Grievances, if carried long enough, eventually find a way of making themselves known and frequently not for the better. Words said out of frustration and hasty anger could never be taken back. But how Pumyra wished they could. Lion-O had pushed her too far and she had reacted. Now he stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, a look in his eyes like she had stabbed him through the heart.

"You're lying," he said accusingly.

She could have lied, denied it all, but instead she stood firm. "It's true, every word. I'm sorry, Lion-O. I didn't want to tell you like this, but--"

He held up his hand, effectively silencing her, then turned and walked away. A bad situation, Pumyra thought, watching him go, and rapidly deteriorating by the minute. On reflection, blurting out that his uncle was thoroughly evil and had tried to kill them all was probably not the best way of breaking it to him. Any doubts he may have had had been firmly banished. Family solidarity mattered. Until someone backed up her claims, he would remain stubbornly unconvinced. And here, on this bleak world where she had woken up, there seemed precious little chance of that.

"Or anything else for that matter," she said out loud, letting her gaze drift across the irregular undulations of the dunes. As far as the eye could see, the land was painted in the same orange hue, and everywhere was sand. Itchy, gritty, annoying sand, sticking to the sweat on her body and finding its way into her sore eyes, causing moisture she knew she could not afford to lose to stream down her cheeks. She was tired, thirsty and, unlike Lion-O, not convinced they were still on Thundera. That had been the cause of the argument. Whether or not they could walk out of this desert had led to her revealing some unpalatable facts about the circumstances regarding how they arrived there in the first place. This is hell, she had told him, and Saturnus put us here. She had spoken the truth and he had chosen not to believe her. He had simply walked away. At that moment, she hated him more than she cared to admit.

Staying where they were, however, had less to recommend it than Lion-O's determination to press on. The day was finally losing its heat and nights in the desert she knew could be bitterly cold. A range of mountains had been dimly glimpsed through the heat haze earlier and it had been her suggestion to head for them. But dune after difficult dune had seemed to bring them no closer. Tempers had frayed and angry words had been spoken. Now wounds had to be licked in their own way.

Treating wounds of the soul were beyond her abilities; in comparison, wounds of the body were much simpler. She made her way back to where Liodella sat and checked on the makeshift sling she had put around her arm. Several hours ago, the shifting sands had snatched her feet from beneath her and Liodella had fallen. She had landed on the only rock for miles around, breaking her collarbone and wrist. Pumyra had done what she could for her, fashioning a bandage from a slip torn from her nightdress, but the lioness was still in great pain. It slowed her pace and tired her easily. The obvious solution had been for Lion-O to carry her. It was a suggestion he had flatly refused.

At the time, Pumyra had been irritated by his reaction, but not surprised. Hours earlier, she had awoken to the sounds of heated words and sobs. Lion-O could remember nothing of what had happened, so had turned to Liodella to fill in the gaps. Unwisely, she had told him of babies and poisons and his illness. The damage had already been done by the time Pumyra had intervened. Even then, Liodella had begged her not to tell him the rest of the sorry tale and so she had held her tongue. Until now.

While she worked, she felt the lioness' gaze upon her and looked up to meet her tear-filled eyes. "You should try to conserve water," she said. "It may be a while before we find an oasis." She was tempted to add "if we find one at all", but stopped herself just in time. Chances are they would die of dehydration long before they found Lion-O's hoped-for watering hole. She did not have to say it. Liodella could work that out for herself. And her next words showed that clearly she had.

"You don't have to be optimistic for my sake," Liodella said quietly.

Pumyra gave her a faint smile. "Sorry. I can't help myself. All part of my training."

"And it would have worked… if I had wanted to believe it." She released a deep sigh and stared at the point where Lion-O had vanished. "Thank you," she said. "For trying to help. But you shouldn't have told him."

"Better that he knows the truth than some convenient lie." Her adjustments to the sling finished, she helped Liodella up to her feet. "Well, those mountains can't be too far away now. We should try to reach them by nightfall."

"As if it matters," Liodella murmured.

"It does," Pumyra insisted.

"Being optimistic again?"

The intensity of her gaze made Pumyra look away. She was right. What did it matter? Whether they died here or in the mountains, their deaths would affect no one, be noted by no one, matter to no one.

"We're dead anyway," said Liodella. "They say you get the afterlife you deserve and this is mine. I'm only sorry you have to share it."

