Up till that moment, it had been a quiet morning in Cat's Lair. While Snarf had been on the prowl looking for a volunteer, willing or not, to help him with the breakfast dishes, Lion-O had managed to escape to the serenity of a window seat. The sun poured in, gently warming his body while he sat trying to read a book on the history of Thundera. Trying, because in an hour he had managed just two pages and had now read the same paragraph three times. Concentrating was hard when there were things on his mind, harder still when those worries were about a friend. So, tossing the book aside, he jumped down from the seat and set off towards the Sword Room, resolved to consult the Eye of Thundera and put his mind at rest.

"All right, Cheetara, where are you?" he murmured to himself. "You should be back by now. Time to find out what's wrong."

That was something that had been troubling him since the night before, when Cheetara had wandered into the Control Room while he had been on night duty.

"Anything happening?" she had asked.

"No, not really," he had replied. "Everyone seems to be sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Everyone except me," she had sighed. With that, she had dropped into the other chair and put her head in her hands. "I can't sleep tonight. I feel odd. I don't know how else to describe it."

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

Off-hand, he couldn't remember the last time, if ever, Cheetara had confided her troubles to him. He often turned to her, and she would listen and offer words of encouragement and everything would seem better, just as she had when he was a cub on Thundera. A long time ago now, but for him it seemed like only yesterday. Back then, he had idolised her and still did, this beautiful female Thundercat, who could out race the wind, yet always let him win; who always had a smile and kind word for him; who had soothed his childish tears. Now she needed him and for some reason he felt acutely embarrassed. But he was Lord of the Thundercats, not a cub anymore, and he had his duty to the others, whatever his own feelings.

"Can I help, Cheetara?"

To his guilty relief, she had shaken her head. "Not really, Lion-O. Not unless you can banish strange feelings."

"Is it your sixth sense?"

"No, that I can handle. This is more like... well, you know when the controls are playing up and the connections are sparking? If you're brave enough to touch them, you get that tingling sensation throughout your whole body. It's like that, only more annoying."

"Maybe it's an excess of energy," he had suggested. "I get fidgety like that sometimes when there's not much happening."

"Perhaps," she had mused. "How long till dawn? I do feel as though I need a run."

"Another couple of hours. If you like, we can sit up and talk till then."

Again that smile, letting him down gently. "Thanks, Lion-O, but I feel too restless. I'll go and get something from the kitchen. Want anything?"

He had declined and she had left him. Once again the Lair had fallen silent, counting the minutes to the coming of dawn and the uproar of a new day. Then, when first light had crept across the sky, she had returned, looking in on him before going for what she described as an extended run. Mindful of Snarf's advice about making personal comments, especially at this hour of the morning, he hadn't mentioned that she looked tired and had put it down to her sleepless night. He had tried not to be overly concerned when an hour passed and she was not back. He had even had a good stab at breakfast despite the worry that knotted his stomach every time his eyes fell on her empty chair. He had tried to be reassured when the others had said that Cheetara often had restless periods like this, something they had called cabin-fever, and her only way of coping with it was to run and keep running. But now she had been gone four and a half hours, and he had come to the conclusion that that was quite long enough.

As he reached the door, it opened and the very person in question appeared. Sweaty, wild of eye and breathing hard, she shot past him and made a quick inspection of the room. Muttering something under her breath and shaking her head, she was on the verge of leaving again when Lion-O stopped her.

"Cheetara, how are you feeling?"

There was a troubled expression on her face when she glanced up at him. "Have you seen it?"

"Have I seen what?" he said. She huffed and pushed past him. "Wait," he called, running after her and finally stopping her again. "I can't help you if I don't know what you've lost."

"My insignia," she murmured. Her hand went to her head and absently rubbed her temple. "It's gone. I've lost it. I don't know where."

"Did you have it this morning when you left?"

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. "I think so. I'm sure I did. Oh, I don't know! What's wrong with me?" she sobbed. "I can't remember and my head hurts so much!"

"It does?" Lion-O said, gently brushing a tear from her cheek.

