Tygra paused before he knocked on the door. He had been sent for without explanation and obediently he had come. The other Thundercats were noticeable by their absence and he guessed that whatever Pumyra had to tell him would not bear their hearing. Given the events of the previous day, he had a pretty good idea of what it might be about.

Just the thought of her made a familiar and not altogether unpleasant sensation start to tingle throughout his body. She had initiated it and yet consummation was now surely impossible. With hindsight, he could make a good guess about her motivation. The better part of his nature wanted to believe that she must have felt something for him; cynicism won the day, however, and he found himself feeling decidedly used. With disillusionment came an annoying itch from the scab on his neck. Without thinking too much about it, he idly rubbed away at the irritation and, trying to push his less generous thoughts to the back of his mind, rapped softly on the door. A moment later, Pumyra appeared, looking tired and stressed.

"She wanted to speak to you," she said.

The emphasis made him wince slightly. As rude as the appellation was, no one was yet comfortable enough to refer to her by her given name.

"Yes, I thought she might," he replied. "Know what about?"

She shook her head and her gaze drifted to his neck. "You've made it bleed again."

"Have I?" A trace of blood showed on the fingers he touched to the injury.

"You've got to give it a chance to heal," Pumyra chided. "When it's gone so will the hormone rush."

He gave her a faint smile. "Yes, I do know."

"Sorry," she said. "I switched into Snarf mode. Comes with the territory, I guess."

"And we wouldn't have it any other way. Speaking of which, how is your patient?"

Pumyra shrugged. "The first few months of pregnancy are always tricky. Now I've done a proper scan, I'm not sure she'll be able to carry to full term. She's not exactly in the best physical condition."

"The injuries, you mean?"

"And the rest." The eyes she lifted to meet his had something like shame shining in them. "This is going to sound rotten, but she makes me feel uncomfortable. I get the impression she knows me."

"She probably does," Tygra said. "Or at least a different incarnation of you."

"How different though? Better or worse? I'm not sure I want to know."

"Then we won't ask." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Are you staying?"

Pumyra shook her head. "I sent Bengali to get some food a while ago and he still hasn't come back. I'd better go and find him in case he's in trouble, although I'm guessing that he's got his nose in the fridge and forgotten all about us. Do you want me to bring you back something?" He declined and she set off down the corridor. "Let me know immediately if her condition changes," she called over her shoulder. "And try not to upset her."

"I'll do my best," he murmured, watching her go before turning and wandering into the infirmary.

Cheetara, or to be more precise, her double, was sitting up in bed, looking a good deal calmer than she had done before. She looked up when he entered and gestured for him to take the empty seat at her side.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said uncertainly. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd like to say my presence was entirely altruistic," he said, sitting down, "but you must realise that we have questions."

"Yes, I know." A moment passed before she was able to look up and meet his gaze. "What will you do with me?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You must be angry," she said. "I tried to trick you."

Once more came the reminder of their previous encounter. His hand unconsciously went to his neck to stifle the annoyance. "It almost worked too," he said.

"Yes, sorry about that," she said.

He should have been angry, he knew. All the things he thought he had wanted to say about how she had used him and had left him reaping the consequences of an inflamed ardour that was now throwing his concentration into a loop suddenly deserted him. Staring into her eyes, he glimpsed a soul crushed by such fear that it made his insides crawl to see it. He found himself wanting to protect her, to take her in his arms and drive away all those demons. Knowing it was an urge part fuelled by his overactive hormones made little difference; even if were only self-delusion, he could not entirely ignore her reaction. A more moderate approach was needed, however. He had already made that mistake and had no desire to rush headlong into her arms again, however much she might have needed it.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Besides, I would be lying if I said it wasn't exhilarating."

"But it was wrong," she said. "I was using you."

"Understandable in the circumstances. I'm assuming of course that the father is my counterpart in your world?"

She gave him a look of surprise. "You know?"

He shrugged. "I guessed. It was the only thing that made sense. Had we made love, several months down the line, who's to say for certain who the father was?"

He lowered his gaze and considered his tightly-clenched hands for a moment, fearing he would vocalise the thoughts thundering through his brain. The green-eyed monster had been roused from its sleep and, although he knew it was absurd, he found that he was deeply jealous of the double who had taken her to his bed and fathered her child.

