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When you’re young everything seems sharp and vibrant.
Every new environment hits your senses like a laser blast from a tank.
At four years old, Kitra remembers her past in flashes of color, by its unique feel and already fleeting scent.
Warm fur.
Milk.
Home.
The first things the guards do when they tear her from the cage is strip her of her clothes. She shivers. It’s not that she’s cold, though the steely atmosphere around her strikes her deep in her bones, her body is built for heat. Nor that she is bare, for she is a child and modesty means nothing. No. She is naked in a different way. She is afraid. Very afraid. She quickly learns that this isn’t a place for fear. This place is not understanding, it is cruel and unforgiving.
Her eyes struggle to adjust to this new type of light, artificial and dim, much different from the daytime moons beating down through jungle leaves. She immediately misses the feeling of being cradled in fur and stroked by a loving hand. That, too, is a feeling so far away. A feeling that she is starting to forget. She had scratched the bad person who put her in the cage with her claws which was why there were so many smothering her personal space now.
She cries. What else is there to do? She wails for her mamas, whose faces seem right on the tip of her mind. It is an aching wail that comes from deep inside of her small body and uses up all her remaining energy. The bad people have staffs. Staffs that glow at the ends but it is, like everything else in this strange place, unnatural and causes lots and lots of pain. Her thoughts as the guards jabbed them into her frail little body were on how pretty it was.
She shout and flails, struggling to get as far away as possible from the hurt. The bad people laugh. They laugh at her while she begs them to stop in a language that the idiot strangers do not understand. They mock her screams. They speak to each other, but Kitra does not understand what they are saying.
She’s heard this language before. Words were being barked in this language during the Loud. The booms and the fires and the screaming and the blood, blood, blood…
Kitra cannot speak much yet, even in her own language. She is still a little kitten. She could remember the feeling of other squirming bodies like her own, all safe and warm in the nursery. A lot of them started speaking before she could. She could remember feeling shame.
“Let me free!” she pleads in her mother tongue, “Take me home! I want my mamas, please!” her voice fell on deaf ears. In fact, they only laughed harder.
Then the laughter ceased. There was an unnerving silence. Kitra felt a presence. It made her want to crawl out of her skin and disappear, but no pain came, so slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes.
The Woman of Shadows loomed over her sobbing form, her face hidden behind an ornate mask. Kitra could not read the woman’s expression, but she had a feeling she was staring right into her. On her mask was a small gemstone that pulsed with maroon light. It was the only organic thing about her, but even that felt tainted and perverted. It left her disoriented and a little bit dizzy.
The woman crouched down and reached out her hand. Kitra winced as long cold fingers caressed her cheek and pet her face with care. She couldn’t help but lean into the touch wholeheartedly. A purr rose up in her and the woman dried her tears.
The Woman of Shadows smelled bad. Not in the way rotten meat repulses her senses, but in the way that pungent oil smelled when it flowed into their water supply which made mamas were very, very angry. The woman wiped away her tears and cooed to her softly. Her hair flowed around her like water in a stream, dark and inky… just like that oil. Kitra wondered if the woman was made of the stuff.
Despite the air of evil surrounding her, Kitra let herself be handled by the woman as she helped her to her feet and led her away from the guards into the next room.
The walls of this room was lined with drawers and fabric on hooks. The Shadow Woman only had to utter a few words to the man that stood stiffly in the room for Kitra to be rushed to a corner of the room with a floor length mirror. The man flitted around her with measuring tape, while Kitra observed her reflection with wide, curious eyes. The Shadow Woman laughed and said something that Kitra only understood later.
“You know what they say… Curiosity killed the cat,”
The clothing they gave her was itchy and scratchy and nothing like anything she’d ever worn before. It chaffed something awful. She felt the Shadow Woman’s icy hand on her shoulder, telling her to stop her squirming. Kitra wanted to cry again, but she had a feeling that this would displease the Woman of Shadows.
Kitra reminded herself that she was a strong warrior, though she didn’t quite understand what a warrior was or where she was or what was happening... or if she’d see her mamas again. The Woman of Shadows led her to a large door and held out a hand to her, indicating that she must stay.
Every second that Kitra waited was agony. She let her nose explore the air and found herself recoiling. She couldn’t help herself from weeping again. She slid down the wall until she was sitting, her claws kneading into her new top.
“Mama!” she wailed, for she was sure now that she would never see them again. Did her parents even know that she was gone? Did they care? Then Kitra remembered the fire and the screaming and the bodies- No! Kitra could not even entertain the possibility that her mothers had perished along with so many others.
She didn’t know much of death. She was far too small to understand the extremity of it. She knew her food was once of life, she’d watched the hunters in action once, though her memories muddled faster and faster still everything blurred together and washed out with the putrid stench of this dark and dangerous metal monster that she was stuck in the belly of.
Her eyes snapped to a flicker of movement in the corner of her heterochromatic eyes. She narrowed in on it, hardly believing it was really there. It was a mouse. Plumper, dirtier, and more grotesque than the ones back home, but a mouse all the same.
