Archive of Our Own ^beta

Micah looked at the unconscious girl beside him, and sighed. He hadn’t been expecting much when he found Half Moon basically in ruins, but he had looked, because there was part of him that was still a helper, and he’d found her. She was injured, but nothing that looked fatal or like a bite — fractured wrist, probably a slight concussion, some cuts and bruises. She’d recover. She probably wouldn’t be happy, but she’d recover.

And Micah had no idea what to do with her.

Leaving her once she woke up was… an option. But he didn’t like it. He could offer to take her to the closest town to try and find somewhere else to settle down — most places were still good and would take someone in if they needed it, especially a minor. But he had no idea what had happened here, if she had lost family, if she’d even be willing to leave. Or fight to live.

He was stirred from his amusing as the girl stirred, frowning, her eyes fluttering open. She looked confused, then a little scared, then angry when her gaze landed on Micah.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snapped, scooting away. Micah straightened up, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“My name’s Micah. I found you unconscious downstairs. What happened?”

The girl pushed herself into a wall. “Where are my moms?”

Micah paused, and shook his head slowly. “I didn’t find anyone else in the house.”

She stared at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously, before suddenly pushing herself in a surprising burst of speed and running out of the room.

“Hey!” Micah hurried after her, trying to keep her in reach, lest she took a tumble down the stairs and hurt her head worse. She was quick, though, and took the stairs two at a time, hitting the landing before Micah was halfway down. And she ran outside.

The streets were a mess. Blood and trash and unidentifiable body parts littered the area directly outside the house, painting a gruesome picture of what had happened. The girl looked around, horrified, dual-colored eyes wide and filling with tears.

“Mom?” she yelled, head snapping around. “Mama?”

Her voice echoed. No one answered. Micah stepped closer, but didn’t dare to touch her. “Hey,” he called gently. She didn’t turn to look at him. “What’s your name?”

“What do you care?” she snapped, turning to head down the street. Now Micah did grab her, very carefully, holding her wrist.

“Because I want to help you. You’re hurt. And there’s… there’s no one else left in the town. I’ve checked.”

The girl started to shake under Micah’s grip. Her free hand scrubbed angrily at her eyes, and her voice trembled. “My moms wouldn’t leave me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Micah assured her quietly. He was sure the girl’s moms wouldn’t have abandoned her — willingly. “I found you in a closet.”

She sagged, shoulders hunching up. “I hit my head,” she said quietly. “I remember Mama pushing me in and locking the door…”

Micah squeezed her wrist a bit tighter, trying to be reassuring. “What’s your name?” he asked again.

“Catra.” Her voice was faint.

“It’s good to meet you, Catra. Let’s go back to the house. It’ll be safer there.”

She nodded, letting Micah pull her along. He wasn’t sure if it was cooperation or shock pushing her, but he’d take it either way.

They returned to the house. Micah sat Catra down in the living room, then went to check the kitchen. The raid had been recent, that much was obvious; the blood and bodies in the street were still fresh, and Catra didn’t seem malnourished or dehydrated enough to have been locked in that closet for long. He found some water bottles and crackers — not the best meal, but it was something easy to eat.

Catra had retrieved a picture from the wall, and was staring at it longingly. Micah sat with her, looking at the picture. “Your mothers?”

She nodded, letting out a shaking breath. “They wouldn’t leave me.”

“I believe you.” Micah rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

She closed her eyes, blowing out a long breath. “We were okay. I thought everything was okay. The zombies came sometimes, but they were easy to drive off. I don’t… I don’t know what happened.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

“Try not to think too much about it,” Micah said. “You’ve got a head injury.”

Catra blew out a long breath, digging the heel of her palm into her eye. “I thought everything was okay.”

“I know,” Micah said quietly. “Why don’t you eat and get some rest?”

She nodded, taking the crackers and carefully nibbling one. “Do you remember what happened?” Micah asked.

“The alarms went off. And people were screaming. We had a community guard program, my mom was part of it. It scared the hell out of Mama. But Mom was so protective of us. I wanted to join too, but the minimum age was eighteen.”

Damn it. Micah was just hoping she looked young. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

The same age as Glimmer. Micah ignored the vice that gripped his heart. “Do you have anywhere else to go””

Catra shook her head slowly. “Are you sure you searched the whole town? Maybe… Maybe they’re hiding somewhere. There are a lot of little nooks and crannies around that someone who doesn’t know the town wouldn’t be able to find.”