"If you don't mind me asking," he said, "I was wondering, how is possible that a cheetah and a tiger have successfully mated?"

"You put it very clinically," she said.

"Been able to conceive a child then."

She looked away from him and took to staring into the distance. The strain of the memories of the place she had left behind showed on her face and in the tears that had beaded in her eyes.

"My world is nothing like this," she said softly. "Such freedom as you have, I have never known. My people fell under Mutant rule when I was only three, so I cannot remember what life was like before they came." She sniffed back her tears and leant back against her pillows. "I was -- am a slave. We came to this planet several years ago and in that time I have seen more cruelty than I believed was possible this side of the Astral Plain. The Mutants who own me are slave dealers, you see, and this world provided them with plenty of new slaves. The only thing it could not give them was the one thing they really wanted -- more Thunderians. My home planet was destroyed, you see, and I don't know if anyone survived." She turned her head to glance over at him. "I read your mission reports. Your Thundera died too, didn't it?"

Tygra nodded gravely. "I saw it happen. It haunts my dreams still. We were lucky to have escaped. Thousands died that day."

"In my world, they were the lucky ones," she said. "I wish I had been there, so that I might have died too."

Shocked, he reached across and took her hand in his. "Don't say that," he said. "Life is a gift."

"Then my gift is cursed," she said bitterly. "Now that Thundera is dead, we are considered a great rarity. Our master owns nine of us. That should please him, but it doesn't. None of us are the same species, you see. He wants more slaves to sell and the only way he can get them now is if we have children. But we can't. Or rather couldn't." She took a moment to take a breath and force down the sobs that were threatening to choke her voice. "Vultureman was able to devise a way to make all of us compatible. He chose two of us, me and Panthro. He said we would give him strong and obedient cubs. We were given his formula and forced to sleep together. And we did, because we were afraid of what they would do to the others. But we were determined not to let it happen, so we made sure that I didn't get pregnant. The last time the vulture checked me I wasn't. I thought the effect of the drug had worn off. I thought I was safe. They didn't know it, but I was secretly sleeping with you, I mean, my Tygra. Then last week I found I was pregnant. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared. I couldn't let them take my baby."

With that, she broke down and, moved, Tygra sat on the bed beside her and took her in his arms. She clung to him, crying pitifully onto his shoulder. He held her close, hearing the grief of another world. Finally, her tears subsided, leaving only shiny trails on her cheeks where once they had flowed.

"I knew if I stayed much longer they would find out," she said. "If I had just escaped, they would have hunted me down. I had to leave for good."

"And that's why you're here," Tygra said. "How?"

"The Mutants have a device -- I think it's originally from Thundera. It's called the Eye of Omens. No one was sure what it did until my Tygra made it work. That made Vultureman angry. He he punished him. I never got to tell him that we were going to have a baby."

"Is he dead?"

She shook her head. "His mind has been destroyed. He doesn't know me. He doesn't even know who he is. After it happened, some of the other slaves planned a breakout. It went wrong. Some got away, others, including me, were left behind. Soon after that I discovered I was pregnant. We agreed that for the good of our people I couldn't stay. Once the Mutants found that their drug worked" She shuddered. "Before I lost him, my Tygra had told me how the device worked. He told me it could connect with other universes. I hated to leave the others, but I had to. I came here yesterday morning and" She paused and looked up into his eyes. "I saw her, your friend."

"Cheetara?"

"She's everything I'm not. She's what I could have been, should have been. And here she was in this wonderful world and I I hated her for it. I knew the Mutants would come after me, so I hid here in the Lair. Your friend went out and never came back. I knew they had taken her. Slithe had sworn he would kill us if we ran away, so so I thought it was safe to assume that she wouldn't be back. I'm sorry. I know it was wrong, but I wasn't thinking about her, only about my baby."

With her words ringing in his ears, shakily, Tygra got to his feet and took a few uncertain steps away from the bed. His mind reeled, thrown into turmoil by the enormity of what she had said. What was he doing here, wasting his time listening to this when Cheetara was out there somewhere, in some terrible place, hurt or or He could not bear to finish the thought. Even the suspicion that she might have come to harm sent his stomach into a knot. Anxiety rose up his torso and was translated into physical discomfort as a crushing grip that clamped about his chest and made his heart hammer against the protective wall of his ribcage.

