I'm not sure what I expected on my return to Thundera. Correction. Make that my forced return. Panthro turned up on Third Earth a few days ago and practically packed my bag for me. "Three months is long enough for anyone, Cheetara," he had said. Well, maybe. Then again, maybe it isn't long enough. I'd like to say that I'm happy to be home again. The truth is, I've been dreading it. I knew I would have to return sooner or later, for the usual tour of duty on Third Earth is only a month. But I kept assuring everyone that I was all right and that everything was under control and that I wanted to stay just a few weeks more. At least part of that lie was true. Without Mumm-ra, Mutants or Lunatacs, the people of Third Earth are able to get on with their lives, and seem to be doing so in fine style. Had I wished it, my diary would have been full every day with any number of parties and festivals. But I did not wish it. In the midst of so much joy, my own situation would have been that much harder to bear. Hiding away seemed a better option than revealing my unhappy state to the world.

Oh, but I'm so clever, thinking anyone was fooled. Of course they knew. That was why they kept coming. Any excuse to call, it seemed. Baskets of fruit from the Berbils and are you feeling all right, Cheetara? Have you heard from Thundera lately and why don't you come over to the Treetop Kingdom for a while? Aren't you lonely here at Cat's Lair, all on your own, the Wollos wanted to know. Yes, I wanted to scream out, I am lonely, and it's my fault. But I didn't. I reassured the visitors and tried to put a brave face on it. Each time I closed the door, I was relieved I had made it through another session without breaking down and embarrassing them and myself. Being home does at least spare me such concern; here, everyone knows. I must be old news by now.

Which is the reason for my current nervousness as I stand in the landing bay at Cat's Lair. Looking around, I note with relief that on the surface nothing seems to have changed. It's all reassuringly familiar. The same faces, the same smells, the same urgent bustle. Here, I am not so much an object of fascination as a nuisance. People dodge round me, muttering all the while about the inconvenience of my presence in blocking their direct route from A to B. Funny thing is, I want to stand here. For the time being, this is my special, safe spot.

That sounds strange, I know. But it's what will happen when I venture beyond it that frankly makes me quake in my boots. I'll be part of Lair life again, meeting old friends, hearing their news. And eventually, I'll find out what's happened in my absence. I dread that the most. I know what I will hear, you see. Nature, as the scientists are fond of telling us, abhors a vacuum. The gap my leaving three months ago created must surely have been filled by now. I don't want to know who she is, or how beautiful she is, or how lovely is her mane, or what a pure singing voice she has. I only want to know he is happy. I won't be able to escape the details forever, but the longer I can shield myself, the better I'll be able to bear it when the time does come. I hope.

In the midst of my reverie, something hits me in the back. I stumble forwards, dropping my bag, and end up sprawling across the floor. A gruff voice from above roundly curses me for getting in the way and a murmur of agreement with this sentiment ripples around the hangar. I feel the venom of their stares and know I can stay in my safe spot no longer. It protected me for a while, but reality intruded, rudely thrusting me back into the hurly-burly. I am also now painfully aware of my place in the Lair hierarchy. Clearly I have slipped a few notches if I am to be treated with such a lack of respect. Had this happened several months ago, Lion-O would have had a few sharp words of his own for those responsible. But I'm forgetting myself. I'm just Cheetara, a Thundercat, expected to pull her weight like everyone else and not get in the way. No special treatment or regard. I'm just me. And what a frightening thought that is.

I'm not sure why. I've been alone before. In fact, most of my life has been spent in my own company. They say that only children have lonely childhoods, and I can't argue with that. Mine was lonelier still given that my mother died when I was a baby. Father was there, but he was a distant figure, forever grieving his loss, never understanding that I might have needed him too. We lived under the same roof; that was the extent of our relationship. Perhaps he blamed me for her death. I'll never know now. He was taken ill when I was out on a mission and died before I returned. I expect he had something uncharitable to say about his only daughter putting friends before family, but the funny thing is, my friends are my family. The beginnings of it were there before Thundera exploded. Our time on Third Earth cemented it. Partly, it's the nature of the job. You can't help forming attachments to people on whom your very life may some day depend. But with us, it's more than that. They are the brothers and sisters I never had. Lion-O's was the love I didn't know I had been missing until I lost it.

Silly me.

Silly scared me.

There, I've said it. I'm a coward. That's why I stayed on Third Earth so long. There was no one there to remind me, you see. Not that I needed any help in that department. I've spent many a long day and night agonising over my decision. I'm pretty sure that I was right. Well, about fifty per cent sure. It'll have to do. What's done is done.

I've lingered here too long. Getting to my feet, I shoulder my bag and leave the boys to their toys. They're not sorry to see me go. Before the hangar door closes, I hear a final parting shot. This time, I'll let it pass. I'm tired and in no mood to bandy words with foul-tempered oafs. Besides, a full blown argument will inevitably attract attention and bring Lion-O down here. Then I'll be embarrassed and he'll be embarrassed. Right now, it's just not worth the hassle.

