Silly Season

 

"Choose! Which one of us is it to be?"

I look at my three fellow Thundercats in dismay. If they weren't all so earnest or the situation this serious, I might actually laugh. But this is all too real and there's no easy way out of it. And to think it all began so innocently...

The previous afternoon...

Everything is relative.

And relatively speaking, a scrap with the Mutants or that old corpse, Mumm-ra, tends to leave me feeling less exhausted than I do right now. Mind you, a whole day spent helping our neighbours gather in their harvest is enough to wear anyone out. Don't think me ungrateful. The Berbils are great little guys and without their help we wouldn't have this place or half the advantages we currently enjoy over our enemies, an endless supply of fruit of every hue and taste being one of them. But they can be wearing, we all agree on that. Whoever programmed those furry robots (although Tygra tells me it is a most inaccurate description, but how else would you describe them?) made them neurotic enough to test even Jaga's patience. On any other day, I would call it endearing. Today, however, it really got on my nerves.

"We desperately need your help, Thundercats," they had chorused when they had suddenly appeared outside the Lair just after dawn. "Our candy fruit harvest must be gathered in by tonight."

Of course we agreed to help - how could we refuse? The Berbils had spent most of the day in the kind of flap you can only really appreciate after you've seen the state Snarf gets in when the twins hide his best frying pan. To my mind, there didn't seem to any particular reason for the rush, but the Berbils were insistent. That's just how they are, I suppose. At the end of the day, they pressed a bag of candy fruit into Lion-O's hands and told him that we would need these. That was a little odd, but by then we were all too tired to care. We thanked them and returned home.

So, here I am, flat out on my bed, with a cold flannel across my forehead, trying to shift a pounding headache. For autumn, it's unseasonably muggy. Compared to a Thunderian autumn, that is, where by now we would be feeling the first chills of winter. Very soon, we'll have been here a year. Seems to have gone by a flash. We've just been too busy to notice. Doesn't mean we've forgotten though. We never will.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear a drawn-out rendering of my name in a high-pitched voice. I try to ignore it, but it draws closer.

"Cheeee-tar-raaaa!"

It won't be denied. Duty calls. I've only had ten minutes rest.

"Drat!" I mutter, sitting up. Pulling on my boots, I walk to the door and open it. A flurry of red, pink and blue barrels into me, hitting me solidly in the stomach. I wince, then smile sweetly at WilyKit. She means well.

"Hey, there you are!" she says breathlessly. "You have to come quickly!" She grabs my arm and fairly drags me out of the room.

I don't mind, but an explanation would be nice. "Why? What's happening?" I ask.

"We have a guest," she replies, grinning mischievously. "What d'you think of that?"

I stop, bringing WilyKit to halt with me. "I think I'll give this one a miss," I say. "I'm tired."

"No, you can't. She wants to see you - on your own."

"And who is 'she' exactly?" I could have phrased that better, especially when WilyKit's mouth opens to give the usual response. But I'm not in the mood for her cheekiness and cut her short.

"It's thingy of the watjamacallits," she says, flapping her hands helplessly. "Aw, phooey! You know."

"No, I don't."

"Thingy," she repeats, with exasperation, "and her sister, watsherface." I can't say that I know who's she's talking about, but there's only one person on Third Earth we've met so far who has a sister (which is ridiculous - I mean, there must be others).

"Do you mean Willa and Nayda?"

WilyKit snaps her fingers. "You got it!"

"And they want to see me?"

"Yup. Just you. No one else." WilyKit resumes our procession down the corridor, pulling me along behind her. "Wouldn't speak to Lion-O or Tygra or Panthro. Had to be you."

"Why me?" I wonder, almost missing the first steps of the stairs in WilyKit's rush. I can't imagine what it is. They certainly haven't come for our help. That would be the last reason a Warrior Maiden would come to our door. Unlike the other peoples of this world, they tend to be independent. We do 'come to their aid', shall we say, when the Mutants think setting fire to their forest home is good sport, but we try not to interfere too much.

We make it to the door of the Council Room in one piece, despite WilyKit's best efforts to pitch us down the stairs in her hurry. She darts in the room before me and I follow, just in time to see her curtsey, giggle and then make a hasty departure. As she goes, she gives me a hefty shove in the small of the back that propels me into the room. A chair halts my momentum, thankfully, and I am spared the embarrassment of sprawling across the table. As I said, she means well. Mostly. The rest of the time she's just out to get us.

"Sorry about that," I say. "WilyKit can be a little too boisterous at times. She's at that age."

"No need to apologise," Willa says in that strange way of hers. "She has spirit. It bodes well for her future. Amongst our people, such promise is encouraged." That I don't doubt. The Warrior Maidens pride themselves on their considerable abilities and skills. Their most valuable possessions are their bows, which is why they understand and respect our relationship with the Sword of Omens.

"You wanted to see me?" I say, taking a seat.

Willa nods solemnly. "Do you know what tomorrow is, Thundercat?"

WilyKit's influence must be rubbing off on me, for I only just stop the glib remark that comes to mind. "No, I don't," I say, deciding to play it safe.

"Tomorrow is the Day of Mas," says Nayda. She stares at me, waiting for a reaction to that revelation.

"Okay," I say cautiously. "What does that mean?"

"You haven't heard about it?" she says with surprise.

"No, I haven't. What is it?"

Willa takes a deep breath and stares at her tightly clenched hands. "A necessary evil," she says ominously. A silence ensues in which she fixes me with her stern gaze.

"Mumm-ra?" I venture weakly.

She snorts. "Would that it were. Then at least our lives would be easier."

This is painful. I'm starting to feel worse than stupid, which, as you can imagine, is not a pleasant experience. "Then what?" I ask.