The pain made him wince and at the same time Cheetara's double clutched her arms about her middle and let out a small cry. Before he could react to her distress, however, someone had pushed him aside.

"I thought I told you not to upset her," said Pumyra, quickly assessing her patient's condition. "You'd better go. Panthro wants you up in the Control Room."

If nothing else, it was an excuse to leave, to get as far away from the infirmary as possible. She had tried to deceive them. Worse, she had knowingly condemned his friend to death. So why could he not hate her? In his heart, he knew. He could never hate her, because she was Cheetara. What she had done was not right, but it was understandable. In the situation she had described, he knew he would probably have done the same thing. She deserved his pity, not his contempt.

By the time he had reached the Control Room, the pain from his chest was starting to spread down his left arm. Trying to ignore it, he walked purposefully in and found Panthro and Lion-O studying the large viewscreen.

"We think we've got something," said Panthro, glancing over at him. "Take a look at this."

He pointed to the viewscreen and the large energy spike that had been registered by the Lair's internal sensors in the early hours of the previous morning.

"That would correlate with what our guest just told me," Tygra said. "She said that she used a device called the Eye of Omens to bring her here."

"Eye of Omens?" said Lion-O. "Any connection, d'you think?"

"With the Sword? Probably. It's too much of a coincidence."

"Not wishing to worry you," Panthro said, "but if that energy blip represents our guest's arrival, then what do you think these others mean?"

At the press of a button, two other readings appeared on the screen. Comparatively, they were identical, but their timings were much later.

"Well, that second one I'm guessing was about the time I saw Cheetara being attacked by the Brutemen," said Lion-O. "The other" He slowly turned to face the others as the realisation dawned on him. "They came back again, didn't they? But for what?"

"Her," Panthro grunted, jerking a thumb in the approximate direction of the infirmary. "They wouldn't be fooled for long that our Cheetara was theirs. Although I'll bet you can throw some light on that, right, Tygra?"

He tried to answer him. At least, he opened his mouth. Nothing came out. For in a second, the grip around his chest had intensified and robbed him of breath.

"You all right?" asked Panthro with concern. "You've gone very pale."

"I I'm not feeling too good," he managed to get out.

Vaguely aware that he was swaying, he clutched at the nearest chair for support. His leaden arms missed it and the next thing he knew he was on the floor. Appearing at his side, Lion-O was saying something to him, but he could not make out the words. His voice seemed very distant and muffled, and the effort of trying to understand demanded more energy than he could command. Sleep suddenly seemed like a very good idea. He let his eyes close and drifted into blissful unconsciousness.

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

He pressed on up ahead, cutting a path through the forest to a place only he knew where. Still not entirely recovered from her earlier ordeal, Cheetara came to a staggering halt and had to support herself up against a tree while she drew ragged breaths. Aware that she was no longer behind him, Panthro glanced over his shoulder and stopped.

"What's the matter now?" he demanded, retracing his steps to where she stood.

"Just tired, that's all," she said. "Give me a minute."

"We don't have a minute," he retorted, surprising her by sweeping her up into his arms and setting off once more.

"I'll be all right," she protested.

"Thundercats too proud to accept help, are they?"

Since she had corrected his error in mistaking her for the Cheetara he thought he knew, his immediate reaction of surprise had soon been replaced by amusement. As typical as it was of Panthro to make light of a serious situation with humour, it was starting to wear a little thin. She had endured his constant ribbing for most of the journey about her Thundercat status, but now his snide remarks were getting on her nerves.

"Thundercats are never too proud to accept help," she said. "But you're hurting my back. Please put me down."

He relented. The slight jolt as he set her back on her feet was enough to send ripples of pain racing up her spine. She winced and opened her eyes to find him watching her.

"Slithe do that?" he asked. "Looks like his handiwork. Still, it could have been worse."

"Really," she said sarcastically.

"Certainly could. Under normal circumstances, he would have killed you."

"Expect these aren't normal circumstances."

"For neither of us," Panthro said gruffly, before setting off again. "Keep up or be left behind, Thundercat."

With a weary sigh, she followed him, wending her way through the trees in his wake until finally he came to a halt on the edge of the forest.

"Not far now," he said. "The river's up ahead. Our camp is nearby."

