Chapter Text
July 18, 1985
BRIGHTMOON RANGER STATION
Adora stayed up most of the night pouring over every page of the mysterious journal. She finally fell asleep on the couch, journal still cradled in her hands, around 4:30 in the morning and managed a couple of hours sleep, but now the smell of coffee and quiet murmur of the other rangers cooking breakfast wake her.
“Whatcha reading?” Kyle asks as he plops down in one of the arm chairs next to Adora.
She glances down at the open journal. Mara’s handwriting is faded but easy to read. “ The quality of the air changed as I pushed through the thick wall of hanging moss. It was warmer. The light was softer. It felt more ancient than any place I’d been before.”
“It’s an old journal that Catra found at the library yesterday. It’s got some stuff about the she-ra in it.”
Kyle seems genuinely interested but Adora is too tired to discuss Mara’s journal with anybody who is skeptical of the she-ra so she excuses herself and heads for her room. She flops on her bunk and pulls her pillow over her face to try and block out some of the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Catra asks from the top bunk. It startles Adora. In her long night of obsessing over the pages of the journal, she had completely forgotten that somebody else would be in her bunkroom.
“A little,” she grunts through the pillow. She hears Catra shift off the bunk above her and then the pillow is snatched off her face.
“You gotta sleep more or that giant brain of yours might overheat,” she chides and pokes Adora in the forehead. Adora laughs a little and smacks Catra’s hand away.
“You won’t believe the stuff in that journal.” Adora wants to tell Catra about everything she’s read but she’s so sleepy. “Gimme my pillow back,” she mumbles.
Catra tosses the pillow back on Adora’s face, adding “Yeah, you’re right...I probably won’t believe it. But get some more sleep and tell me about it at lunch.”
Adora is sleeping before Catra even leaves the room.
July 19, 1985
RAZZ’S CABIN
Razz lives in a hand-built geodesic dome on a 5,000 acre property just outside of the park boundaries. She used to live with a small collective of “back to landers” who purchased the property in the late 60’s but they’re all gone now. They lived there together, off the grid and essentially self-sustainable, for about a decade until everybody but Razz returned to civilization. She lives alone in the dome with several cats, a couple of goats, and a donkey named Loo-kee that she uses to pack supplies in from Elberon.
Adora uses their ride from the ranger station to Razz’s cabin to share everything she knows about the old hippie. Her constant chatter helps distract Catra from how badly her ass hurts after just a couple of hours riding Melog, the mule that Adora picked out for her. Melog is an experienced backcountry trail mule and he’s actually pretty sweet and easy for Catra to handle. He follows steadily behind Adora with the pack mule hauling most of their gear following just behind him. Catra doesn’t have to do much to steer him (or whatever you call directing a mule…she’s glad she doesn’t have to worry about it).
They ride along a damp trail through the forest for about three hours before they reach the small meadow where Razz’s cabin is. Razz is in the garden and spots them when they’re halfway across the meadow.
“Hello dearies!” she calls. “You’re late!”
“How can we be late?” Catra whispers to Adora. “She didn’t even know we were coming today.”
“Razz has a...um...unique understanding of time. Just got with it.”
When they reach the edge of the garden, Adora hops off Swift Wind and helps Catra clamber ungracefully off Melog.
Despite the space-aged design of Razz’s cabin, it looks perfectly at home nestled at the edge of the meadow next to a dense stand of fir trees. It’s mostly windows but the wooden slats between each geodesic panel are covered in moss and lichen and it almost looks like a living thing that grew there rather than a building that Razz built two decades earlier.
Catra starts snapping photos immediately. There’s almost no chance they’ll be included in her story but she wants to be able to describe the strange homestead in as much rich detail as possible when she actually gets to writing this all up.
As Adora unsaddles Swifty, Melog and their pack mule, she and Razz chatter about the ripeness of the salmon berries that lined most of the trail. Catra isn’t listening closely until she overhears Razz mention that there’s lunch waiting for them in the cabin. That news sends Adora trotting directly towards the cabin.
Razz has more than lunch waiting for them inside. A large wooden table in the center of the one-room cabin is spread with a feast. A roasted chicken, fresh baked sourdough, three different kinds of homemade goat cheese, smoked salmon, peaches, berries, cherries, huge heirloom tomatoes, strange and delicious preserves and pickles. Razz commands them to tuck in and Adora doesn’t hesitate to fill her plate with the bounty.
