Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

October, 1984

ETHERIA NATIONAL PARK

WASHINGTON STATE

USA

Adora knows what she saw.

The photos don’t do a great job of capturing it, but she knows that she saw the she-ra at the edge of the forest that night. Yes, it was twilight and long shadows can play tricks on the eyes, but the meadow was still illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun and the giant mass of blonde fur streaking towards the woods was unmistakable. No other animal on the Etherian Peninsula is that large, and it was clearly running on two legs, not four.

She had managed to snap three photos before the she-ra disappeared into the forest. The first is too blurry to clearly distinguish the blonde streak from the tall meadow grasses. The second is underexposed. But the third -- the third photo is crystal clear. In the third photo, you can clearly see the she-ra running towards the trees. The creature is bipedal and at least eight feet tall, with shaggy blonde fur streaming behind it as it sprints across the meadow. Adora almost cries as she watches the photo develop in her darkroom. It’s proof. Finally.

At first, she’s not sure what to do with the photos. She considers sending them to her former thesis advisor at Etheria State, who had laughed her out of his office when she pitched writing her master’s thesis on the possible existence of a large, cryptid primate on the Etherian Peninsula. She ultimately decides that he would still find some way to discredit her. Her next option is to take it to the media. Maybe a reporter for National Geographic or the Seattle Tribune?

She shows the photos to her coworkers, the other rangers that she works with in Etheria National Park. They seem impressed but nervous about the potential frenzy the photos could cause. Next, she shows them to her friends Glimmer and Bow, who run the Brightmoon Campground General Store. They absolutely lose it when they see the photos. As life-long residents of the Etherian Peninsula, they already believed in the existence of the she-ra so the photos are just confirming the stories that they’ve grown up hearing. They request prints of the photos to hang in the general store, which Adora makes for them immediately. They also agree with Adora that she should take the photos to the Tribune. Bow knows just the reporter to contact.

News of the she-ra sighting goes national when the reporter from the Seattle Tribune picks up the story. It quickly spreads from the Tribune to the tabloids and eventually the story ends up in the opening monologue of the Tonight Show. By then, half of America has heard of Adora Gray, the park ranger and wildlife ecologist who claims to have seen the legendary she-ra.

Her photos are reproduced to the point of parody. She-ra is 1984’s most popular Halloween costume. Adora’s name becomes synonymous with the cryptid.

The calls don’t stop for months. Adora gets calls from distant relatives she’s never heard of before. Calls from people who believe in UFOs and military conspiracies. Calls from enraged scientists accusing her of spreading pseudoscientific lies. She even gets a call from her former thesis advisor requesting that she never mention his name in connection with her “research.”

At some point, she starts screening all her calls and ignores the growing pile of letters concerning the she-ra. The other rangers know not to tease her about it, but she can tell that they’re annoyed by the amount of time and energy the “she-ra situation” is taking up, especially since Adora has so much real work to do as the park’s head ranger. At least the rangers agree to leave the original prints of her photos framed and hanging in the den of the ranger station where they all live, as a sign of support.

Nobody ever wants to become a national punchline. Adora always knew that her lifelong interest in the she-ra legend was unusual. Quirky. A little bit out there. But she never thought that she’d be asked to publicly defend her “belief” in the cryptid. The photos are just one part of the story, of course. She’s also got records and interviews with peninsula residents claiming to have seen the she-ra stretching back over a hundred years. She’s seen potential nesting sites. Footprints . But she refuses to talk about any of that or publicly share any of her other evidence because she knows the media’s just looking for an easy joke.

Adora’s never been happier for the isolation that the Etherian Peninsula provides. The park is closed for the season and she hopes that she-ra mania will have died down by the spring when they reopen. The calls and letters and interview requests do start to slow down after Christmas and by late February, the moment seems like it may have passed. Adora thinks she can probably thank a small meteorite that crashed through the roof of a mobile home in Alabama for stealing the nation’s attention for weird news.

She anticipates that there will be quite a few “she-ra hunters” in the park this summer. Despite her life-long interest in the she-ra, she has always kept a good distance between herself and other she-ra hunters. Most she-ra hunters are just out for a laugh and often end up doing serious damage to the wilderness areas they’re searching in. Other she-ra hunters are complete whack-jobs who think that the she-ra is magical or an alien. Adora and the other rangers will have to be more vigilant about backcountry permit violations and she’ll probably have to write up an official statement or at least a spiel for rangers to recite when people inevitably inquire.

One thing Adora doesn’t anticipate is a request to be interviewed by the New Yorker. The requests from tabloids and talk shows and weekly alternative newspapers make sense but the New Yorker seems way too serious, too literary, to be writing about the she-ra. But the Editor in Chief himself had written her a letter on official New Yorker letterhead requesting to send a reporter for a month in the summer to interview her and learn about the legend of the she-ra, so Adora agrees and starts to figure out the logistics of housing a reporter for a few weeks in July.

June 2, 1985

NEW YORKER MAGAZINE OFFICE

NEW YORK CITY

The offices of the New Yorker Magazine are alive with the click-clack of word processor and typewriter keyboards, ringing phones, and the never-ending chatter coming from Scorpia at the receptionist’s desk. Catra, as one of newest staff writers at the magazine, has the unlucky honor of occupying the desk directly behind the office receptionist. Between Scorpia’s unrelenting chattiness and the constant foot traffic in and out of the office, Catra can never seem to get a moment of silence.

On a good day, she kind of likes the distraction that Scorpia provides. She’s an excellent source of office gossip and she never fails to support Catra’s story pitches, no matter how out there they are. On a bad day, like today, the receptionist’s heavy midwestern accent is like nails on a chalkboard and Catra finds herself growing more and more unhinged with every Oh gee and dontcha know?  

The day hadn’t started off bad. She’d filed her latest story with her editor first thing and had spent the rest of the morning sketching out her next pitch. But then she’d realized she had forgotten her lunch, then gotten caught in early summer downpour on her way back from the deli, and now she’s stuck listening to Scorpia prattle on about some terrible movie she’d watched the night before while she attempts to pat dry her blazer with paper towels.