It was on the tip of Pumyra's tongue to say that perhaps she herself deserved it more than most. The memory of recent events haunted her every waking hour. Lies lay scattered in her wake. Whatever Liodella had done had been out of love and fear for the life of her brother. What was her excuse? Shame? Too poor a reason, she decided.

"You don't deserve this, Liodella," she said, giving her uninjured arm a gentle squeeze. "And we aren't dead."

Liodella's eyes widened a little. "Pumyra, I felt it happen. I…" She had to swallow hard before she could continue. "I died, didn't I?"

Pumyra held her gaze, seeing the sincere belief in those words reflected in her dark eyes. She had seen it too, held her while her life had slipped away. Liodella had been dead, she was as sure of that as she had been that her own death was imminent when the Sword of Omens had torn through her side. The tattered and bloodstained dress she still wore was proof it not been just some terrible hallucination. Liodella had been dead, she had been dead and by rights so should Lion-O. Yet here they all were, hardly on speaking terms, but without injury and alive. Or at least living out a thin approximation of it. Either way, the whole situation was a confusing mess.

"We should go," she said. "There's nothing to be gained by standing here feeling sorry for ourselves. If we are dead, well, perhaps redemption lies over at those mountains. Perhaps this is some sort of test."

The look Liodella gave her suggested she thought that highly unlikely, although she said nothing. Instead, she gratefully accepted the arm Pumyra offered to her and leaned on her as they made their way out of the dune. Lion-O's footprints were still visible in the sands even if he had long vanished and together they followed the trail he had left. As the sands gave way to firmer, rockier ground, the mountains loomed larger up ahead in the gathering gloom. The sight of them urged Pumyra on, as though hope itself was embodied in those lonely peaks. She kept her eyes fixed on them for fear that if she dared look away they might vanish and be lost to her forever. Then, in the darkness, she saw it.

"Liodella, d'you see that?" she said, coming to a halt.

"See what?" came the weary reply.

A light, near the base of a lofty cliff, had shone out just for a second, then was gone. Had she imagined it, she wondered? Was it only a mirage, a dehydration-fuelled illusion? Whatever it had been, for a brief second it had been a beacon in the night. Hope had soared. They were not alone. Or so she had thought.

"No, it's nothing," Pumyra said sadly, shaking her head. "I must have imagined it. Come on, let's keep going."

She almost had to pull the lioness to get her to move. Pumyra knew she was suffering terribly and hated herself for asking more of her. Pain was dogging each weary step and from the increasing pressure on her arm, she knew that without her support, Liodella would surely fall to the ground. She would probably stay there too. She was sensible enough to recognise defeat when it saw it; accepting it, however, was another matter.

She continued on, her arm around Liodella's waist, until suddenly her foot caught on a lump of rock protruding from the dry ground. Her toes brushed across its craggy surface without injury, but enough to halt her progress. She struggled to keep her balance, but Liodella's weight threw her forward and brought her down. The unforgiving ground thudded into her stomach, winding her, and for several moments, she lay still, fighting for breath. Liodella also lay where she had fallen, her eyes closed, her face deathly pale. In her neck, a faint pulse fluttered under Pumyra's probing fingers, reassurance enough that the lioness was still with her. Even so, getting to the mountains tonight seemed to be out of the question. As slight as she was, Liodella would be more than she could safely carry without doing herself injury in her weakened state.

A little way off, several large slabs formed a shelter from the elements. Hardly cover on what promised to be a bitterly cold night, but it would have to do. With effort, Pumyra dragged Liodella over to them. She groaned slightly at the rough treatment, but did not awaken. Propping her up against a rock, Pumyra rechecked Liodella's injuries. As she had suspected, her collarbone was once again out of alignment. At least she would not have to suffer the agony of another reset. Unconsciousness did have its uses. She tried to be gentle, but her ministrations still elicited a soft moan. Finishing her work, she made Liodella as comfortable as she could and left her to rest.

Under normal conditions, getting a fire started would have been the next thing to do and, under normal conditions, there would be fuel for said fire. If rocks and sand could do it, they would sleep warm forever. But there was nothing, not even a scrap of wood. A thought that had been nagging away at her all day finally bullied its way to the forefront. This complete absence of anything vaguely organic was downright eerie. They had walked miles and not seen a solitary bleached bone or dead tree. No grasses clung to the traces of dirt between the massive boulders or drab mosses to their sides. If this was truly a place devoid of life, then it further supported her argument that this could not be some remote corner of Thundera. And that was hardly a comforting thought.