"Don't touch!" she hissed, pushing his hand away. "I hurt all over."

She backed away from him until she hit the wall. Groaning and clutching at her head, she started whimpering and shaking, much to Lion-O's alarm. Given her previous reaction, he was reluctant to approach her again, although clearly she needed help. To his relief, Snarf came bustling along the corridor, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped short when he saw them and looked questioningly from the sobbing Cheetara to his charge.

"Now what's happened?" he purred. "Brrr, Lion-O..."

"Nothing to do with me, Snarf. Cheetara isn't feeling too good. Can you go and get--"

"Mutants!" Cheetara suddenly exclaimed.

"Where?!" Snarf shrieked, leaping high into the air and landing in Lion-O's waiting arms.

"They must have taken it," she said. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but now her eyes were shining. "Thank Jaga for that! I thought I was going mad." She pushed herself off the wall and smiled with relief. "Sorry about that. I'll go and get it from them."

"No, Cheetara, wait," Lion-O said, putting Snarf down and hurrying after her.

"It's all right. I can manage," she said, when he caught up with her.

"But how do you know they have it?"

"They must have it. They were here yesterday... weren't they?" She looked desperately from one puzzled face to the other and tears began to gleam in her eyes. "They weren't here, were they? What's wrong with me?"

"Have you still got that feeling from last night?" Lion-O asked. She nodded. "Then I think Pumyra should have a look at you. You might be sickening for something."

She raised her eyebrows and regarded him with annoyance. "Sickening for something? Are you saying that I've imagined my Thundercat insignia going missing?"

"Missing?" echoed Snarf. "Weeow, where's it gone?"

"That's what I want to know."

Lion-O shook his head helplessly. "Well, I'm sure I don't know, Cheetara. Frankly, I'm more worried that you think we had Mutants here yesterday."

"I was confused, that's all. I've got to find my insignia. Where is it?"

"Forget the damned thing," Lion-O snapped, fast losing his patience. "I'll get you another. Only come with me now and see Pumyra and--"

"Give up my insignia? How dare you! Jaga gave me that. It's mine. It's the only bit of home I have left. It's all I have to remind me of when... when..." She faltered and once again her hand wandered to her head. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I know you're only trying to help. I'll be all right once I've been for my run."

"But you've already been out," said Snarf, raising himself up on his tail to get a better view of her face. "You were gone a long time, Cheetara. You even missed breakfast, although I saved you a glass of freshly squeezed berry juice just how you like it, with a slice of candy fruit and ice."

"Thanks, Snarf, I'll have it later. But for now..." She blinked several times and ran a hand through her mane. "What was I saying?"

"This is really starting to worry me, Cheetara," Lion-O said. "Stay here and I'll call the Tower."

"No, I'm all right," she said. "I need to clear my head, that's all. Don't tell the others. They'll only fuss. I'm going for a run. I'll be back for breakfast." With that, she sprinted away down the corridor.

"Well, I'll go and make a start on breakfast then," Snarf said, wiping his hands on his tea towel. "Seems to come round quicker every day."

"Don't be silly, Snarf," Lion-O said with a touch of reproof. "She's not well, you can see that."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Lion-O only half heard him. What to do? Follow her? Yes, that might work. Keep an eye on her from a distance, just to be sure that she didn't come to harm. No need to let her know that he was there. Sooner or later, however, he was going to have to tell the other Thundercats, despite what she had said. The only question was whether sooner was better than later. Instinct was whispering in his ear that he should tell them now. After all, he had seen worse symptoms than hers escalate into major problems in less time than it took Snarf to make berry pancakes. There again, to betray the trust she had placed in him was unforgivable. And perhaps she would feel better once she had returned from her run. The last thing he wanted was to cause a fuss and then look silly when it came to nothing.

"You should tell the other Thundercats," Snarf said with some authority, breaking Lion-O's reverie. "It could be catching, you know."

"And what if it's nothing?"

Snarf sniffed and folded his arms. "Better safe than sorry, snarf, snarf."