"Tomorrow, Mas turns his eye to Third Earth and in his wake comes uproar," Willa explains, her expression never wavering from tight-lipped concern. "He stands before the sun and bathes our world in his light. On the day of his rule, the adult males of this world are inflamed with his fire and go forth and take a mate. Hence, you also will hear this called the Day of the Mating Moon."

"I take it that this is a sort of fertility festival?" I say, in an attempt to restore some of my credibility.

"This day has much to do with fertility, yes. The fruits of the Mating Moon will see the forests teeming with new life come next spring and all will benefit from its bounty. But that is not the problem." Willa purses her lips. "A Wollo gripped by the influence of Mas is not a pretty sight."

The image that springs to mind is not pleasant. With this thought, I gape open-mouthed her at for a moment before remembering my manners. "You mean, all adult males?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Nayda says. "The Wollos are always badly affected. They rampage through the countryside on drunken orgies. The damage they cause makes the Mutants look amateurish by comparison."

"For all the people of Third Earth, this is a very special time. Marriages are made and many can trace their conception back to this day." Willa sits back in her chair and smiles. "Of course, we are little troubled by such concerns. We do, however, take the precaution of keeping within our settlement. The forest becomes a dangerous place on this day. Facing a rutting gryger is a test of anyone's skill."

"Well, I'm glad we know," I say, rising to my feet. Tomorrow, I'll choose a different route for my morning run. "Thank you for telling us."

But the Warrior Maidens seem inclined to linger. "There is another reason for our visit," says Nayda.

"Oh?" I say, trying to act unconcerned. What next?

"We wondered if you and the twins would like to stay with us until this fever has passed."

I stare at her in amazement. "You don't think that we -?"

"From our experience, all adult males are affected by this fever," Willa says firmly.

"But we aren't indigenous to this planet."

"What makes you think that your friends will be excluded from the influence of Mas?"

I grasp for something to say to defend my fellow Thundercats. And fail. I can't speak for them and I won't. I graciously thank Willa for the offer, but say I'll have to discuss it with the others.

Willa sighs and nods. "We leave it up to you, Cheetara. The offer stands until midnight. Then we pull up the ropes and stay put until the Day of Mas is over." They get to their feet. The meeting is at an end. I show them to the door, but before they walk away, I call after them.

"Willa? Nayda? Thanks."

Both smile. "The Thundercats are our allies," Willa says. "We would see none of you harmed."

"Harmed? Do things really get that bad?"

"To the unwary, Mas' influence can be as destructive as it is productive. Be careful, Thundercat." With that, both go on their way.

I stand in the doorway, watching as they disappear into the distance. It all seems a bit far-fetched. I mean, Wollos raising hell? What next, for heaven's sake! No wonder the Berbils were so insistent on getting their harvest in on time. With that in mind, I gather my friends for an impromptu meeting in the Control Room and break it to them gently. As expected, the response is mixed. The twins giggle, Snarf mutters about such things never going on in his day, Tygra and Panthro exchange knowing looks and Lion-O is outraged and tells us so.

"I'm outraged!" he says (told you so). "How can they think that we would - get - out of control like that." He's flustered with embarrassment and frankly so am I. I've just accused my friends of being on the verge of going on some lustful rampage. As if they would. We're Thundercats. We don't do things like that. Well, I don't, but that's another story.

"It's possible, I suppose," says our resident voice of reason.

"Oh, come on, Tygra," Lion-O retorts. "We're Thundercats. We live by the Code of Thundera - Justice, Truth, Honour and Loyalty."

"But we are still males," says Panthro. I give a small cough. "Well, some of us are. But you know what I'm saying. Just because we have the Code it doesn't stop us having feelings and..." He casts a nervous glance at the twins, who are listening to this conversation with fascination. "Desires," he adds carefully.

"And are you ruled by that above all else?" says Lion-O indignantly. "I know I'm not. I'm always in control." Again looks go around the room. I have to say I agree with Tygra's small shake of the head. Our young leader likes to think he's in control, but I've seen him be impulsive, rash even. Jumping into a volcano to re-forge a broken Sword of Omens, for instance.

"There's no saying how any of us will react under the influence of Mas," Tygra says. "There's no harm in taking a few precautions."

Lion-O frowns at him. "I don't believe I'm hearing this. What are you saying will happen to us?"

He's putting him on the spot and he knows it. But Tygra doesn't embarrass that easily. "I'm saying that it's possible we might overstep the boundaries of acceptable behaviour."

"There's no saying what it'll do to your libidos," Snarf speaks up.

"Snarf!" Lion-O splutters.

"Weeow, Lion-O, really!" he says. I've often thought of Snarf as a latter day philosopher. Many of the things he says are wise. A lot of the rest is just noise, but on this occasion, he hits the nail right on the head. "There's no use beating around the bush. There's a lot of testosterone swilling about the Lair. I know no one mentions the 's' word, but you deny its existence at your peril."

"Yes, but -"

"Personally," Snarf continues, clearly enjoying his role as self-appointed sage, "I think if there was a bit more of it going on around here, there'd be a few less tensions and a lot more happiness, snarf, snarf." He looks my way as he says it, very pointedly. I feel my cheeks glow.

"And I think you keep should your opinions to yourself," I say, folding my arms, a move I know is part defensive.

My position in the group isn't what everyone assumes. A lone adult female and three males - nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Let's get this straight. The only bed I get into at night is my own. I do not share it nor do I invite anyone into it. My attitude is this - If I weren't here, they'd have to cope, so let them. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Snarf.

He's about to start on another lengthy speech, when, thankfully, Tygra interrupts him. "Getting back to the matter in hand, what are our plans?"

"Wouldn't hurt to be prepared, just in case," says Panthro. Dead practical is Panthro. At least, he is when he's in a good mood. Other times, he's got a temper that would frighten Mumm-ra. "And who could refuse an offer to get to know the Warrior Maidens a little better?"

