It started innocently enough. Tygra was returning to the Lair after a long morning spent thundrillium searching when he spotted
the strange flicker of light. He paused, curious. It couldn't be sunlight reflecting off something; the late afternoon was muggy and overcast. Tygra turned from the path that led back to the Lair and crossed the field of knee-high grass, stopping at the shore of a small pond. The flickering thing was a metal device of some kind, perhaps a beacon signal. Tygra bent to pick it up. As he did, there was a swooshing sound from behind him. Cords tangled around him and the sudden weight made him stagger forward. He stumbled on the trailing end of one of the ropes and fell into the water.

Once in the water, the weight of his soaked clothes and the heavy net dragged him down. Tygra fought desperately to reach the
surface. There was no gradual drop-off, the water was well over his head. But it was no use; the weight was too much, and he
couldn't swim anyway! A buzzing in his head...red-tinged blackness...the pain...and everything went dark.

Tygra lay still, wherever he was, and tried to find coherent thoughts. He felt weak, and his head ached. He was wet. There was
something hard and cold beneath him. There were noises in the background, thumpings, bangings, and the whine of machinery.
And there was the sound of his own breathing...Tygra's eyes flew open as the memory of the pond returned. Someone had pulled him out, apparently. He turned his head and saw metal poles. Tygra sat up. It only took a glance around the dark, dank stone room to tell him he was in the Mutant Castle. He put his hand on a bar, meaning to test its strength, and received a powerful electrical shock. It flung him back against the floor, where he lay stunned for several minutes. When the cell stopped spinning around him, Tygra slowly sat up again. "All right," he thought; "have to find a differant method." Lost in thoughts of escape, he didn't hear the sound of approaching feet.

A few seconds later, a door swung open and crashed into the wall. Tygra jumped, startled. Slithe strode into the room, followed by Vultureman and another mutant that Tygra didn't recognize.

"...just let me give you a demonstration, Slithe! It's one of the Ancient's best machines. You liked the idea," Vultureman whined.

"Oh, very well. It does-s s-sound interes-sting. We'll bring him along s-so he can get an apprec-s-iation for it," Slithe
agreed. The three mutants now stood outside the cell; Slithe pressed a button on the wall beside the cage and three of the bars
telescoped into the ceiling. "Get out of there, yes-s," Slithe snapped.

Tygra got to his feet, feeling a little shaky. Apparently he wasn't moving fast enough, for Slithe ordered, "Reek, grab him."

Reek certainly lived up to his name, Tygra thought as the third mutant seized his arm and hauled him out out of the cage. The
smell coming off the creature was appalling. Manacles were locked around the ThunderCat's wrists; then he was propelled out of the room and up a long flight of stairs.

By the time they stopped climbing stairs and entered the small room, Tygra was feeling more than a little wobbly. It was some
consolation to hear the mutants puffing for breath, too. The only thing in the room, aside from the two windows, was a large table with wide, shallow grooves that formed an "X". Vultureman, still panting, left the room. He soon returned, lugging a lumpy, sand-filled replica body. He heaved it onto the table and arranged the "arms" and "legs" in the slots. Steel restraints locked into place at the "wrists" and "ankles". Vultureman pressed a button. There was a grinding whirr - and then a ripping sound as the arms and legs were torn from the replica body. Tygra stared in horror.

"Very good, Vultureman, but it's-ss very quick. Can't you s-slow it down a little?"

Vultureman considered, then grinned. "Not exactly. But here';s a thought. Executions are supposed to be held at dawn,
right? So we'll hook it up to a solar panel. In the morning when the sun comes up, the panel will gather energy, and when it has enough, it'll turn on automatically. And we can put a viewer on the ceiling to record it. That way we won't have to climb the steps again."

"Hmmm. Yes-s. And you-" Slithe turned to the pale ThunderCat and grinned. "You'll have plenty of time to think about it. Reek, put him on."

It was futile to struggle, Tygra knew, but that didn't keep him from struggling anyway when the manacles were removed. For a heartbeat he thought he'd make it. Then Reek's fist crashed into his face. Tygra staggered. Hands seized him. The cold metal was under Tygra's back; the restraints cut into his wrists and ankles. Vultureman hurried out again. This time he returned with an armful of electrical equipment.
 

The sun was setting by the time Vultureman completed his adjustments. Tygra had watched very carefully, hoping the mutant
would make a mistake, but it soon became clear that Vultureman knew what he was doing. Slithe had watched too, savoring the sight of one of his enemies helpless. Tygra hid his fear as well as he could. After all, the longer he was away from the Lair, the more likely it was that the other 'Cats would wonder at his absence and begin to search for him. Still, he kept looking over at the window that faced the sunset, marking how much time he had.

"There," Vultureman said with satisfaction. "The panel is ready and the recorder is in place."

"Good. Jus-st in time to eat," Slithe approved. Then he turned to the helpless ThunderCat. "The Ancients-s called this-s the Four Rivers-s. For the blood, you unders-stand."

Tygra's stomach twisted as the replica body's sand turned red in his imagination. Slithe laughed at the sudden
pallor on his captive's face. "Have a good night, yes-s?" he taunted. Then he and the other two mutants left the room,
chortling to themselves.

Alone, Tygra tried to calm himself. He was trembling, and could feel his own rapid heartbeat. He ached, especially his arms and
shoulders. He was still damp from falling into the pond, and still shaken from nearly drowning. He was also a little weak from the shock. Tygra tried to ignore all his discomfort and think logically. His absence would not be noted until the evening meal, and no one would be very worried until the time came to shut down the Lair for the night. "A few more hours, at the earliest. Unless the Sword warns Lion-O...but then, wouldn't it have done so already? Maybe they're on the way..."