Cheetara glanced about, getting a vague feeling that she knew this place. The trees had thinned out and given way to an expanse of grassland. To her ears came the sound of water, the river Panthro had mentioned, she guessed. In the distance, a cliff rose sheer from the meadows and it was not until they drew nearer that she finally recognised her surroundings. She stopped abruptly, staring at the place where in her world they had built Cat's Lair.

"Pretty, huh?" said Panthro, noting her reaction.

"We live here," she murmured.

"Funny, how d'you know that?"

"No, I mean, in my world, we live here, in this spot, just across the ravine."

"Good for you," Panthro grunted. "Come on, let's go."

He led the way along the edge of the ravine to where the ground gently sloped away to allow an easy crossing of the river. He lithely skipped across the stepping stones, waited for her to join him, then helped her up the bank.

"Over there," he said, pointing to the distant prospect of assorted caves and pits where the trolls and giants made their homes. "That's where we're based."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Cheetara asked.

"And I thought Thundercats didn't get scared."

"Not easily, but in case it's escaped your notice, the inhabitants of those caves aren't too friendly."

"The Mutants cleared them out ages ago," said Panthro. "No one comes here now, except us."

As they drew nearer, pinpricks of light could be made out in the darkened hollows of the mountain. Someone was obviously at home and Cheetara found herself wondering who it might be. She had yet to meet the dimension doubles of her other friends. Based on what she had seen so far, however, she did not hold out much hope for a warm reception.

Her curiosity was soon satisfied when she recognised several familiar figures walking out to meet them. Willa, accompanied by two other Warrior Maidens, stopped a few paces away and eyed her critically.

"You found her then," she said to Panthro. "Hope she was worth it."

"Not really," said Panthro. "She's not who I was expecting."

Willa gave him a doubtful look. "Well, you should know."

"This one's from a different dimension," he explained, jerking a thumb in Cheetara's direction. "And she's a Thundercat."

"Am I meant to be impressed?" said Willa. "What's a Thundercat anyway?"

"Not much use to us," Panthro said. "In my day, they were all cowards to a man."

"I'm no coward," Cheetara said with annoyance. "You don't even know me!"

"I know your kind," he retorted. "Prancing about in fancy uniforms and going on about honour and loyalty. Then when it comes to any kind of trouble, they're the first ones to run."

"How dare you!" she said. "I have never--"

"There'll be time for this later," Willa interrupted her. "Let's get under cover." She glanced up and scanned the sky warily. "There's too much activity up there for my liking."

"Skycutters?" Panthro asked, falling in step beside her.

"All sorts," Willa answered him. "My guess is they're out looking for this Thundercat person. Let's hope she hasn't led them to us."

Under her accusing glare, Cheetara felt acutely awkward. She fell behind, letting them lead the way. The scrutiny continued when they entered a cave on the lower levels where an assortment of Third Earthers stared at her as she passed. Deeper inside, out of their view, Panthro finally stopped and gestured for her to take a seat next to a warmly-glowing fire that cast dancing shadows on the rough walls. While she settled down on a rock, he collected a small corked bottle from a ledge and wandered round behind her. Then, much to her surprise, he pulled the straps of her top down her arms.

"What are you doing?" she protested, pulling her straps back up.

"Didn't you say that your back hurts?" he said.

"Yes, but--"

"This'll help," Panthro said, squatting down behind her. "Especially after that dip you took in Castle Plun-darr's moat. The last thing we need is you slowing us down if you get an infection."

His hand went to her straps, but she held onto them.

"I'm grateful, really, but I can manage," she said.

"You got something I've not seen before then?" he said.

He was not to be denied. He pulled the straps from her hands and set to work. With a practised hand, he smoothed the lotion onto her back with broad, sweeping strokes.

"How's that?" he asked after a moment.

"Better."

"You've got good muscle tone," he said. "You a runner?"

She sensed the implied criticism in his voice. "Usually into trouble rather than out of it." He grunted with amusement and once more she felt her irritation rising. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You," he said. "We're living on the brink of chaos and you're worried about what I think of you. Actually, I'm not so surprised. I should be used to it by now, living all these years with Cheetara. She's just like you in some ways."

He fell silent, leaving her to draw her own conclusions about their relationship.

"Are you and she lovers?" she asked.

His ministrations grew a little rougher. "If you're asking do we sleep together, then yes," he said. "But I wouldn't call us lovers in any sense of the word. We did it because our 'masters' told us to, not because we wanted to. That shock you?"