Catra eats too but she also takes some time to take in her surroundings. The room is well-lit but the large trees outside are casting strange shadows through the windows. In addition to the massive table, there’s a large wood-burning stove near the center of the room. Razz clearly does her cooking and baking there, but it also serves as the cabin’s only heat source and there are a couple of heavily worn arm chairs positioned around the backside of it. Razz’s bed and wardrobe are tucked into one side of the round room and the rest of the wallspace is covered by low shelves filled with books, preserves, and various crystals, animal skulls, and other witchy looking trinkets. It’s a weird vibe. Any normal person would need quite a bit of time to settle into a room like this but Adora seems perfectly at home. She must come often.
“Enough talking,” Razz declares somewhat abruptly after a leisurely hour of chatting. “Now we must bake our pie.”
Before Catra can even glance at Adora to assess the situation, Razz is up and out of her seat and flying around her kitchen grabbing a wicker basket and cloak.
“Just go with it,” Adora whispers to Catra.
“So slow, Mara,” the old woman grumbles. She smacks Adora on the back of the head with her walking stick and trots out the door. Catra and Adora rush to follow her.
“Who’s Mara, Razz?” Catra asks. It can’t be a coincidence that Razz is constantly calling Adora by the name of the woman who wrote the mysterious journal.
“Mara?” she replies, apparently unaware of her frequent mixups.
“Yeah, you keep calling Adora Mara .”
“No, that can’t be right.”
“So you knew Mara?” Adora asks.
“Of course I know Mara. Mara is my friend. Now, hurry, slowpokes! We need to find our berries.”
Catra barely has time to register Razz’s curious choice in tenses before they’re practically sprinting through the woods. Razz is shockingly nimble for such an old woman, and she seems to know exactly where they’re going. They’ve passed plenty of thick berry brambles already so Catra assumes they must be looking for something else. Catra grabs Adora’s sleeve and tugs her close so she can whisper, “Are you sure we should be chasing this crazy lady through the woods? What if we get lost.”
Adora shrugs. “She knows where she’s going. Trust me.”
They continue trotting after Razz as she winds down a narrow path. Catra starts to wonder exactly how far they’re going to have to go to find whatever they’re looking for when the woman halts abruptly. Adora crashes into her and Catra almost crashes into Adora.
“We’re here,” Razz declares. “Salmon berries.”
They’ve stopped in front of a thicket of bright red berries. The thicket itself is no different than any of the others they’ve passed on the way there but when Catra takes a moment to look beyond the thicket, she gasps.
There’s a small wooden cabin practically overgrown with moss and vines. It’s obviously been abandoned for years but the door and windows seem to be intact. Catra looks to Adora and she seems just as surprised to see the structure as Catra is. Razz isn’t even looking at it. She’s rapidly plucking berries and tossing them in her basket.
“Razz, whose cabin is this?” Adora asks. She turns to Catra and adds, “We’re not in the park anymore and I don’t have good property records or maps for Razz’s land.”
“Don’t be silly, Mara. You know where you are,” Razz replies. Adora frowns and shakes her head at Catra, indicating that she has absolutely no idea what the woman is talking about. Catra nods towards the cabin, a silent invitation to explore it together.
The cabin’s door is unlocked and swings open more easily than Catra expected of an decrepit, abandoned building’s door. The inside is dark and very dusty but there’s enough light from the windows that they’re able to survey the single room easily. Catra pulls out her notebook and starts sketching notes as she enters and walks slowly around the room. It seems like it hasn’t been disturbed since whoever used to inhabit it left decades earlier. There’s a bed in one corner, a wood burning stove in another, a hutch full of canned goods and other pantry items and cooking utensils along one of the walls, and a small bookshelf underneath one of the windows.
She crouches down to examine the books on the shelf and notices a framed photograph. It’s obviously very old, based on the turn of the century outfits the two figures in the photograph are wearing and the faded sepia tone coloring. There are two women in the photograph, both probably in their mid-thirties. One is dressed in jodhpurs, tall leather boots and a heavy wool work shirt. Her hair is tied in a long braid and she’s got a rifle slung over her shoulder. The other woman...looks like Razz? Much younger, of course, but her face is clearly recognizable. She’s wearing a long and intricately embroidered robe and is holding a long thin staff that has something (a crystal?) affixed to the top. The two women are so strange and striking that it takes Catra a long time to turn her attention to the background of the photo. As soon as she does, she realizes that they’re standing in front of the same cabin she and Adora are in right now.
She stares at the photo long enough that Adora notices and comes to investigate.
“This can’t possibly be who it looks like,” Catra says as she hands the frame to Adora. “That would make her like a hundred and twenty years old. At least!”