The hours passed. The sun set, and the moon rose. Now, instead of looking out the sunset window, Tygra found himself staring
at the window that faced the sunrise. He knew it was irrational, there were hours yet till dawn, but he was compelled. And slowly, yet too quickly, the hours passed.

At first, Tygra thought hopefully of Cheetara. Her sixth sense might, as she said, pick something up. But he didn't hold
onto that hope for very long. Cheetara's visions came at their own whim and seemed to concern the welfare of the group, rather than individuals. The exception was Lion-O, naturally, for he was the Leader. A threat to him was a threat to them all. So as the hours passed, Tygra found his hopes turning more and more to his Leader. Six words would invoke the Sword of Omens and show Lion-O where Tygra was...if Lion-O would only become worried enough to use it. "But he's probably asleep," Tygra reasoned. "He';ll have to get up for his watch, though, and when he realizes I'm still not there..." Again he turned to gaze out the window. Again he tried to shift to a less painful position, but there was still no give in the steel beneath him. Fear churned through him-again-and again he shoved it down. "He will...got to trust him. He'll be here..."

More hours passed. Despite his fear, Tygra dozed a little. He had a brief but vivid nightmare of the replica body screaming as
it's limbs were torn off, and woke in a panic. He hadn't slept long; the stars had barely shifted. Tygra closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. "Lion-O," he thought, pulling the image of the young Leader into his mind. He could see his friend so clearly, standing at the window of his bedroom, staring out. He could even see Lion-O's expression. His eyes were narrowed, forehead wrinkled in worry. Abruptly his expression altered to surprise. "Tygra?"

"Lion-O..." Tygra didn't realize he was staring at the ceiling. He saw his Leader's face, heard his voice. "Please, help me! Mutants holding me captive-execution at dawn- please hurry!" His voice was hoarse, and shook with held-in fear.

"Tygra, hang on! I'm coming, don't give up-!"

Tygra blinked at the ceiling, bewildered. Had he fallen asleep again, or had he really heard that? Logic told him it had been a dream born of desperation. Hope begged for it to have been true. Tygra turned automatically to look out the window again, and a convulsive shudder shook him. The sky was no longer black, but gray with approaching dawn.

The stars went out one by one. The sky grew lighter every second. As the first rays of sunlight streaked across the room, Tygra
felt his heart pound in terror. He was shaking, and his breath came faster. He could feel cold sweat, feel how pale he had turned. Sunlight flooded the room. A small eternity later it glowed on the solar panel.

Tygra closed his eyes and turned away from the brightness. He could hear the machine hum as it gathered power. "Lion-O..." The name emerged as a groan. The engine sputtered, then died. Then it sputtered again. And again, for a little longer. Tygra felt the dull pain in his arms and legs turn to agony as the mechanism pulled his muscles even tighter. He could barely breathe for the
strain. Then, suddenly, there was a crashing, crunching sound.

Tygra opened his eyes and turned back to the window. Lion-O was standing before him, back to the sunrise, the Sword in his
hands. He'd just smashed the solar panel. Tygra felt his breath go out in a gasp of pure relief. Lion-O lifted the Sword; four quick bolts of light shattered the restraints. Tygra struggled to pull himself up; his stiff, aching muscles protested at his efforts. Then Lion-O's strong arm slid behind him and helped him sit up. Tygra allowed himself to lean against the young Leader for a few seconds.

"Did they hurt you, Tygra?"

"N-no...just stiff," Tygra answered shakily. He hauled his legs out of the slots, then sat on the edge of the table and tried to stop
trembling. "Thank you," he murmured feverantly. Lion-O's reply was a quick squeeze of his friend's shoulder.

"Can you make it out of here?" Lion-O asked quietly. The question brought Tygra back to reality. They still had to escape. He
nodded and stood; Lion-O gestured to the window. "I didn't think we'd want to fight our way through the whole castle," he commented. Tygra looked out the window and was surprised to see a rope dangling down. The near end was firmly
wrapped around a protruding pipe; the far end was apparently anchored to the branch of a tree on the far side of the moat.

"You came prepared," Tygra commented.

"Fastest way I could think of," Lion-O replied. "Let's get out of here. I can call the others if we need to, but they won't get here for awhile. And it would pinpoint us for the mutants, too."

It was a lot harder, and took a lot longer, to reach the ground than Tygra had expected. There was no way to stop and rest while climbing down the rope; by the time he reached the tree and swung to the ground, Tygra was shaking visibly with fatigue. Slowly he sank to the ground, leaned back against the tree, and closed his eyes.

"I guess you didn't get much sleep." Lion-O's voice was low, but nearby. Tygra nodded, and opened his eyes to see his Leader crouching beside him, his expression serious. "Well, they don't seem to have noticed that you're missing yet. You can rest-"

"Actually, I'd like to get away from here," Tygra answered tiredly. He dragged himself to his feet and the two ThunderCats headed towards the safety of the Lair.

Fortunately, it was not a very long walk.

Tygra stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. Snarf had insisted that he rest before trying to answer any questions. The
others, seeing his exhaustion, had quickly agreed. But as Tygra turned over and closed his eyes, a question of his own nagged at him; the vision, or dream...what had it been? Real? Imagination? "Have to ask Lion-O," he thought drowsily. "...later."