Chapter Text
Catra woke before dawn, like always, her heart pounding from a fading dream. She laid perfectly still, heterochromatic eyes blinking in the darkness. Her ears twitched, straining to hear any unusual sounds, but there was only Adora breathing slowly next to her.
Adora liked to toss and turn in her sleep, the sheets getting tangled up around her legs during the night. Catra didn’t mind. She hated sheets, anyway. Before she and Adora shared a bed, Catra always slept on top of her blankets. Sleeping under them made her feel trapped, stifled—vulnerable. But over the past three months, she’d grown used to going to bed with sheets spread out over the two of them. They always ended up kicked off, anyway.
Adora had rolled over, one arm slung over Catra’s chest, her nose tenderly touching Catra’s neck. She could feel Adora’s warm breath against her skin, a metronome to keep her steady, and it made her heartbeat slow. Stay calm, she thought. Everything is fine now.
Despite having lived the past three months in Bright Moon, sharing a room and a bed with Adora in Bright Moon Castle, Catra hadn’t yet shaken her old survival instincts to always be on alert. She checked for shadows down every hallway, listened carefully for any misplaced footstep that might signal an intruder. It didn’t matter how often Adora told her they were safe now—years of habits were hard to break. Waking up before dawn was one of them.
Catra ran her fingers softly down Adora’s arm and caught the sleeping girl’s hand in her own. She held it for a few moments, feeling the soft familiarity of Adora’s fingers, then lifted it gingerly off her waist. She paused, listening to Adora’s breaths, counting the seconds between them to be sure she was still asleep—she didn’t want to wake her. Once she was sure Adora was still sound asleep, Catra pushed herself out of bed and slinked quietly across the room. It was minimally decorated—the few decorations they had were gifts from their friends, not anything they’d acquired on their own. Catra didn’t like having things . Things weighed you down. Objects were easily broken and lost. She didn’t see the point.
Getting dressed quietly was second nature to Catra. She slipped off her loose maroon nightshirt and pulled on her usual clothes—a sleeveless red top with a high collar, and black leggings that clung close to her slim legs. She’d never worn pajamas before she’d come to Bright Moon, but then again, comfort was a new concept to her. In the Fright Zone, she always had to be ready for a fight, even in the dead of night.
From the corner of the room, a shimmering, ethereal figure stretched and yawned before padding their way over to Catra’s side. She put a hand atop Melog’s head, letting the large cat-like creature nuzzle against her. With Melog, it was easy—no words needed to be exchanged, no opposing forces of will tugged away from each other. She and Melog were so inextricably connected that they felt like an extension of Catra’s very mind. They walked in a synchronized step toward the window.
A dim orange light broke over the horizon and began to filter through the sheer curtains. Catra cast one more look at Adora—she’d rolled onto her back now, spreading out in the place Catra vacated. Adora always liked to take up the whole bed.
Beyond the window was a crisp Bright Moon morning. Everything was shaded in light pink and orange hues, the buildings soft and flowing like water poured gently from a pitcher. Catra never got used to how soft everything in Bright Moon was. The buildings, the chairs, the people—not a day passed that she didn’t remember the harsh fluorescent lights and concrete rooms of the Fright Zone. They were less comfortable, sure, but they were much more familiar to her.
A gentle brush against her tail sent a shock through her body. Catra turned to see Adora propped up on one elbow, her hand stroking Catra’s tail gently before falling away. Adora looked up at her with pale blue eyes, her sandy hair loose and cascading around her shoulders.
“Don’t be late,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
The corner of Catra’s mouth ticked up slightly. What day was it? Oh, right. Tuesday. There’d be a Princess Alliance meeting today.
“I won’t be,” Catra whispered back, flicking her tail gently against Adora’s hand. She leaned over and placed a kiss on Adora’s head. Adora smiled beneath her before settling back into the covers. Catra climbed into the window frame, Melog beside her, and jumped into the brisk dawn.
***
One of the things Catra liked best about the early morning is that no one was out and about. When Adora wasn’t around, people still had a hard time talking to Catra. She didn’t blame them—she’d been their enemy for so long, how could they trust her? Since Horde Prime had been defeated, some small factions across Etheria had tried to gain power, but the Princess Alliance made peace before they got too carried away. She’d get a sideways glance any time there was even the slightest unrest, though she honestly had nothing to do with it. She didn’t care about that kind of thing anymore. The only thing she cared about was inside Bright Moon castle right now, sleeping in her bed.
But still, she was restless. Every morning she’d slip out from the castle under the shadow of dawn and head to the Whispering Woods. She used to hate these woods—they’d stolen Adora from her, after all. But living in Bright Moon had changed her opinion of them. When you weren’t walking through them with a group of annoying chatterboxes, there was an assortment of amazing sounds.
Catra liked to perch high in a certain tree that had crooked, odd-looking branches. It wasn’t as beautiful as the other trees, and it didn’t quite fit in, but it was doing its best. She could relate. She took a deep breath as she walked toward the tree, inhaling the crisp Bright Moon morning. This place was nothing like the Fright Zone, which was all engines whirring and motor oil. This place felt like magic.
She climbed up her tree, sat, and listened. Melog perched beside her, a still and silent sentinel. A breeze hummed around her, making music on the leaves of the trees. She closed her eyes and let the chill nip at her skin. The cold feeling reminded her something, something she didn’t want to get too comfortable to forget: no matter how good things were at the moment, they were bad before, and they could be bad again.
