Chapter Text
The light of the setting sun filters through the canopy, draping the woods in a mix of golden hues and shadows. Adora knows it’s time to head back to Brightmoon.
Back to the safety of the castle walls.
Back to the comfort of her friends.
Back to the warmth of her bed.
And back to the inevitable disappointment of her teacher, Light Spinner.
She sighs, crouching lower in the underbrush, her hands braced against the earth. She squints up through the leaves, trying to judge how much time she has left. Maybe an hour, if she’s lucky. Maybe less. She knows it’s foolish, knows the trek back is dangerous enough as it is, but the thought of returning empty-handed gnaws at her pride.
The snap of a twig cuts through her thoughts.
The Etherian Deer she’s been tracking all afternoon is moving again. Her pulse quickens, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of the saber at her hip. The deer’s antlers glint faintly through the trees as it shifts to leave, and for a moment, her patience shifts with it.
She sprints forward… and the world tilts.
Her foot twists on an uneven patch of ground, and pain shoots up her leg with an intensity that pulls the breath from her lungs.
She hits the ground hard, clutching her ankle as a yelp tears free from her throat. “Aaugh!” The sound echoes into the woods and startles the deer that now bounds away, its light footsteps fading into the distance.
“No, no, no!” she shouts after it, her voice breaking with frustration. She tries to push herself up, first to her knees, then to her feet, but her injured ankle gives way beneath her. She collapses again, the pain like a dagger twisting with every movement.
Adora grits her teeth, her breathing shallow. The forest looms around her, darker now, the maze of trees stretching endlessly in every direction. Her heart pounds as a worrying thought sets in. If she can’t stand, she can’t walk. If she can’t walk, she can’t get back to the castle. She noticed early into her journey that she forgot her communicator device back in her room.
How long before anyone even realizes she’s missing?
The Whispering Woods are vast. People have gotten lost in them before, never to be seen again.
It would be hard enough to find her during the day. How would they find her during the night?
The thought claws at her mind and she lets out a frustrated groan, wanting to expel her pent-up worry in some way.
“I almost thought you had him,” a voice says.
Adora freezes, her head snapping up.
“Until you ran out the bushes like a dummy,” the voice continues, a sound that is somehow smooth yet gravelly at the same time. There’s a hint of amusement in the tone. “What happened? Got pinched by a scorpion or something?”
“Who’s there?” Adora’s voice wavers between command and plea as she frantically twists her head from left to right, searching for the source of the voice. “Show yourself! Please? I—I need help!”
There’s a pregnant pause.
The silence stretches long enough to make Adora think she imagined the voice as she strains to listen, her ragged breathing blending with the chirruping of the woods.
And then—
“Umph.”
A small figure drops from the treetops with a rustle of leaves, landing not far from where Adora lies crumpled on the ground.
Adora’s breath catches as she takes in the beautiful stranger in front of her, a stranger who can’t actually exist because people like her are just illustrations in history books. “You’re…” she starts, wide eyed, “You’re a magicat.”
The magicat girl stands small and defiant in front of her, her silhouette catching the fading light like something out a storybook. Wild, untamed hair frames her sharp face, and her mismatched eyes—one vivid blue, the other deep amber—lock onto Adora with an unnerving intensity. She's dressed in a sleek body suit, a style that feels completely foreign to anything Adora's seen in Brightmoon and a far cry from the jacket and layers of practical compression clothing Adora threw on before venturing into the woods.
The girl wrinkles her nose, tilting her head as she studies Adora critically. “Great observation, Captain Obvious.”
“But… you can’t be.” Adora rubs her eyes, half expecting the vision to vanish. When she looks again, the girl is still there, just as much of a magicat as she was one second ago. “You’re extinct. All the magicats are dead.”
This statement causes the other girl’s eyebrows to shoot up. She lifts her hands and slowly turns them in front her face, inspecting them as if for the first time. Her mouth forms an exaggerated ‘o’ and she even looks over her shoulder at her swishing tail. “Then I must be a ghost,” she says dryly, before rolling her eyes. “Dumbass, if I’m standing here, obviously not all magicats are dead.”