As she stood staring out into the growing darkness, to her ears came a sound, like the knock of one rock against another. Startled, she spun round, trying to locate from where it had come. She waited, trying to catch it again, but the night retained its secrets. The wind, she told herself, it must have been the wind. Except around her there was no movement of air, not even the breath of a breeze. The hairs rose on the back of her neck when she considered the other possibility. Someone, or something, was out there. It was coming, she could sense it, but her ears caught only the thud of her heart and the ragged sound of her own frightened breathing.

The voice, when it came, speaking her name in tones gentle and familiar, made her heart skip a beat. She turned slowly, afraid that this too might be a deception. But no, he was there, pale as a ghost, the concern showing his blue eyes suddenly transformed to wariness, as though he too was having trouble believing what he saw.

"Pumyra?" he said again. "Is that really you?"

Her answer was to rush to him and embrace him so tightly that she thought he would surely shatter under the pressure. She poured out her grief onto the soft warm fur of his chest and felt his arms encircle her, tentatively at first then with greater confidence.

"I thought I had lost you forever," she sobbed. "They told me you were dead."

"Close," Bengali said. "It might happen yet. But what are you doing here?"

"It's a long story. Something happened on Thundera. I don't know how, Ben, but I'm here, and so is Liodella and Lion-O. Where are we?"

"The worst sort of place you could ever imagine," he replied. "I'm taking a wild guess, but is your being here anything to do with a crazy tiger claiming to be Tygra's brother?"

"How did you know?" she gasped, releasing her grip about his body.

"Met him," he grunted. "But that's another story. So, where is he, our Lord and Leader?"

"I don't know," Pumyra said. "He went off on his own a while ago and I haven't seen him since."

"You mean he left you? Alone, out here?"

"We had a disagreement."

Bengali wandered away, murmuring darkly. She watched him for a moment, still not quite believing that he was actually stood before her. He had felt real enough and the warmth of his embrace had had the familiar sense of comfort about it, but something was different. She sought the answer and found it in the bitterest of memories.

"Ben," she said gently. "About what happened. I'm sorry."

He half-turned, almost reluctantly. "You don't have to apologise," he said.

"But I do. I accused you of something that… doesn't really seem important anymore."

"I was never unfaithful," he said, moving back to her. "Say I'm a fool, call me any names you want, but know that I could never hurt you, Pumyra. Yes, I should have followed you straight back to Third Earth when you left. By the time I tried, Lion-O wouldn't let me go."

"Yes, I told him not to."

"You did?" He seemed mildly shocked. "Well, I guess I can't blame him for that then. But I'm still at fault. I should have just left. I'm sorry."

"We both made mistakes," Pumyra said. "But mine was deliberate. I expected you to have found someone else, Ben. I mean, we were both thrown together in unusual circumstances and I never expected it to last once Thundera was reborn. I saw what I wanted to see and it was all lies. Can you forgive me?"

He smiled, then very gently kissed her on the forehead. "Anything," he whispered, "if you can forgive me too."

"For?"

Whatever he was about to say demanded a deep breath before he was able to go on. "Pumyra, I also have a confession to make. I was going to leave Thundera. If the Serpentians hadn't attacked us, I would have made it too." He sighed. "Seems like a very long time ago now. Cheetara says--"

"Cheetara is alive too? She's here?"

He nodded. "Oh, it's quite a regular reunion." A distant noise made him look sharply in its direction and he scanned the surrounding area warily. "We should go. It isn't safe to be wandering about out here at night."

"Can you carry Liodella? She's not well enough to make it on her own."

Bengali went to the unconscious lioness and gathered her up in his arms. He tried to lift her, failed, and tried again. At the third attempt, Pumyra was at his side.

"We'll do it together," she said. He seemed almost grateful at the offer. She reached for his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze, almost as quickly withdrawing her hand at the stark lines of the bones she could feel beneath his skin. Her happiness had blinded her. Muscle wastage was stripping padding from his frame. That it had happened so quickly left her in no doubt as to the cause.

He anticipated the question before she could put it into words. "Things aren't good, Pumyra. A lot has happened. And this place is…"

"Dead," she finished for him. "Are we?"

A long moment passed before he answered. "I don't know."

She had played this game too many times before to be deceived now. "Ben, tell me." When he was finally able to meet her gaze, she was shocked at the depth of emotion she could see in his eyes. On impulse, she went to him, took him in her arms and surrounded him with love. "What is it?" she said softly.