“You know, I understand why they went in the cave, but I just don’t know why they didn’t think to leave her a note before they went in. Always leave a note, that’s what I always say. Just let people know where you’re going…”

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so Catra cuts Scorpia short. “Scorp, I’m sorry, but I have to take care of something.” She vaguely gestures across the office and backs away from Scorpia’s desk. Scorpia nods enthusiastically and turns back to her work.

Catra heads for the break room. Coffee might help. A beer would be better but there’s still two hours to go before she can reasonably cut out for the day. She thinks about faking a need to go to do research “in the field” but her next pitch is about a woman that owns her own avocado farm in California and there’s no way her editor is going to buy that she needs to go to the library for that. So she just relegates herself to wandering slowly through the offices.

She passes by the photo department where the photo editor is reviewing photos to go with the profiles set to run in next week’s issue. She looks too busy to bother so Catra continues on. She passes a couple of other staff writers scribbling notes and chatting on the phone, and then makes a detour to swing by Entrapta’s desk but finds it empty. It’s unfortunate because Entrapta’s usually good for a long, convoluted explanation of some new gadget or scientific breakthrough. Catra scans the area to see if she’s somewhere nearby.

“She’s with the boss,” somebody offers. Catra nods. That could take a while. Meetings with Hordak, the Editor in Chief, are infrequent and usually mean something’s up.

Catra continues on her winding path to the breakroom. She pauses when she’s passing by the Editor in Chief’s office because the door is cracked and she can hear Entrapta’s shrill voice arguing with their editor.

“I’m sorry Hordak, but I am a science and technology reporter and some backwoods hick who claims to have seen a She-ra is not an appropriate subject for the magazine. This isn’t the World Weekly News.”

Catra’s ears perk up a bit at the mention of the she-ra. She had, of course, heard news of the supposed sighting last fall. She also had her own personal reasons for being interested in the story. She’s surprised that her editor is interested in the story, but it really had taken the nation by storm.

Her editor sounds as annoyed about the topic as Entrapta when he argues back.

“Okay, first of all Ms. Dryl, Adora Gray is not some ‘backwoods hick.’ She’s the head ranger in Etheria National Park and she has a masters in wildlife ecology.”

Catra startles involuntarily at the mention of the ranger’s name. She forgets about her coffee and leans against the doorframe to continue listening in on the argument. Of course, she’d heard Adora’s name mentioned plenty of times during the she-ra mania of the fall and winter, but it was a surprise to hear that name at her work.

Until the she-ra photos became a topic of national intrigue, Catra hadn’t thought about Adora or the she-ra in years. Her first encounter with Adora’s recent infamy was the cover of the World Weekly News displayed on the magazine stand at her bodega.

The headline, plastered across the top third of the tabloid, read PARK RANGER SIGHTS SHE-RA - PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE!!  

There was no mention of Adora on the cover, but fond (and slightly embarrassing) memories of she-ra hunting in the Whispering Woods as a kid led Catra to flip through the magazine while she waited in line. She almost dropped the magazine and everything else she was holding when she recognized Adora’s picture.

After that first sighting, Catra consumed every bit of she-ra media she could get her hands on, hoping to find out more about her long-forgotten summer camp friend. She learned very little. Most of the she-ra “news” pieces were focused on the cryptid, not the head ranger of Etheria National Park that shot the photos. Adora has remained in the back of her mind ever since.

Entrapta and her editor are still bickering about the assignment.

“And second, she has photographic evidence of a she-ra. Of all our staff reporters, you’re the best person to do this profile. I’m not expecting you to ‘prove’ anything. I simply think it would be interesting to explore why this legend is so persistent and find out this seemingly normal, well-educated woman is so certain she’s seen what she claims to have seen.”

Entrapta huffs indignantly. Catra hears what sounds like a thick folder of papers being tossed down onto the desk. Hordak groans.

As far as Catra knows, Entrapta is the only reporter on staff that takes this kind of tone with their editor. She asked Scorpia about it once and all she said was don’t believe the rumors , in an especially conspiratorial whisper, so Catra’s never been sure what to make of it.

“I won’t do it,” Entrapta states loudly and firmly. “The idea that there is a cryptic species of eight-foot tall bipedal primates living undetected in North America is absurd. It’s completely unscientific and, frankly, asking me to report on this is insulting. Find somebody else.” 

Entrapta storms out of the office, ignoring Catra completely. Another loud groan emanates from the editor in chief, and Catra decides impulsively to insert herself into the situation. She wants this assignment.

“Hey Mr. Hordak,” she starts, adding an extra sweet air of accommodation in her voice. “Couldn’t help but overhear some of that.”

Her editor, who has his face buried in his palms, glances up from his massive mahogany desk. It’s covered in newspaper clippings about the ranger’s supposed she-ra encounter deep in the backcountry of Etheria National Park. He looks annoyed but Catra guesses that it’s more at Entrapta’s refusal than at her intrusion, so she saunters through the office and slides into one of the chairs opposite his desk.

“I don’t see how you can help with the situation, Ms. Jones,” he mutters.

Catra flips through the pile of newspaper clippings, scanning the headlines and photo captions. One in particular catches her eye. It’s a color photo of the intrepid park ranger, who’s big goofy grin and sparkling blue eyes look just like the thirteen year old’s that Catra remembered from all those years ago at Camp Whispering Woods. Adora Gray had apparently not changed a bit in the twelve years since she’d last seen her. She’s even still got that dumb ponytail and hair poof.

“I know Entrapta can be picky about her assignments, but I’m honestly surprised that she didn’t jump all over this one. Debunking a cryptid, especially a North American primate, would be huge for her. She’s always going on and on about how ‘anti-science’ our country is becoming.”

“Get to the point, Ms. Jones.” Hordak is clearly frustrated.

“Anyway, I think she’s got her hands full with that Macintosh piece you assigned her last week. Isn’t there some big geek conference coming up that she’s supposed to go to?”

Her editor snatches the pile of clippings back from her and begins flipping through his list of reporters, clearly intent on finding another to take the assignment.

“I’d be more than happy to take the assignment,” Catra blurts. Hordak looks confused.