Adora’s cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean—” She stammers, flustered, but the girl shushes her off with a dismissive wave.
“Relax, I’m not here to haunt you.” The girl leans forward to stare closely at the blonde. “I’ve never seen one of you up close either.” Her eyes search Adora’s face before taking in the rest of her. “But our educational system isn’t so jacked we’re calling you dead. I’ve seen photos but I never expected you to be so…” She pauses, racking her brain for the right word. “Bald.”
“I’m not bald!” Adora quickly retorts, touching her ponytail as if to underscore the point. “And I’m not a dumbass!”
“Could’ve fooled me.” The girl circles her now, slow and deliberate, her mismatched eyes scanning Adora as if she’s the strange one here.
Adora squirms under the scrutiny. “So… you go to school around here?” she latches on to the tidbit of information the magicat has given her. As she studies the other girl who is concurrently studying her, she surmises they’re close in age – both still considered youth but on the cusp tipping into adulthood. “Like, in Elberon or Plumeria?”
“Halfmoon.”
“Halfmoon? But Halfmoon—”
“Please don’t say dead.” Adora feels fingers flick at her ponytail from behind. “Just because you don’t see us doesn’t mean we’re gone. We avoid you because your wizards are dicks.”
“Huh?” Adora’s head is swimming as the girl comes back into view in front of her. “So Halfmoon still exists? Or I guess… some version of it somewhere?”
The girl doesn’t answer. Instead, she crouches, her attention shifting to Adora’s injured ankle.
Adora once again finds herself floundering for words, but something about this exchange doesn’t fit. “If you like to stay hidden… why are you here? Telling me about it?”
The girl shrugs. “Feels harmless spilling secrets to a dead girl.”
Adora’s chest tightens. “I’m not dead.”
“My bad. Soon to be dead girl,” the magicat counters, her tone indifferent but her eyes shine with something almost akin to sympathy.
Before Adora can respond, the forest shudders.
A deep, guttural roar echoes through the trees, shaking the ground beneath them.
Adora’s stomach drops as she twists toward the sound. She can’t see what’s coming, but she knows it’s big. And close.
“’Cos that thing’s gonna kill you.”
Adora’s eyes widen.
“Like I said, I’d never seen one of you up close before,” the magicat continues, turning around and looking upward. She approaches a thick tree and Adora watches as black claws extend from her fingertips. The girl calmly reaches up and places a hand on the tree, sinking her claws in. “Thought now would be a good chance before that thing mangles you.”
“Wait!” Adora’s voice cracks as she calls. She takes a moment to compose herself, although she feels herself shaking. The next words tumble from her mouth, sad and desperate. “Help me.”
The magicat pauses but doesn’t turn around. “I just told you my people’s biggest secret. Why would I do that?”
“I know,” Adora agrees sadly, realizing how bad of a predicament she’s in. But the magicat girl did leave the safety of the treetops to speak to her. Surely she didn’t mean to engage with someone who she soon expected to be a corpse. “But I’m a princess. I can help keep your secret. If I go missing, they’ll raze the woods looking for me, and they might find you and Halfmoon instead.”
The magicat lets out a soft scoff, but there’s a sense of hesitation there.
“I’m serious,” Adora presses. “If Halfmoon wants to stay hidden, I can make it easier. I can’t control what happens if I’m dead. I promise… I—please.”
The girl glances over her shoulder, her mismatched eyes narrowing. “Promises are cheap.”
Adora’s entire body feels like it’s shuddering, but her voice remains firm. “Not mine.” Her gaze locks on the other girl’s, and she swallows hard before adding, “I know I’m just some stranger… and you don’t owe me anything, but I… I think we were meant to meet. You wouldn’t have come down from that tree otherwise.”