Keeping my head down and my thoughts to myself, I make my way towards the staircase and the upper levels. I'm assuming my old bedroom is still mine. If someone else has taken it over in my absence, it's going to make the sleeping arrangements awkward. Still, I'm sure Tygra will let me use his sofa, that is, if Bengali hasn't beaten me there first. To my surprise, I find that thought amuses me. The memory of that last morning in his room makes me smile for the first time since the break-up. Perhaps Panthro was right after all, that I was too long on Third Earth wallowing in my misery. I certainly didn't anticipate my return having this effect on me.

It's welcome, but I try to stifle it. Anyone seeing me walking along smiling to myself will think I've gone mad. This is the sort of moment you need a companion, who you can persuade to say something funny so that you'll have a good reason to laugh out loud. It says something for me that I have to laugh at my own jokes. I can't decide whether it's comical or just plain tragic.

Before I can make up my mind, I've collided with a firm something that stops me dead in my tracks. When I've recovered, the first thing I see is blue. Then orange. Then red. The very person I was hoping to avoid and I've walked straight into him.

Nothing in life has prepared me for such a moment. I stare at him. He stares at me. What to say? What to do? It's as though we've been frozen in time, locked in this weird situation, stripped of our power to react. As subtle forms of torture go, this is excruciating.

Lion-O finally comes to his senses before I do. His gaze lowers to the hand he laid on my arm to catch me before I fell. He quickly removes it and I see his cheeks flush.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was only..."

"It's all right," I say.

"So, you're back. How was Third Earth?"

"All right."

"Good." A lengthy pause ensues. "And you?"

"All right, I guess. You?"

He shrugs. "The same."

Whatever that means. The same what? The same feelings, the same hurt? I yearn to know, but I stop myself from asking. It ceased to be my business when I left him.

"Actually," he goes on. "I'm glad I've bumped into you. There's something I wanted you to tell you before you hear it from someone else."

"Oh?" I say, trying to sound unconcerned. It doesn't take a sixth sense to guess what it might be. A statement like that can only mean one thing. And suddenly I don't want to be here. I want to run, far, far away, where news like this can't reach me.

I don't, of course. Any ideas I might have had of flight are quickly quashed when Lion-O picks up my bag and leads the way to his office. I follow, hating each step that brings me closer to the hateful thing I must hear. He is right though. I would rather hear it from him. At least then I'll know for sure that he is happier without me.

We enter his room, and he drops my bag onto a chair and goes round behind his desk. I stand waiting, like a naughty school cub summoned to the headmaster's office. The feeling of foreboding is certainly the same. What punishment for my misdemeanours? The worst possible, I'm sure of it.

He searches through several neat piles of papers and finally produces an envelope. He is on the verge of handing it to me when he hesitates.

"Before I give you this," he says, not looking at me, which is always a bad sign when unwelcome news is about to be delivered. "I just want to say thank you."

That isn't quite what I was expecting. My stunned silence makes him glance up.

"For what you did, I mean," he explains. "I've had time to think about what you said and... well, I've come to the conclusion that you were right. It was fun, as you said, but now I think I'm ready to move onto something more permanent, more..." He pauses, taking his time to select the right words. "More meaningful, I guess. How about you?"

It's all I can to do nod. I'm too choked to speak. It didn't hurt this much when I spoke those words to him, mainly because I knew I was lying. But Lion-O, he speaks from the heart. Oh, I know I've no one to blame but myself. I provoked this response. I have no cause to get upset. Or so I tell myself.

"Which brings me to this," he says, holding the envelope out to me. "Read it."

I take it from him, as gingerly as if it had been a lump of Thundranium ore. Carefully turning it over, I find that the flap has not been gummed down. The revelation is almost upon me. It will be denied no longer. I take a deep breath. I lift the flap.

A gold-edged card stares back at me. Wedding stationery. I press the flap shut. I don't need to see any more. I know enough.

"You're getting married," I say. And, although I dread to know, I find myself asking the question. "Who is she?"

"Oh, someone," he says. "You'd like her."

I doubt that, but I say nothing.

"She's smart and beautiful and... well, she's really special."

"She sounds it," I say.

"The only thing is," he adds, "I'm not sure how she really feels about me."

I feel my mouth drop open, and quickly shut it. "Then why are you getting married?"

"Because the time is right," he says.

"And what does she say about it?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't asked her yet."

"Well, you must be pretty certain to have the invites ready to send out," I say.

"Yes, I am."

"Then why...?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "If you knew her, you'd understand," he says. "She likes to pretend that she's strong, but deep down she's really quite sensitive. She worries what people think of her. As if that mattered."