“Ms. Jones, I’m sorry but this isn’t your beat. Plus, I was going to send Entrapta out to Etheria National Park for a month to do the research.”

“Sir, if I may disagree...this is totally my beat. It’s a profile of an interesting woman doing something weird. Plus, I knocked that Sally Ride profile out of the park last fall. That was sciencey.”

Hordak pauses his shuffling and looks at her. She can tell he’s considering it.

“This is hardly a weekend getaway in the Poconos. It’s remote. You’ll be practically off the grid for weeks. And you’ll be on your own because I’m not sending a photographer with you.”

“Pfff! I’ll be fine. I go camping all the time!” It’s a complete lie, but he doesn’t know that. And because she’s desperate to get this assignment, she continues her string of lies. “I know how to work a camera, and I can take care of myself. Plus, I hate this city in the summer. I could use a trip to the West Coast.”

Hordak seems dubious. He runs a hand through his hair and takes another long look at his list of available reporters. Catra flashes her most charming grin.

“Fine,” he growls. “You’re flying out next month. The ranger already knows somebody is coming but you should call her to work out the details.”

He sweeps up the newspaper clippings and adds them to a file with Adora Gray’s contact information.

“You can talk to Scorpia about booking your travel and petty cash,” he adds as he hands her the folder.

“Thanks boss, I won’t let you down,” Catra says with a wink. She snatches the folder and heads back to her desk. Scorpia notices her change in mood immediately but Catra ignores her as she dials the park ranger’s number. She gets an answering machine.

Hi, you’ve reached the direct line for Adora Gray, head ranger of Etheria National Park. Please leave your name, contact information, and reason for your call and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Catra puts on her most professional voice and leaves the ranger a message.

“Hi, this is Catherine Jones with the New Yorker Magazine. I’m calling to go over the details of my upcoming visit. Give me a call back when you can.”

She leaves her number on the message and decides to spend the rest of the afternoon researching the park and the legend of she-ra. This day has really turned around.

“I’m out on assignment for the rest of the day,” she mentions to Scorpia as she pulls her still-damp blazer on and slips out of the office.

July 1968

CAMP WHISPERING WOODS

NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

Catra is eight years old when she goes to summer camp for the first time. The drive to Camp Whispering Woods, tucked deep in the mountains of Northern California, takes hours and she’s nervous to spend the summer alone, away from all her friends and family. Luckily, when she arrives, her counselor is really friendly. After she helps Catra get unpacked and introduces her to the other girls in her cabin, Catra feels a little more relaxed.

At first, she doesn’t like the little blonde girl who was assigned the bunk below her. She hugs Catra the very first time they meet, as if they’re already friends, and she talks way too much. Her name is Adora, which Catra thinks is possibly the dumbest, most embarrassing name she’s ever heard.

But Adora is determined to become friends with Catra.

She always chooses to do the same activities as Catra. She always sits next to her in the dining hall and at the campfire every night. She even steals snacks from the pantry and shares them with Catra in their bunk after lights out. Her commitment quickly wears down Catra’s defenses and they become inseparable after the first week.

In the second week of camp, one of the counselors invites all the first year campers to a special storytelling night. Catra thinks that they’re probably going to tell ghost stories and she’s preparing to brag about how nothing scares her when she realizes that the story the counselor is telling is real , not a ghost story.

The counselor shows everybody a grainy film of the she-ra, the mysterious primate of the Etherian Peninsula. The film was shot the year before and the only reason the counselor only has a copy is because they know the people who filmed it. The she-ra on the film is tall, probably at least eight feet, with blonde shaggy fur covering its entire body. On the film, it strides across a gravely riverbed. When it’s two thirds of the way across, it pauses and turns to look towards the camera before continuing on its way. 

Adora gasps the first time she sees the film and asks to watch it again. The film is only about a minute long, so the counselor replays it a few times. Catra laughs at how amazed her friend is by the sixty seconds of film.

The counselor says this film is the first real proof that the she-ra exists, but there have been reported sightings for hundreds of years. She says that the she-ra has even been sighted as far south as the forest around Camp Whispering Woods.

Catra is intrigued by the story, but her curiosity is nothing compared to Adora’s reaction. Adora is wide-eyed the entire time and will not shut up about she-ra when they return to their cabin. She rambles on and on about the film and asks Catra about a million times if she thinks they’ll see a she-ra that summer. Catra keeps saying maybe but she’s not sure how they would even begin looking for one.

The next day, Adora asks the counselor the same questions about the she-ra over and over until the counselor agrees to show Adora some “top secret” evidence that they collected in the woods last summer. That night, after dinner, they show Catra and Adora a plaster cast of a giant footprint, bigger than any foot the girls have ever seen. Adora’s eyes grow wid and she clutches Catra’s sleeve so hard that Catra yelps.

“A she-ra footprint,” she whispers.

The counselor lets Adora hold the plaster cast. She cradles it like a babydoll and gently runs her fingers over the sole. She places it on the floor and compares her own foot to the cast. It’s at least twice as long, maybe more. Catra’s feet are even smaller than Adora’s so they don’t even bother comparing hers.

Adora asks where the counselor found the footprint and she gives a vague description of a trail that runs along the creek that flows into the lake by the camp. Adora’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she nods furiously and writes down the description in her “field notebook” (a regular old notebook she scrawled SHE-RA NOTES - TOP SECRET across the front of).

Catra is dubious but Adora finally convinces her that the she-ra is probably real, or at least worth “investigating,” so they decide to sneak out of their cabin after lights out and go she-ra hunting. Adora wants to find her own proof. More footprints, or a tuft of fur. She would love to actually see the she-ra with her own eyes but she knows that’s not likely. She explains all of this to Catra as they plan their investigation.

On that first night that they sneak out to go hunting, they venture roughly one hundred yards into the woods before they get too scared of the dark and scamper back to their cabin. But after that first hunt, they sneak out as often as they can to look for evidence of the she-ra in the woods around the camp. They start to explore further and further into the woods each time and gradually start to memorize all the trails and tree stumps and boulders so that they can navigate easily in the darkness.