On instinct, her body adjusted itself into a stalking stance, her tail moving out behind her. She licked her dried out lips. It had been so long since she’d eaten…
Then the great door opened at last and the Shadow Woman stepped out, scaring the mouse away. From the folds of her robes came a black band of fabric with a metal box in the front where she could make out a faint red glow. The woman fastened it around her neck almost too tightly.
“You’ll get to eat soon, little one,”
Kitra jumped when she realized that she could understand her! She toyed with the collar and tried to mumble out a reply.
“There’s no use. It’s a one-way translator. You’ll wear this collar for a few days before the paper work goes through to get you an implant. You can understand us, but you will still need to go to lessons until you can speak Etherian Basic like a civilized person,”
‘Civilized?’ Kitra wondered.
“My name is Shadow Weaver. Hordak has assigned me to take care of you,” Like a mama? “But before that can happen, I must do a bit of… work on your small mind. We can’t have you filling the other children’s heads with stories of the outside world, now can we?”
Kitra looked at the woman questioningly, not knowing what she meant. Shadow Weaver (her name for her had not been too far off) led her inside the room and told her to lay down on an odd metal table. The cold almost felt refreshing on her back through the course material of her top, but mostly she shivered at the feeling.
“Just lay still… This will not hurt a bit,”
Kitra yelped at metal straps snapped out of the table, trapping her down. She thrashed and screamed, releasing her claws in an attempt to get the table to let her go. She looked to Shadow Weaver with tears in her eyes.
This woman was not her kind savior, but her executioner.
“Please! Please! Please! Lemme go! Lemme go!”
Shadow Weaver only shushed her before closing in, that hand that had held her face so softly was now the maw of a cobra coming to take her from life.
Kitra bared her fangs and lurched her head forward, Shadow Weaver’s hand snapping away just before she could bite down. Shadow Weaver grimaced behind that mask.
“Now, now, child. We must learn to control our… animal instincts if you are to survive in the Horde. If it was up to me you’d join the rest of your miserable kind, but alas, Hordak is not a wasteful man,” her eyes roamed Kitra’s frail body on the table, “Ah, looks like you tore your new clothing already,”
Kitra only growled again, struggling harder. Shadow Weaver sighed and raised her hand again, except this time it didn’t move towards the magicat’s forehead, but stayed in place as dark magic was summoned to it.
The last thing Kitra could get out before the wave of darkness washed over her was a terrified squeak.
Kitra may not know anything.
But she knew.
She knew.
She did not like this.
Not one bit.
Then that hand was on her forehead and her last thought was of her mothers before it all went blank.
“What is your name, child?”
“Kitra,”
“Catra…” Shadow Weaver muttered as she wrote it down.
“Kitra,” Catra repeated.
“Walk with me, Catra,”
Catra sighed. She had felt no difference upon exiting the scary room with the table, only that when she tried to recall where she’d come from, her home, her memory came up empty, leaving her grasping for something just outside her reach.
She tried to recall her mothers. Their smiling faces. Nothing.
Catra’s step faltered and Shadow Weaver took notice.
“What is-” when she noticed the fresh tears that now coated the girl’s face she stopped abruptly, “No more of that!” she snapped.
Catra cried harder before being sent sprawling to the floor as she was promptly slapped across the face. Shadow Weaver hauled her back up by her cheeks.
“Now listen here, you filthy little animal, I can easily use magic to detain you and get you to behave like a proper soldier-” ‘Soldier?’ Catra thought ‘What’s that?’ “-But it will hurt a hell of a lot more than anything physical. Understand?”
Catra nodded rapidly.
“You better get your housepet ass in line if you’re going to survive here, starting with those miserable tears of yours, you’re property of the Horde now, act like it. We’re not a lot of pussies like your kind. Now, come on,”
It took every bit of magicat (though she now had no idea what that was) strength inside Catra to keep from bursting into tears again.
“Here we are. The mess hall,” Shadow Weaver sounded disgusted, as if she’d just referred to the toilets, “A boiling cess pool of toddler germs. You’ll fit right in here…” she gave Catra a final look over, “Mostly. Now stay right here, pet, I’m going to be right back,”
She was returned quicker this time, than when she went into the room with the bad table. This time she was dragging another little girl about her age by the wrist.
“I’ve explained the situation to you already, Adora,” Adora. She tested the name out on her tongue. It was the only thing that’s felt right for her since her arrival here, “Now, I must attend to more important matters. And Catra?” she turned to where Catra was whispering the new name to herself, “Do remember your place,”
And where was that?
Once Shadow Weaver had gone Catra let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. She let her eyes land on the fair skinned girl, finally getting a good look at her. At her blonde hair in its perfect ponytail reminded her of the moonshine she may never see in its full glory again and her eyes that reminded her of the ocean that Catra had seen only once in her life, though she couldn’t remember when.