But I've been thinking. If I leave, what does that say about me? They are my friends. If I go, I'm practically admitting that I don't trust them, which just isn't true. I'm sure I can cope, even if they do get out of hand, which I seriously doubt. Plus, I'm kind of stubborn. I'll not be driven out of my home.

"I'm going to stay," I say, much to their surprise. "It strikes me that tomorrow would be an ideal time for Mumm-ra to launch a surprise attack. Someone needs to look after the Lair, so I'll stay."

Panthro gives me that raised eyebrows look of his. "Well, if you're sure. I still think the twins should spend the day with the Warrior Maidens."

"Why, for Jaga's sake?" WilyKat protests.

"Where there's trouble, you two are usually in the thick of it," Panthro says, regarding them kindly. "If Third Earth is going crazy tomorrow, we can't keep our eyes on them and you at the same time."

"But I don't wanna go there," WilyKat grumbles. "They think I'm odd. I keep getting funny looks."

"Come off it," his sister teases, thumping him in the arm. "You love it. They all want to baby you."

"You could learn much from them," says Panthro. "Those Warrior Maidens are skilled fighters. Use your time wisely while you're there."

WilyKat looks desperately from one face to another and realises he's been overruled. His unhappy expression shows what he thinks of the Day of Mas.

"I'll look after you, silly," says WilyKit, hauling him to his feet. "Let's go and get packed." She drags him from the room, leaving us in awkward silence. I try to avoid meeting their eyes, but the weight of Panthro's stare defeats me.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, absolutely." He still looks unconvinced. "Look, if you feel yourselves getting out of hand, give me the nod and I'll go. How does that sound?"

"Fair," says Tygra. "I'd still be happier -"

"If I spent the night with the Warrior Maidens? Well, I wouldn't. This is my home. And I trust you." It feels important that I say that. If this is a test of our bonds of loyalty, so be it. It won't be me who lets the side down.

As far as I'm concerned, that's an end of the matter. I go and help the twins gather all the things they need for their 'holiday' (and try not to notice when WilyKat slips his comfort blanket in his bag), and then we head down to the Paw Hangar, where Panthro has the Thundertank warmed up and ready to go. A little while later, we pull up at the arboreal home of the Warrior Maidens. Willa seems disappointed when I tell her that I must decline her kind offer. She says she understands, but it's clear she doesn't. WilyKit and WilyKat hug us both before we go, and, as Panthro turns the tank for home, I see their sad little faces and feel a twinge of guilt. I miss them already.

Back at home, there's an almost palpable atmosphere. Lion-O seems to be venting annoyance from every pore and his mood is sour to match. I leave him to his brooding and seek out Tygra, who has been busy in the Control Room. There's good news. He's been running a few scans and found that the fifth planet of this solar system is aligning for a partial eclipse, which will occur about mid morning. "He stands before the sun," I remember Willa telling me. That explains it. I breathe a sigh of relief. The Day of Mas is nothing more than an excuse for high jinx. Tomorrow will be a chance to observe the people of this world and take note of their strange customs. But we'll still pull in the drawbridge, just in case. There's no saying what those Wollos will do. I go to bed, tired but content, and sleep soundly.

Until dawn, that is. I awake to find my room flooded with a red glow. The air is close and uncomfortable. Looking out of my window, I see that a large red planet has filled the sky, bathing the morning in its fiery light. On the horizon, the sun is just about showing, but its more powerful rival is already superseding its feeble rays. As I'm up, I may as well make the most of it. But even putting on my clothes seems to demand a great effort. By the time I've made it downstairs, I'm already sweaty. This is going to be a tough run.

And, as predicted, it is. Half my usual distance takes me double the time and I drag myself back to Lair, unable to run another yard. On the way, I get the first indication that things are definitely not right. As I pass, a Balkin lying by the side of the road waves an empty tankard at me and wishes me a 'Happy Mating Moon' and if I'm at a loose end to look him up. For some reason, I thank him (well, what else can you say?) and hurry home. Today would be a good day to stay in.

At the Lair, I find Panthro waiting for me. He smiles from his position in the doorway as I stagger up the steps. "Good run?" he asks.

I tell him that I've had better, to which he grunts. I've reached the door by now and still he lounges across it, blocking my way.

"Do you mind?" I say, indicating that I'd like to go in.

He pulls himself up and turns sideways. His continued presence in the doorway cuts down the available access by half and, if I want to go in, I'll have to squeeze past him.

"Either go in or come out," I say. "I can't get in there."

"Sure you can," he replies, and I notice a twinkle in his eye that I swear wasn't there a minute ago. "Plenty of room. You're only little. Go on."

I hesitate, wondering what he's up to. The thought starts to come into my mind that this is the beginning of trouble, but I quickly quash it. I'm not giving into paranoia. So I turn sideways and edge past him. He smiles down at me with a curious expression on his face and frankly I'm glad when I'm through. I make my way to the stairs, glancing over my shoulder to find that he's still looking at me.

"Is something the matter?" I ask. He shakes his head and looks away. I shrug and continue up to my room, dismissing the incident from my mind. If I'm going to start reading ulterior motives into every thing, this is going to be a very long day.

At least the air conditioning has kicked in, subduing the heat to manageable levels. I discard my dusty clothes and run a bath, adding a good dose of scented oil to the mix. Bubbles rise to monumental levels and I slip beneath them with a sigh of contentment. I close my eyes and relax. I miss the twins, but it's nice once in a while to have a soak without worrying where the next swamp frog is coming from. Then, in the midst of my reverie, I catch a soft knock at the door.

"Cheetara, are you in there?"

"Yes," I call out. "I'll be out in a minute."

To my surprise, the lock is deactivated and the door opens. Before I can cover myself with enough bubbles, Tygra enters the bathroom.

"What are you doing?!" I squeal.

He leans idly up against the wall, smiling at my efforts to vanish beneath the rapidly dissipating foam. "Just wanted to check that you were all right. Panthro said you looked exhausted when you came in from your run."

