Chapter Text
Micah had long grown used to the rumbling snarls that echoed across Beast Island like a constant, distant storm, even now when he crept alone though a clearly deserted cavern. Soft light emanated from his palm while he studied the walls, which bore ancient hieroglyphs and symbols that didn't quite match anything he had seen from the First Ones' cathedrals back home. He suspected they were the remnants of some extinct language from eons past. Though he was certain they would be of no use to him, he simply had nothing else to do. Almost two decades alone on Beast Island had left him dwelling between two extremes: sleepless terror and soul-crushing boredom.
When he side-stepped around a stalagmite, he stepped in a puddle and felt the water seep into his tatty shoe. He wrinkled his nose and looked down at himself, wishing he had paid more attention to Light Spinner's lessons on clothing repair as a child. What had once been luxurious, regal purple robes were now stained, gray, and patchy. He had a feeling they also smelled terrible, not that he had to worry about the opinions of any nearby company--
Something stumbled in the dark.
Micah closed his fist, the light at his hand disappeared, and he pressed himself back into the wall. Fighting the creatures on Beast Island was always a gamble, even with all the magic at his arsenal. Thankfully, the thing approaching had light, unsteady footsteps. Whatever it was, it was small and hadn't spotted him yet. All he needed was one quick illusion, and he could probably scare it away.
His hands moved in a swift circle, and the sorcerer's spell lit in front of his chest. With a quick jab of his index and third finger, he sent a glowing ram bursting from the circle to barrel down the cavern. His magic lit the cave just enough for Micah to spot the beast within the shadows, something with thin limbs, a rust-colored pelt, a mane, and different-colored eyes.
Low to the ground, the beast bared its teeth and darted behind a cluster of stalagmites. The ram smashed into a wall and evaporated, and Micah's mouth pressed into a grim line. He had no idea what his adversary was, but now it knew exactly where he was.
Sliding across the wall back in the direction he came, he let the sorcerer's spell vanish and clenched his fists. Punching the air, he sent a cruder, shapeless blast of magic into the dark, and the beast skittered out of the way once more. Micah tilted his palms toward each other, ready to cast the vocal spell for shape-shifting, but before he could open his mouth, the beast pounced. It landed on his shoulders, and when he fell to his knees, it sliced its claws across the back of his head. Micah yelped and threw another crude magic blast up high, but the beast sprang away, dashed back into the shadows, and shouted, "Too slow, old man!"
Micah froze. "You can talk?"
Something slammed into his side, and he smacked into the stone floor. The beast kicked him onto his back and pressed a foot into his chest, and though this was definitely not enough to pin him, Micah was simply too shocked to move. He opened his palm to cast a soft light within the cavern, and the beast standing over him was, in fact, not a beast at all.
"Attack me with that stuff again," she snarled, pointing a sharp-looking rock at his throat, "and I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever--"
"You're a person!" Micah shouted. In a surge of adrenaline, he jerked upright, sending the young magicat stumbling backwards with an angry yelp. Scrambling to his feet, Micah babbled, "I'm so sorry! I thought you were one of the residents here-- learned to blast first and ask questions later-- I almost hurt you! Are you okay? How'd you get here?" Holding his lit palm high, he reached out his other hand to help her up. "What's your name?"
The woman's pointed ears pressed flat against her head, and she scooted away from him. Micah's giddiness dampened a bit when he noticed that one of her arms was wrapped in some type of messily crafted sling of cloth, leaves and twine. Baring her fanged teeth, she said, "I'll ask the questions around here--"
"What's going on with your arm?" he asked.
"Nothing!" She stumbled to her feet, tail lashing and eyes contracted into slits. "Had to beat up a mantisaur, or whatever, it'll be better in a few days-- I can still take down anyone who tries anything, including you!" Keeping her stance wide like she was still braced for battle, she pointed a clawed finger at him. "And who are you, anyway? What's some random sorcerer doing on Beast Island?"
"Me? Oh. Right." He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "Forgive me, I must have forgotten my manners after all these years. My name is Micah, king of--" He faltered, but he fought the urge to drop his gaze. "Well, former king of Bright Moon."
He hadn't thought it was possible for the magicat's face to contort with more rage, but somehow she managed. Yellow eye twitching, she sputtered, "King of-- So you're-- you-- that--" Her voice gave way to a crazed laughter that certainly would have alarmed Micah twenty years ago, a sound that echoed up and down the cavern as ferine and wild as the native animals' roars. She flailed her uninjured arm and yelled, "That's just my luck, isn't it?"