He pulled away just enough to free his hand. Cold fingers gently traced the side of her face and brushed across her lips. "Why is life so unfair?" he murmured. "A moment hasn't gone by that I haven't thought of you and wanted to see you again. Now you're here and I wish you could be anywhere else." He smothered her protests with a kiss. "Before I tell you about this place, Pumyra, answer me one question."

"Anything."

He paused and smiled. "Will you marry me?"

***************

"This is madness!"

Above the shriek of the wind, Lexi's words struggled to make themselves heard. Cheetara chose to ignore them and pressed on up the slope. Madness yes, but this was something she had to do. Only when a hand grasped her arm and made her stop was she forced to acknowledge her companion.

"We must go back," Lexi insisted. The slight clatter of her teeth and the trembling of her body were the only indications she was willing to allow that the unpleasant conditions were affecting her. And it was cold, bitterly so. Up on the high plateau, the elements could give full force to their power. Venturing as near to the edge as Cheetara intended before their fury was surely insane. Lexi had already made her feelings about that known. Now she needed a good reason to go on.

"I have to do this," Cheetara said. "Go back. I can manage."

"I can't just leave you out here," Lexi protested. "It's not safe. There's Mutants and--"

"I've faced Mutants before. I know how to deal with them."

Lexi gave her an uncertain look. "You don't even know for sure he's out here."

Cheetara looked away, hearing the need for reassurance in her words, but not knowing what to tell her. How could anyone explain a feeling? Earlier, she had been right about them finding Lion-O. The sensation had been too overwhelming to be false. When WilyKit had brought him back to the cave, she felt her confidence soar. She was brave enough to trust herself again, so that the next time her sixth sense spoke to her of a soul in need, she responded without hesitation. This time, however, she had not told the others. Lexi had seen her slip out and had followed her. At first she had been enthusiastic about their mission. But with each fruitless hour that passed, she was becoming less certain.

"I'm sorry," Lexi said. "I didn't mean to doubt you."

Her words startled Cheetara out of her thoughts. "No, you're right," she said. "If he was here, we should have found him by now."

"You said he could make himself invisible. Well, he could be here and we've walked straight past him. He does trust you, I suppose?"

Cheetara bit her lip and considered. Trust was such a fragile thing. The last time she had seen him, his words had been so harsh that they hurt still. He had been emphatic. You disgust me. Since then, she had learned it was fuelled by the evil poured into his heart for the warped amusement of another. That consolation had taken some of the sting out of it. Still, to him it had been the truth. If he believed it, then he had every reason to hide from her. She could search forever and not find him. Now was the time to end this game.

"Is that it?" she cried above the howling winds. "Are you afraid, Tygra?" She pulled her arm from Lexi's grip and started to back away up the slope. The edge of the plateau was drawing near and she halted just inches from the precipice. Lexi's eyes widened in alarm and she began to run to help, but Cheetara held up her hand and stopped her.

"Are you afraid to face me?" she went on. "I know what was done to you. You have no reason to hide!"

She waited and still only the winds answered. To bring him forth would need more.

"Tygra, I know you're there. I know you're hurt and in pain. So am I. Once, you said you would always be there for me. Now I need you." She turned and took a step towards the edge until her toes were hanging out into space. "If you will not help me," she said, as calmly as possible, "then no one can."

She gave herself to the wild dance of the wind and felt it begin to take her. Then strong arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back from oblivion. For a moment, she remained where she was, savouring the warmth of his breath against her neck, then turned in his arms and looked up into his face.

"So you were there," she said.

"How did you know?"

"You seem to forget. I know you."

He lowered his eyes. "Once perhaps."

Cheetara became aware of Lexi's inquiring gaze and nodded to her. "It's all right," she said. "May I introduce you to a very confused friend of mine. Tygra, say hello to Lexi."

"That invisibility thing you did was a neat trick," Lexi said to him. "Normally, I can sense when I'm being followed. How did you--"

"I'm a little better at it than I used to be," he said, relinquishing his hold on Cheetara. "Something I've been taking has been strengthening my abilities lately."

Lexi made noises of approval. "I wouldn't mind a dose of it. I could do with a pick-me-up."

"Lexi, why don't I see you back at the cave?" Cheetara said, stepping in before the conversation veered into dangerous waters.

She took the hint. "Well, if you're sure," she said, eyeing Tygra uncertainly, "I'll see you later."