The girl’s expression wavers, a flicker of something—doubt, curiosity, or maybe even understanding—crossing her face. “You really think you can help us?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost as if she’s testing Adora. The weight of her gaze is heavy. Slowly, she straightens, stepping away from the tree. “You promise?”
Hope flares in Adora’s chest. “I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”
The girl sighs, dragging a clawed hand through her wild hair. “Fine,” she mutters, as if the decision annoys her more than anything. She points a sharp finger at Adora. “If you tell anyone about us, I’ll find you and kill you myself. That’s MY promise.”
Adora nods frantically, her heart pounding with relief. “Thank you. I swear. I won’t let you down.”
The magicat doesn’t reply at first. She instead bends down, slinging Adora’s arm over her shoulders with a quiet grumble. “You’re heavier than you look,” she mumbles. Despite her complaints, her movements are careful, her grip steady as she helps Adora to her feet. Small droplets of rain begin to fall from the sky. Adora hadn’t even noticed the clouds.
Adora leans into her as they hobble toward the tree the other girl had been clawing at earlier. “Now how are we going to do this…” she murmurs to herself, her gaze trailing up the length of the trunk. She clicks her tongue. “Hold tight.”
Adora blinks. “What?”
“I said hold tight,” the magicat repeats, her tone exasperated but her hands patient as she guides Adora’s arms around her neck. “When I get high enough, lock your legs around me. And don’t fall.”
Adora hesitates. “I—okay,” she nods. Considering their height difference, she isn’t confident in this plan at all, but despite her small frame, the magicat is stronger than she looks. She scales the tree with surprising ease, her claws anchoring them both as she climbs higher into the canopy. Adora tries to keep her injured ankle out of the way, but the jostling sends spikes of pain up her leg. She grits her teeth, willing herself not to cry out.
A low rumble echoes from the underbrush below, vibrating through the ground and into the tree. The trunk trembles, shaking them both. Adora glances down and catches the faintest glimpse of movement—a dark, hulking shape breaking through the undergrowth.
“What is that?” she whispers.
The magicat doesn’t look down. “Don’t think about it,” she mutters through gritted teeth. “Focus on holding on.”
“Yeah… yeah. Okay,” Adora breathes, though her eyes are still trained on the thing moving below them, her grip tightening around the magicat’s neck with every faint noise from the forest floor.
“Bald girl,” the magicat says suddenly, breaking the heavy silence as she pulls them higher. Her voice is strained, but there’s a thread of dry humor woven through it. “What do they feed you in that fancy castle of yours, by the way? Bricks?”
Adora’s vice grip slightly loosens, the unexpected rib cutting through her anxiety. It’s deliberate, she realizes—a distraction, a way to steer her mind away from whatever is lurking below. Her nerves ease, just slightly, as she grumbles back, “I feel like you don’t understand the definition of bald…” She pauses before continuing, “And I’ll have you know, they’re the finest golden bricks in Etheria. A delicacy. You should try them sometime.”
The other girl snorts. Adora can feel it in her chest, pressed to the girl’s back. “I’ll pass. I like being able to climb without breaking things. Or sneak through bushes with more grace than a wrecking ball. Why were you even tracking that deer?”
“It’s part of a test,” Adora replies. “My teacher sent me to get the antler of an Etherian Deer.”
“One of those glowy antlers? Why?” the magicat huffs, her shoulders tightening as her pace slows, fatigue beginning to creep into her movements.
“I dunno. For some type of spell or something.”
Adora can feel the magicat girl stiffening beneath her arms from more than the exertion. “Of course.” Bitterness ekes from the words. “A wizard teacher. Makes sense why your education is so messed up.”
“She’s… not a dick like you said,” Adora feels the need to defend, although the statement feels like a lie the moment it leaves her lips. “Not all the time. Or most of the time. Well.. not sometimes.”
“Only a wizard,” the magicat girl growls, “would think sending you into the woods after a magical deer is a good idea. Bet he’s at home right now with his feet up, drinking some fancy tea while you’re out here about to get mauled.”
