“So, do all ThunderCats have this fate mate thing, or are you special?” I asked, my voice shakier than I’d have liked.
His mouth curved slightly. “All Rodinians. My species. But finding one’s true mate is rare. Many search their entire lives without success.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered, then immediately regretted it when his expression flickered. “Sorry. This is just...a lot to process.”
“I understand. We have time.”
The gentle certainty in those words calmed me somewhat. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding. Just stating a fact: we had time. Whether that was comforting or terrifying remained to be seen.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “First things first. These vines are great and all, but I’d really like to stand up now. I’ve been horizontal for way too long.”
Lor nodded and spoke—actual sounds this time, not just thoughts through the vines. The vibrations felt different, more like commands than communication. Immediately, the vines unwound from my body, sliding away into the undergrowth with surprising speed.
I stood cautiously, my legs wobbly after who knows how long spent wrapped in Phil and friends. Lor rose in a single fluid movement that made me acutely aware of our height difference. I wasn’t short by human standards—5’7” put me solidly in average territory—but next to him, I felt downright tiny.
“So,” I said, looking up at him, “what now?”
Lor surveyed the jungle around us, his senses clearly picking up things mine couldn’t. “First, safety. This area is exposed. Predators will be drawn to your scent.”
“Excuse me?” I automatically sniffed my armpit. “I don’t smell that bad.”
His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “You smell...good. Too good. It will attract attention we do not want.”
There was something in the way he said “good” that sent a flush creeping up my neck. I cleared my throat. “Right. Safety first. Lead the way, Lor Pardus.”
He extended his hand to me again. I hesitated only briefly before taking it. His palm was warm against mine, his fingers curling carefully around my smaller hand. The connection through direct touch was even stronger than through the vines—his emotions washing over me in waves. Concern. Protectiveness. And underneath it all, a banked fire of desire that made my stomach flip.
As we started moving through the dense foliage, the jungle seemed to part before us, making our path easier. Whether that was Lor’s doing or the sentient ecosystem recognizing us, I couldn’t tell.
“So,” I said, ducking under a low-hanging branch, “ThunderCats, Legion Reapers, fate mates, and sentient jungles. Just another Tuesday, right?”
His confusion rippled through our connected hands. “It is the seventh rotation of the third lunar cycle.”
I laughed, the sound startling in the hushed jungle. “It’s an expression. Meaning this is completely insane but I’m trying to roll with it by making it feel basic.”
Understanding dawned. “You use humor as a defense.”
“Wow, direct hit. You’re good at this,” I said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Yes, I joke when I’m freaking out. It’s either that or curl into a ball and hyperventilate, and I’ve found humor gets better results in most situations.”
“A practical strategy,” he agreed, surprising me again with his adaptability.
We walked in silence for a while, my hand still in his. I should have pulled away—it was too intimate a gesture for strangers—but the connection grounded me. Plus, I was reasonably sure I’d face-plant on the uneven jungle floor without his guidance.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked.
“My shelter. It is high in the canopy, safe from ground predators. We can rest there while I assess our options.”
I tried not to focus on the “our” in that sentence. Tried not to think about the implications of sharing a shelter with the very embodiment of my most secret fantasies. Because that’s what he was, wasn’t he? The jungle cat warrior straight out of childhood cartoons and adult dreams.
As if sensing my thoughts, Lor glanced down at me, his golden eyes reflecting patches of sunlight that broke through the canopy. “I will not act on the Unity bond without your consent, Miri. It is enough that you are here, that you are real.”
The sincerity in his words—in the emotions flowing between us—made my chest ache. How long had he been alone here? Hunting a fugitive through an alien jungle, with no companionship but the sentient ecosystem itself?
“Well,” I said, attempting lightness, “at least one of us knows what they’re doing. I’m pretty sure my wilderness survival skills don’t translate to alien jungles with carnivorous plants.”
His hand squeezed mine gently. “You will learn. The jungle responds to intent more than action. It already finds you interesting.”
“Great. So I’m interesting to the scary sentient plants. That’s a win, I guess.”