"Slightly."

"Now you know why I don't care much for your Thundercat pretensions. There, done," he said, getting to his feet and putting the cork back in the bottle. "Give it a minute or two to soak in."

"Yes, I will, thanks," she said. She watched him as he took a seat opposite and tossed a few broken branches on the fire. "How did you end up like this?" she asked.

"Long story," he grunted. She continued to stare inquiringly at him and in the end he sighed and went on. "I wasn't born a slave. I was nine when Thundera fell to the Mutants. You ask me what I've got against Thundercats? They were meant to be the pride of our people, our protectors. When it came down to the crunch, they fled. Much good it did them. The Mutants caught up with them and massacred the whole sorry bunch."

"Including Jaga?"

"Even him. Our king escaped. No one knows what happened to him. There was a rumour that he had a son who will one day reclaim Thundera, but I don't hold out much hope. Thundera is lost and her people are all slaves, well, those of us who are left anyhow. And now Slithe's got this breeding program to get more of us under his thumb. Huh, some chance."

"And that's why you and Cheetara were?"

Panthro nodded. "Seemed pretty unlikely to me. I mean, interbreeding just doesn't work. Except Vultureman reckoned he had found a way. Anyway, we came to an understanding, Cheetara and me. She didn't want to get pregnant and I didn't want a child of mine growing up in slavery, so we took certain steps to ensure it didn't happen. You know what I mean."

"I can guess."

"Then came that infernal Eye of Omens. Turns out it was some relic from Thundera. Vultureman couldn't make head nor tail of it, which was just fine with us. Then that little rat Bengali goes and tells Slithe how intelligent Tygra is. He made it work of course, which really got up Vultureman's nose. To cut a long story short, he screwed up Tygra's mind out of sheer spite." Panthro paused in his narrative and took to stabbing the dying fire with a stick. "That was enough for me. We staged a breakout. Cheetara was meant to have come with us, but she got left behind along with a few others. This is the first real chance I've had to return to Castle Plun-darr to get her out. Instead, I find you and some tale about her going through the Eye of Omens and swapping places with you."

"Not as far fetched as it sounds."

The sound of the voice made Cheetara look up to find Lynx-O making his way towards them. On his arm he supported a cloaked figure who stumbled along with less care than his unseeing friend. Guiding this person to a seat by the fire, Lynx-O then sat down beside her and offered his hand.

"Welcome to New Plun-darr," he said. "I imagine this must all seem very strange to you."

"Very strange indeed," she said.

"Willa tells me you are a warrior of some sort. A Thundercat?"

"Yes," she said warily. "Are you going to hold it against me?"

Lynx-O smiled. "What has happened is past. I am comforted by the knowledge that somewhere our people do endure."

"Not for much longer, unless I can find a way home."

"And what trouble have you got?" Panthro said derisively. "Too much salt in your dinner? Not enough soap suds in your bath?"

"Mutants, actually, and Lunatacs and a resident demon called Mumm-ra who would like nothing better than to see us all dead."

"Interesting," said Lynx-O. "I must say I have always had my misgivings about Mumm-ra. To hear you call him a demon troubles me."

"He's all right," said Panthro. "He's helping us against the Mutants."

"You're joking," Cheetara said. "He's evil in a way you can never imagine."

"Who cares? He wants to be rid of the Mutants as much as we do. He wants his planet back."

"And when he's rid of them, he'll turn on you."

"We'll see," said Panthro. "In the meantime, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

"By the time you do, it'll be too late."

As she finished speaking, the cloaked figure beside Lynx-O started to groan.

"Easy, my friend," he said gently, before turning to Panthro. "I think it's time we had some sustenance. I'll see what's cooking."

He got to his feet and, using the walls as a guide, carefully made his way back to the entrance of the cave. Cheetara watched him go, wanting to help, but knowing that as he had not sought it, her offer might offend. And as Lynx-O was the only friend she seemed to have, offense was to be avoided at all costs.

"The Mutants blinded him, in case you're wondering," Panthro said, as if reading her thoughts. "In his younger days, Lynx-O was a bit of rebel. Slithe put an end to that. Stabbed him in the eyes with a fork."

"This is all too terrible for words," she said, turning back to the fire. "I want to help."