With each “hunt,” Adora’s confidence that she-ra is real grows and Catra’s shrinks. But Catra likes being out in the woods at night and she likes exploring with Adora so she plays along, even though she thinks that footprint looked pretty fake.

They never find any new evidence but they keep looking anyway.

One night, they’re exploring the woods around the edge of a meadow when they hear a large crash in the underbrush behind them. The two girls freeze but the rustling continues, growing close and closer by the second.

The only place for them to hide is behind a large rotten log. They dive behind it and shrink down into the moss. It’s soggy and cold and gross. Catra presses into Adora’s side to hide from whatever creature is making the noise, and Adora wraps her arm around Catra in response.

“Do you think it’s a she-ra?” Adora leans close to Catra’s ear and whispers.

“She-ra’s not real,” Catra replies, suddenly less confident of that fact than she had been earlier in the night.

“Yes she is.”

The rustling is growing closer and closer and suddenly it stops, as if whatever is making the noises has come to stand-still. Catra squeezes her eyes shut and hopes that the log is big enough to hide them. She feels like her heart is beating loudly enough to give away their hiding spot. She cracks one eye open to see what Adora is doing. Adora, just like Catra, is frozen in place.

“What is it?” Catra hisses, as quietly as possible. Adora stays silent. The large creature lets out a loud snort of air. Catra sinks down lower into the moss and pulls her sweatshirt hood over her head. She feels Adora stretch up to peek over the log. Adora gasps and elbows Catra.

“Look.”

Catra lifts her head just enough to barely peek over the log. All she can see is a huge pair of antlers.

“Is it a deer?” she whispers.

“No, it’s way too big.”

“Maybe it’s a moose.”

“No, dummy, moose don’t live in California,” Adora states bluntly, as if everybody knows that. Catra flushes with embarrassment.

“I think it’s an elk,” Adora adds.

Catra pokes her head up a little higher and sees the whole animal. It’s less than ten feet away from them and it is hands-down the biggest animal Catra has ever seen in the wild. It’s probably five feet tall at the shoulder, but it’s head and antlers stretch up at least another four feet. The massive animal is silhouetted against the moonlight but Catra can still make out the details of thick fur and beady eyes. It’s sniffing the air and moving slowly, scanning the meadow around it. Catra hopes that it doesn’t know she and Adora are so close.

“Is it dangerous?” she asks Adora. She leans close to her friend, who instinctively grasps her hand and squeezes.

“I don’t think so, unless we scare it. Let’s go back to the cabin.”

Adora rises slowly and silently, and backs away from the elk, pulling Catra with her. It turns to look at them and they freeze, caught in a terrifying staring contest with the beast. After what feels like an eternity, the elk finally looks away and starts grazing on the meadow grasses. The girls begin to back slowly away again. When they’re finally out of sight of the animal, they turn and run, hand in hand, giggling the whole way back to the cabin. What was terrifying at the moment is now, inexplicably, hilarious.

When they finally get back to the cabin, Catra collapses into Adora’s bunk instead of her own. She’s too overwhelmed to climb up the ladder and Adora’s bunk feels so much safer and more comfortable than hers.

“I was so scared,” she whispers, before they both fall asleep.

“It’s okay though. You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we’re together.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

June 27, 1985

PORT SALINEAS FERRY TERMINAL

ETHERIAN PENINSULA

WASHINGTON STATE

Adora wears her dress uniform to the ferry terminal to pick up the reporter. “Dress uniform” is probably a little over-dramatic a term for the National Parks Service, but the forest green sweater and tie and paired with her flat brimmed felt ranger hat looks crisp and formal compared to the dusty everyday uniform she usually wears. And needless to say, Adora believes in the importance of making a good first impression.

She had confirmed the reporter’s travel details the evening before and knew that she was arriving on the evening ferry. Adora made sure to arrive early enough to snag a good parking spot for “the beast” (her oversized, seafoam green parks service truck) and find a good spot to watch the ferry passengers disembark. She had even drawn up a sign with the reporter’s last name on it to help the reporter spot her, though the ranger uniform would probably do a good enough job of that.

She checks her watch. It’s still at least another thirty minutes before the ferry arrives. She wonders what the reporter will be like. Catherine Jones, staff writer for the New Yorker Magazine. Adora smiles a little at the name, and thinks about what a weird coincidence it is that this reporter would have the same name as her childhood friend. Though the Catherine Jones that Adora had known had always refused to be called anything but Catra. Adora had practically forgotten that Catra’s full name was Catherine until she’d listened to that first message the reporter had left her last month.

Memories of Catra were always bittersweet. They had been best friends for five solid summers. During the six weeks they spent at Camp Whispering Woods each summer, Catra had been Adora’s whole world. In the months between summers, they were committed, passionate penpals, sending and receiving weekly letters and packages to update each other on their life away from camp. But then their whole friendship had evaporated after their last year at camp, all because Adora was too scared, too confused, too young to understand what Catra had tried to tell her on their last day together. Adora doesn’t think about Catra often these days, but her memory does pop up every once in a blue moon.

In some strange way, Catra was half the reason this reporter was even coming to interview Adora in the first place. Adora smiles as she remembers the nights she and Catra would sneak out of their summer camp cabin and go she-ra hunting in the woods. Catra was always the skeptic, the straight man, offering logical explanations for every bit of “evidence” Adora found in the woods around their camp. Catra’s refusal to just believe in the existence of she-ra laid the groundwork for Adora’s scientific approach to evidence collection now.

Adora makes a mental note to tell the reporter about the funny name coincidence and her childhood friend. That would probably kill a good ten or twenty minutes on the long drive from Port Salineas back to the ranger station.

She checks her watch again and sees that it’s almost time for the ferry to arrive. She scans the water and sees it approaching the terminal.

As the ferry slowly docks, Adora wonders what the reporter will be like. She hopes the reporter will be friendly at least. They were going to be bunking together for the next month, after all.

Adora had seen the tabloids after her photos had gone public and she was worried that a big shot reporter from New York might be condescending about she-ra. During one of her more anxiety ridden spirals, Bow had pointed out that the New Yorker probably wouldn’t pay to send a reporter out for an entire month if they weren’t taking the story seriously. Plus, the woman had sounded genuine enough on the phone.