Watching her go, Cheetara waited until she was well out of earshot before she spoke. "How dare you!" she said, turning on him. "How dare you let our friends believe such things!"

He held up his hands in defence. "Please, Cheetara, wait--"

But she was in no mood to hear him out. "No, Tygra, there's no excuse. You let us down."

"Me?" he retorted. "How exactly do you work that out?"

"Why didn't you tell us about Tyree?"

He reacted as though she had smacked him round the face. He turned away from her and took to staring out across the expanse, lost in thought. "How could I?" he said at last. "I wasn't sure myself. I'm still not sure, Cheetara, what's real and what's not."

"I'm real," she shot back. "This place is real. That you can believe!" Her words had no affect on him. He remained where he was, his back to her, silent. But there was something she had to know. "He said you knew he was alive, that you and Jaga abandoned him. Is it true?"

His back stiffened. A reaction at last. "I believed he was dead." He checked himself and his shoulders rose and fell to the depth of breath he took. "No, actually that's not quite true. I had more of a hope than a belief. There were times I hoped he would come back, but more were the times I prayed he wouldn't. Is that so terrible?"

He had confirmed what she had suspected. It was also what she had dreaded. If there was a half-truth in what Tyree had claimed, about what else had he been right? About Jaga? About Jageena? Coping had demanded disbelief. After all, she had only had his word for it. Until now. Unwittingly, Tygra had finished what his brother had begun.

Anger beyond reason rose and choked in her throat. It was useless now anyway. Acceptance crushed ire and her breathing eased. "You can't stay out here," she said.

"Why? It's as good a place as any."

"Still hiding from us?"

Finally, he turned back to her. In the half-light of dawn, she could see the hurt in his eyes, the reluctance to do what he knew he must. "I can't, Cheetara. How can I face them?"

"You owe them that much."

He nodded slowly. "Yes. I must ask of them their forgiveness for what I have done, for the fate I have inflicted upon them." He hesitated and his gaze drifted once more back to the barren terrain beyond the cliff edge. "If I hadn't been there to catch you, you would be dead now. You placed so much trust in me being there." His eyes caught and held hers, until the intensity of his stare became uncomfortable. "Tell me, honestly, despite all that has happened, why were you so sure of me?"

Honesty, truth, all part of the same coin, all equally hard to give. Did knowing ever make it any better? "Come on, let's go," she said, trying to brush the question aside.

"No, please," he said, catching her arm before she could leave. "I have to know. Why did you still trust me?"

He wanted the truth. He got it.

"I didn't," she said, and walked away from him

***************

As reunions went, the gathering of the Thundercats of Third Earth was hardly the joyous occasion it should have been. From his vantage point atop a rock at the back of the cavern, Snarf watched events unfolding with growing unease. The mood was sour and no one was smiling. The façade of pleasantries had soon given way to sniping and arguing. Everyone, it seemed, had something they wanted to get off their chests and the discussion had long veered away from the pressing issue of where they were and what to do about it. At that point, Snarf had given up trying to tell them what he knew of their situation. There would be time enough for bad news later when the sparks had died down. So, for the time being, he had been content to keep his peace and let the others have their heads. Better they should have it out, he had decided, than to let their grievances fester any longer. Or so he had thought.

It went deep. From what he could hear, there was a good deal of hurt and anger, and no one, lest of all Lion-O, was in the mood to start offering apologies. It would have been a step in the right direction, Snarf thought, listening to the increasingly venomous words passing back and forth between his friends. But Lion-O, as ever, was sure he was in the right and would not budge. Obstinacy met indignation head on and the clash was inevitable.

"My uncle," he was declaring.

"Is slime!" Bengali finished for him.

"Was there for me when no one else was," Lion-O shouted him down. "D'you think it's easy, trying to run Thundera?"

"Oh, poor you," the tiger said sarcastically. "What did you expect?"

"Support. Help. Loyalty."

"That works both ways, Lion-O. You seem to have forgotten that."

"Meaning?"

Bengali held up three fingers. "Panthro. Tygra. Cheetara. Work it out for yourself!"

"That wasn't my idea," Lion-O protested.

"No? Then whose?"