Adora adjusts her grip as the magicat inches onto a wide branch before carefully setting her down. “For your information, SHE is incapable of joy so NO she is not somewhere relaxing with her feet up.” Adora’s voice is sharp despite the ache in her ankle. “Plus, this was a test of skill, not a death sentence.”
The magicat girl snorts agian. “Sure, because nothing says ‘test of skill’ like sending you after a mythical creature in a forest full of predators.” She drops onto the branch beside Adora, her tail flicking with irritation. Her chest rises and falls heavily, betraying how much she actually exerted herself during the climb. Rain starts to seep through the tree cover above. “Makes sense though. Wizards are the worst.”
Adora narrows her eyes. “You don’t even know Light Spinner.”
“Don’t need to. She’s a wizard. That’s enough.” The magicat narrows her eyes at Adora. “And she’s your teacher. You training to be a wizard?”
“No, I’m training to be a soldier.”
The magicat’s brow furrows in confusion. It’s annoyingly cute.
“Each royal family oversees a different part of the government. Mine handles the military. Magic flows through my family line though, so I still need to understand how to use it.”
The magicat opens her mouth to question further, but Adora cuts her off. “What about you? What do magicats study? How to be insufferable?”
The magicat pauses, momentarily caught off guard, then grins. “Why? Have some notes you wanna share? I bet if you studied with us, we’d have to create an honors track—along with one for being ungrateful.”
“Sounds like your system’s broken,” Adora quips, but her voice lightens at the end. “And I am.” She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the magicat’s before dropping. “I mean, I’m not—I’m not ungrateful. I am. Grateful. Really grateful.” Her smile falters, turning shy as she fidgets with the hilt of her saber, her thoughts skirting around the unlikely events of the day. She was grateful. Grateful that the magicat saved her life. Grateful she was out of harm’s way with her ankle being injured. Grateful for… more than she felt she could properly put into words to a stranger that seemed distrustful of her from the start.
“Well,” the magicat half murmurs, half chuckles, “maybe there’s hope for you yet.” She pauses, her gaze lingering on Adora for a moment before adding, “You’re a pretty good tracker. Most people would’ve lost that deer a kilometer back.”
Adora’s eyebrow lifts at that. Had this girl been following her through the woods? She shifts slightly on the branch, trying to get more comfortable before following up to ask, but the movement sends a jolt of pain shooting up her ankle. She hisses, her fingers instinctively gripping the bark to steady herself.
The magicat glances at her sharply, a faint crease appearing in her brow. “Here.” She reaches into a small pouch at her hip and pulls out a sprig of something green and herbal-smelling. “Chew on this. It’ll help with the pain.”
“What is it?” Adora asks, eyeing it suspiciously.
“A plant,” the magicat replies flatly. “Chew or don’t, but don’t cry to me if your ankle keeps screaming.”
Adora takes the plant, hesitating for only a moment before popping it into her mouth. Bitterness spreads across her tongue, and she winces at the taste. But after a few moments of chewing, the sharp edge of the pain dulls, enough to make her sigh in relief. “That’s… impressive,” she says, eyes wide as she looks up at the other girl.
“Of course it is,” the magicat says smugly, her tail flicking behind her. “I’m good at what I do.”
“And what is it you do, exactly?” Adora asks, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice. “Skulk in the woods and watch girls chase deer? I’m sure most people would’ve lost interest ‘about a kilometer back’.” She gives the magicat a pointed look, daring her to explain.
The magicat’s ears twitch, and Adora swears she catches the faintest blush cross her cheeks. “I wasn’t watching you,” she says quickly, glancing away. “I was watching the deer. You just happened to be there.”
“Uh-huh,” Adora says, coyly looking down to try and hide the smirk forming on her face. “How long were you watching the deer, then?”
The magicat huffs, her claws flexing against the bark of the tree. “Long enough to see you almost catch it. Like I said, you’re not bad at tracking. For a bald-headed, brick-eating, princess.”