I breathe a sigh of relief. He's concerned, bless him. All the same, it could have waited. "I'm just fine," I say. "You can go now." But to my consternation, he moves closer and kneels down beside the tub. Resting his elbows on its rim, he gazes down at my watery form admiringly. I quickly grab a towel and clutch it to myself.

"Do you mind?"

"You've got nothing I've not seen before," he says, smiling.

"That was different. That was Thundera and we were running for our lives."

"Thundera," he murmurs, idly swirling his finger in the bath water. "Seems like a long time ago."

"Yes, it does. Now I would appreciate it if you'd go, Tygra."

"And I would appreciate it if you would kiss me, Cheetara."

Before I can react, he's brought his face close, teasing my lips with his. As his mouth closes on mine, I find that I don't object. He smells good, a little musky in fact, and it's damn arousing. I'm swept away in the moment, enjoying the feel of his skin on mine, the taste of him and the strong kiss that's drawing breath from my body and sapping my resistance. It's corny, I know, but I find myself melting under his attentive caress and it's really quite good. When he finally lets me up for air, I meet his eyes and the need I find burning there is a little unsettling. The spell is broken. He moves in to reaffirm the experience, but I splash water in his face and tell him to be gone by the time I resurface or else. I sink beneath the bubbles and hold my breath for what seems like an age. When I come up, he's gone, and I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed. Either way, it seems that Willa was right.

All the same, I'm not ready to jump ship just yet. I make my way downstairs, almost bumping into a most indignant Snarf, who declares that he doesn't know what the world's coming to when you can't set foot outside your door without being propositioned by a Tabbot and his mule. I fight the urge to ask him what the mule said, and instead question him about whether he's noticed any of the others behaving strangely. He shrugs, telling me no more than normal, and sets off down the corridor, mumbling to himself about Tabbots and Wollos and the youth of today. I stare after him, wondering if it's my imagination. But I can't deny that Tygra did kiss me or that Panthro deliberately positioned himself in that doorway. I have to find them and see what's happening.

By chance, the first occupied room I come to is the Sword Chamber. The door isn't locked, so I enter to find Lion-O with his back to me, standing before the Sword of Omens in its rack. I cough to attract his attention and gather I have it when I see his back stiffen.

"Um, Lion-O," I begin. This is awkward. I'm embarrassed. I should leave. So I say it's nothing and head back to the door, but he calls to me.

"Did you mean it?" he asks, still facing away from me.

I hesitate. What was 'it'? I rack my brains for an answer and have to admit that I haven't the faintest idea what he's talking about.

"After we fought the Mutants for the first time, when you saw me, you said I was handsome. Did you mean it?" He turns and stares at me. Warning bells go off in my mind.

"Well, yes, you are. For a lion," I add quickly. "But -"

"Then you do find me attractive?"

"Wait," I say, holding up my hands. "It was meant as a compliment, that's all." I start to back towards the doorway. In my haste, I miss the door by several feet and end up against a wall. Before I can rectify my mistake, he's moved over to where I am. He stands in front of me, way too close for comfort.

"Cheetara, I -" he begins.

"Don't," I interrupt him, but only just. He has that same musky smell, but much stronger, more potent. It holds me there, a prisoner to raging hormones. Despite the air conditioning, the room has become unbearably hot and I feel the sweat start to break out all over my skin. I sense this discomfort is nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with our nearness. Damn it all! I should have heeded Willa's advice. But that all seems unimportant now. I can't deny that he is very sexy in a way that makes me want to hurl him to the ground, tear his clothes from his muscular frame and ravish him, regardless of the little voice whispering in my ear that this is wrong, so wrong.

But still I can't move, even when he reaches hesitantly for me. His fingers touch my cheek and the feeling that surges through my body is so powerful that I jump. He draws back, unsure of my reaction. I should say something, but I'm breathing so hard now that I'm practically gasping for air. He touches me again and I can't help sighing deeply at the tingle that courses down my spine. Every nerve reaches out far beyond the confines of my body, hungering for his touch. He doesn't disappoint, but lets his fingers drift slowly down my cheek and onto my neck, where he gently traces the outline of my scattered markings. I can't stop him. In truth, I don't want to stop him.

I'm seconds away from acting on the impulses that are rapidly smothering my common sense when he moves closer, pressing himself up against me and bringing his head down to kiss me. And there it ends. This can't happen. I duck away and dart towards the door. He looks at me in confusion, needing answers, but I can't speak. I shake my head and hurry away, cursing the stubborn streak that kept me here. I grab some of my things, get a little food from the kitchen and prepare to spend an uncomfortable night away from home. Heading for the door, I run into Snarf, whose mood has gone from bad to worse. He's still grumbling about what a disgrace it all is and I decide that it's better to give him a wide berth than to get involved in that now. I'm almost out when I catch something he's muttering.

"And those boys, snarf, snarf! I don't know what to make of it!"

"Snarf, what are you talking about?"

"See for yourself," he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Every instinct is telling me to leave, but I'm concerned. What now? As I head along the corridor towards the Paw Hangar, I hear raised voices and angry words. The sight that meets my eyes when I open the door is appalling. My three friends, shouting, exchanging blows - fighting, for Jaga's sake! Despite my better judgement, I rush into the affray and manage to separate them. They are bloody, bruised, torn of clothing and glaring at each other angrily.

"What's happening here?" I demand. "What do you think you're doing?"

I regret it. Losing interest in each other, they turn their attention on me.

"You!" Panthro shouts, stabbing a finger in my direction. "You're the cause of all this!"

"Me?" I protest. "I wasn't even here when it started."

"No wonder we're fighting like demented Mutants. Wandering about the Lair with hardly anything on. Fluttering your eyelashes at any male within a hundred yards."

I stare at him, literally gob-smacked. "I most certainly do not!" I retort.