Adora examines the photo, brow furrowed and mouth slightly ajar with surprise.
“Maybe it’s not her? It could be relative. Her mom?”
Catra carefully slides the photograph out of its frame and inspects the back. In very faded ink, she can just barely make out 1889 - me & Madame Razz .
“Razz must be her last name,” Catra reasons. “You’re probably right. It’s probably her mom or grandma or some other relative.”
It’s the most likely explanation, but the photo leaves a strange feeling in Catra. As a writer and reporter, she’s trained to weave together facts and evidence into a coherent narrative. Something about the photograph feels unsettling, as if it exists outside the realm of simple fact. She slides it back into the frame and sets it back on the shelf she found it on.
“I think this is Mara’s cabin,” Adora says. She’s flipping through a large folio she found tucked into the bookshelf. Catra leans over her shoulder to get a better look and sees page after page of sketches of plants and animals annotated with hand-written notes. The sketches are gorgeous. They’re done in watercolor with ink linework and they feel dynamic and alive on the page. Every few pages there are hand-drawn maps indicating where various animals were sighted or plants were foraged.
“It’s like a hand-made guidebook to the peninsula,” Catra offers. Adora is so absorbed in the rich illustrations that she barely registers Catra’s observation. She flips, page by page, through folio, skimming the notes scribbled throughout. Catra is about to continue her own exploration of the cabin when Adora turns to a page that causes both of them to gasp.
“Adora…is that...” Catra whispers.
“The she-ra,” Adora finishes.
Unlike the previous pages in the folio, which each had at least a half-dozen small illustrations sharing the page, this page is filled by a single illustration of the she-ra. The she-ra is standing in a grove of cedar trees and its shaggy blonde fur stands out against the warm red bark of the tree trunks. The she-ra looks almost human except for its staggering height and fur that covers its entire body. It has massive hands and massive feet and crystal blue eyes. In the bottom corner of the page is a single line of script: I saw her again.
“It looks exactly like the one I saw,” Adora says. She runs her fingertips gently across the page, as if there might be more information hidden in the lines and colors. Catra’s impatience is nagging at her and she wants to snatch the folio and leaf through the pages herself but she resists. Adora is transfixed and she doesn’t want to interrupt her moment of wonder.
Eventually, Adora turns the page and finds another map. The features, rivers and mountain peaks and meadows, don’t mean anything to Catra so she focuses instead on the notes written along the edges of the page.
She appeared to me in the stand of cedars along the east fork of the Elberon. She let me follow her.
Catra hopes the map indicates the grove’s location. She gets momentarily caught up in the excitement of Mara’s map before she remembers the absurdity of the situation. The existence of the she-ra is an impossibility and Mara was probably just another crazy lady living alone in the woods. She glances at Adora, who is pouring over the details of the map.
“This is really close to the meadow where I saw her. The cedar grove is here and the meadow is here, just about a mile up the river.” She traces the path between the two points. “We’re going to be there, in the meadow, tomorrow night.”
The light in the cabin is starting to fade and Catra realizes that it’s getting to be quite late in the afternoon. In their rush to follow Razz into the woods in search of berries, neither had thought to grab a flashlight and they needed to start back to Razz’s cabin soon.
“I wish I had my camera,” she grumbles, mostly to herself. “Let’s take that with us. We can look at it more closely tonight before we head for the meadow tomorrow. And who knows...maybe Razz can explain some of it.”
As fascinated by the folio as Adora is, she seems reluctant to take it.
“We’re not stealing it, we’re just borrowing it. Honestly, that should be somewhere safer than a crumbling wooden cabin in the middle of the woods. It’ll be safer with us if we take it.”
The strange photo and folio were practically the first objects they had looked at in the cabin. Catra knows that there must be more to examine but she also knows that there is no way in hell she’s getting lost in the woods at night so she tugs Adora’s sleeve. It seems to snap her into action. She carefully closes the folio and takes one more quick spin around the room before following Catra out. They find Razz with an overflowing basket of salmon berries and she leads them back through the woods to her cabin.
Later that night, after dinner and extra large slices of pie, Catra takes notes while Adora flips carefully through the folio. There are illustrations of plants and animals that Adora has never seen before. They aren’t named or described, but the locations where Mara sighted them are marked on the maps throughout the folio. The unknown flora and fauna are all clustered in pockets of the peninsula that Adora has never explored. Not surprisingly, the most frequent strange sightings occurred in the same area as the she-ra.