"You?" Panthro snorted. "Why?"

"Because in helping you I might be able to get home."

"And there I was thinking you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart."

She was on the verge of responding to his taunts when the figure by the fire again groaned. A striped hand emerged from the folds of the cloak and gingerly reached under the hood. The tattered material fell away and Cheetara gasped at the vision she beheld. He looked the same, but the light in his eyes was dimmed as though the soul behind them had long since been crushed.

"Tygra," she murmured. "What did they do to you?"

"I told you," Panthro said. "Vultureman practically lobotomised him. This is what's left."

"But we have hopes that he will recover," said Lynx-O, returning with several plates of hot stew.

"Very slim though," said Panthro. "The vulture is always thorough."

"My friend, Pumyra, has considerable medical knowledge," Cheetara said. "Perhaps she can--"

Her words were drowned out by frenzied shouts that echoed through the cave. A moment later, Willa came dashing over to where they sat.

"Mutants!" she said breathlessly. "They've found us."

Panthro jumped to his feet. "What! So soon? How is that possible? Curse them!"

"It's her fault," said Willa accusingly. "I said she was trouble. She led them right here. I say give her back to them in pieces. That should distract them long enough for us to escape."

"No!" Panthro growled. "She's too useful to them. They might get things out of her about her world to use against us. No, we'll have to fight our way out of this. You handy with a weapon?" he said, directing his question at Cheetara.

"Try me."

"Good. Lynx-O, see to the evacuation. We'll hold them off as long as possible. Let's go."

He hurried to the cave entrance, with Cheetara at his heels, following the sounds of battle. Mutants were converging on the makeshift camp and, although clearly outnumbered, the mixed band of Third Earthers were putting up a good fight. Panthro surged through the struggling masses, grabbing a club and swinging it to clear a path. A wooden staff was thrust into Cheetara's hands as a large simian charged at her. A quick swipe brought him to his knees and a blow to his head put him out of the fight. But a cursory glance showed that knocking heads together would not win this battle. As one Mutant went down, another was quick to fill the gap. Meanwhile, Berbils and Wollos were falling all over the place. Something more creative was needed.

She raced into the throng, leaving dazed Mutants in her wake. Right in the middle of the desperate struggle, she found Monkian.

"Hold it right there!" she yelled at him. "You want me? Well, here I am!"

The ape grinned. "And what are you going to do, changeling, against so many of us?"

His chuckles turned to a strangled groan as her staff caught him a blow to the groin. As he dropped to his knees, around them the fighting stopped and all eyes turned in her direction. Grabbing Monkian's arm, she twisted it behind his back and brought her staff up under his chin, tilting his head back at an unnatural angle.

"Drop your weapons, Mutants," she cried, "unless you want this cretin to breathe his last!"

The gathering of minions hesitated, unsure what to do.

"Do it!" she yelled. "Or I'll snap his neck like a dry twig."

There was a clatter as they obeyed and threw down their weaponry. The Third Earthers crowded round them and jostled them into one of the caves.

"Him too," said Panthro, pointing to Monkian.

Cheetara released him and sent him on his way with a kick to the small of his back. Monkian hollered in pain and stumbled into the darkness of the cave.

"Goodbye, 'master'," Panthro sneered.

"You wouldn't dare!" Monkian retorted.

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

His club smashed into the rocks over the cave entrance with a force that brought the whole lot crashing down. When the dust settled, Cheetara saw that the opening was sealed, trapping the luckless Mutants inside.

"That should keep them busy for a while," said Panthro, wiping the sweat from his brow. "By the way, nice move."

"Thanks."

That was all he was prepared to offer her by way of praise. He turned away, calling to the rest of his band to get their things together and move out.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Desert of Sinking Sands," he replied.

"You're going to see Mumm-ra? He's--"

"A friend in our world," Panthro said. "Now, you can either come with us or you can stay here. I know which I'd prefer."

"That I stay here out of your way no doubt."

His frown slowly changed into a grin. "You've got spirit, I like that. Come on, let's go."

He broke into a run, leaving Cheetara staring after him. Shouts from the cave told her that the Mutants would soon be free of their makeshift prison. Between Mumm-ra and the Mutants, it was question of which was the lesser of two evils. Shaking her head, she set off after Panthro, praying he knew what he was doing.

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