"And I thought you had feelings for me," Lion-O says, wiping a smear of blood from his lip.

"Teasing and flirting all the time," Panthro continues in the same angry vein. "Can you wonder we've come to blows? Time to stop playing, Cheetara."

I'm way of my depth. The room is so charged with tension that I expect to see sparks flying. Best to leave, I decide. I turn to go, but the door slams shut and I hear the lock slide into place.

"You're going nowhere till we get an answer," Tygra says. "Choose! Which one of us is it to be?"

So now you know. I'm still kicking myself for walking blindly into this situation. To say that the whole day has been a disaster is an understatement. The warning signs were there and I blithely ignored them. Serves me right, I guess. All the same, I can't possibly give them an answer. I have my reasons for not wanting to jump into bed with the most likely candidate and I'm certainly not going to be intimidated. But what to do? I can't fight them. For a start, I could hurt them. Well, okay, we're pretty well matched. What I lack in skills of illusion or sheer strength, I make up for in speed. Not that that's going to help me here. The Paw Hangar is too small to get up any speed.

And then it hits me. It's so obvious. It will get them off my back and away from each other's throats. Summoning up every ounce of indignation I possess, I adopt my most defiant expression. They look unimpressed, but I'll soon wipe the smiles off their faces.

"You say you want me," I declare. "But mine are a proud people. Only he who is able to best me in a fair race will be worthy to be called my mate."

"Then you choose me," Lion-O says. "I did beat you in my Anointment Trial."

"But not in a fair race," I counter. This has been my consolation since the Trials. I am proud of my speed and to be beaten by a lion is disgraceful. Time to bring out all the arguments I've prepared in case anyone dares to ask. "That day I covered twice as much ground as you did. How is that fair?"

"We ran the last five miles together and I beat you," he says.

I grind my teeth. So he did. Still, I'm not splitting hairs. "I'd like to see you try it when I'm fresh."

"Fine, then let's do it!"

I was hoping he'd say that. The challenge has been thrown down and accepted. We walk out into the heat of the Day of Mas and line up on the drawbridge. We're all determined to win, if for different reasons. Given my earlier experience, I know this could be the most difficult race of my life.

We start off, speeding across the bridge and feeling the change beneath our feet as stone gives way to scorching earth. I stay with them, letting them dictate the pace. I could charge ahead, but we all know that my super speed has its limitations. I doubt I'd even manage half a mile on a day as hot as this. Thankfully, nor can they and Panthro is the first to break. From the corner of my eye, I see him start to stagger and seconds later he drops out of the race. I expected that. Out of the four of us, he's the least well built for lengthy bursts of speed. I chance a sideways glance at my two opponents and notice with relief that both are showing the strain. I up the stakes and increase my speed. I hate to pull rank on them like this with my obvious advantages, but it's necessary. Aside from the fact that I don't intend to lose, I also know that over-exertion is dangerous in this temperature. Already I'm soaked with sweat as my body tries to disperse the extra heat. If I'm not careful, I could succumb to exhaustion and ultimately organ failure. At least I am built to deal with it; my friends aren't. This race has to be over quickly, or the reason why we're doing this won't matter one jot.

I'm fooling myself if I think they'll give up that easily. Soon both are matching me step for step and I realise that common sense went out of the window ages ago. Usually, when your muscles ache so badly you want to scream, you stop. Usually, when you can barely draw air into your burning lungs, you stop. But there's nothing usual about this race. Raw testosterone is driving them on in a deadly competition. It won't let them stop or acknowledge weakness. At this rate, it's going to kill them both.

Just to test my theory, I slow down. I might as well not be here. They pull ahead, battling on, head to head. I'm being soaked in the shower of sweat that flies from their sodden manes. From where I am, I'm able to monitor their conditions. Tygra worries me the most. He's all over the place and, from experience, I know that it won't be long before he's forced to give up. All I hope that enough sense remains in him to realise this before his blood boils in his veins and his brains explode.

It's with considerable relief (and not just for myself) when I see a stumble sap his remaining strength and bring him to the ground. I'm about to go on, but concern won't let me. I pull up, call to Lion-O to stop and hurry back to where Tygra is lying. He's in a bad way. Dark patches of sweat stain his uniform and his chest heaves in a painful attempt to get enough breath into his body. His trembling muscles and unseeing eyes tell of the terrible toll that this stupid race has had on him. I've seen this before, in cheetahs so desperate to prove their mettle on the racetrack that they have literally run themselves into the ground. I'll not let Tygra die, either because of his pride or mine.

What he needs is water, to soothe the fire inside and to cool his burning skin. We're on the edge of the Unicorn Forest and I hear a river gurgling in the background. I tear off his sleeves and toss them to Lion-O, who's standing watching, eyes wide with awe. "He needs water," I say. "Go wet these for me."

He doesn't move, but stands transfixed like a dummy. "I won," he says.

"What?"

"I beat you. I won. That means I'm your mate."

"Is that all that you're worried about?" I yell at him. "Tygra could die. Is that what you want? Stop acting like an idiot and get me that water!"

That does the trick. He snaps out of his trance and dashes away. While he's gone, I drag Tygra into the shade of a tree and strip him down to the waist. Poor lad, I think, looking at him. When this is over, I'll have to take him in hand. Less time in that study of his and a few early morning jogs would do him the world of good.

Lion-O is back in seconds with the sodden rags and I lay one across Tygra's forehead and use the other to wet his lips. That helps and I see clarity start to return to his clouded eyes. A little more water eases his parched tongue and the first thing he wants to know is about the race. I tell him that he's out of it and he looks crest-fallen.

"Then the choice has been made," he says quietly.

"It's not over yet," I say. "Will you be all right here?"

He nods. I get to my feet and face Lion-O. "Do you really want to continue with this?" I ask him.

"I will win," he says, assuredly.

