Lion-O dreamt. Everything was a black void. He had never known anything but this void in his dreams, so he had never considered it odd. He had never thought to ask people if they dreamed of the thick, lush forests that they had known as children, or their old houses, and the familiar halls and bedrooms that they had spent most of their early lives in. He had no familiar rooms, no canopies of trees. He never had. He had a void.
Lion-O dreamt. 'Now this was odd,' he felt, for one does not
think inside a dream, one feels. Thinking requires the conscious
mind, and in a dream it is the subconscious mind that rules. Something
was happening that had never happened before. There was something
in the void. 'How can this be?' he felt. The darkness he dreamt
in was simply that. There had never been
anything in it before. How could there possibly be anything
but darkness in a dream?
Lion-O dreamt. What was the thing? It must be a line. It was bright, but anything other than the void must be bright in comparison. Yes, a bright line, a vertical line, travelling straight up and down as far as he could perceive, cutting the void into two halves. 'What is it?' he felt, reaching out for it. It was so beautiful, so impossibly--
"--ake up, Lion-O, wake up! You're needed!"
"Whu-what?" he rumbled. There was a dry paste in his mouth and his eyes weren't working correctly yet. He could feel a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking him. He tried putting the peices of his conscious mind together again. Test one, whose voice was that? The crisp, deep purr...the baritone...it must be Tygra. Test two, open your eyes.
Lion-O looked up through blinking eyes to see the grim visage of Tygra looking down on him. Good, he thought. Both tests passed, I must be awake, he thought. He leaned up in the bed, pushing his tangle of red hair up out of his eyes. He didn't even need to get dressed, within months of arriving on Third Earth he had gotten into the habit of sleeping with his uniform on. "What's the problem, Tygra?" he asked groggily, but his mind was becoming keenly aware, ready for action.
"We just received a signal from the Berbils. They are under attack again."
"Again?" asked Lion-O with...what was it, annoyance? He held up his hand and the Sword of Omens snapped into it. It had been nestled in a holder across the room.
Tygra's face tightened into a disapproving look. "They are our closest allies, Lion-O," he admonished. Tygra was always a little nervous (afraid) of the haphazard way Lion-O exercised the sword's powers. It was raw, instinctual, unrefined. Late at night when he couldn't sleep Tygra often found himself staring at the ceiling and wondering, had they done the right thing? Placing all that raw power in the hands of what below all the muscle was really just a wild young boy. "Besides Lion-O, the Co--"
"The Code of Thundera states we must always help those in need, yes Tygra, I know, you need not remind me." Lion-O stood and stretched, his powerful frame lengthening slightly as the muscles unclenched and then tightened back up. He strode half way out of the room, and then stopped, and as an afterthought returned to grab the Claw Shield.
Tygra looked after the young lord. Even he had to admit, the man's physique was astonishing. There had never been a Thunderan like him, at least not since the old days. He didn't have the sleek musculature of normal Thunderan. He was bulkier, broader, and every aspect of his frame was designed for power, not for looks. In that way Lion-O was not very attractive.
But as Tygra well knew, Lion-O had not been molded with ascetics or mating in mind. He had been molded for one purpose and one purpose only. And as Tygra boarded the Feliner with Lion-O, the question of whether they had done the right thing evaporated. They were going into battle, and there was no one on this or any other planet that he would rather have beside him in a fight. So long as war raged on Third Earth, Lion-O still served a purpose. But Jaga only knows what will become of Lion-O when the wars are over, thought Tygra.
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