Micah could already tell she wasn’t going to give this up. “Do you want help looking?”

“I don’t need help.” Catra drained the bottle of water and stood. She only wobbled slightly as she made her way to the corner and grabbed a baseball bat.

“Okay, but uh… I think I’ll come anyway, if that’s okay. Let me just stop at my car.”

Catra was clearly impatient as she waited for Micah to load a gun and some extra magazines. “Come on, let’s go. The people next door have a hidden cellar. I know how to get there. Come on, come on.”

Micah hurried after her, gun at the ready, and followed her into the backyard. There was a barely visible latch in the ground; Catra knelt down to pull it out, fishing a small mag flashlight out of her pocket and shining it into the hole.

“Hello?” No answer. Catra blew out a long breath, dropping into the hole. Micah hated this, but he followed.

Thankfully, there were no bodies in the basement. There were some supplies, which Micah swiped a few of — if they ended up not finding anyone, he could come back for more. But he wasn’t going to take everything.

There was a door at the end of the hall. Catra checked to make sure it was unlocked, then let herself in.

The house was a scene out of a nightmare. Micah had to resist the urge to grab Catra and turn her away, but of course it was already too late. She saw the blood splattered across the wall, the bodies that had been ripped apart. The teen shook, starting to take a step forward, but Micah gently grabbed her shoulder.

“Don’t. It doesn’t get any better further in.”

Catra looked back at him, eyes wide and hollow. Finally she nodded, and let him pull her back outside.

They searched the town, because Catra insisted, but they didn’t find much more than Micah had when he’d looked the first time. On the other hand, Catra didn’t find her mothers’ bodies. Neither of them were sure if that was a good thing or not. Maybe they had been turned. Maybe they were mutilated beyond recognition. Maybe they really had run and abandoned their daughter. Catra didn’t seem to think it was possible, but a life-or-death situation brought out the worst in people sometimes.

She was pale and shaking by the time they got back to her house. “Why don’t you lie down?” Micah suggested gently. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“My moms wouldn’t leave me.” Her voice was faint.

“I know.”

The cabinets were well-stocked, at least. Micah found a couple cans of soup and dumped them into a pan, not wanting to give Catra anything too heavy. He wanted to ask her what she wanted to do, but he didn’t want to be pushy. He could wait for her to figure things out on her own.

Catra eyed the man warily as he came back with the bowl of soup. “I didn’t poison it,” he assured her, trying to smile. Catra didn’t smile back.

“What do you want?” she asked instead, not taking it. He tilted his head, confused.

“To help you?”

“Bull. People aren’t like that.”

“Well, I am.”

He sat on the arm of the couch, still holding the bowl out. Catra frowned, and finally took it, taking a careful sip. It was canned soup, so it was about as good as it could possibly be. “What do you want?” she asked him again. He shrugged.

“Nothing much. I was just passing through and… well, short on supplies.” He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. But that’s how I found you. And I’m not the kind of person to just leave a kid behind.”

Catra glared at him, jaw set. “Oh really.”

“Really. I’m a doctor. I took an oath.”

“Yeah?” Catra snorted. “I’m not sure that shit really applies anymore.”

“It does to me.” His voice and expression were serious. “I take my oaths very seriously.”

Micah. He’d said his name was Micah. Catra made a note of that. “So what’re you gonna do, just rob the town and go?”

“That was the plan, yes.” Catra couldn’t really fault him. People did what they had to do to survive. “But I don’t want to just leave you. I’m not cruel.”

Catra curled into herself, wrapping around the bowl. “Yeah,” she muttered, taking another sip. “Sure.”

Micah, thankfully, let them sit in silence while Catra ate, trying to nurse her headache. She couldn’t remember hitting her head, but the whole thing was kind of a blur. Apparently she had been spared a massacre. The thought made her shudder.

“Do you have family anywhere else?” Micah asked after a few minutes. Catra shook her head.

“No. It’s just us. Or just me, I guess.” Her mothers were gone. The reality was still setting in. She was alone.

“You can come with me, if you want.”

Catra snorted. “What, going town to town saving the world?”

Micah chuckled. “I’m just trying to get back to my family, honestly. Helping people is a hobby.”

“Where’s your family?”

“Mystacor. My wife, my daughter, and my sister. There’s plenty of room, if you need a place to go.”

