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Adora was sitting on the edge of a cliff. Her feet hanging over the edge as she leaned back on her hands and basked in the warm afternoon sun. She looked peaceful, and beautiful, and happy, and Catra wanted a share in that. So, she trotted over.
“Hey Adora,” Catra said as she plopped down next to her.
“Hey Catra,” Adora responded, keeping her eyes closed and her face turned up to the sun. There was this adorable little smile on her face, and Catra wanted to imprint this into her memory forever. “It’s such a nice day today,” Adora remarked.
Catra raised a brow, “Since when are you impressed by the weather?”
Adora sighed, “Since I realized you and the rest of the Horde were trying to ruin it.” She paused and turned to Catra, but her eyes weren’t her own. They were glowing, golden and blue—the eyes of She-Ra in the body of Adora. “I realized you were trying to destroy everything.”
“Adora—” Catra cut herself off, not really sure where she was going with that anyway. “What’re you even talking about?”
“Look around you, Catra,” She-Ra said.
Catra opened her mouth to say that the world was fine, it was whole, it was beautiful, but within the space of a blink, everything changed. Gone was the beautiful, lush, green clifftop, replaced instead with a deep, red, sulphurous chasm. Where the air was clear and fresh before, it was now thick and choking with the smell of rot and ash. The sky was a horrible dark grey, and all around them were the sounds of the dying.
Catra looked back at where She-Ra should have been, only to see her hands wrapped tightly around Adora’s throat. She was clawing at Catra’s hands, her eyes pleading her to stop as tears poured freely down her face. Catra wanted to scream, to cry, and to shout. She wanted to pull back and never touch again.
Catra never hated herself more.
And yet, she couldn’t make her hands move. She couldn’t pull away, she couldn’t do anything.
Anything except watch the life drain form Adora’s eyes, feel her body go limp in her hands, now that she had killed her.
No, now. Now was when Catra had never hated herself more.
Catra jolted awake, the room was dark, and somehow, Adora was still asleep next to her. Catra sat up and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, a heavy sigh leaving her. Her rapid heartbeat slowed on the exhale, but something deeper in her chest kept her unsettled. There was no way Catra was going to be able to remain still for much longer, let alone fall back asleep. So with as much stealth as she could manage with her still-shaky limbs, Catra slid out from under the covers, and onto the balcony.
The night was still and quiet, only the soft sounds of the night bugs in the forrest stirring the air. Their sounds were soothing: like white noise they drowned out some of the things Catra didn’t want to hear from inside of her won skull. The cool night air helped still her shaking—made her feel real and alive in a way the dream couldn’t.
The dream.
That’s what it was. Nothing more than something imaginary—made up in her own mind by the demons she’d thought she’d left behind when she left the Horde. Catra never killed Adora; she never would.
Except…Catra had tried. Catra had tried multiple times to kill Adora, coming closer in some cases than others. Catra had given Adora countless scars, some visible, and others hidden. But they were there nonetheless. Catra had done horrible things to someone she loved. And how was that at all forgivable? How could Adora trust Catra not to harm her while she slept? How could Adora trust Catra at all?
Catra didn’t deserve that.
Catra didn’t deserve anything.
Least of all Adora’s trust.
So with that, Catra leaped off the balcony and into the night.
Adora was better off without Catra muddying up her life.
Catra must have fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the night, because when she woke up, the area around her was completely unfamiliar, the light shining down in between the leaves of the trees overhead not helping much at all.
Catra was lost.
It was with a heavy sigh that Catra began walking. She didn’t even know where she was going to go. She couldn’t go back to the Horde: they’d kill her on sight for defecting. And she definitely couldn’t go back to Bright Moon: Adora deserved better and Catra didn’t know if she could give Adora better.
Not that Catra really knew how to get to either place anyway.
Catra didn’t know how long she’d been walking for when she saw it. It was a wonderfully unassuming bush placed in the middle of a small clearing—so small that it probably wasn’t even visible from the air. What caught Catra’s eye however, was the large dark purple fruit that was dangling from the branches.
A low grumble from Catra’s stomach reminded her of the fact that she hadn’t eaten since the night before. The bush was so full of fruit; literally weighed down by the stuff, and Catra was just so hungry, the decision was basically made for her.
Catra approached the bush carefully. She picked a fruit off one of the branches and sniffed it. It didn’t smell poisonous—it actually smelled wonderful—and with that, Catra bit into it.
It was sour, but not in a bad way. It made her tastebuds tingle and her nose scrunch up, but the juice that splashed on her tongue felt so refreshing that Catra immediately took another bite. Soon, Catra had finished the fruit and began licking her fingers of the juice.
The fruit was just what Catra needed, and with her hunger satisfied, Catra decided to take a break. She plopped down onto the grass, a sense of odd contentment washing over her.
Catra closed her eyes and basked in the sun for a few minutes, allowing herself to just feel happy. She was alone in the woods and Catra would be damned if she didn’t let herself just relax for a minute.
Catra was lost.