“I think we should rethink our plan,” Adora says eventually. “We were going to spend tomorrow night in the meadow where I saw the she-ra and then continue on to the eastern slope of Mt. Thaymore the night after that but…” She trails off as she examines the map of the cedar grove where Mara saw the she-ra.
“Adora, we’re obviously going to follow this map. It doesn’t take us any farther than we were originally planning to go, does it?”
“No, it’s actually closer.”
“Great, then we’re going.”
They stay up long late comparing the maps in the folio to the notes in Mara’s journal. Catra can’t let the resemblance between Razz and the woman in the photo go. She finds herself repeatedly examining Razz’s face in the soft lamplight of the cabin. It’s hard to tell how old the woman is, but Catra would guess she’s somewhere in the back half of her seventies. Eventually Razz notices her staring and Catra takes it as an opportunity to ask some biographical questions.
“So curious, this one,” Razz says to Adora while waving her hand in Catra’s direction. “What is she, some kind of detective?”
“She’s a journalist.”
Razz grunts and continues to evade Catra’s questions. Adora throws in a few questions about Mara but Razz ignores those too. It’s a lost cause.
Later, as she’s washing her face and brushing her teeth at the water basin that serves as the cabin’s sink, Catra notices a familiar looking walking stick stashed away in a dark corner of the room. It’s a long wooden staff and there is a large crystal tied in leather to the top. It’s the staff from the photo. Catra stares for a moment, her toothbrush hanging loosely from the corner of her mouth. The woman in the photo can’t be the same Razz. It would make sense that she would have inherited the staff from her mother or aunt or whoever the woman in the photo actually was. Catra shakes her head and finishes brushing her teeth.
They spread their sleeping bags out on the rug next to the wood stove. Adora wants to keep reading through the journal but Catra forces her to turn out the light and try to sleep. They have an early morning.
And yet, once all the lights in the cabin are extinguished, Catra finds herself unable to fall asleep. She listens to the soft drizzle of rain on the cabin’s many triangular windows and wonders what the fuck she’s gotten herself into. Adora clearly believes the she-ra is real. Mara, whoever she was, did as well. Both women claim to have seen the creature and Adora has photos that match Mara’s illustration. But it still doesn’t make sense. She sighs and turns on her other side.
“I can’t sleep either,” Adora whispers from her sleeping bag a few inches to Catra’s right.
“How did you know I wasn’t asleep?” Catra whispers back. Razz is snoring loudly on the other side of the room but neither wants to run the risk of waking her.
“Your breathing. You do this thing when you’re asleep, it’s like...not snoring...it’s softer, like….I don’t know, almost like you’re purring.”
Catra huffs. “If I didn’t know you’ve been having insomnia for the past two weeks, I’d find it kinda creepy that you’ve been listening to me sleep. And what the fuck do you mean, purring? Like a cat?” Adora can tell she’s not actually creeped out and laughs at Catra’s faux indignation.
“I don’t know! That was just the first thing that came to mind. It’s cute!”
Catra groans and stifles her laugh. “I can’t believe you just said my snoring is cute. Snoring is never cute.”
“Yours is! And anyway, you’ve obviously been doing it your entire life because you sound exactly like you did at camp.”
“I’m 100% sure it’s not cute. And anyway, less discussion of my sleep habits and more sleeping...you’ve got horses to saddle up or whatever at the break of dawn.”
Adora wriggles her entire sleeping bag across the floor towards Catra so that she can whisper more easily.
“I’ll be fine. I’m used to not getting much sleep. I just can’t believe what we found. I keep thinking about how much Mara’s illustration looked like what I saw. I wish we knew more about Mara.”
“I can do some more research on her when I go home. There’s gotta be more, census records, birth and death records, family members, something.”
“I’ll go back to her cabin. It’s not on park property but it might be on other federal land. Or maybe it’s on Razz’s property. Regardless, it probably should be protected under some of the historical preservation regulations. I feel bad about taking the folio.”
“You’re not going to damage it. And you can return it, if you think that’s the right thing to do. Or give it to Lance at the library. Mara’s journal was already in the archives.”
They’re silent for a while. Catra’s starting to drift off when Adora whispers again.
“I feel like we’re getting close.”
“To the she-ra?”
Adora nods.
Everything they’ve learned today is exciting but Catra still can’t get over the impossibility of the she-ra. She doesn’t want to discourage Adora by playing the skeptic but she knows their chances of finding what Adora’s been looking for are small.
“You don’t believe it’s real, do you?” Adora asks. It’s like she could sense Catra’s skepticism.