It was tempting to turn him down. To say she didn’t need the help, or his pity, or his charity. But… she looked around the living room, ignoring the tears burning in her eyes. She kind of did need it, didn’t she? She wouldn’t be able to survive on her own here. Completely alone.

“Can I think about it?” she muttered, staring at the floor.

“Sure. It’s pretty late, so I was going to stay here for the night. Don’t like driving at night, you know?”

Catra nodded, not looking at him, and pushed herself up, heading for the stairs. If he was still here in the morning, she’d be surprised. If there was anything left in the cabinets after he was gone, she’d be even more surprised.

She locked her door, then pushed her dresser in front of it. Just in case. That done, she went to the window to look at the street. It was eerily deserted, everything except Micah’s car destroyed and overturned. Her home was gone. Everything had disappeared overnight, and she hadn’t even been awake to see it.

This time, she let the tears full, burying her face in her knees to muffle the sobs.

Micah’s car, much to Catra’s surprise, was still out front in the morning. She eyed it warily, then unblocked her door and went downstairs. Micah was asleep on the couch, a handgun at his side, and bookshelf pushed in front of the front door (the back door had been blocked a long time ago). She stepped around him, heading for the kitchen to get a bottle of water. He doesn’t look overly trigger happy, but she wasn’t going to take chances.

She heard Micah stirring and waking up a few minutes later. He groaned, sitting up and stretching, a bunch of things popping that probably shouldn’t have popped.

“Jesus you’re old,” she said with a snort. Micah jumped, looking back at her in surprise. He chuckled.

“I’ve been working in a cramped lab for a long time.”

“Thought you were a doctor.”

“Doctors work in labs sometimes, kid.” He walked passed her, checking the cabinets for food. He settled on a can of fruit, and Catra handed him a can opener. “Thought about what you want to do?”

She shrugged, looking to the door. “I mean… there’s really nothing left here for me, is there?” Micah didn’t answer, but he did give her a sympathetic look. “And I guess strength in numbers or… whatever.”

“So… you want to come with me?"

“Sure. Whatever.”

Something rattled at the back door; they both jumped, and Micah raised his gun. The little door flap built into the door flipped open, and a big black cat let himself in, meowing loudly. Catra let out a startled, relieved laugh.

“Melog!”

Micah lowered the gun. “Melog?”

The cat trotted across the kitchen, purring and rubbing up against Catra’s ankles. She stooped down to pick him up, hugging him close. “He’s a stray we’ve been taking care of since before all this started. He never wanted to stay inside, so we put the pet door in to him come and go. I didn’t see him yesterday, so I thought…”

She held him a little closer, then deposited him onto the counter, where an empty food bowl was waiting, and went to get his food. Screw Mystacor. She wasn’t leaving Melog. Was choosing a cat over people a little rash and stupid? Sure. But at least Catra knew Melog.

“Do you have a carrier for him or anything?” Micah asked. Catra poured food into the bowl, then looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we bought one to take him to the vet. Why?”

“Well, I’ve heard it’s dangerous to let a cat roam free in a moving car.”

Catra stared at him in surprise. “You’d be willing to bring Melog?”

“Sure. Angie can’t say no to a cat if it’s someone else’s.”

Catra looked at the eating cat, then at Micah again, and nodded. “Okay. Give me a bit.”

Melog was thoroughly unamused to be shoved into the carrier. Catra gave him some treats and cat nip to appease him, but it didn’t really work; he yowled in the backseat, surrounded by supplies they had raided from the surrounding houses. Catra didn’t like stealing from the neighbors, but it wasn’t really stealing if everyone was dead, right?

“Melog, shush,” Catra scolded him, reaching back to lightly tap on his carrier. He meowed louder.

“Maybe we can find a way to get him more freedom,” Micah said as he started the car. “Ready?”

Catra looked out the window, at her house one last time. She’d been born in Half Moon. Grown up here. She’d gone through everything here. Leaving felt wrong.

But there was nothing left of it. Her family was gone. Everyone was gone. Except her and Melog.

“Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Micah wasn’t really sure what to do with a traumatized teenager. His go to when Glimmer was upset was to make jokes and cheer her up. But her worst experiences didn’t really add up to losing her entire family and town overnight. There wasn’t really a joke to heal that wound.