That was obvious. But it wasn’t so bad. Maybe Catra could find her own path; go her own way; create her own adventure away from anyone else.
Catra no longer had any affiliation to anyone.
That was fine. Catra was happy alone. When Catra was alone no one could undermine her. No one could tell her she was useless and weak, call her a traitor or a liar. Alone was how Catra worked best.
Catra was lost.
She felt like she’d covered this one already.
Catra had no one who would want to find her.
That…
Catra would remain lost forever.
Wait—
Catra would remain alone forever.
Hold on—
No one wanted Catra, not even Catra.
You’re right!
That’s right.
Catra wanted to get away. Get away from the suspicion, the abuse, and the guilt. But most of all, she wanted to get away from herself.
Catra had hoped that by running away, she would be able to lose herself and forget the horrible things she had done.
Yes, that’s what Catra wanted. Catra wanted to disappear; to absolve herself of all of her crimes.
Suddenly, Catra’s body feel like it weighed a million pounds; like Catra couldn’t possibly move any part of her body even if she tried.
She laid on her back, her arms splayed on either side of herself and just stared up at the sky. Or, what she could see of the sky. The foliage was pretty thick from the very bottom of this part of the forest, so Catra’s staring ended up being focused mostly on the way the leaves moved in the wind, and the way the light caught them.
Catra didn’t know for how long she laid there. Time slipped away from her like water held in cupped palms.
It was all very strange. Catra had fought all her life. Fought to be better, stronger, faster than Adora. Catra was constantly pitted against Adora by Shadow Weaver, was constantly told she was useless, and was constantly distrusted. Catra worked so hard to find a place for herself in the world, and yet, here, laying on her back, lost in the middle of the Whispering Woods, Catra has found the most peace.
There was no one here to side-eye her in the halls; there was no one here to trip her during training; there was no one to tell her she was on the wrong side of the war. Catra could just be here. Catra could exist free of fear, free of prosecution, free of guilt.
Here, Catra was just another part of the whispers of the Wood.
So she remained still, like a log rotting away back to the earth, her mind blank and her body heavier than anything Catra had ever tried to move in her life.
It was dark again when she heard voices. Not the quiet ones so often associated with the Whispering Wood, but louder voices. Voices that were shouting. What were they shouting? Why did that voice tug so much on her heartstrings?
“Catra?” The voice called. The callers voice was beautiful and getting closer.
“Catra!” The caller was at the edge of the wood, but she couldn’t open her eyes far enough to make out more than a vague shape of a being.
“Catra,” the caller was speaking much quieter now, their voice still frantic. The caller’s hands hovered over her body, almost unsure. “Catra, what happened to you?” The caller had water coming out of their eyes. She wanted to wipe it away. Something about the caller sparked something deep inside of her chest.
“Haa,” was all she could manage to say, her voice feeling completely used up. There simply was nothing left.
The caller sobbed and began pulling her shoulders. There was something holding her to the ground; some sort of fibre had wrapped around her and the caller was breaking it. The caller cried as they pulled her free, gathering her weak limbs to their chest.
The caller ran their fingers along her face. “Catra,” the caller sobbed and pressed their forehead into hers. “I’ve been looking for you for almost two days,” the caller’s voice cracked, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She had no one who would want to find her.
Except that was wrong now wasn’t it?
“Haa,” she tried again, something important building up in her gut.
“Shh, Catra, save your energy,” the caller hushed, rocking her gently. The caller’s body was warm and soft, she never wanted to let go. She allowed herself to relax into the arms of the figure holding her, her eyes slipping closed and into sleep.
When Catra woke next, the first thing she recognized was the pain. Her entire body ached as if she had been run over by a million tanks and then forced to go through one of Adora’s “fun” morning workouts.
The next thing she noticed was fact that she wasn’t in the forest anymore. Instead she was in the castle at Bright Moon, but she wasn’t in her and Adora’s bed. She was in the infirmary.
The last thing she noticed was the slumped figure of Adora clutching at Catra’s hand, her head pillowed on Catra’s stomach, seemingly struggling though a fitful sleep. Catra’s mouth twitched half-heartedly into a smile.
Adora was just so beautiful. Even when she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Even when her hair was falling out of its tail. Even when she was saving Catra.
Especially when she was saving Catra.
With whatever strength Catra could muster, she raised her unclaimed hand and pressed it into the messy hair on the top of Adora’s head, scratching at her scalp gently. Adora pressed into Catra’s hand, her head burrowing farther into Catra’s belly as her eyebrows furrowed. She was waking slowly, her hold on Catra’s hand tightening.
“Adora,” Catra’s voice was raspy and weak, but in the silence of the infirmary, it sounded like a shout and had that exact effect on Adora who shot up, awake immediately.
Her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared at Catra. As soon as she saw that Catra was awake Adora disentangled herself from Catra as if she’d been burned. Catra furrowed her brows.