Catra takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure. But no matter what we find, I think this is strange and it’s definitely interesting. And important.” She turns on her side to face Adora. It’s dark in the cabin but she can kind of make out Adora’s frustrated expression.
“Why are you here if you don’t believe in the she-ra?”
Catra takes a while to answer. “You really don’t know?” she asks, barely loud enough for Adora to hear her.
Adora had been laying on her side, gazing directly at Catra as they whispered, but now she flips over on her back and stares at the ceiling of windows. In the dim light, Catra can see frowning just slightly.
“Hey,” Catra says. She reaches out in the dark for Adora’s hand. Despite the callouses along her palm, Adora’s hand is warm and comforting and her own seems to fit perfectly within it. She twines their fingers together and tries to sooth Adora’s frustration. “I honestly don’t know if I believe it or not, but I’m keeping an open mind.
Adora turns back on her side again to face Catra more directly. “I know she’s out there,” Adora whispers in as definitive a tone as a whisper can allow. “I’m obviously not the only person who’s seen her.”
Catra stops herself from blurting out that Mara was probably just a crazy lady in the woods. She swallows back her reflex to point out all the assumptions and faulty logic required to explain the possible existence of the she-ra. She wants to believe, but she just can’t. And yet, despite keeping her mouth shut, Adora seems to sense all her doubt. Catra chooses her words carefully.
“Adora, I want to know the truth as much as you do. I wouldn’t have followed you here to some semi-demented hippy lady’s forest dome if I didn’t think there was something out here to investigate. And even if I’m more skeptical than you are, I’m just as curious. I feel just like I did when we were kids and you would drag me through the Whispering Woods looking for footprints. It’s exciting.”
Their faces are mere inches apart. Without thinking, Catra reaches out and brushes Adora’s hair back and out of her eyes. She cups her cheek softly and gazes into her soft blue eyes before adding, “ You’re exciting, and I’d follow you anywhere.”
Adora lets out a long breath and relaxes under Catra’s touch. “Okay,” she whispers. “I believe you.”
Catra suddenly realizes the intimacy of her touch and worries that she may have crossed a line. She withdraws her hand and pulls her sleeping bag up around her shoulders. “Now, seriously,” she grumbles, slightly embarrassed, “we should try to sleep. I’m sure it’s way past midnight.”
“Mmhmm,” Adora mumbles, already drifting off to sleep.
July 20, 1985
ARKSIA MEADOW
Adora wakes up at dawn feeling more refreshed than she has in weeks. The first thing she thinks about is how incredible Mara’s illustrations and maps are, and how excited she is to return to Arksia Meadow where she had her own encounter with the she-ra. Then she glances to her left and sees Catra still curled deep in her sleeping bag and sleeping soundly and Adora is struck by how beautiful she is. That’s when she remembers the sleepy, whispered discussion from the night before, and the soft warmth of Catra’s palm against her cheek.
At this point, it’s hard for Adora to ignore the feelings that have been simmering below the surface since Catra arrived on the peninsula. There had been an emptiness in Adora’s life that she’d tried to fill with work and friends and, of course, her search for the she-ra, but nothing made her feel as light and joyful as tramping through the forest looking for evidence of the she-ra with Catra. For all these years that she’s spent researching cryptid primates and learning the natural history of the region, she always thought it was the thrill of finding the she-ra that she was after but just a couple of weeks with Catra at her side has made her realize that she was longing for the connection she had only ever felt once before in her life. She had spent all this time searching for the she-ra when what she was really missing was love.
She spends a few more minutes in the warmth of her sleeping bag before she gets up and rekindles the fire in Razz’s wood stove. The creak of the stove’s heavy cast iron door doesn’t wake Catra, but she does shuffle deeper down into her sleeping bag. Once Adora is satisfied that the fire will sustain itself, she heads outside to ready the pack animals.
Swift Wind and the mules seem happy enough after spending the night in Razz’s corral with her goats and donkey. Adora won’t saddle them up until just before she and Catra are ready to hit the trail, but she organizes their gear and gets everything set.
As she brushes down Swifty, her mind keeps replaying little moments over the past few weeks. Until last night, she had forced herself to ignore any signs that Catra might have more than strictly professional reasons for taking this assignment, but her whispered words play on a loop in Adora’s mind.
You really don’t know?
I’d follow you anywhere.
But this whole line of thinking is foolish. Even if Adora lets herself admit that she might be on the verge of falling head over heels for her long lost friend, she can’t imagine any kind of realistic happy ending.