"All right, we'll tell them. On one condition. We wait and see how Cheetara is when she returns. If she's not better, we involve the others. Okay?"

Snarf shrugged. "Whatever you say, Lion-O. You're Lord of the Thundercats, after all."

"Yes, I am," Lion-O murmured, as the little creature trudged back to the kitchen. "But on days like these, it's a responsibility I could well do without."

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

Of all the elements, Cheetara believed that she shared an affinity with the air. Today, however, she felt more like the sodden earth beneath her feet.

Travelling at half her normal speed had left her feeling drained beyond belief. With exhaustion came confusion, and the loss of awareness of what was up or down or left or right. She slowed, barely avoiding the mossy trunks of the trees that she wove between like a drunken Berbil. Their sharp branches snagged in her mane and scratched at her arms, until her heavy feet caught on a gnarled root hidden in the carpet of fallen leaves. The jolt as she hit the floor shook every bone in her body. Before her dazed eyes, trees waltzed across the golden floor, like so many dancers at the grand balls once held in Thundera's shining halls. For a moment, she believed she was home, so real was the image. But then the music stopped and the dancers became trees once more, solid and unmoving. No, not Thundera, she realised. Third Earth. The Forest of the Unicorns, most likely. How had she got there? The last thing she could remember clearly was last night. Unable to sleep, she had got up and talked to... well, someone, she wasn't sure who it was exactly. The memory was too vague and remained annoyingly beyond her reach.

Minutes of fruitless speculation passed until she finally became aware of the gentle sounds of a rippling stream, promising refreshment to the weary traveller. Standing up was impossible, so, on her hands and knees, she dragged herself towards it. Finally, a crystal gash appeared between the trees. Collapsing on the bank, she dipped her hands into the cool waters and drank deep. Then, resting her head on her arms, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments of peace.

It was short-lived, however, for suddenly the quiet world of birdsong and rustling leaves exploded in a cacophony of grunts and howls. Before she could react, a pair of knees thudded into her spine, pinning her to the floor. Hands grabbed her arms and pulled them roughly behind her back. Then a coarse rope was pressed against her flesh. Someone was trying to tie her hands together. In panic, she struck out, connected with something soft and heard her attacker groan with pain. He fell off her and she rolled away. Brown unkempt fur and reaching talons spun before her eyes until finally a tree trunk broke her momentum. Precious seconds slipped away as the dizziness that clouded her mind confounded her attempts to get to her feet. Then something hard hit her over the head and the ground rushed up to meet her. Once more, her attackers moved in, surrounding her with hairy feet and guttural growls. Brutemen, she guessed. But that made little sense. The Thundercats had fought to free them from Mutant oppression in the past. Why would they be attacking her now?

For the time being, they seemed to content to see her bound hand and foot. Ropes were passed around her ankles and wrists and tightened viciously. She struggled, and was met with a firm hand on the back of her head that pushed her nose into the ground and held her there while an icy presence was forced around her neck, one which burned her skin at contact and sapped all strength from her body. She fought as best she could, squirming wildly and trying to kick out, but all the struggling in the world could not prevent them clamping the Thundranium collar shut and forcing her into unconsciousness.

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

Rows of screens stared blankly at the intruder who had come to disturb their peace. For his part, Lion-O let his gaze wander round the room and wondered what to do. Everything seemed in order. For once, all was quiet on Third Earth. It was a perfect day, filled with sunshine and the warm smells of autumn, and there was nothing to do. Nothing to take his mind off his earlier encounter with Cheetara, nothing into which he could sink his itching teeth. Despite what he had said to Snarf, worry continued to claw at his insides and it was taking great effort to reduce its noise to reasonable levels.

As if in answer to his prayers, the Sword of Omens obligingly growled into life at his hip. Holding it up to his eyes, he called upon its power of Sight Beyond Sight. Immediately, an image of Cheetara being attacked by a dozen Brutemen appeared. They hit her, held her down, pinned a collar around her neck. Lion-O felt a snarl rise in his throat as he watched them drag her limp body along behind them. And then the Eye of Thundera filled with a blazing light, its brilliance agonising to the mortal eye. Lion-O cried out in pain and surprise, and clutched his hands to his blinded eyes. Everywhere was that white, brilliant light, and at his side, Snarf's concerned twittering.