After all the cars unload, walk-on ferry passengers start streaming off the boat. It’s peak tourist season on the peninsula and scores of families, backpackers, hunters and fisherman are making their way onto the dock. Adora scans the crowd for her guest of honor but nobody seems to fit the image of the reporter that she’s created in her mind.

After most of the passengers have disembarked, Adora spots a lone woman making her way down the walkway. She has short, devastatingly hip hair and large silver hoops dangle from her ears. She’s wearing a red leather jacket with distractingly severe shoulder pads over a white tank top and acid wash jeans. She looks far too cool to be disembarking a ferry in Port Salineas. Adora suddenly feels foolish for expecting some old seasoned science and nature journalist decked out in khakis and hiking boots. This woman is a journalist for the New Yorker, not National Geographic. Of course she’s stylish and beautiful.

She’s hauling two large duffle bags and has a backpack and camera bag slung over her shoulders. Seems like a lot of gear to Adora, but who is she to judge?

The woman pauses at the end of the walkway and scans the dock, quickly spotting Adora. As she walks towards her, Adora feels frozen in place and deeply self-conscious about her ranger uniform. Which is strange, because she’s usually proud of the uniform and her work in the parks.

When the reporter finally reaches Adora, she drops her bags and rolls her shoulders to stretch them out a little. Adora knows that she’s been traveling since yesterday and must be exhausted.

“Hi!” Adora blurts, plastering in her biggest, friendliest grin and extending a hand. She’s nervous so she keeps talking before the reporter can respond. “You must be Catherine. Do you go by Catherine? Or should I call you Cathy? Or Ms. Jones? I’ve never really met a reporter before.”

“Ms. Jones, I like that,” she replies, with a bit of a laugh. The reporter grins and reaches a perfectly manicured hand up to slowly remove her sunglasses. The moment Adora sees her eyes, her brain shuts down. One bluish green eye, the other amber. An unforgettable pair of eyes.

“Catra…?” Adora finally stutters, after many moments of staring.

“ Hey Adora ,” the reporter purrs back, a mischievous smirk growing across her face. Her voice is different, older and more seductive, but now that Adora connects her face to the voice she’d heard on the phone, she recognizes it. In that voice, she hears every Hey Adora Catra had ever called to her. 

Catra finally grasps Adora’s outstretched hand and pulls her in for a big hug.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Catra laughs.

Adora remains dumbfounded. She backs out of the hug and stares at the woman standing in front of her. She keeps opening her mouth but no words come out. Catra. Catherine Jones. Why didn’t she realize it sooner? She feels like such an idiot for thinking it was just a funny coincidence.

“Why…? Why didn’t you…? How?!” Adora sputters.

Catra just keeps smirking, soaking in Adora’s shock.

“Damn, I knew this was going to surprise you but I didn’t think I’d cause a complete meltdown. You okay, dummy? You’re not going to have a heart attack or anything are you?”

“I just...I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“In the flesh.”

“You’re here.”

“Uh, yeah, we already covered that.”

“What heck, Catra! Why didn’t you tell me when we talked on the phone?”

“Your reaction right now is completely worth it,” she says with the same adorable, squeaky laugh Adora remembers from childhood.

Then Catra pauses to really look at Adora. She scans her slowly from head to toe. Adora squirms involuntarily under the pointed scrutiny.

“On a completely different topic, I am loving this ranger uniform on you. That hat, my god. Do you wear this every day?”

Adora suddenly feels hot in her sweater. She pulls at the neck a little and loosens the tie. She thinks about taking her hat off but that would just leave her with even more horrendous hat hair so she leaves it on.

“Actually, this is our dress uniform. I only break out the flat hat and tie for special occasions, like picking up a big shot reporter at the Port Salineas ferry terminal.”

Catra nods and takes another long look at Adora’s uniform. Adora stands up a little straighter and shoves her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting.

“Good to know.” She pauses and then adds, “Uniforms don’t usually do it for me, but this whole Smokey the Bear situation is making me question everything. Is there a wildfire nearby?” 

She cackles at her own joke and Adora flushes a deep red, suddenly remembering how relentlessly Catra had teased her every summer when they were kids. At least back then it seemed innocent and playful. Now it felt different. Flirty. Dangerous.

“Too much, Dor? Sorry. I know it’s been a while. I’ll try to take it easy on you, though I swear to god, that hat is making it difficult.” She laughs and gives Adora a playful shove on the shoulder.

Adora is genuinely surprised at Catra’s familiarity. It’s been years and Adora has no idea how to act around her. She had been preparing for a serious, professional introduction with a big city reporter. She has a whole woodsy, charming ranger persona she’s been perfecting over her years working in the park, and an encyclopedic knowledge of the natural history and ecology of the Etherian Peninsula that she can chatter on about for hours. She was prepared! But not for this. Catra is a completely different ballgame.

Adora is desperate to get moving.

“You hungry?” she tries, hoping to spur some action. Catra looks surprised at the seemingly random question.

“Uh, yeah. I could eat.”

“Great. There’s this amazing fish and chips place nearby, and honestly, we should eat before we head out to the ranger station. The other rangers and I take turns cooking and it’s, uh, it’s okay but we should take advantage while we’re here.”

“Lead the way, ranger.”

Adora hefts both duffle bags and leads Catra back to her truck. She tosses the bags into the bed and unlocks the passenger door of the cab for Catra. It was a utilitarian gesture because nothing on the truck is automatic, but Catra mocks Adora’s gallantry as she climbs into the cab. They start the drive through town to the fish and chips shack.

The drive is short and Catra is much more interested in soaking in the quaint port town than Adora expected. The only conversation they share during the drive is Adora’s fun facts about the various century-old buildings and docks. Adora starts to think that maybe her preparation wasn’t a total waste of time.

The fish and chips shack has an over-the-top mermaid motif. It’s run by a woman who calls herself Mermista, but who has a much colder personality than you would expect a mermaid-enthusiast to be. She seems bored out of her mind but chats a little with Adora as she fries their cod and dishes up a couple of cups of clam chowder.