First of all, Catra is light years out of Adora’s league. She’s sharp, she’s gorgeous, she’s at the beginning of an impressive and successful career at the New Yorker. Which means she lives in New York, which literally requires a long drive, a ferryboat, a bus, and at least one plane flight to get to from the Etherian Peninsula. The cost of long distance phone calls alone would bankrupt Adora.
Not to mention the fact that Adora had already rejected Catra once. Sure, they had only been thirteen and it hadn’t actually been Adora’s choice, but she feels like she already broke Catra’s trust regarding long distance communication once. Why should she give Adora another chance?
She’s jolted back to reality by Razz’s shrill voice calling her back to the cabin for breakfast.
🌲🦶🌲
The ride from Razz’s to Arksia Meadow takes most of the day. Adora could push the animals to take the trail a little faster but she knows Catra’s not an experienced rider and can tell that she’s already sore from yesterday’s ride. Catra would never admit to that, but Adora knows that anybody who hasn’t spent much time on a horse would probably be sore and Catra looks stiff on Melog.
By the time they’re finally nearing the meadow, the sky has darkened considerably and Adora can tell that it’s about to rain. She decides to prioritize pitching camp over showing Catra where she shot the photos of the she-ra, in case it really starts dumping on them.
“I don’t think we’ve got much time before it starts,” she says to Catra as she swings herself down off Swifty. She helps Catra off of Melog and immediately starts tying up the high line, which will allow Swifty and the mules to graze without wandering off.
“I can get the tent set up while you deal with the horses,” Catra offers. Adora nods and passes her the tent as soon as she’s unloaded their packmule.
The rain cuts loose just as Catra is hammering in the final tent stake. Adora throws a tarp over their saddles and ducks into the small tent with their bedrolls and the rest of the gear before she gets too soaked.
“Well, the good news is that we’ll stay dry in here,” she says as she sheds her park ranger jacket and carefully hangs her hat from a loop at the top of the tent.
“Is there bad news?” Catra asks.
“We’re stuck in here until it stops raining, maybe all night. We won’t be able to cook anything for dinner, so I hope you like peanut butter. It’s that or cold beans straight from the can.”
“You just had to go and eat all that pie Razz sent with us at lunchtime, huh?”
It’s true. Razz had packed them plenty of leftovers but Adora had inhaled most of it at lunch. Her reasoning at the time was that it wasn’t going to travel well and they had better take advantage while it was still fresh. She stands behind her decision but pie would be nice right now.
They go with peanut butter on crackers, apples from Razz’s trees, and a Snickers bar Adora had stashed somewhere in the depths of her duffle bag. Not exactly the backcountry cooking over an open fire that Adora had promised Catra, but it was better than trying to find enough tree cover from the rain to get a fire going.
They lounge around for a while after eating, page through Mara’s journal some more, and rehash the events of the day before, but they quickly run out of discussion topics. They had been talking about it all day on the trail.
It’s cramped in the small tent. They can lay on their sleeping bags or sit cross-legged facing each other, but there’s not much space to move.
“This tent is a lot smaller than I thought it would be,” Catra says as she tries to stretch her legs out on top of her sleeping bag. There isn’t even an inch of space between their bags and her gearbag at the foot of the tent is crowding her.
It’s gotten darker outside over the last hour so Adora hangs one of the flashlights from a bungee cord dangling from the ceiling of the tent. It’s more like a spotlight than a lantern but they don’t really need that much light.
“I could’ve packed something bigger if you didn’t have to bring so much stuff. The mules can only carry so much weight,” Adora replies. “What do you even have in there?” She nods towards Catra’s bag, which is significantly bigger than Adoras.
“You’re going to be thanking me in a minute,” Catra sasses back. She pulls her equipment out her dufflebag piece by piece. Her camera, three different lenses, her notebook, her tape recorder.
Adora watches in mild confusion. She does think that all of Catra’s reporting gear is kinda cool. Especially the camera equipment. But she’s not sure why Catra is pulling it all out right now.
After setting the tape recorder between them, she reaches back into her bag and pulls out a stack of cassettes.
“Just because we’re stuck in a tiny tent in a rainstorm and had to eat the equivalent of a toddler’s lunch for dinner doesn’t mean we can’t have a party now.”
“You brought music?”
“Yeah, obviously, genius. Pick something and I’ll put it on.”