And we start running again. But I sense that the incident with Tygra has taken the wind out of his sails. My angry words seem to have shaken him to the core and his heart is no longer in it. That doesn't stop him valiantly continuing on. To be honest, I'm exhausted physically and mentally. Logic is telling me to stop, warning that my own breaking point isn't far off. Three miles in searing heat at a blistering pace can defeat even the swiftest of us. I almost hear the groan from my aching muscles when a steep hill looms before us. I grit my teeth and tell them to get on with it and quit moaning. And, to give them credit, they oblige, even if each step is agony.

So focused am I on the job in hand that it's not until I crest the hill do I realise Lion-O is no longer with me. I pause and look back. He's at the bottom of the slope on his hands and knees. It's over, for both of us, and I tell him so. But he's obstinate and tries to get back to his feet, only to have his legs buckle under him and deposit his backside in the dust.

"Go home," I say wearily. "It's over."

I walk away and don't look back. Once I'm out of sight, I too collapse and lay there for a long while. It's all I can do to breathe. He came close, but then I am a cheetah, the fastest of all the peoples of Thundera. My wounded pride is restored.

The pain passes and I search out the sounds of running water I hear in the distance. Deeper into the forest, I find a sheltered glade, fanned by gentle breezes. Its crystal clear lake promises refreshment and does not disappoint. It's bliss and I float dreamily upon its surface. That is until I find myself being buffeted by a horde of spawning fish. Even here, Mas has caused frenzy. I swim back to the shore and seek out a place to rest. This time I do pay heed to Willa's warning about the dangers of the forest animals on this day. I find a tree with broad limbs and shin up it. I sleep in its boughs, lulled by the soft murmur of rustling leaves, until once again my peace is disturbed when several stags decide to stage a test of strength beneath my tree. The clashing of antlers and the grunts of the opponents make sleep impossible, so I turn on my stomach to watch them.

The thought occurs that we have much in common. The fighting, the everlasting struggle - it all seems so familiar. At least the stags go to it with a purpose, for the winner claims his prize in the submission of the waiting group of wide-eyed does and secures the birth of his progeny next spring. For the deer, their future is secure. But what of us? We don't talk about it, but as it stands at the moment, if we're honest, we're extinct. Once we're gone, that's it. And that will be our epitaph.

'Here lie the Thundercats,

Last of the peoples of Thundera.

They fought for right,

We'll remember them in song,

But they're just as dead,

As if they'd been wrong.'

Lion-O might talk of building empires here on Third Earth, but you need more than seven people for that. All we'll leave for posterity is a crumbling fortress and a few bleached bones. There will be no future generations. In the end, it all comes down to genetics. There are too many biological differences for us to have children. We all know that and still we carry on as though we're laying the foundations for some great Thunderian rebirth. It's crazy, but it's all that keeps us sane. It's why we bother getting up in the morning. It's why we carry on our traditions. It's why we uphold the Code of Thundera. It's why we keep battling on. What else have we got?

Each other, I hear you say. Yes, we have that. We are all we've got now. We're a funny sort of family, held together by our beliefs rather than blood. Partly, that's why I'm not prepared to destroy it by taking one of them as my mate. As I've seen today, it would cause too many complications. What would Snarf say about the tensions then? I do know he would like to see Lion-O and me together. It makes sense. A lord needs a lady, after all, and I am the only suitable candidate on the planet. We seem to keep being pushed that way. I admit, I do find him handsome and attractive, but I can't translate the feelings I had for the little cub he used to be into the adult he is now. He will always be little Lion-O to me, however tall or broad he gets, sitting on my lap asleep on lazy Thunderian summer afternoons while I read stories to him.

Which is why I now feel so badly about our earlier encounter. He's still adjusting to having an adult body and trying to cram in what Tygra describes as those all-important "first hand life experiences". I wonder if he'll ever do it. Jaga knows I've lived every day of my twenty-six years and I'm still feel like I'm lagging. But that's no excuse. I should have known better. I have a duty to protect him. Instead, I lusted after him - and that was all it was, a heady mixture of hormones and a vivid imagination - and have probably done more damage to his fragile mental state than a whole horde of Mutants ever could.

The thought crosses my mind that I should contact the Lair to make sure they're all right. There's a gloom to the forest now, for Mas is slowly slipping from the sky, his work done for another year. I'm on the verge of calling them, when a noise from above attracts my attention. I roll onto my back and look up to see three turtledoves, two males desperately trying to win the affections of a disinterested female to her lifelong mate. Even as he wanes, Mas still has influence. I decide to leave contact until the morning and instead watch the sky grow darker. Thousands of stars pierce the blackness of night and gaze down at me. I once told the twins that they represent thousands of possibilities and it's true. I want to believe that we aren't alone, that somewhere out there a few of our fellow Thunderians survive, despite the horror of that final day. I want to believe, but I'm not sure I do.

I stare at the stars for hours, wondering and thinking, until a rosy glow peeps between the leaves and tells me that dawn is at hand. I stretch, wincing at the ache in my stiff muscles, and drop from my branch. The forest is quiet, at peace after the uproar of yesterday. Third Earth is back to business as usual. With a sigh, I turn for home and cover the short distance a good deal faster than yesterday.

The Lair is strangely quiet when I pass through the main doors. In the kitchen, someone has left the kettle boiling. I make myself a cup of berry tea and go in search of my friends. Every room is empty until I get to the Paw Hangar, where I find Panthro practising his curses on the Thundertank.

"Morning," I say, wandering over to him.

He looks up, grimy with grease, and grins. "Morning yourself. Wondered when you'd be back."

"You didn't doubt it, then?"

"Nah. It'd take more than a few randy males to keep you away." He takes up a cloth and wipes his hands with more care than the task requires. When he meets my eyes, a more serious mood has replaced his joviality. "About yesterday," he begins.

Here it comes. I try to head him off, telling him there's no need to explain.