Snarf could see Lion-O's struggle all too clearly as he tried to answer the challenge. His heart went out to him. If the boy had one failing, it was his unquestioning trust. Long nights had been spent listening to him telling how much his uncle was helping him, how pleased he was that at least one member of his family had survived and how grateful he was to him. Gradually, mention of anyone else had been dropped from their conversations. It was taken for granted that they were still there, albeit on the sidelines. With hindsight, Snarf could only blame himself. This growing dependency had worried him and yet he had said nothing. Now it had hardened into unshakeable devotion. No wonder the others were upset.

When Lion-O did finally speak, it was not a direct answer to Bengali's question. "The alternative was worse," he said. "It was the best we could do under difficult circumstances."

"I'm sure it was," said Panthro, from his position by the fire. "But it still hurt. You know I would've have stood by you through thick and thin--"

"Because of my mother?" Lion-O snapped.

"But what happened shook me," Panthro went on, undeterred by the remark. "I felt isolated. I felt helpless. I guess that was Saturnus' intention all along. He got what he wanted. He got you all to himself."

"You make it sound like some game he was playing," Lion-O said angrily, his hand unconsciously wandering to his throat to fiddle with the ever-tightening collar.

"With you as first prize!" Bengali snorted. "Open your eyes. We can't all be lying."

Lion-O glared at him, then turned away, arms tightly folded. "Okay, I'm listening. Prove it."

The sigh of relief was almost audible. "Panthro, did you tell him about the transmissions I intercepted?" Bengali said.

"Yes, he did," said Lion-O. "That was all explained. It was an error."

"And the fact that practically the next day I ended up as the Serpentians' prisoner? Convenient, don't you think?"

"A coincidence, that's all."

Bengali's eyes flashed fire. "What a comforting thought! Cheetara, how d'you feel about our almost being tortured to death as just a coincidence?"

"Not much," she said.

"Perhaps if you hadn't been there in the first place," Lion-O shot back, "you wouldn't have fallen into their hands. Why were you?"

For the first time since the argument began, Bengali seemed flustered. He looked to Cheetara for support, and when they spoke it was together. Their answers, however, were not in agreement.

"Well, which was it?" said Lion-O, a look of triumph on his face. "Engine failure or a fault with the navigation computer?"

"Neither," Bengali finally admitted. "I was… leaving, Thundera, the Thundercats, everything. There, I've said it. Happy now?"

"So that's why we couldn't find you," said WilyKit. "You took off your insignia."

"Yes, I did. And, d'you know, it felt good to be free. Even if it was short-lived."

"And what's your excuse?" said Lion-O, turning to Cheetara.

She gave him a look that would have made Chilla proud. "I didn't say I was leaving," she said. "But as it happens, I should have done. A long time ago."

"Really? Would you be here today if you had done?"

Holding his gaze, she slowly shook her head. "Perhaps not. But then perhaps it's better to die naïve."

"Don't say that," said Panthro. "You don't mean it."

"You don't know what I mean."

"She means that without Tygra's brother rescuing us, neither of us would be here," said Bengali. He stopped and thought about that remark. "Although he is the reason we're here, so I guess that doesn't apply. Still, I'd rather be here than on that Serpentian ship. Slithe was going to kill us."

"Slithe?" Liodella spoke up. "Wasn't he the one who said Cheetara and Bengali were dead in the first place?"

Lion-O refused to answer her, so Panthro replied instead. "Knew I was right about him. He was always a devious reptile. I'll bet he was running the whole show."

"No," said Bengali, thoughtfully. "He said his Overlord had told him to do it."

"Overlord?" Pumyra spoke up. "But that's what Tyree called Saturnus and he said that Slithe was working for him."

"That explains a few things," said Panthro. "A Thunderian working for the Mutants isn't unheard of, is it?"

He turned to Tygra and slapped him on the back to rouse him from his study of the glowing embers of the fire. Tygra started and Panthro repeated the question.

"It's possible," he agreed. "Plun-darr operates a system of meritocracy. They'll take in anyone they think can help them, Mutant or outsider alike."

"Listen to you all," Lion-O yelled. "How can you expect me to believe any of this? My uncle, working with the Mutants? It's outrageous! In insulting my family, you insult me!"

"Then perhaps it's long overdue!" Bengali snapped. "What's it going to take to convince you that your uncle is scum?"

The two glared at each other, the translation of anger into violence halted only the restraining presence of the collars. The stand off was finally broken by the sound of Pumyra's voice, as she got to her feet and spoke.

"I heard what you had to say earlier," Lion-O said in answer to her entreaty.