"Weeow, Lion-O, what happened? Talk to old Snarf!"

"Cheetara," he gasped, reaching for the support of a chair. "Trouble. Brutemen. The forest."

Snarf leapt up on the chair and activated the communicator channel. "Snarf to Tower of Omens, come in! We've got big problems, snarf, snarf."

"You're telling me!" Bengali's gruff voice crackled from the device. "The next time Tygra gets one of these hair-brained schemes, I'm taking a holiday. Our sensors have been wiped out and--"

"Cheetara's in trouble and Lion-O's been blinded. You've got to help us!"

Familiar shapes had started to emerge from the white fog, enough for Lion-O to struggle over to the communicator and take over. "Bengali, take whoever's there and get over to the Forest of the Unicorns. Help Cheetara. We'll join you as soon as we can. This is one problem we'll nip in the bud!"

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

The Thundertank was making good speed across the vast meadows of waving grasses, but for its occupants the journey seemed to be taking forever. All play forgotten, Panthro had had the tank ready and waiting by the time Lion-O had made it down to the hangar. The briefest of explanations had been all that was needed to get him muttering curses under his breath and pushing the engines to their limit. No one was in the mood for talking, making for a very tense atmosphere, which was finally broken by the sudden bleeping of the onboard communicator.

"Have you found her?" Lion-O demanded of the caller. "Is she all right? Was she--"

"She isn't here," came Tygra's voice. "There's no sign of her."

"She has to be! I saw her being attacked by Brutemen."

"Well, that's odd, to say the least. Brutemen are generally peaceful creatures."

Lion-O bristled at the doubt in his voice. "I know what I saw, Tygra. Cheetara was in trouble."

"Then perhaps there's more to this than meets the eye. We know the Mutants have used Brutemen in the past for their own nefarious purposes."

"Blasted Mutants," Panthro growled. "If those pesky critters are involved, they've probably taken her straight to Castle Plun-darr. Meet you there, Tygra." He spun the Tank around, muttering darkly, and as he did so, the communicator again came to life. This time it was Snarf calling from Cat's Lair.

"Um, Lion-O, I think there's been a mistake," he said.

"Yes, and the Mutants have made it. We're on our way to rescue Cheetara from their clutches."

"But Cheetara is here."

Panthro slammed on the brakes, bringing the Thundertank to a grinding halt that almost catapulted the twins out of the back. "What did he just say?"

"That Cheetara was back at the Lair," Lion-O replied numbly. "Snarf, is she all right? Let me talk to her. Something's very wrong here."

"She wasn't feeling too good," said Snarf. "She's gone to lie down for a while."

Lion-O could feel Panthro's gaze upon him and looked round to see the obvious question in his friend's eyes. "There has to be a simple explanation," he said. "I know what I saw!"

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

Pain, and the grinding of one rib against another, forced back the safe haven of sleep. Cheetara groaned, not wanting to open her eyes. The drag of the Thundranium collar was wonderfully irresistible and pulled her back into the comforting black veils that still hung in her mind. Another jolt sent them flying and, with sleep denied, she opened her eyes. Still on the floor, her situation had changed only in the hairiness of the feet she saw. The fur was a lighter brown, the claws shorter, and one foot was drawn back to deliver another blow. Looking up confirmed what she had already guessed about their owner. Jackalman grinned nastily down at her.

"Nay-ha, she's awake, Slithe," he called over his shoulder. "A little encouragement always helps."

"As long as you haven't damaged her too much," came the reptilian's gravely voice. "You know what Vultureman said, yesss."

"She's all right," Jackalman said. "Get up, damn you!"

The effects of the Thundranium made her slow, and once more the foot hit her squarely in the ribcage. The force of the blow made bones quake and muscles groan. She rolled onto her side, trying to fight the need to cry out, and wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. To be free of her bonds was a relief, but not to her advantage while she continued to be beaten like this.