“I’m sorry, Catra, I don’t know why you left, but you did and then I brought you back here. And maybe I shouldn’t have done that, but you were dying and I couldn’t just let that happen and the closest medical staff was in Bright Moon,” Adora was rambling, her hands moving around herself as her mouth moved, her words stumbling over each other into one big jumble.
“Adora,” Catra rasped, reaching her hand out to steady the other girl. “Adora, calm down.” Catra sighed a little, feeling enormously guilty for making Adora feel like this. For making her worry, not just about Catra’s disappearance, but also about whether she was going to live or die. Which—hold on—that was something Catra didn’t remember happening.
“Adora, what even happened?” Catra felt like her mouth was full of cotton and her head full of bees.
Adora’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” Adora crossed her arms, “You don’t remember anything?”
“I—” Catra started, but then through the swarm of buzzing in her head, Catra remembered her nightmare. She remembered the way Adora’s eyes had looked as Catra strangled the life out of her; how they sone with betrayal, and anger, and sorrow. How they’d gone from vibrant blue, to stormy grey, to a dull, bloodshot charcoal.
Catra remembered, and suddenly she wished she’d never been saved at all.
“Catra?” Adora crooked an eyebrow, her face melting into something more concerned than defensive.
Catra didn’t say anything: she didn’t want to have to explain her disappearance to Adora. She didn’t want to explain the way it felt to have her own hands wrapped around the neck of the love of her life. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about anything. She wanted to go back to sleep.
“Catra, do you remember what happened in the forest?” Adora’s voice was so soft and her arms had uncrossed themselves.
Catra cut her eyes to look at Adora for a moment, then she looked away. “No,” Catra finally said. “I don’t remember much after I—“ Catra’s voice broke, but she pushed through. “After I left.”
Catra watched Adora clench her eyes shut in her periphery. “Catra—” Adora’s voice caught on the word and she pushed the heels of her hands into the sockets of her eyes. “Catra, that was a Black Bell bush,” Adora pulls her hands away, “It uses the whispers in the Wood to trick it’s pray into eating the fruit, which causes them to sleep, and then the plant devours them!”
“Fruit?” Catra mumbled, searching through her memory for what Adora might have been talking about—
Catra had hoped that by running away, she would be able to lose herself and forget the horrible things she had done.
—and then it all came flooding back. The dark purple fruit, the whispers that sounded more like thoughts from inside of her head then from outside, the extreme fatigue that had overtaken her. Catra remembered it, and although she couldn’t remember when Adora had saved her, she knew that she had been barely a moment away from death.
Catra wondered for a moment if maybe Adora should have just left her there.
“Catra?” Adora reached forward and grabbed Catra’s hand as if she could hear what Catra was thinking. “Catra, why did you leave?”
Catra’s eyes fluttered shut against the tears that were threatening to spill. “Adora I—”
“Catra, I know things haven’t been easy for you here ever since you got caught out as a rebellion spy, but, God, I thought things were getting better,” Adora pulled herself closer to catra, wrapping both of her hands around Catra’s one. “Just because you’re not leading major missions right now doesn’t mean that we don’t see you as important as before.”
“Adora, it’s not that,” Catra started.
“Then what is it?” Adora was visibly upset. “Things between us were finally getting good. I got to have you with me all of the time again, and God, Catra, I love you so goddamned much. I—” Adora cut herself off, her emotions choking her. “I thought you left me forever, and I thought that was what I deserved for leaving you the first time.”
Catra sighed, reaching out to hold Adora’s head in her hands. “Adora, I—” Catra started then sighed, “I left because I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Adora pressed their foreheads together. It made Catra feel a million times better.
“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you,” Catra whispered into the air between them.
“What?” Adora pulled away a little, her voice soft, but totally confused. “Catra what—”
“I had a dream,” Catra looked away from Adora: she couldn’t look at Adora when she told her. “I killed you. And I’m afraid I’ll do that in real life.”
“Catra,” Adora turned Catra’s face to look at her. “Catra I have never worried about that once. Do you know why?”
Catra shook her head just a little.
“Because I know you would never hurt me,” Adora sounded so sure that Catra almost believed her.
“Adora—” Catra started, but Adora cut her off.
“No, I have never felt unsafe around you. Your fear of hurting me? That’s proof that you never will,” Adora smoothed her hand across the top of Catra’s head, stopping to scratch lightly at Catra’s ears.
Catra tried to stop herself from purring, but the way Adora’s fingers pressed into the sensitive flesh behind her ear pulled it out of her.
“Adora, I just—” Catra started, placing a hand on Adora’s bicep.
“I know you’re afraid, but you really don’t have to be,” Adora chuckled a little, “I am the goddess She-Ra now.”
“Does the goddess She-Ra have impenetrable skin?” Catra deadpanned.
“No,” Adora said, her smile not flagging, “But it’s pretty darn close.”
Catra sighed, a little smile cracking her face. She leaned up to press a kiss to Adora’s lips. Catra’s fear wasn’t going to go away forever, but the soft press of Adora’s lips, her gentle words, the wonderful colour of her eyes, chased them away for now.