"And you chose not to believe it," Pumyra said. "Very well. But you didn't hear all of it. And there are things our friends should know." She turned to the others sitting around the fire and addressed them. "When I came back to Thundera, Saturnus said that I had to work for him. In exchange he would keep silent about my past, about my parents. To my shame, I agreed." She paused, bowing her head. "In doing what he wanted, I have shamed myself more than anything in my past could have done. Tygra, I'm sorry. I knew you were ill, but I did nothing, said nothing. I signed the committal order for the asylum knowing you were afraid. I didn't know what else to do. I've tried to convince myself I did the best I could for you. But what I did, I did for myself."

"It wasn't your fault, Pumyra," Tygra said. "You did what you had to. I didn't exactly help myself."

"How could you?" she said, sniffing back her tears. "In the end, neither could I. I thought I could step away from it any time I wanted. I was wrong." She looked over at Lion-O. "Whether you believe it or not, Saturnus was poisoning you and, when you became ill, he wanted me to lie about the cause."

Lion-O stared at her as though she had lost her wits. "No," he said hoarsely. "That's not true. Liodella said it was a love potion--"

"That she got from Jageena, who got it from Saturnus," she finished for him. "He was feeding you the poison, Lion-O, and it was causing you to lose your sight. I'm right, aren't I?"

A haunted look had come into the eyes he turned to her. "I couldn't see," he murmured. "Everywhere… it was dark." He rubbed his hands over his face and took to staring at his open palms. "Jaga said the same thing had happened to my father. That it was congenital."

"Jaga told you that?" Panthro queried. "I thought you said he didn't visit you anymore."

"I asked Jageena to let me see him. He told me to tell no one."

Panthro snorted. "Because we would have said it was a lie. Lion-O, Jaga knew exactly why your father became blind. He was there at the time. Claudus put himself between several children and a Thundranium bomb. Radiation from the blast damaged his optic nerves. That's how he lost his sight."

"Then why…?"

"Saturnus told me that he was working with Divine Mistress Jageena," said Pumyra.

"It wouldn't have been too much of a stretch for her to conquer up an illusion for you," said Panthro, "and tell you exactly what they wanted you to hear."

"Because of that, you became increasingly dependent on Saturnus. He wanted Thundera, Lion-O. Jageena made him show his hand early, but by then everything was in place. He didn't care whether you lived or died."

"Stop," said Lion-O, holding up his hands in despair. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Then perhaps you should," Pumyra continued. "The baby was his, Lion-O."

"Baby?" Bengali whispered. "Who's having a baby?"

"Liodella was." The lioness started to protest, but Pumyra waved her into silence. "No, he should know. Saturnus was using her, like he was using all of us, and when she could help him no more, he killed her and the child."

"So I did die," said Liodella. "But how am I still here if what you say is true?"

Pumyra shook her head. "I don't know. Whatever Tygra's brother did saved you."

At the sound of his name, Tygra looked up. "Tyree was on Thundera?"

Pumyra nodded. "Saturnus was going to kill me too, but he intervened. Something happened to Saturnus. He disappeared. Then Tyree destroyed the Sword of Omens."

"How?" asked Bengali. "That's only possible if it's used against… another… Thundercat." As the realisation slowly dawned on him, his gaze slowly drifted to bloodstains on her tunic. "No," he breathed, getting to his feet. "Say it isn't true. He didn't…" At her affirmation, he swore violently. "I'll kill him! And you!" he roared, turning on Lion-O. "You let it happen! Because of you--"

"No!" Lion-O protested.

"Aren't you the Lord of the Thundercats? Doesn't the Sword work for you and you alone?"

Lion-O stared at him, his mouth working to words that would find no release. He took a few uncertain steps back, before turning and leaving. In the awkward silence that followed his departure, Snarf felt his loyalties pulled in two directions. He could feel the anguish all around him and knew their shock and dismay at the revelations, but he also ached for the charge he had raised since cubhood. Yes, Lion-O could be pigheaded, stubborn and inflexible at times. Deep down, however, he knew him to be sensitive and loyal. Out of all of them, he could best guess at the depth of Lion-O's despair. Pity got the better of him and he started towards the cave entrance.

"Leave him," said Bengali.

"I can't," said Snarf. "He needs me."

"Does he?"

The slight was sharp and the look on the tiger's face told of his regret as soon as the words left his mouth. All the same, it still hurt. "I know you blame him," Snarf said. "But it's not all his fault."

"No? Then whose?" Bengali said.