Catra took some comfort in having Melog; she would take him out of his carrier sometimes and hold him, and he was surprisingly tolerant. He even fell asleep in her lap, and they would nap as Micah drove. It seemed very peaceful. He was glad he’d suggested bringing him.

They passed through a small town that had also been ravaged. Micah didn’t bother stopping. It looked very old. He was glad Catra slept through that.

She was awake now, reaching back to pet Melog. She paused, squinting into the darkness.

“I think there’s another car coming up behind us.”

Micah looked in the rearview mirror, but couldn’t quite see what she saw. “Sure it’s not a roaming hoard or something?”

“I don’t think zombies can move that fast.” True. They were faster than most classic media would lead one to believe, but they wouldn’t keep up with a car going sixty miles down the highway. “It’s getting closer.”

It was dark, and there were no headlights, but Micah had a very bad feeling. “Sit down and put your seatbelt on.”

“Uh… what?”

“Sit down. Seatbelt. Is Melog in his crate?”

“Yeah.” Catra slid back into her seat, buckling herself in. “What’re you—“

Micah laid down on the gas; the engine revved as the speedometer clicked up to sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five—

“Yo, old man.” Catra sounded a little panicked as she looked back again. The car behind them was definitely speeding up and getting closer. “What the fuck?”

“Just hold on.”

Catra shrank back in her seat, wide-eyed. Micah was definitely going to have to explain this to her when they were safe.

The road stretched out before them, completely dark except for their headlights, which Micah flicked off, ignoring the way Catra squeaked. The car was slowly creeping up on them, and Micah knew this poor little thing wasn’t going to be able to outrun it.

“You’re on the run from the government, aren’t you?” Catra demanded. “I knew you were too nice.”

“I — Wait, what does one have to do with the other?”

Catra started to answer, then looked back out the front windshield. “Look out!” she shrieked. Micah snapped around to focus, and saw an assuming zombie wandering into the road.

“Shit,” he swore under his breath. He jerked the steering wheel, swerving around the ambling thing so hard that the car nearly tipped. Melog yowled, and Catra curled up in her seat, eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh god I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die…”

They heard a loud thump behind them, then tires screeching. Catra dared to look over her shoulder again, and saw that the car had slammed right into the zombie and probably wrecked — it was hard to tell in the moonlight. She slid back into her seat, looking at Micah, wide-eyed.

“Hey, so what the fuck was that?”

Micah checked the rearview mirror, then focused on the road again, going faster. “I’ll tell you in a bit. But we need a new car.”

Catra watched the road behind them until they finally found another trashed town. “Start getting our stuff out,” he said tersely, gun at the ready as he approached a house. There was a small car in the driveway that might be a little cramped, but it would do.

This, Catra thought as she watched Micah disappear into the house, was absolutely insane. She knew he had been too nice. Of course something was wrong with him! But she started unloading things, leaving Melog in the car until she knew for sure where he was going. The answer was, apparently, into the car of the house Micah had broken into; he came out with a set of car keys, unlocked it, and turned it on.

“Still got some gas,” he announced. “Can you get the hose out of the trunk?”

“The hose — are you siphoning gas?”

“Just from that car to this one. It’s not stealing if it’s from myself.”

“Guess we’re ignoring the whole grand theft auto thing,” Catra muttered, popping the trunk. Micah pulled the car out of the driveway to line it up with theirs. “Is that why the government wants you?”

Micah raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s the government?”

“That kind of shady shit is always the government.”

He chuckled dryly, getting to work with the gas. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a doctor. I just… worked for the federal government.”

“And what, the zombie virus is something you guys made and you’re a whistleblower?”

“I wish my life was that exciting.” He smiled humorlessly. “We didn’t make it per se — it’s more of a side effect to a cure we were working on for cancer.”

“Hell of a side effect,” Catra muttered. She finally moved Melog into the new car, ignoring his distressed meows. He could have a treat in a bit.

“You’re telling me. We never got beyond the initial testing phase with lab rats — real rats, not humans, before you ask — and it took several months for the mutation to manifest. What we didn’t realize in that time was that one of the rats had bitten someone before we were aware anything was wrong, and it manifested a lot faster in him. Two weeks after the bite, he attacked his family, and his wife killed him with a kitchen knife. We still weren’t aware at the time what was happening, so they were all allowed to go back to their normal lives, albeit a little traumatized and living out of a hotel. He had three kids in two different schools. By then, people were starting to get suspicious, but most assumed it was some shared mental breakdown after what happened with their father.”