Catra and Adora finally get back to small talk as they eat their dinner at one of the picnic tables surrounding the shack. Adora gives Catra a quick summary of how she ended up working in the park, which includes a degree in ecology and evolutionary biology from UCLA followed by a Master’s from Etheria State College. She made some connections in graduate school that opened the door to a permanent position with the National Parks Service and she’s been working in Etheria National Park ever since. Catra doesn’t take notes while Adora talks but she is clearly filing bits of information away for later.

“So what about you?” Adora finally asks. “The New Yorker’s a big deal.”

“Yeah, I got lucky. My advisor in college scored me an internship after graduation and that eventually turned into a staff position.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t luck.”

Catra shrugs.

“So what do you usually write about?”

“Different things. Mostly profiles. My most recent piece was on Ursula Le Guin.”

Adora’s eyes go wide at the mention of her favorite author.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing. She’s incredible. The Left Hand of Darkness is probably my favorite book of all time.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “Interesting,” she murmurs. She takes another bite of food before continuing.

“I did a shorter piece on Mariel Hemmingway, after Personal Best came out, and a profile on Sally Ride about a year ago.”

Adora recognizes these names, of course, but also can’t figure out how they have anything to do with the she-ra or primate research. She furrows her brow, wondering why Catra of all people was sent to interview her. Her confusion must be obvious because Catra just rolls her eyes.

“What? I can tell you have a question,” she prods.

Adora thinks for a moment before replying. “I guess I’m just not sure how the she-ra or any of this connects to the other stuff you write about. Why did you want to take this story?”

Catra grins and chuckles a little bit. “You really don’t know?”

“I can’t figure it out.”

“Women, Adora. I write about women.”

“Ohhhh, okay.” Adora pauses. That doesn’t really explain why Catra wants to write about the she-ra, but Adora starts trying to connect the dots. She works through her reasoning out loud. “If you mostly write about women, I guess it’s good that the she-ra is generally considered to be female then, huh? Though a breeding population would obviously need to have many individuals of both sexes to thrive…”

Catra laughs, interrupting Adora’s rambling.

“After all these years Adora, you’re still such an idiot.”

The words felt harsh but when they were younger, Catra had always used idiot more as a term of endearment than an insult. Adora frowns and hopes she will explain further. Catra takes a long sip of her soda, eyes twinkling and locked on Adora’s.

“I’m not writing about she-ra, dummy. I’m writing about you. ”

Catra waits for that to sink in. Adora flushes and drags a handful of fries through ketchup.

“To be fair, my editor tried to assign this to an actual science writer, but I swooped in and picked it up as soon as I heard your name.”

🌲🦶🌲

It’s dark by the time they finally arrive at the Brightmoon Ranger Station. Adora knows that it can be disorienting to arrive somewhere after dark and promises Catra she’ll give her a proper tour of the station and adjoining campground the next morning. The station itself is comprised of two small buildings. One is a visitor center that also houses Adora’s office and a small first aid station and other is the rangers’ residence where Adora and the other rangers live.

“Welcome to the fright zone,” she jokes as she swings open the door to the residency. “It’s been called that since before I started working here. It’s not half as bad as it sounds, but it’s definitely not a four star hotel or anything like you’re probably used to.”

“I don’t know what kind of lifestyle you think we journalists lead, but I’m definitely not staying in four star hotels when I’m on assignment. This has got to be better than the creepy motel I stayed in last night in Seattle. Gimme a tour.”

Adora has already explained to Catra that her three colleagues will probably be asleep in their bunkroom by the time they arrive since their morning duties start early. She’s right, the common areas are empty when they step inside. She gives Catra a quick tour of the small residence on the way to her bunkroom, where Catra will be staying for the month. 

There’s not much to the residence: a kitchen with a big communal table, a small den with a couple of couches and a tv, and the two bunkrooms, each with their own bathroom. Cheap wood panelling covers most of the walls and there are various maps and photos of the park hung up as decoration. Adora tries to use her body to obscure the large taxidermied beaver perched in one corner of the den but Catra spots it almost instantly and cackles at it.

“I’ll consider this a failed trip if I don’t get at least one portrait of you next to that in the magazine,” she teases. “What other weird shit do you guys have hiding around here?”

Adora ushers them out of the den down the hallway towards the bunkrooms, hoping to avoid a discussion of her she-ra photos, which are hung prominently in the den above the tv, until at least tomorrow morning. They pass a couple of doors along the short hall before pausing outside the door of her own room.

“I know you already know this, but we’re sharing a room. The only other open bunk in the house is in the room that Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are already in, so we figured it makes more sense for you to share with me.”

“I know,” Catra replies, as if it’s not awkward at all. Adora can’t figure out how the woman is so calm about everything.

She takes a breath and shoves aside any nerves she’s been feeling about sharing a room with her long lost friend and pushes the door open with her foot to reveal a small, neatly kept room with two bunks along the far wall. There’s a large window with some house plants along the sill and desk and bookshelf in one of the corners. No taxidermied creatures, antlers or other tacky wilderness accoutrements. Adora likes to keep her space neat and decluttered.

“You’re in the bunk above me,” Adora says, placing Catra’s duffle bags on the floor next to an empty dresser. “I hope that’s okay.”

Catra just pushes past her into the room and flops her backpack onto the top bunk. She looks around the room and smiles.

“Damn, it really is like old times, huh?”

The room is nothing like the bunkhouses they stayed in at Camp Whispering Woods, but the parallels are unmistakable. Thirteen year old Adora would never have believed that she’d get one more summer in the woods with Catra.

“I’m gonna go hang out in the den while you get unpacked. Let me know if you need anything,” Adora says, clearing out of the room as quickly as possible.

In the den, Adora settles into her favorite armchair with the book she’s reading. She’s barely able to concentrate on reading though, and ends up watching a small spider crawl slowly up the wall. Spiders are everywhere during the summer and it’s useless to trap it and toss it outside. Another one will have taken its place by morning.