There’s something in her tone—lightly teasing, but with a subtle undercurrent of worry—that Adora doesn’t miss. The compliment feels genuine, but the way the other girl’s gaze shifts, how her ears flatten slightly, makes Adora wonder if she’s worried about something more. Maybe about someone from Brightmoon being too good at tracking.
She decides not to press, but remembers she promised that she’d keep whatever she learned here today a secret. So instead, she tilts her head playfully. “So you were watching me. Sounds like you like me, brick-eating baldness and all.” She pauses to consider her next words then smiles. “How embarrassing for you.”
The magicat stops abruptly, turning to face Adora with a look of exasperation. “You’re a dumbass,” she says, but the words lack the bite they carried earlier. After a beat, she sighs, the faintest twinge of guilt creeping into her expression. “Sorry. That was… harsh. I’m sure you’re not a dumbass. You just… run out of bushes like one sometimes.”
Adora snorts out a laugh, despite herself. “I’ll take that as an apology.”
“Take it however you want, Bald Girl,” the magicat replies, her cheeks still faintly pink as she helps Adora shift into a more comfortable position. Her handling is careful, almost delicate, as she adjusts Adora’s weight on the branch.
“You know, at this point I think you know you’re misusing the word,” Adora says, smile in her voice and eyes tracking the magicat’s movements. “You could just call me by my name.”
The magicat pauses, tilting her head slightly to glance up at Adora. Their faces are close now, closer than Adora realizes until she meets her gaze—their noses nearly touching and the magicat's eyes glowing faintly in the dim light filtering through the leaves. “Adora,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, as if her name isn’t something she’s speaking but something drawn from her by the intensity of that gaze. “I’m Adora.”
The magicat blinks. Something unguarded flits across her face—a crack in her carefully held composure that catches Adora by surprise. Her gaze lingers, holding on Adora as though she’s searching for something hidden, before she shifts slightly, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smile.
“Catra,” she says, her voice low and measured, carrying the weight of a decision. “My name is Catra.”
Catra.
The name lingers in the space between them, delicate but electric, as if it’s tethered them together in a way that neither of them fully understands but neither wants to break.
“Well, Catra,” Adora says finally, her lips curving into a wry smile, “it's nice to meet you. Officially. And for the record, I’m not bald.”
Catra chuckles, the sound soft and warm like the brush of fur against skin. “Whatever you say,” she murmurs, eyes still holding Adora’s. For a heartbeat, neither of them moves, the air between them still charged with something neither can name.
The rain intensifies, droplets leaking more persistently through the canopy. The branch grows slick beneath them.
Then Catra breaks the moment. “Come on, Princess,” she says, her tone slipping back into its usual teasing cadence. “Let’s get you somewhere dry before you melt.”
“You know a place better than this?” Adora asks sarcastically, holding her hand out to catch raindrops against her palm.
“Yep. There’s a cavern not far from here.” Catra rises, offering her hand to Adora. “But you’re not going to like this next part.”
The rain picks up as Catra shifts Adora’s arm over her shoulders again. Her claws press lightly into Adora’s side to anchor them together, and her tail flicks with an air of impatience as she scans the sodden woods. “We’re almost there,” she murmurs, though it sounds more like she’s reassuring herself than Adora.
Adora tries to nod, but the effort feels monumental. Her limbs are heavy, her vision unfocused, and her head floats somewhere between here and some weird ethereal haze. Her feet drag clumsily, her weight a burden Catra carries without complaint.
Catra.
Adora turns her head to study the side profile of this stranger who is so willingly carrying her along through the rain. The determined look in her eyes, the strong set of her jaw, the elegant crane of her neck, the wild hair that is matted down from the rain.
“You’re pretty,” Adora mumbles suddenly, the words spilling out before she can catch them.
Catra freezes mid-step, her ears swiveling toward Adora before she tilts her head, multi-colored eyes narrowing. “Huh?”