"Just hear me out," he says. "I said some things that weren't meant for you, Cheetara. I'm sorry. I usually take my frustrations out on the Thundrillium generator, but yesterday..."

"Was a little crazy for all of us, Panthro. Don't worry." He nods, smiles gratefully and returns to his work. Unfortunately for him, I have a curious streak a mile wide that refuses to let him get off that easily. Perching on one of the tank's arms, I innocently sip my tea and ask the obvious question.

"So who was it meant for?"

I hear a hearty chuckle from under the tank's hood. "How did I know you were going to ask that?"

"I'm intrigued. And I won't tell anyone, I promise." There's a long sigh, and I know I've got him.

"Once upon a time, I was considered a pretty good catch," he says. A moment passes and he emerges from under the hood and looks at me. "You're meant to say, 'Panthro, you still are'."

"Sorry, I'm a bit slow this morning. Panthro, you still are!"

"Hmm. Well, anyway, I played along with it - who wouldn't? - until the day I saw her." His eyes take on a glassy look as he stares away into the distance. "She was just perfect. Everything I've ever wanted. Good looks, smart, dead sexy. There was only one problem. She was married. Had a baby too. We tried to deny it, but in the end ... well, I'm sure you can guess. We were that in love that she was actually contemplating leaving her mate to be with me. I told her not to be foolish, but she was adamant. Anyhow, to cut a long story short, she was killed before it came to that. I took a solemn vow never to be with another until I had avenged her death. Didn't stop the hopefuls trying though. I'll admit, there have times I've been tempted and hated myself for it. I should be stronger than that." He gives me a rueful smile. "Panthers are meant to be strong in body and mind. So much for multi-tasking."

"You are, Panthro," I say, for once right on cue. "Did you find out who was responsible for her death?"

"Oh, I know who it was. Mutants, as always. She was out at a charitable mission when they attacked the place. She was killed outright." He sighs and shakes his head. "But that was on Thundera. It looks like I'm never going to be able to keep my promise to her, so a confirmed bachelor I remain." He falls silent, taking comfort from his memories.

I must admit, I'm not surprised. It's just the sort of thing I could imagine him doing. I'm honoured that he has shared this with me. I won't betray that trust. But there's something I have to know.

"You don't fancy me then?"

He shoots me a sideways glance. "I didn't say that. I just won't be acting on it though. Why d'you ask?"

Something has been bothering me ever since we arrived here on Third Earth. It's not the sort of thing you can idly throw into a conversation. But Panthro's been honest with me and so must I.

"Do you think Jaga only included me on the Flagship because of what I am rather than who I am?"

The spanner he was holding clatters to the floor. "What makes you think that?"

"Things," I say with a shrug. "Like what Snarf said the other day."

He comes over to me, puts his big hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye. "If you honestly believe that, then you do yourself and us a disservice, Cheetara. We couldn't do without you, surely you know that?"

"I run. What else can I do? I'm not technically minded like you. I can't build and design things like Tygra. I don't constantly save us like Lion-O. I just press buttons and fight a few Mutants."

"Oh, is that all?" Panthro says. "Guess you aren't earning your keep." He grins and I know he's teasing me. "Cheetara, I can't list all the things you do. So what if you've never built a Thundertank? There are lots of things I can't do. I know that I can't comfort the twins when they've had nightmares. I know that I can't rally us when our spirits are low. And I know there's no one I rather have backing me up in a fight. You're invaluable to our team. Don't ever sell yourself short."

"So, you've never discussed me in that way?" I ask hesitantly.

A knowing smile crosses his lips. "Let's just say that you've got three very big admirers. Lion-O has a crush on you the size of Hook Mountain and Tygra ... well, you know what he's like. But I know the signs. If you ever did decide to take yourself a mate, there's going to be two broken hearts and one of them will be mine."

"That's what worries me."

"But that's our problem, not yours. However you choose to live your life, Cheetara, the decision is always yours. No one's making it for you. Understand?"

I do and I inwardly thank him for his candour. At least now I know where I stand. Time to change the subject. "What happened to your ear?" I ask, noting its odd purple hue.

"Ah, now that I got from Tygra when we were scrapping yesterday. I gave him a piece of my mind and he gave me this," he says, gesturing to his ear as he returns to the rear engine. "But I got my own back."

I laugh. Knowing Panthro, I'll bet that Tygra is still feeling its effects today. As if in answer to my thoughts, he comes walking in, one hand clamped firmly to his jaw. He doesn't see me where I'm sitting and walks straight over to Panthro.

"What's good for a cracked tooth?" he mutters.

"A punch in the mouth?" I suggest brightly.

He sees me and his expression changes. "Oh, hi, I didn't see you there. Are you all right?"

I nod. Poor Tygra, as concerned as ever, and clearly in the wars again. "What happened to you?" I ask. I can't resist it. He hesitates and mumbles something. I look to Panthro for a translation.

"He said he got it for having a big mouth."

"You hit me," he says accusingly.

"You called me an old fool."

"Actually, I called you a stubborn old fool."

"You want another one?" Panthro growls, pulling himself up to his full height. If I didn't know better, I'd be worried. But this just good-natured banter and I know they're friends again. "Yeah, well, watch it next time, tiger," he says. He gives us both a look that says he knows it's time to leave. "I'm off to see what's for breakfast. I'll see you two later."

He goes, leaving us staring at each other awkwardly. At the best of times I know Tygra has trouble expressing how he feels. I can only imagine what he's going through now, so I make it easy for him.

"Recovered from our little race?" I ask.

"Yes. Thanks for coming back for me. I was pretty stupid back there, wasn't I?"

I have to agree with him on that one. "You could have died. And then who would clean out the air vents? Not me, that's for sure."

He gives a small laugh and some of his uneasiness slips away. "Sorry," he says. "About the bathroom thing. I don't know what came over me."

"I do. You kissed me."