Adora startles when Catra pokes her head into the den and lets her know that she’s going to jot down some notes and then crash for the night.

“I know I just got here and I want to catch up, but time zones and travel and whatnot,” Catra explains. Adora nods and keeps trying to read in the den for a while longer.

When Adora enters the bunkroom later, Catra is perched in the top bunk, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, and scribbling in a notebook. Adora grabs her pj’s and slips into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Catra is still writing when she climbs into the bottom bunk. Adora tries to concentrate on her book but knowing that Catra is scribbling notes, probably about her, just a couple feet above her is distracting. She lets the paperback fall to her chest and listens to the sound of Catra’s pencil.

The initial shock of seeing Catra again has faded a little but now Adora is burning with curiosity about the woman. When they were kids, she knew everything about Catra. They may have only spent the summer togethers, but they were dedicated pen pals throughout the year and kept each other updated on every little thing happening in their lives between summers. Now she knows nothing about Catra.

Adora suspects that Catra never really believed in the she-ra when they were younger, but Catra never teased Adora about it the way kids back home did every time she brought up the cryptid. Adora knows that most people, especially other ecologists, think she’s crazy for entertaining the possibility of the she-ra’s existence, but there’s definitely something out there in the backcountry. And after her sighting last October, there’s no denying it. If Catra just gives her a chance to show her what she’s seen, maybe she’ll start believing too.

She wonders what Catra’s life in New York is like. She’s learned a bit about her job but what about friends? What is her apartment like? Does she live alone? Is she dating anybody? Actually, Adora doesn’t want to think about that one too much. Does she like New York? The Catra of her memories was always so Californian, it’s hard to imagine her back east.

She frowns and picks her novel back up. She’s read exactly one sentence since she’s laid down in her bunk. She hears Catra shifting in the bunk above her and then her head pops into view.

“Hey. Oh wow, now I really do feel like I’m back at camp.”

Catra had always had the bunk above Adora at Camp Whispering Woods, and on the nights that she didn’t squeeze herself into Adora’s bunk, she’d had a habit of hanging upside down off the top bunk to whisper down to Adora after lights out. Adora laughs at the adult woman hanging off the bunk above her, curly hair hanging down and oversized reading glasses slipping off the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, except now you look like a dork with those glasses on.”

“Shut up. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that hat you were wearing earlier. Anyway. I’m done with my notes. You want me to turn the light out?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lamp down here.”

“Cool. Night, Adora.”

“Goodnight.”

Adora keeps trying to read the same paragraph for the next half an hour before she finally gives up and turns her light out. Catra is snoring lightly in the bunk above her and the strangely familiar sound lulls Adora to sleep.

August 1973

CAMP WHISPERING WOODS

In their final summer together at Camp Whispering Woods, Catra still follows Adora out into the woods any night that her friend wants to go she-ra hunting. After five summers of hunting, they have uncovered absolutely no new evidence of the cryptid but Adora is still as dedicated to the idea as she had been when they were eight years old. Catra, on the other hand, is convinced that the whole thing, including the film they’d seen that first year, was a hoax. But far be it from her to decline an opportunity to let Adora drag her by the hand through the moonlit woods and whisper crackpot theories into her as they crouch behind logs and examine racoon and coyote tracks. Anything to be close to Adora.

Most other thirteen year old girls in their cabin are consumed by summer camp crushes on the boys at the camp. In the first couple of weeks, they stay up late whispering about which boy is the cutest and which one they plan on kissing by the end of summer. Catra has no interest in kissing any of the boys and rolls her eyes and covers her ears when her cabinmates squeal and scheme about boys. Adora, she notices, only ever wants to whisper about her she-ra theories, which is totally fine with Catra.

It is a tradition at Camp Whispering Woods for the oldest campers to go on a three night backpacking trip in the final week of the summer. Catra, scrawny but scrappy, is thrilled at the prospect of hiking miles into wilderness with everything she needs strapped to her shoulders. Adora, predictably, will not shut up about the opportunity to expand her she-ra survey into new areas of the woods.

The hike will take them deep into the Whispering Woods, farther than either girl has ever explored before. The counselors have been talking it up all summer and both girls have been jittery with excitement for a week.

On the second night of the trip, Catra excuses herself from the campfire to find some place away from the woods to pee. She wanders farther than she needs to, and gets a little lost on her way back. She hears voices and heads towards them, assuming that they must be near the campfire.

When she finds the source of the voices, she sees something that blows her mind. She watches breathlessly for a moment before running back to the campfire, now visible in the distance. She arrives flushed and agitated and Adora notices instantly.

“What’s wrong? Did you see something?”

Catra knows that Adora is probably asking about she-ra or other animals or something, but she doesn’t care to humor Adora’s obsession at the moment. What she had seen was completely human.

“Yeah,” she replies. She can tell her face must be red because she feels hot all over. She hopes Adora can’t tell because of the darkness and flickering light from the campfire.

“What did you see? Footprints? A nest?? ”

“No, idiot. It wasn’t a she-ra thing.”

“What was it?” Adora looks concerned. Catra doesn’t want to worry her but she also doesn’t want to tell Adora what she’s seen, especially not here at the campfire where other people might overhear them. The other campers are used to hearing Adora and Catra talk about all kinds of weird theories but Catra knows that what she saw would cause all kinds of gossip and she’d rather not be at the center of that kind of drama.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

Catra pulls her hood up over her head and wraps her arms around her knees. She needs to process. Adora misinterprets the move and assumes Catra’s cold. She wraps her arm around Catra and pulls her close to warm her up. Catra leans into her friend’s side but doesn’t say anything more. They sit like that for a while but eventually Adora’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Come on Catra,” Adora whines, squeezing her shoulder. “Was it scary?”

“No.”

“Was it dangerous?”

“No.”

“Well then what was it?”

“Ugh, drop it, Adora!”

“Fine.”

Adora pouts but Catra doesn’t care. They don’t talk any more at the campfire or in the tent that night, and Catra barely sleeps. In the morning, it’s clear that Adora has decided to pretend that she’s forgotten about the whole thing, so Catra does too.