“Jesus,” Catra muttered. “But someone must have realized… I mean, that’s hard to miss.”

“We had our suspicions. But no one wanted to believe it could be some kind of outbreak, so no one listened, and time went on. That’s why the spread was so slow at first, and why some towns have been able to maintain some normalcy — with changes to daily routines, of course. Once someone said zombie, it spread faster than the mutation, and people took it seriously. For the most part.”

Catra remembered when those rumors had started. A few people in Half Moon had been sure it was a joke, while C’yra and Lyra had started stockpiling food “just in case.”

“I still don’t get what this has to do with you being chased down.”

Micah finished siphoning the gas and stood, stretching. “I just told you the government accidentally created a mutation that creates zombies.”

“Right…”

“And they knew something was wrong, but never did anything about it. They never instated a quarantine to try and keep the people who had been infected away from the general public. They let three infected children go to public schools, and an entire family live in a hotel. They ignored professionals when they were warned. And they never told anyone.”

Something clicked in Catra’s mind. “And if people found out the government knew about all this before it happened…”

“There’d be riots. The people in charge want to stay in charge, and part of that involves acting like they didn’t know that was coming, but they have a plan for it.”

“What about the other people who knew? I mean, you didn’t singlehandedly create the cure for cancer, did you?”

“Nah.” Micah climbed into the new car, and Catra followed. “I wasn’t even part of the main team. But we all knew, and the people above us knew we knew. And they couldn’t let that get out. The writing was on the wall. I sent Angie and Glimmer to Mystacor when people in my department started getting into a lot of car accidents. Then I just stopped showing up for work. That was about when they cut off easy Internet access. You can only get the news from one place now.”

“The government-sanctioned news channels.”

“Exactly.”

Catra sat back in her seat, watching the sunrise as they took off again. They knew. Those sons of bitches knew, and they held onto the information because, what? They didn’t want to look bad?

“Assholes!” Catra punched the dashboard, for lack of any other way to vent her feelings.

“Hey, hey. Don’t break any bones.”

“They fucking knew! And they left us all to die for their fucking vanity!”

She reared back to punch again, but Micah grabbed her wrist. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was angry too. We all were. And I know I’m not the only one from my department who escaped. There are still people out there who can spread the truth.”

“What fucking good does that do now?!” Catra demanded, wripping her wrist from Micah’s grip. “It doesn’t matter now why it happened, it’s already done! It’s too late!”

“It’s not, though. One of the things keeping people afraid is that they don’t know if it’s some kind of airborne virus, something that developed naturally in nature, or some ticking timebomb in them waiting to explode. Knowledge is still a weapon. Telling people the truth, that this isn’t some weird rapture or whatever, can still help them.”

Micah paused, blowing out a long breath. “My wife knows. She promised she’d find a way to get the word out. Not exactly an easy task, but I know she’s trying. I have faith in her.”

Catra glowered, sliding down in her seat to stare out the window. “This is bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Micah agreed quietly. “It is.”

It was a couple days before they finally stopped in another city — a small place called Erelandia. The guards at the border were rightfully wary, and Catra didn’t blame them, but Micah smiled and played polite. There was, amazingly, still gas available in town, and they could offer any kind of help as a trade (since money was basically obsolete at this point). There was even a small motel they could stay in.

“Are there a lot of places like this?” Catra asked, nudging her bed with her foot. Micah was sitting on the edge of his own bed, checking his phone. The cell towers went down months ago, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

“Like I said, the slow spread gave people a chance to prepare. Places like Erelandia are probably the best types of safe places. They’re not too big that they can’t be adequately guarded, and the community is pretty close. They’ve managed to figure out ways to work together and survive. Wasn’t Half Moon the same?”

“Yeah,” Catra admitted. “I just didn’t think it would be a common thing.”

She dropped onto the bed, letting Melog out of his carrier. He curled into her side, purring. This was the first time in days she had slept in a bed, and god she would never take that for granted again. “Humanity can surprise you sometimes,” Micah said simply, standing. “I’m going to take a walk around town. I’ve got the key, so make sure to keep the door locked.”

“Not that trusting, then?”

“Trust only goes so far.”