She knew that the ocean was beautiful as long as you didn’t get too close. Maybe whatever Shadow Weaver did to her memories didn’t work enough? She was grateful, for now she could see some familiarity in a stranger’s face.
“Hi! My name is Adora!” the girl- Adora said.
Catra opened her mouth to speak, but remembered that she could not speak the girl’s language.
“Catra,” she said simply, then stepped in close to touch noses with her in greeting. The girl blushes and stepped away. Catra cocked her head in confusion. Did Adora not wish to say hello?
Adora giggled and Catra decided she wanted nothing more than to hear that sound again.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, silly! But here we do this,” she picked up Catra’s hand at positioned it at attention. For some reason Catra didn’t want her to let go of her hand. Then she placed her own hand at attention as well, “Now we say, ‘Nice to meet you, soldier!’” she mimicked a deeper voice, “Now you try!”
Catra copied the gesture and moved her mouth to make the sounds Adora had made. It came out as “Nigh tuh mee ou sold-er,”
“Eh, good enough. Come on, let’s get somethin’ to eat! I heard today’s gonna be good,”
The food was not “good”.
It was a gray clay brick. Adora seemed to love it, though.
“Mm! Gray ration bars! My favorite!”
“Rash-on?”
“It has all the new-tea-ints that growing soldiers need!”
Catra looked again to the bar. Maybe it’s like meat? She watched as Adora began to eat before gingerly picking up the (noticeably smaller) one on her own plate and taking a bite with some difficulty. She winced as she gulped it down. Nope. Not meat at all.
“You neech chu chew it a lichle more!” she advised Catra with her mouth full, “Really brings out the flavor!”
‘What flavor?’ Catra thought bitterly. She wanted meat. She wanted to go home, but she didn’t even know what home is anymore.
“Shh,” Adora picked up her tray and sat directly next to Catra instead of across from her at the table and wrapped her arms around her. Catra realized that her eyes had begun to water, “It’s okay! But don’t let anyone catch you crying. It’s a weakness, you know?” she said matter-of-factly.
“I want to go home,” she whispered, but Adora couldn’t understand her.
“No touching, Cadets!” a tough looking woman ordered. Catra shrank in her seat.
“Actually, we’re not Cadets yet, Officer-”
“Do I look like I care? I said no touching!”
The quickly reoriented themselves.
“That’s Octavia,” Adora whispered, “She guards us and makes sure we get where we need to go,”
She looked scary to Catra. Everything there looked scary.
Except Adora.
Adora smelled really good.
Not like everything else.
Not like Shadow Weaver.
Catra finished up her meal (if you could call it that) just in time for a loud alarm to ring that sent her into a panic.
“It’s okay! It’s just the cleanup bell!”
Catra sighed in relief.
Maybe if she stuck by Adora things might just turn out alright.
The showers were torture.
Octavia through her into the communal shower screaming with her claws out. They had taken off her collar to avoid getting it wet, so she couldn’t understand Etherian Basic anymore.
Adora helped her wash in relative silence once she finished crying in a wet heap. The other children stared at her. Some of them laughed. Catra growled weakly at them.
Soon she was dried off and back in her clothes and collar with her fangs brushed, with help from Adora, with an odd smelling paste that stung her mouth and throat.
“You can take the bunk above me!”
Catra smiled.
“I wish you could talk. Then you could tell me all about the cool places you’ve been,”
Catra shook her head sadly, but Adora couldn’t see her.
“And why you have two different colored eyes. Oh, they’re just so pretty!” Catra blushed and smiled into her pillow, which was just as rough and uncomfortable as everything else, “And you’re ears and fur and tail! I didn’t want to seem rude before, but wow! I’ve never seen anything like it-”
“UGH! WON’T YOU BE QUIET!” Catra’s eyes flit to the dark skinned girl atop the bunk next to hers. She recognized her as one of the kids who’d laughed at her in the showers.
“Like you don’t wanna know, too, Lonnie!”
“I don’t care where that freak came from! I just wanna get some sleep!”
“Don’t call her a freak! She’s my friend! Well… at least if she wants to be,” Catra poked her head over the top of her bed where Adora was looking up at her with hopeful eyes.
Catra nodded, uncertain at first, before grinning wide and meeting Adora’s joyed expression.
“LIGHTS OUT!” came a disembodied voice and the room went dark.
Catra could still peer clearly though the dark. A yawn over took her.
As much as Catra didn’t want to sleep in this strange place, surrounded by strange people and even stranger smells, she knew that she had to.
She dreamed that night of fire and blood and blonde ponytails.
She would soon learn to overcome.
To adapt.
She would learn Etherian Basic to the point where you would never guess she ever spoke anything different.
She would learn the extent of Shadow Weaver’s cruelty and what it felt like to be under her magic.
She would learn to love the girl with the ocean eyes so much that it hurt.
And she would learn to curl up at her feet at night when the terrors became too much.
She would also learn what it was like to lose everything she is.
But that wouldn’t come until much, much later.
For now she slept here.
In this strange place.
With this strange person she’ll one day love.
And in one day… lose.