Squashing down the onslaught of emotions borne from finally encountering another sentient face, Micah took a deep breath and kept his expression neutral. "I'm also a sorcerer from Mystacor." Taking a step closer, he reached for her wrapped arm. "I know some healing magic; I could fix your arm if you--"
"Stay away from me!" The girl's mane and tail visibly puffed up while she scrambled away from him, and Micah paused his approach. With a manic grin, she hissed, "I've been cursed and blasted and tortured with enough magic to last a lifetime. If you touch me with that stuff, you die. Understand?"
Micah, who was not the slightest bit afraid of death, shrugged and held his palms up. "Suit yourself."
She stomped back toward him and pressed the point of her sharp rock into his chest, and her tail thrashed when he only raised an eyebrow in response. Flashing her teeth again, she hissed, "Listen, old man, this is how things are going to work around here: you're no king, not anymore. You're not the boss of me, or anyone--"
He nodded. "Yes, I'm aware. I said 'former' king of Bright Moon for a reason--"
She jabbed the rock harder against his chest and snapped, "Stop interrupting me, or I'll-- I'll--" She lifted the rock and waved it across his eyes, "I'll slice your ear off!"
Miraculously, Micah had the restraint to hold in his snort of laughter. He had no doubts the girl was genuinely dangerous-- she wouldn't have lasted this long on Beast Island if she wasn't-- but something about her reminded him absurdly of his daughter's "angry toddler" phase, throwing the biggest hissy fit if he didn't give her that third cookie right now. However, since he was sincerely fond of both his ears, he nodded compliantly and said, "Of course. My apologies."
"You got any weapons?"
"Hmm." Micah pursed his lips, seriously considering the question before he reached down and pulled a decorative blade from his waist. With another shrug, he held it out on his open palm. "I have this knife?"
"Hand it over." She snatched the knife out of his hand and let the rock fall, and it didn't occur to Micah until the knife was pointed at his nose how easy it could have been to disarm her. She narrowed her eyes and asked, "How long have you been here?"
"Uh..." Micah's head tilted while he mentally tallied how many monsoon seasons he had endured. "Five, six... maybe seventeen years? I lost count a while ago."
The tension in her shoulders eased a bit, and her tail went still. "So you know your way around the place." She took half a step back and gestured around the cave, and Micah's light flashed across the moving knife. "Alright, how do I get out of this dump?"
Micah blinked and gave her a weak smile. "The island? Kid, if I knew how to leave, I'd be gone by now."
Her eyebrows furrowed, and Micah expected her anger to return, but instead she gave an unimpressed snort and said, "Great. Then you're of no use to me." She spun around, tossing the knife and catching it while she strolled further into a fork of the cave.
Micah's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, where are you going? You don't want to go in there." He held his lit palm higher and pointed back behind him with his other thumb. "The exit's the other way."
She ducked around some white strands dangling across the cavern, barely paying attention to them. "I'm not trying to leave yet. The only reason I'm down here in the first place is to get away from that weird, stinging rain outside."
Gritting his teeth, Micah trotted after her before she could disappear into the dark. "The acid rain? Ah, yeah. That happens every few days or so." Watching his footing far more carefully than his new companion, he winced and stepped around the white strands strung across the cave floor and walls. "But you definitely don't want to go this way."
She looked around at the strands and wrinkled her nose, but she seemed more puzzled than alarmed. As Micah approached, she pinned her ears down, whirled around, and hissed at him, "I'll go whatever direction I want. I didn't ask for your opinion, and I didn't ask you to follow me. Go away."
Micah chuckled, straightened his back, and put his hands on his hips. "Sorry, kiddo, but you're the first living person I've seen in almost two decades. You think I'm about to let you out of my sight?" He smiled brightly at her. "Besides, like you said, I know my way around the place. I can help you out."
She scowled. "I don't need your help."
Though he was polite enough to not roll his eyes, Micah still sighed. "Listen, kid--"
"I'm not a kid."