"We were all friends once. If we can't forgive each other, then Saturnus has achieved exactly what he set out to do, to split us up. There's a reason we're all here, snarf, snarf. I can't believe it's just to argue."

With that, he turned and hurried from the cave. Outside, he spied Lion-O some way along the path, standing with his head in his hands. He did not stir when Snarf called his name nor when he gently tapped his leg. A long minute passed before Lion-O sighed and shook his head.

"I've been blind, Snarf," he said. "In every sense of the word."

Snarf said nothing, but waited patiently for him to go on. Whatever had to be said would come out eventually without any prompting from him, he knew. Finally, Lion-O took his hands from his eyes and glanced down at him.

"Where did I go wrong, Snarf?" he said in a quiet voice. "I've lost everything. Thundera, the Sword, my friends--"

"You haven't lost them, Lion-O."

"I have. They hate me. I didn't mean to hurt them. I tried so hard to do the right thing by everyone… and it's all gone wrong." He groaned and rubbed his brow. "How do I ever put it right?"

"Not by crying, that's for certain."

The unexpected voice almost made Snarf jump out of his skin. He turned to find Lexi standing a little way off, arms folded, leaning against the cliff wall.

"What do you want?" Lion-O said, roughly wiping his eyes.

A roguish smile curled the corners of Lexi's lips. "Still the same old Lion-O," she said. "Still the same spoilt little cub, crying because he can't get what he wants. Still me, me, me!" She pushed herself off the wall and approached him until only Snarf separated them. "You don't deserve friends like that. From what I've heard, they should despise you. But they don't. And still you treat them with contempt!"

"I do not!" Lion-O retorted.

"No? Then why are you out here, feeling sorry for yourself, when you should be in there begging for their forgiveness?"

Snarf tried to speak up, but Lexi waved him into silence.

"I would give anything to see my friends again. But I never will, not this side of the Astral Plain. You ask what you can do to make things right? Well, you can start by apologising for being a complete idiot and asking for their help in finding a way off this hell hole!"

"You make it sound so easy," he said. "I haven't got the Sword of Omens."

"But you have got a brain, allegedly. Try using it!"

The slight hit its mark. With barely suppressed anger burning in his eyes, Lion-O gave her a final glare before turning and setting off down the path. Snarf went to run after him, but Lexi caught him by the scruff of his neck and his feet pawed the air as he was lifted from the ground.

"No, Snarf, let him go. He'll be back."

Snarf freed himself from her grasp and faced her, hands on hips. "That was not nice," he said.

"Perhaps not," Lexi said, tossing her braids back from her face. "But then you always said I was a nasty little kitten, Snarf. D'you know why I always made him cry? Because I wasn't afraid of him. All the other cubs in our class were in awe of him. 'Oh, little Lord Lion-O, mustn't upset him, he's going to be ruler of Thundera some day'." She snorted with disdain. "All that fawning used to make me sick, so I always told him exactly what I thought of him. Today that honesty is going to work in our favour. Even if Lion-O won't believe anyone else, he knows I always tell him the truth."

"But not so brutally," Snarf purred. "He does have feelings, you know, snarf, snarf."

"The truth hurts," Lexi said. "Lion-O needed to hear it. I've shaken him up a bit, that's all. He'll go away and sulk, but he'll be all right. Give him time to think it over and he'll come bouncing back. And then he might be of some use in getting us off this world. If half of the stories I've been hearing from the others are true, then it might be possible."

Snarf stared at the spot where Lion-O had recently vanished. "Brrr, I'm not sure. He was pretty upset. He's not the cub you used to know, Lexi. He's changed."

"Not in the ways that matter, Snarf," she replied coldly.

She turned and wandered back to the cave, leaving Snarf alone. He watched her go, then glanced in the opposite direction. He felt the old familiar pull, willing him to go in search of Lion-O. Resisting was hard. Somewhere out there, his charge was in pain, desperately hurting and needing him more than ever. Or did he, Snarf wondered. Perhaps that had been the problem all along. Looking back, he could see a pattern. Saturnus, Jaga, the other Thundercats, even himself, all crutches on which Lion-O had depended at one time or another. One by one they had been stripped away. Now Lion-O was on his own, in a scary place where no one could help him. He would survive, Snarf knew, and he would do it without him. Such was the burden Claudus had placed on him long ago. To love unconditionally, to care enough to let go. Now that day had come and it hurt.

"You be careful out there, Lion-O," Snarf whispered. "And come home soon."

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