She was spared further punishment when a tin plate flew across the room, missing Jackalman by inches. He cowered away, clutching his hands over his head.

"You cloth-eared fool!" Slithe roared. "What did I just tell you?"

"Sorry, Slithe," Jackalman whimpered.

"'Sorry, Slithe'," the reptilian muttered. "If you say it enough, jackal, one day you might actually mean it. I've told you once and I'll not say it again. You damage our investment and you'll take her place, yesss."

While Slithe berated his fellow Mutant, Cheetara slowly uncurled and, sitting up, tested the limits of her strength. The ropes might have been removed, but the Thundranium collar still weighed heavily. If only she could get it off, her chances of escaping would be vastly improved. Her hands went to it, feeling around its hard surface for a release catch.

"And what do you think you're doing!" Slithe yelled, turning on her. His hand came round and smacked her across the cheek, sending her sprawling across the floor. "Did I give you permission to remove your collar, slave?"

"Slave? You wish, Mutant!" she hissed, glaring daggers at him.

Slithe's eyes narrowed. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard, slimeball!"

He stared at her for a moment, his lips twitching uncertainly, then suddenly the back of his hand again swung in her direction. This time she was ready for it and managed to push herself out of its way. Pulling out her staff, she extended it and used it to support herself as she scrambled to her feet. Then, bracing herself against the wall, she levelled its tip at Slithe.

Outrage turned to amusement and he roared with laughter. "Well, well, what have we here?" he sneered. "So you've got yourself a pretty little weapon. But do you know how to use it, yesss?"

"Why don't you find out?" she retorted. "If you dare!"

He glanced over at Jackalman and gave a helpless shrug. Then, in a lightning movement that took her by surprise, he grabbed the end of the staff and wrenched it from her hands.

"Oh, I dare, Cheetara," he hissed. "And for that, I'm gonna make you suffer, yesss." He smiled nastily. "You think Vultureman's little experiment keeps you safe? Think again. D'you think he'd be too upset if I beat it out of you?"

"What are you talking about?" she said.

His eyes glittered with evil intent. "What are you talking about, master!" he bellowed. The staff came round in a wide arc and swept her feet from beneath her. Cheetara collapsed onto all fours, gasping from the sheer shock of the stinging blow. Even as she looked up, Slithe wandered round beside her and tested the weight of her staff on his outstretched palm. "You've picked up a few nasty habits while you've had your freedom, yesss. I think re-education is in order, don't you, Jackalman?"

"Let me," said the jackal, licking his lips hungrily. "It's been a while since I've had the pleasure."

"Later," Slithe murmured. "But first..."

The staff came down with such force that she was slammed into the floor. Fire scorched across her shoulders where the weapon had landed and every wounded nerve ending screamed in silent agony. She clenched her teeth, determined not to cry out as blow after blow smacked across her back, each more savage than the last, until breath was beaten from her body and fight from her soul. An age of pain later, Slithe finally stopped.

"Did you think you could escape from me?" he said breathlessly. "I never, ever, let a slave get the better of me, Cheetara. Remember that, yesss. Now do you have something to say to me?"

She nodded, wincing as the movement pulled on her raw skin.

"And what is it?"

"Go to hell!"

He let out a roar and, grabbing her by the mane, yanked her up onto her knees. He pulled her head backwards, forcing her to arch her wounded back, and stared down into her tear-filled eyes. "I can believe that your taste of freedom has corrupted you, Cheetara. You always had spirit, although I thought we had been successful in taming it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she grated. "When the others find out what you've done--"

"I'll have their undying respect and loyalty," Slithe sneered. "Or do you imagine that turncoat will come rushing to your aid? If so, then you are deceived, yesss. We will catch him soon enough and when we do, we will string him up for the crows to eat!"

As much as she could, Cheetara shook her head. "I don't understand," she began.