Adora shuffles through the half dozen or so cassettes. She recognizes a couple albums from Glimmer and Bow’s record collection: Madonna, Prince. But there are some she doesn’t recognize and a handmade mixtape. She recognizes exactly zero of the songs on the mixtape but she does recognize Catra’s handwriting on the tracklist so she picks that one.
“Bold choice, Gray,” Catra says as she slides the tape into the machine. She punches play and the tent is suddenly filled with a driving bass line and funky synth and guitar. Catra grabs the dangling flashlight, shines on herself like a spotlight and starts half-dancing, as much as she can while sitting in the tiny tent.
She tent-dances for half a verse while Adora sits frozen on her sleeping bag.
“Come on, Adora, this is Grace Jones . You can’t just sit there,” Catra laughs. She pokes Adora in the shoulder and starts singing along with the chorus.
What’s this whole world comin’ to?
Things just ain’t the same
Any time the hunter
Gets captured by the game
She grins devilishly and does her best Grace Jones impression. Though, Adora has no idea who Grace Jones is. She just assumes that must be what Catra’s doing. The song ends and they’re both laughing but Adora still hasn’t figured out how to let loose and move the way Catra has.
The next song is one that Adora definitely recognizes but can’t name. It’s some catchy British new wave song and Catra knows all the words. Catra raises her eyebrow at Adora as she sings the chorus for the second time.
In touch with the ground
I’m on the hunt, I’m after you
Smell like I sound, I’m lost in the crowd
And I’m hungry like the wolf
Adora laughs and rolls her eyes. “Is every song on this tape about hunting?”
“Hmm, you could say that,” Catra says. “I might have made it after I found out I was going to be she-ra hunting all summer. But there’s gotta be something on here you know.”
She snatches the cassette case from Adora and scans the track list.
“Bananarama?” she asks, as if that could possibly mean anything. Adora shakes her head.
“Whitney Houston?” Adora shakes again. Catra groans.
“You have to know Cyndi Lauper,” she says in desperation.
“OH! I do! Glimmer plays her record all the time in the general store.”
Catra grabs the tape player and fast forwards. She has to stop and start a couple of times before she finally finds the start of Time After Time.
“Okay, you gotta sing along. This is her biggest hit.”
Adora grimaces.
“Come. On. I’m literally the only other person for miles and miles. Who’s going to hear you? The she-ra?”
Adora laughs.
“Actually, now that I’m remembering that summer you sang in the camp musical musical…”
Oof, yeah, that was pretty painful, but it was also almost two decades earlier and Adora thinks she’s gotten a little better.
“Shut up, jerk. Just play the song.”
Catra laughs and angles the flashlight toward Adora as she hits play on the tape.
As she tries to stumble through the start of the song, Adora realizes that she might only know the chorus. She mumbles through the first two verses but jumps in with confidence when they get closer to the chorus.
You say go slow, I fall behind
The second hand unwinds…
And just as she starts in on the chorus, Catra surprises her by joining in.
If you’re lost, you can look
And you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you
I’ll be waiting
Time after time
They sing together through the end of the song and collapse in the pile of laughter at their overly dramatic duet. The next song starts but they just stay lounging on their pile of sleeping bags. The tent is so narrow that there’s barely any space between them and Catra takes the opportunity to lean her head against Adora’s shoulder.
“So you can sing,” Catra laughs. “Kinda.”
Adora rolls her eyes. “Like you’re so incredible.”
“Hey, with enough confidence you can trick anyone into thinking you’ve got a halfway decent voice.”
The rain is still falling steadily against the tent but they’re dry and warm. Adora shifts her arm to allow Catra to tuck herself more comfortably into her side. It’s not so different from how they’d squeeze together in the narrow bunks of Camp Whispering Woods. But back then it felt innocent and now Adora feels like she might melt completely into Catra’s touch. She has no idea what Catra’s thinking and is worried that any movement at all might break the magic of the moment so she just breathes long and slow and listens to the music playing through the tinny speakers of the tape recorder.
Eventually the tape runs out and the only sounds left are the raindrops and their steady breathing.
“Hey, Adora?” Catra eventually says. Her voice is so soft and close to Adora’s ear. It makes her heart race and the hairs on her neck stand on end.
“Yeah?
“Why didn’t you ever write back?”
Adora sighs. She knew they’d have to talk about this eventually. It’s been weighing on her. Now is probably as good a time as any.
“I wanted to,” she says. “But I couldn’t.”
“You couldn’t?”
“I, um, I wasn’t allowed to.”
She feels Catra stiffen just slightly against her side. “Why?” Catra asks, and Adora can hear the nervous waver in her voice.