I smother the urge to tell him that to some people it does. What does he know? He's the Lord of Thundera. He can do what he likes when he likes. He doesn't have to prove himself to the world. Meanwhile, the rest of us are still struggling to catch up.

"Then what will you do?" I ask.

He rounds the desk and stands before me. He's so close that I could reach out and touch him. But I don't. That pleasure belongs to another now.

"I'll tell her the truth," he says softly, tenderly almost. "I'll tell her that I don't care what people think or say. I'll tell her that her happiness is all I care about, that I would do anything for her, that I would live as the meanest creature on earth if that were what she wanted. I would tell her... that I love her."

As he continues with this declaration, I feel the beginnings of tears coming to my eyes. To hear him speak like this about someone else is more painful than I can say. But for his sake and mine, I can't let him see me like this. I have to interrupt him mid-sentence. It is taking all my strength to contain my emotions and I can't bear to hear any more.

"Shouldn't you be telling her this?" I say.

Silence for a moment, in which he gazes into my eyes with such affection that I feel my fragile grip on my feelings start to slip.

"I just have," he says.

Without another word, he takes the envelope from me and extracts the card. He holds it up before my eyes to let me read the words. I stare at it, unable to believe what I am seeing. I take it from him, as if holding it in my own hands somehow makes it more real, more believable. I read it again and again, until the words are imprinted on my brain for all time. You are cordially invited, I read, to the wedding of Lord Lion-O and Lady Cheetara.

I finally drag my eyes from the card and look up into his face. I see no guile or amusement in his gently smiling features. He is serious about this. "I don't understand," I say. "What...?"

"It's simple," he says. "I'm asking you to marry me."

"But," I begin.

"No buts," he says, putting his finger to my lips. "Will you at least hear me out before you make your decision?" He sees my nod and goes on. "When you left me, I didn't know what to do. I don't think I've ever felt so lost in my whole life, not even when Thundera exploded. At least then there was still a little hope. But you left me none." He bows his head. "In the past couple of months, I've been to a place where I never want to go again. The thought of never being with you ever again was so terrible that it didn't seem worth going on. The worst of it was that I didn't even know why." The eyes he finally lifts to meet mine are filled with tears. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on, Cheetara? Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

"I couldn't," I say. "You wouldn't have understood."

"You should have tried," he says. "I would have listened. When Tygra told me--"

"He did?"

Lion-O nodded. "He told me the truth about what really drove you away. He said what I did with that knowledge was up to me, whether to accept it... or fight it."

"And?"

His hands close around my mine in a fierce grip as though he fears I will fly from him. "Cheetara, I don't care what people say. I love you. That should be enough. Let them think what they like. It only matters that we know the truth."

At his words, three months of bottled-up hurt and pain come pouring out. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm clinging to him, crying freely. I came back to Thundera, expecting to have to be brave, yet here we are, together again despite my best misguided efforts. He's right. I should have confided my fears to him. Here, safe in his embrace, how silly they seem now.

"I'm sorry," I say when we finally pull apart. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn't mean a word of it."

"But I did," he says. "I meant it when I said that I'm ready for a more meaningful relationship. I see now that by not acting on my feelings sooner, how it must have seemed to you, and everyone else, if they matter. This isn't just some casual fling, Cheetara. I love so. I've always loved you."

"And I love you, Lion-O."

"Then marry me and make me that happiest cat on all of Thundera."

I'm sure the whole of Cat's Lair hears my answer. I see my joy reflected in his eyes. We lay the pain of our separation to rest with a kiss so passionate that he leaves me breathless. I gaze upon him, my love, and know that I want to be with him for the rest of my life.

"That's a yes, then?" he says.

I giggle like a giddy kitten.

"Good, because these invites cost a fortune. And then there's this."

He takes a small velvet box from the desk and opens it, revealing a ring with a bright crystal. He slips it onto my finger and smiles. Then I see a more serious light come into his eyes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Don't ever leave me again."

I kiss his pain away and promise that in future I will share my doubts, as he must with me, and that we will work through them together.

"You know, that's just what Tygra said we had to do," he says.

"Well, he's become rather an old hand at giving advice to the lovelorn," I say, and tell him about his kindness towards Pumyra and Bengali.

Lion-O smiles. "He's a good friend. If it hadn't been for him, I would never have had the courage to tell you how I felt."

"Remind me to thank him."

He nods, and then I notice a gleam in his eye that I know only too well. "So," he says, trying to feign indifference, "have you given any thought to where you'll be sleeping tonight?"

"Any suggestions?" I say, as if I didn't know what he would say.

"Hmm, well, I have this double bed that's awfully big for one. If you like, I could add another pillow."

I smile up at him and tell him that, yes, that would be very nice indeed. With that, he kisses me, and I know I'm home to stay.

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