pelvis against her own, grinding against her forcefully.
Catra let out a yelp as her ears folded back. She could feel her heart pound against her rib cage as Shadow Weaver methodically peeled the rest of her uniform off. "P-please..." she choked out desperately.
"Please what?" The general teased, trailing her mouth over Catra's cheek, to her jawline, then her neck, dotting the captains' face with kisses the whole way down.
'Stop' is what Catra wanted to say, but didn't have the courage. Instead she stood there, unmoving, as one of Shadow Weavers' hands trailed up her waist and over her abs. She cringed when she felt fingertips push underneath the seem of her bra, and pinch her nipples, one at a time, twisting slightly. More whimpers escaped her lips as her breathing turned into panting.
Shadow Weaver kissed, bit, and sucked the felines neck for a good while before whispering against the sensitive skin, which was now peppered with hickeys and overlapping bite marks, "You're awfully quiet tonight."
Catra didn't respond, only shivering when hot breath brushed against the nape of her neck. Her hands gripped onto the desk she was pressed against, until the shadowy women's other hand slid past the seem of her briefs to stroke the tuft of fur right above her womanhood. She quickly grabbed her superiors wrist, as a nervous moan escaped her lips, "Nnhh!"
Shadow Weaver paused and straightened herself out. She removed her hand from the felines chest, using it to tilt Catra's head towards her own and initiate eye contact. "Look at me," she demanded, roughly gripping and then yanking the tuft of fur she was previously petting. Catra let out a high-pitched yelp, hesitantly opening watery eyes as the general slowly took both her hands away, and gestured to the table behind the captain. "Don't let your hands come off that desk again."
The feline nodded narrowly, grabbing onto the top of the table as the tears welling up in her eyes threatened to fall. Was she really so subservient? Was she really going to continue letting herself be treated like this? She might never forgive herself, but she was. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered faintly.
"It's okay, just be a good Force Captain and let me take care of you," the women hummed as she brought her hand up to stroke Catra's cheek, wiping away the stray tears that fell from multicolored eyes.
Catra hated that. The word 'good', the phrase 'take care of you', and the hand stroking her cheek, which was inching down her briefs only moments ago. She nodded anyway, letting her eyes close tightly once again. It would all be over soon.
•••
Catra awoke in a cold sweat, audibly gasping for air. She jumped up as wide eyes darted around the room, stopping only after confirming that it was indeed empty. She shook her head and tried to brush off the memories from last night, and the nightmares which followed. The anxiety stayed, however, much to Catra's dismay. She scanned the room again, it was tidier than she remembered, but maybe it was fortunate not to have to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened. Then, something caught her eye, a note. She hesitantly walked over and tore it off the wall, reading, then rereading the cursive script:
"Covering for you, get some sleep. - SW"
Catra turned to look at the clock, which displayed the time, 08:47. She blinked, looking at the clock a second time, it remained unchanged.
'How did I oversleep five hours?'
She swallowed hard, trying her best not to unravel the moments which she had evidently blocked from conscious memory. It was for the best. She was already thinking about it more than she wanted to. A shower sounded like a good idea, she shuffled over to the bathroom, making sure to look away from the mirror to order to avoid her reflection. However, this struck her with a new horrifying realization. The way she was wearing her uniform was... off. Her breathing immediately picked up as she shivered, quickly tearing off each uniform piece as fast as she possibly could. She jumped straight into the shower, turning the temperature as hot as she could stand before she crumpled to the floor, clutching her knees. The feline sat that way for a while, letting the water wash over her, a feeling she usually hated, but now welcomed. She knew she couldn't wash the things that happened away, she knew she couldn't wash the feelings away. But she didn't know what else to do. She felt dirty. After a while she decided soap would help, she grabbed the bottle, dumping it onto herself as she vigorously lathered the liquid into her fur. But no matter how hard she scrubbed, she could still feel the aches, she could still see the cuts from sharp nails, or the bruises from—well, what she would force herself to assume were bruises. Her escalated breathing became shaky, along with the rest of her body, as the tears welled up in her eyes. How could she let this happen again? How could she not fight back? Was she cementing her role by going along with it? Her thoughts spiraled out of control. Her chest tightened, her jaw clenched, and her claws protruded, even though she didn't want them to. She wanted to scream but she couldn't, using all her strength to punch the shower wall instead. The pain was the only distraction real enough and vivid enough to work. She threw another punch, then two, then three. She wailed on the tile until her knuckles began to bleed through her fur. She could hardly catch her breath, her whole body trembled, and the water dripping from the shower ran cold. It was only then, that's she decided to jump out, hastily drying and redressing herself.
"C'mon just... relax—just... breathe," she tried to tell herself, but the constant hyperventilating was now causing her to loose feeling in her face, hands, tail, and feet. The more she fought the symptoms, the more it felt like they were fighting her back. She snatched a pillow off her bed, and clutched it while curling herself up underneath it, staying there until the calm finally found her.