"Listen, Fuzzball--"
"My name is Catra!" She stomped toward him and held the knife to his throat, eyes wide and blazing just an inch or two higher than his own. "Force Captain Catra, second in command behind Lord Hordak. I work for The Horde, sworn enemy of your precious rebellion!" With a wicked grin, she asked, "So do you still think it's a good idea to follow me around like a homeless puppy, Micah of Bright Moon?"
This time, Micah almost flinched away from her, almost considered blasting her with magic, the weapon she couldn't take from him. His teeth ground together, and his fingers twitched. In the corner of his vision, Catra's tail was still lashing, still puffed up with agitation and fear. Micah let a long breath in and out through his nose. "Well, I can't say I'm thrilled to hear where your loyalties lie..." His shoulders relaxed, and he gave her another cheery smirk, "but I'm way too desperate to judge. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Force Captain Catra, and speaking of stuck," He pointed back at her tail, "you'll want to stop moving around right now."
Catra glanced back; her tail had brushed against one of the white, sticky strands and was now ensnared in it. She spun and yanked away, and the web around them shivered at the pull. Micah grabbed at her shoulder and tried to keep his voice steady when he said, "Stop moving, stop moving, stop--" Catra ignored him and lurched backward again. The entire web shifted at her movement, trembling all the way to the other side of the cave, and when Micah lifted his lit palm, an enormous creature with way too many legs started to creep out of the shadows.
Catra's eyes went round, and a hissing snarl spat out of her throat when she jerked back a third time. She stumbled and fell into more strands, landing on her injured arm with a pained yelp. The knife tumbled out of her other hand. Micah jumped between her and the approaching beast, holding his lit palm low to the ground, and with a twitch of his fingers, the knife bounced across the floor and landed neatly in his grip.
The light faded from his palm and shifted to the blade itself, lighting up the cave like a torch. He swung the glowing blade, and white-hot magic sliced through the air, tearing the web and barely missing the beast, who froze at the attack. As it crouched low, flashing its glistening fangs at the two, Micah shouted, "Back off!" The strands shifted again when Catra tried to clamber to her feet, and he turned to grab her uninjured arm. "Stay still."
Eyes still round and unblinking, Catra actually listened this time. Micah carefully stepped around her and the limp strands on the ground, letting his voice turn low and calm when he explained, "Arachnosaurs don't like to chase their food; they only hunt when something gets stuck in their web. Every time you move, that's his cue to come get you. Hold on. I'll pull you out."
He sliced the glowing knife across the strand wrapped around her tail, and as soon as it was free, she tucked it under her legs. When he hacked off the other tendrils, her muscles tensed like she was about to bolt again, but he held fast to her arm and said, "Don't panic. He's already losing interest, see?" He pointed the knife at the arachnosaur, which hadn't retreated yet but seemed to be sulking where it sat. Carefully pulling Catra to her feet, Micah gestured the other way. "Follow me. Watch the web this time, alright?"
Catra didn't respond, and she kept her head down while the two crept their way back out of the cave's fork. Once they escaped the web completely, Micah kept walking, passing the hieroglyphs that had caught his attention what felt like hours ago. The distant, familiar growls of the other Beast Island dwellers reached his ears, and when the two arrived at the cave's exit, Catra finally bristled and yanked her arm away from him.
"I didn't need you to save me," she snapped, avoiding his eye contact and fiddling with her crudely crafted sling. "I could have ripped that spider thing apart if it had gotten closer."
Micah puzzled over whose ego was more important right now, and then he finally acquiesced with a polite nod. "Oh, I'm sure. If you're second in command at The Horde, you must be pretty tough." He frowned when Catra pulled a bit at the sling and shuddered, and he took a step closer. "Is your arm okay?"
"It's. Fine." The two words came out like guttural snarls.
"Are you sure you don't want me to heal--?"
"Where's my knife?" Scowling, she spun to face him again and thrust out her open palm. Micah's eyebrows rose toward his messy hairline. The sheer gall of this injured, lost, unarmed Horde soldier bossing around one of Etheria's most powerful sorcerers... It was almost impressive. With an amused chuckle, he passed the knife back to her.
"The rain stopped," he noted, nodding out toward the hazy jungle. "Where to next?"
Catra frowned at him. "I'm guessing wherever I go, you plan on tagging along?" At his enthusiastic nod, she groaned and rolled her eyes. Spinning the knife in her hand, she stepped out of the cave and into the light. With Micah strolling after her, she shrugged and said, "Whatever. Just stay out of my way."