Catra felt the sun creep up her back like a slow, silent stalker. Bright Moon was waking up, and the sounds drifted into the Woods—wagon wheels on cobblestones, laughter on the breeze. She opened her eyes. She didn’t want to go to the Princess Council meeting, not now, and not ever. She didn’t care about princesses or politics. If it were up to her, she and Adora would go far away and live in a little house on a piece of land that they controlled, away from all the other people. Maybe somewhere in the verdant fields before you hit the Crimson Wastes. They could hunt for food, and trade leathers with traveling caravans, and maybe even raise goats, and—
But it was getting late, and Catra needed to head back to Bright Moon castle before her imagination got away from her. She had to face the facts: Adora would never leave Bright Moon, not even for her. Sure, they’d saved the world, but Adora loved to be a hero, and she would never give that up. When Catra suggested they get their own place, somewhere near the Woods just outside the city so that Adora could still do her royal duties or whatever, Adora wasn’t interested.
“We have everything we could ever want here,” she’d said. “Why would we leave?”
Adora didn’t understand that Catra didn’t have everything she wanted. There was one thing Bright Moon castle couldn’t give her: space.
Catra jumped off her branch and landed lithely on the ground. She was getting worked up in her own head again, and it always made her feel itchy and restless. Melog rubbed their cheek against her shoulder, a quiet comfort. She turned back toward Bright Moon, but a rustle in the trees behind her made her pause.
Quick as an arrow, Catra slipped behind her crooked tree and sniffed the air. She could something—human, probably—and the rustling was getting louder. She peeked around the tree, but there was nothing there.
“You don’t have to hide, dearie,” said a voice right behind her. Melog growled. Catra spun, claws extended, then stopped herself. It was just an old woman with long, silver hair. She held a walking stick in one hand and a half-full basket of berries in the other. Catra didn’t lower her claws—how had this old lady snuck up on her?
“I wasn’t hiding ,” Catra said, letting her voice slide easily into malice. “Who are you?”
“Of course you weren’t,” the old woman said, and she turned on her heel. “Now come along and help me look for Mara.”
Catra froze at the mention of the name. Mara . Adora had told her about Mara, the previous She-Ra who lived a thousand years ago. There was no way this old woman could be looking for the same Mara, was there?
The old woman disappeared through the trees. Catra wanted to follow her—she was good at following, watching, and listening. But the sun rose higher and she knew she needed to be back in Bright Moon soon, or else she’d be late. Again. Adora wouldn’t like that. It would be just like back in the Fright Zone when she depended on Adora to make excuses for her. She’d been trying her best not to fall into that old habit.
But if this had something to do with Adora, then Catra felt an obligation to find out.
“Hey! Wait up!” Catra tore through the trees after the old woman. She was shockingly fast considering her age, and she wove in and out of the brush as if she did it every day. Perhaps she did. Catra followed her into a part of the forest she’d never been to before. The trees grew thicker here, and a large insect the size of her head narrowly missed flying right into her face. But the old woman did not slow down, and neither did Catra.
Finally, they came to a clearing in the trees. In the center of the clearing were several bushes bursting with red berries. The old woman knelt down by the bushes.
“Mara’s late,” she said. “She said she would be here!”
“Mara’s dead,” Catra said. “Don’t you mean Adora?”
The old woman stood up and walked back to Catra. She squinted at her through thick, round glasses.
“You’re not Briony,” the woman said. She poked Catra with her walking stick the way you might poke an animal to see if it's dead.
“Watch it with that thing!” Catra swatted the stick away.
“Nope, not Briony,” she said. “Then you must be Adora’s friend.”
“That’s right,” Catra said. Friend wasn’t exactly the right word for what they were, but she couldn’t expect some crazy old lady to know that.
“Well, it makes sense, after all, neither of you being from Etheria,” she said, then turned back to the berry bush.
“What did you just say?” Catra tried to grab her shoulder, but the old woman hit her hand with the walking stick.
“No time!” the woman said. “I need to find Mara.”
The old woman darted out of the clearing. Catra followed.
“Wait! Come back!” She ran after the woman, heels pounding against the dirt as she jumped over rocks and logs. Melog ran beside her, nose sniffing the air. They paused. They lost sight of the woman somewhere in the trees. “What do you mean neither of us is from Etheria?”
The old woman reappeared right in front of her, and Catra had to dig in her heels to stop herself from crashing right into her. She was out of breath—she’d gotten too soft these past few months.
“Tell me what you mean,” Catra said, panting.
The old woman blinked at her.
“Tell you what, dearie?” the old woman asked. “I swear, Briony, you make no sense sometimes. Now, where has Mara gotten off to?”
Catra pulled at her hair and groaned.
“Forget it,” she said. “You’re crazy.”
Catra ran back through the trees, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. She realized she didn’t know where she was. She’d never been to this part of the forest before, and in chasing the old woman she’d gone farther than she’d thought. She hated that she wasted so much time on that old woman.
It makes sense, after all, neither of you being from Etheria.
Catra stopped and extended her claws, then swiped them at the nearest tree, making deep gashes in the bark.
“You don’t know anything about me!” she shouted, at no one in particular.
She looked up. The tree she’d scratched had been her favorite—she was back where she started. She stared at the gashes, her heart sinking in her stomach. This tree was the one place in the Whispering Woods she loved, and she’d ruined it. On top of everything else, she was late.
Why did she have to ruin everything?