"Then let me spell it out for you," Slithe hissed, bending down so that his lips were level with her ear. "I could kill you, as I will certainly kill him. But you, you are useful to us, yesss. You will have to be punished, then I expect you to beg for my forgiveness. If not, I'll make your friends suffer."

He released her mane and pushed her to the floor. She lay there, staring up at him, and seeing for the first time a change in the reptilian that she had not noticed before. This was not the stooping, shuffling Slithe of old. His bulk was larger, his build more powerful and his new found confidence terrifying. Now he snapped his fingers and two Brutemen stepped dutifully from the shadows.

"Take this slave down to the cells," he ordered. "No food, no water. Now go!"

Clumsy hands reached for her and caught at her clothing. She was in too much pain to stop them as they dragged her out of the chamber, away from Slithe's fury and down a dark corridor where the air was heavy with the stink of decay. When they did stop, it was to throw her into a tiny room. The door was slammed shut behind her and she was left alone. In the dark. In silence.

A shiver crept up her spine. Sensory deprivation, a favoured method of torture by the Mutants back in the old days during the wars between their two worlds. No light, no sound, only the oppressive smell of waste and fear and the feel of the grainy floor beneath her. It was never a question of if the prisoner would break, but when. And when seemed terrifying close, for pain had raised her senses to a level where she could actually feel the closeness of the walls pressing in on her from all sides. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing the walls away. Instead, they mocked her, sending back to her straining ears the sound of her own frightened breathing, rattling in her chest like the wind through the Forest of Unicorns. Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes, bringing with them the rising need to scream and fill the tiny cell with noise.

"Where are you, my friends?" she cried out. "Help me!"

"Here, Cheetara, I'm here."

A small square of light had appeared in the darkness. She inched her way over to it and stared out into the brightness to see a friendly face.

"Pumyra? Thank the Ancients," she said, relieved to see her.

A look of sympathy flashed across the puma's face. "I'm so sorry, Cheetara. I hoped you had made it. You were gone for a long time. I thought perhaps--"

"Gone?" Cheetara said, interrupting her. "I only went for a run..." She trailed off, realising that the strange symptoms that her dogged her all morning had finally gone. Now she had other pains, but at least she knew the cause. "Pumyra, what's going on here? Let me out."

"I can't, you know that," came her tearful reply.

"Why not?"

Pumyra sniffed heavily and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I've brought you a salve for your back," she said, holding up a small jar, which she passed through the opening. "It might help a little. Now I have to go."

Before she could close the hatch, Cheetara thrust her hand through the narrowing gap and caught hold of her arm. "What's going on here?" she demanded. "Why can't you let me out? Where are the other Thundercats?"

"Who?" Pumyra said, staring at her blankly.

Her complete lack of comprehension made Cheetara involuntarily loosen her grip on her arm. This was no game. Pumyra really had no idea what she was talking about.

"Great Jaga," she whispered. "What's happened?"

"What's happened is that you've only made things worse," Pumyra said, pushing Cheetara's hand from her arm. "It was bad enough when Panthro went, but you were different. Slithe was saying that he wants to make an example of you. He said that if you thought things were bad before, now he's going to make them worse. Please, swallow your pride. Apologise to him. Say you were suffering from delusions because of your condition."

"My condition?" Cheetara echoed hollowly, only half hearing her.

"I'll try to come back later," Pumyra said. "In the meantime, I'll leave the hatch open. I know how you hate the dark."

"This is a horrible dream, it has to be," Cheetara murmured to herself, as she watched Pumyra vanish down the corridor. How else was she to account for the situation? Yet the nagging ache from her back as she rubbed the salve onto her injuries and the blood that gleamed on her fingers proved that it was all too real.

But what other explanation was there? When she had passed out, the world was, well, normal, if being set upon by Brutemen could be called a normal existence. And in the normal run of things, the other Thundercats should have come to rescue her by now. Apparently, they were there, but they seemed to be in need of rescuing themselves. For the time being, trapped as she was, there was little she could do about it. Lying down, she fixed her eyes on the small rectangle of light that was her only lifeline to the outside world and wondered what on earth was going to happen next.

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