“You’re pretty,” Adora repeats, her voice soft and drowsy, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Like... really pretty.”
Catra lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “The plant’s making you loopy,” she informs, though there’s now a bashful smile on her face. “Should’ve warned you about that part.”
“It’s nice,” Adora slurs, leaning more heavily against Catra. “You’re nice. And soft. Like a nice… pretty pillow.”
“Please stop talking,” Catra says, though her cheeks are visibly pink beneath the rain streaking her fur.
By the time they reach the cavern, Adora is barely coherent, her legs dragging and her head lolling against Catra’s shoulder.
“Here we are,” Catra mutters, propping Adora against the damp stone wall near the entrance. The cavern is small and narrow, with jagged walls that glisten in the dim light. “Not much, but it’ll do. The big monsters can’t get in through here without impaling themselves.”
Adora blinks slowly, her vision swimming as Catra kneels to block the craggy entrance with branches and leaves. The rain beats against the makeshift barrier, a steady rhythm that feels like a lullaby. Time moves disjointedly for Adora, each heavy blink fast forwarding her into the future. First Catra is near the entrance. Then she is at the back of the cavern gathering things. Now she is bent over near the wall of the cavern with branches and kindling.
“You’re worried,” Adora murmurs, her words slurring as she watches Catra’s tail flick anxiously.
Catra glances at her, ears twitching. “About the rain?”
“About me,” Adora says, a dopey grin tugging at her lips.
Catra huffs, busying herself with the fire she’s coaxing to life. “There’s nothing to worry about, Princess,” she says, though the way she moves away from the fire to adjust Adora’s weight against the wall says otherwise.
The evening blurs after that.
Adora remembers the warmth of the fire spreading across her chilled skin, the sharp scent of woodsmoke mixing with the faint aroma of something roasting.
“Fish,” Catra says simply when Adora mutters a groggy question. “At least one of us caught something of value today.”
Adora laughs softly but it turns into an uncomfortable groan as she shivers against the cold seeping through her damp clothes.
Catra’s eyes flick toward her, softening as she leans closer. “See?” she teases, her voice light but warm. “Baldies like you get cold too easily.”
“Not bald,” Adora murmurs, her eyelids fluttering as she drifts further into the haze.
“Sure you’re not,” Catra says, pulling Adora close to her. “Mind if I get this off? It’s soaked through.” The magicat is lightly tugging at the sleeve of Adora’s jacket. Adora nods and a moment later, her wet jacket is off. And the magicat’s body radiates heat, her arms wrapping securely around Adora’s shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m a sweetheart.”
Adora snorts faintly, her head resting against Catra’s chest. The last thing she feels is the gentle rake of claws through her scalp, soothing and rhythmic, before sleep pulls her under…
Adora wakes to the faint glow of morning light filtering into the cavern. The fire has burned down to embers, its warmth barely lingering in the cool air. Her jacket is now dry and bundled beneath her head like a pillow.
She sits up slowly, her head still fuzzy, the events of the previous night swirling like a half-remembered dream.
Her ankle throbs…
…and the cavern is empty.
Next to her, propped carefully against the wall, is a pair of crude, makeshift crutches, fashioned from thick branches tied with wooded roots. Next to them rests the glistening antler of an Etherian Deer, its glow casting faint patterns on the side of the cavern wall.
Adora stares at the antler. Her fingers brush against it lightly, as if to confirm it’s real.
She looks toward the cavern’s entrance, her mind racing.
She met a magicat yesterday.
It shouldn’t have been possible. Magicats are extinct. But even if Adora had actually retrieved the antler before somehow hallucinating, it doesn’t explain the crutches… or what she swears are real albeit fuzzy memories…
The warmth of Catra’s arms. The sound of her teasing voice. The gentle rake of claws through her hair—it couldn’t have been a dream.
Adora closes her eyes, the faintest smile curving her lips as she leans back against the wall. “Thank you, Catra,” she murmurs softly to the empty cavern, her heart warm despite the cool air.