She thinks back to that drive home from camp. Her stepmother had seen Catra kiss her and the entire drive had been one long lecture full of anger and disgust and threats about what would happen if she ever caught Adora engaging in such “morally depraved” behavior again. Adora blinks back a tear and tries to explain.
“My stepmom saw...what happened. She was really upset. I did get your letter but she wouldn’t let me reply.”
Catra shifts up onto her elbow so that she can look at Adora. Adora expects her to look angry or hurt but she’s looking at her with such tenderness. Before she says anything, she gently brushes Adora’s tears away. Her touch only makes Adora cry more.
“I’m so sorry that happened, Adora. I shouldn’t have done that, especially not there, where everybody could see. I must have put you through hell.”
“I missed you so much after that summer, Catra. I never thought I’d see you again. And everything my stepmom said really got stuck in my head and twisted me all up. I blamed you for ruining everything.”
“Fuck,” Catra says, under her breath and mostly to herself.
“No, I don’t still think that. You didn’t ruin anything. I did. If I had been stronger or braver, I could have figured out a way to write or call. But I believed her.”
Adora doesn’t want to tell Catra all the terrible things her stepmother had told her. She can’t. She hopes she’s said enough for Catra to understand. Catra doesn’t say anything right away, but she tucks herself back into Adora’s side, wraps her arm around Adora’s torso and pulls them together in a tight hug. She rests her head against Adora’s and sighs. Adora relaxes into the hug. It’s exactly what she needs.
“People can be so terrible sometimes,” Catra says. “Family, especially.”
“She’s not my family. I don’t talk to her anymore. She called me last winter when the news about the she-ra was big but once I heard her name on the recording, I just erased it.”
“I don’t talk to my family about this kind of stuff either. When I go home to visit, it’s like they know not to ask if I’m dating anyone because they probably realize on some level that they’d rather not know.”
Adora knew that Catra had always been close with her family and hearing her talk about this kind of rift was heartbreaking. There’s so many reasons to keep parts of yourself hidden but Catra has always been so confident and sure of herself. Even when they were younger, Catra never cared what anybody else thought about her.
They lay like that for a while. Adora finally relaxes a little and listens to the rainfall. She wonders what time it is. It feels like they’ve been in the tent for hours but when she glances at her wristwatch, it’s barely 10pm. Despite their early morning and the fairly long trail ride, she doesn’t feel tired. Catra seems just as awake as she is.
She chances a question that she’s been too nervous to ask until now.
“So, uh, are you dating anybody?” She tries to ask as casually as she can, as if the answer doesn’t matter or she’s just kind of curious, but she flubs the delivery and Catra definitely picks up on it. She laughs into Adora’s shoulder and Adora feels a blush spread like wildfire across her cheeks.
“Why is that so funny?” Adora chirps defensively.
“How long have you been waiting to ask me that?” Catra replies, pointedly not answering the question.
“I don’t know! A while? You brought it up!”
Catra is still smirking but she hasn’t pulled herself away from Adora’s side so maybe that’s a hint that she isn’t dating anybody.
“I am…” Catra says slowly, and Adora’s heart drops before she hears the rest of the sentence. “...currently single,” Catra finishes, clearly pleased at Adora’s reaction. Adora groans and it comes out more like a growl.
“Ugh, you make me crazy,” she says and Catra just laughs.
“I really got you that time though, huh?”
Adora just rolls her eyes. “Jerk,” she adds, but she’s smiling. Catra’s single. It doesn’t really mean much, given the fact that there’s no realistic way that they could end up together but they’re together right now, in a tiny tent on the Etherian Peninsula, and Adora decides to just let herself enjoy the moment.
Eventually they do start to get drowsy and both crawl into their sleeping bags. Catra shuffles her bag as close to Adora’s as possible and falls asleep curled against Adora’s back. Adora falls asleep not long after.
The rain is gone when Adora wakes in the morning. It’s late enough that the early sun is warming the tent. The sound of Adora’s sleeping bag unzipping wakes Catra.
“Did the rain stop?” she asks sleepily, without lifting her head or opening her eyes.
“Sounds like it. I was going to get up and check on the animals.”
“Mmhmm, ok. I’ll get up in a minute…” Catra mumbles.
Adora slips out of the tent and sees Swifty and mules grazing happily on the meadow grasses. They seem to be no worse for wear after spending a night in the rain.
It feels good to stand up after spending so long in the cramped tent. She stretches her arms out and rolls her shoulders loose and that’s when she sees them.
Footprints.