A smile creeps across his lips. "Yes, I did, didn't I? Lucky me."

"Try it again and you'll have another cracked tooth."

"Might be worth it."

I sigh in mock exasperation. "Males! Honestly. Do you ever give up?"

"Depends on what we're after."

He's teasing me and I know it, but I don't mind. It's not often he's in this sort of mood. Most of the time, he's busy with this or worrying about that. Just occasionally we get flashes of what he could have been like had his family not screwed him up. Many of us come to Cat's Lair to escape something and in Tygra's case it's more obvious than most. It'll drive him crazy one day and I hope I'm there to help him through it. Of all of us, I sense he needs a friend the most. And for now, that's what I'm content to be.

So I tease him right back. "Hold that thought," I say, giving him a sly grin as I slide off the Thundertank. "And save me some toast. I'll be there in a minute." I head for the door. Two down, one to go, and I've been saving the most difficult one for last.

"Cheetara?" he calls after me. I turn and wait expectantly. "Go easy on him. He's pretty upset."

I understand. I nod and go on my way. A search finally finds him in his room. I knock and wait. No answer. But I'm persistent and keep knocking until I get a response.

"Go away, Snarf," comes a sullen voice.

"Actually, Lion-O, it's me. Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"We could start with why we're talking through a door." A few seconds later, it slides back and Lion-O is stood before me, hardly daring to look me in the eye. There's a gulf between us as wide as the River of Despair. It breaks my heart to feel this way. I can't lose him to the embarrassment of a crush gone too far. I struggle to find a way to reach him and I'm surprised when it's Lion-O who takes the plunge.

"Snarf says I should apologise." He finally looks up at me, a frown on his face. "For yesterday. Sorry."

"So am I, Lion-O. I'm old enough to know better."

"Meaning I'm not?" References to age always put him on the defensive. He thinks he's meant to feel grateful for losing all those years in suspension so that he could emerge a fully-fledged Lord of the Thundercats. Personally, I'd be furious and want everyone to know it too.

"Meaning that I knew what could happen yesterday and did nothing to avoid it."

Lion-O shakes his head. "No, it was my fault. I guess I've still got a lot to learn."

"Like dodging Panthro's left hook?" I say, noting the discoloration around his eye.

"Yeah, that too," he sighs. He lowers his gaze and stares dejectedly at the floor. "Where do we go from here?"

I want to hug him, to tell him that everything is all right, that nothing has changed. But we both have to redefine and respect our boundaries. "Lion-O?" I say. "Look at me." He does. "I care for you deeply - as a friend. And I will always be your friend, no matter what happens. I remember all the time we spent together on Thundera and it makes me very happy. I couldn't bear it if anything came between us, especially something as silly as this."

"Do you think," he says hesitantly, "that we could ever be anything more than just friends?"

I can't answer that, I tell him. We might be here years, or we might all be dead tomorrow. We'll have to wait and see. Anything is possible, I've learnt. Besides, a little hope never hurt anyone. He smiles and I know we're friends again. We'll put this behind us and remember it as a moment of madness.

Together we head downstairs to the Council Room where a heady aroma heralds breakfast. Snarf is in full flow, bending Panthro's ear with his thoughts on yesterday. "I never had time for all this nonsense in my day," he's saying as we enter. "Always too busy I was, snarf, snarf."

The relief is clear on Panthro's face when he sees us. "Thank Jaga," he whispers as we take a seat. "Another dose of Snarf's lament and I'll go crazy."

Unfortunately, Snarf hears that last remark. "Brr, all I'm saying, Panthro, is that I might have liked to feel a little bit invigorated yesterday. But, no, poor old Snarf was denied that experience. And do you know why?" he says, putting his hands on his hips.

"Candy fruit," mutters Panthro. I get the impression he's heard this before.

"Candy fruit," Snarf goes on. "Up to my arms in the stuff all morning and then the Berbils tell me that its juices block the effects of the Day of Mas, or the Silly Season, as they call it. That's why they gave us that bag of candy fruit. Why didn't they say sooner, snarf, snarf? Weeow, just my luck. I always miss out on all the fun."

"It wasn't that good," Lion-O says, consolingly.

"Still I wouldn't have minded a dose of youth," Snarf sniffs. "Not that I've got anyone to share it with."

"There's always that Tabbot and his mule," I suggest in all innocence.

Snarf huffs and storms out, muttering darkly to himself. Breakfast is convivial, especially when Tygra finally joins us. We talk and eat and discuss duties for the day and whether Tygra's tooth is busted or just loosened, and we laugh when Panthro seems disappointed when he's told it's only the latter, because, as he tells us, it's a matter of personal pride. So we tease him and laugh some more. It's how we deal with difficult days. Make light of it and move on. We have to - we've too much to lose. And in the grand scheme of things, what does any of it matter? I may get maudlin at times, but at least we are alive. Thousands died with Thundera. So however hard it gets, we must never forget that we are the lucky ones and we owe it to all those Thunderians to make the most of the lives we have been given. One day, we'll look back and say that these were good times. And they are.

As for me, well, if one day I do decide to take the plunge, I know now that we'll cope. Not that I'm planning anything yet awhile. For now, I'm happy as we are. During the long night, however, I've come to realise that my heart does hanker in a particular direction. Perhaps it's always been there, but yesterday made things just a little clearer. I don't know where it will lead me, but it's going to be fun finding out. And anyway, it's only a year until the next Silly Season...

The End

THUNDERCATS, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. and Ted Wolf. All rights reserved. Stories, characters and incidents mentioned in this work are entirely fictional. Characters, names, etc. are used without permission and the above story has no official endorsement. This is a work of fan fiction, for entertainment purposes only and certainly not for profit. No infringement of rights is intended nor any harm meant by its creation and existence. If this work brings a little happiness into this dreary old world, then so much the better. May you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thundercats Forever!

 

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