On the next and final night of the hike, all the campers stay up late watching a meteor shower. It’s late enough in the summer that the air is chilly away from the campfire, and Catra actually is cold. She’s curled up against Adora’s warm body, only half-listening to their counselors talk about meteors and point out constellations. She isn’t paying attention when half the campers gasp at a shooting star that streaks across the sky.

“Did you see it?” Adora asks.

“I missed it,” Catra mumbles, not lifting her head from Adora’s shoulder.

“Dang, maybe you’ll see the next one.”

“Maybe. I’m sleepy.”

“Let’s go to sleep then, it’s late. We’ve already seen plenty of meteors.”

Soon after, when they’re tucked into their sleeping backs in their tent, Catra turns to Adora.

“I can’t believe this is our last year.”

“I know.”

“I wish we lived in the same city.”

“I could come visit you in Oakland next summer.”

“Yeah, maybe. Do you think your parents will let you?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll ask. My stepmom’s kinda strict. Maybe you can come to San Diego? And obviously I’ll still write to you all the time.”

Adora scoots closer to Catra. “It’s so cold tonight,” she mumbles into the balled up sweatshirt she’s using as a pillow.

They lay in silence for a while and then Adora speaks again. “Hey, Catra?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you see last night?”

“Oh my god, Adora. Do you ever stop thinking about she-ra? I told you it wasn’t a she-ra.”

Adora flops over to face her. They’re so close that their noses are almost touching. It’s dark in the tent but a little bit of moonlight sparkles off Adora’s blue eyes. The eye contact is too much for Catra. She looks away before Adora continues.

“No! I’m not asking about she-ra. I just want to know what you saw.”

Catra is silent for a long time. Her skin feels hot again and she’s worried that Adora is so close that she’ll notice. She doesn’t know how to explain what she saw to Adora without being awkward. Eventually Adora gets impatient and asks again.

“Fine,” Catra grumbles. “I saw Spinny and Netossa.” Two of the counselors supervising the backpacking trip.

“So?” Adora is clearly confused about why Catra kept this a secret. “Why are you being all weird about it?”

“They were…” Catra takes a breath and whispers the next part. “...kissing.”

Adora is quiet for a long time. “Each other?” she finally asks.

Catra, who is sarcastic to a fault and never skips an opportunity to tease Adora for being oblivious, just answers simply, “Yeah.”

Her heart is thumping and her whole body is tense. She hasn’t stopped thinking about seeing the two women kiss since she’d seen them the night before. And there in the tent, just inches away from Adora and close enough to feel the warmth of her body, she suddenly can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss Adora .

Every confusing feeling she’d ever felt about Adora suddenly made sense when she realized that it was possible for a girl to kiss another girl. If a girl could kiss another girl, then a girl could also love another girl.

Adora is still silent, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. Catra watches her closely and tries to decipher what might be going through Adora’s mind. Her silence is killing Catra.

“I…” Adora starts, and then pauses. “I...didn’t know that girls did that.”

Catra lets out her breath.

“Me neither.”

Adora breathes deeply and asks, “Do you think it’s bad?”

Catra is caught off guard by Adora’s question. Of all the things she’d thought since she saw the two women kissing, she’s never once considered if it was bad. Does Adora think it’s bad? Would Adora think that she was bad if she knew what Catra wanted?

“Do you think it’s bad?” Catra deflects.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Catra’s heart is still beating loud and fast, but now she feels inexplicably angry. She feels tears well up in the corners of her eyes so she flips over to face away from Adora and growls back, “Well you think all kissing is bad.”

Adora doesn’t say anything more that night. Catra eventually hears her snoring but she herself does not fall asleep until long after the moon has set and the early birds are starting to chirp.

Just like the previous morning, Catra and Adora pretend like the nighttime conversation in the tent never happened. Catra senses an awkwardness while they break down the tent and pack their backpacks but the tension eases as they hike back to camp.

When the final day of camp arrives, Catra feels like her heart is breaking. Every summer before, she had always known that she’d see Adora again. Only ten and half months until they were bunkmates again, staying up late at night and whispering about whatever. But now there is no guarantee that the two girls will ever see each other again. Plus, the whole concept of whispering late at night has become weirdly fraught and the situation makes Catra want to cry.

Adora, of course, makes no attempt to hold back her tears. Her parents are already there, ready to hit the road and make it back to San Diego before nightfall. In the few minutes they have left together, she pulls Catra away from the crowds of campers and families to a more secluded spot.

“My parents want to leave right now but I just wanted to say goodbye again,” she explains. “I’m going to miss you so much, Catra!”

She wraps Catra in a crushing bear hug. When they separate, Adora grabs both of Catra’s hands in her own. She has tears streaming down her cheeks, just like she’s had on the last day of camp every single summer before. Adora always wears her heart on her sleeve. Catra resists the urge to pull her into another hug.

“I know we’re going to see each other again,” Adora says. “And I’ll write, just like always.”

“I’ll miss you, dummy. And I’ll send you a letter as soon as I get home. I’ll write it on the drive home.”

Adora wipes the tears off her cheeks and laughs.

“You’ll always be my best friend, Catra.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Adora leans her forehead against Catra’s, bringing them closer together than they’ve been since the backpacking trip. The closeness momentarily erases Catra’s sadness and she feels Adora’s warmth radiate through her. She breathes in deeply. The scent of dusty pines and Adora envelopes her.

Then, without thinking, without even realizing what she’s doing, Catra leans a fraction of an inch closer and kisses Adora. Adora’s lips are dry and chapped after weeks in the mountains and kiss is more of a peck than anything else, but it sends a crackling buzz of electricity through Catra’s whole body.

The instant her brain comes back online and she realizes what she’s done, she snaps back and slaps her hand over her mouth, a look of absolute terror in her eyes.

Adora looks just as shocked as she is. She almost starts to say something, but then her parents are calling her name from the parking lot. Catra watches as Adora turns and runs to the car, and just like that, Adora is gone.

When Catra gets home, she writes to Adora just like she’d promised. It’s a letter just like every other letter she’s ever sent Adora and makes no mention of the kiss. Catra never receives a reply.