He made sure the door was locked behind before making his way out of the parking lot and down the street. People were cautious around him, but he stopped to offer help to a few people who were working on shoring up their houses, made some small talk, and managed to break the ice. He probably should have asked Catra before he went around calling her his daughter, but it was easier than explaining he’d just picked up a teenage girl in a demolished town. There were just way too many weird implications to that.

Catra was asleep when Micah returned. He smiled faintly. She hadn’t slept well in the car (although she could curl up impressively small), and she looked comfortable. Micah settled into his own bed, staring at the ceiling. Erelandia was about two-hundred miles from Mystacor. Micah had been driving around the country, trying to lead his pursuers in circles so no one would follow him to Mystacor. It was his hometown, and it was probably stupid to use it as a safe haven, but he hadn’t been able to think of anywhere else to send Angie and Glimmer at the time. And this way, Casta wasn’t alone. Everyone won.

I hope they’re okay.

No, he knew they were okay. His family could survive anything. They’d be fine. He knew it.

They stayed in Erelandia for a couple days, and Micah even managed to trade for a bigger car (no one was really doing much traveling so they didn’t need the cars as much), so they were a little more comfortable when they left.

Melog yowled, ignoring the treats Catra had slipped him. He’d run free for two days in the motel room, and he didn’t like being trapped again. “You’re fine,” Catra said, tapping the top of his crate. So dramatic. Micah chuckled. “So if the whole zombie thing is just a… mutation, can it be cured?”

“Haven’t you ever read or watched X-Men, kid?”

“No, I’m not a nerd.”

Micah put a hand to his heart, looking insulted. “Are you calling me a nerd?”

“If the shoe fits.”

Micah just shook his head. Teenagers these days had no respect. “Mutations aren’t something that can be cured. They’re part of your DNA.”

“So they can be triggered, but not cured.”

“With a lot of time and study, we could maybe find a way to combat it, but we weren’t really given the time for that, what with the higher ups trying to assassinate us and all. Can’t really do research on the run.”

“Fucking government,” Catra muttered, slumping back in her seat.

“Yeah.” Micah sighed.

—————————————————

Thump.

Micah yawned, not opening his eyes. “Angie,” he mumbled. “Glimmer’s trying to get in.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

There was a low groan, then a shriek that jarred Micah back to reality, where he remembered three very important things: Glimmer was fifteen, not five, and not trying to sneak into their bed. He wasn’t at home. And he was sleeping in a car in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

He jerked up to see something pounding at his window, and heard Catra rummaging behind him, presumably trying to get her baseball bat. “Sit down,” he said, completely awake now, and turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and they were taking off down the street before Catra could even finish buckling in.

“Jesus fucking christ,” she groaned, falling into her seat. They weren’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, but they weren’t near any huge populations either.

“Well, I’m awake,” Micah said as cheerfully as he could manage. Catra glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Are we there yet?”

“You know you can talk about your moms if you ever want to, right?”

Catra shifted her eyes to look at Micah, then back out the window at the passing scenery. “I mean, you’d be a hypocrite if you got mad at me for it since you never shut up about your family.” There was no heat in her voice. It was just a fact — she knew so much about his wife and kid.

“You just never mention them,” Micah said, shrugging. “I want to make sure you know you can.”

“Cool. Good to know.”

They fell silent again, Catra still staring out the window. Micah felt bad for her. She had been through so much, then losing her parents on top of everything else, must have been hard. He knew she had nightmares, but she didn’t talk about them. She didn’t talk about anything. He knew teenagers didn’t enjoy talking to their parents, but Glimmer was practically an open book about almost anything.

Or she had been. Micah hoped she still was.

“My moms wanted a ton of kids.” Micah looked at Catra, surprised, before quickly refocusing on the road. “They never outright said it, but Mama had a huge family with a bunch of siblings, and I know she wanted the same thing. But being pregnant was really hard on her, and I was a preemie — at least two months early, I don’t remember exactly, but it was rough, and I had to stay in the hospital for awhile. My moms took a bunch of pictures because they weren’t sure they’d ever get to take me home. I think they were too afraid to try again after that. But anyway, that’s how I know they would just run off without me. They went through all that to get me, they wouldn’t have left me to be zombie chow just to save themselves.”

Micah nodded. Made sense. They’d gone through a lot with Glimmer — the postpartum depression especially had been rough on Angie. People didn’t struggle for a baby and then leave them.

“Sounds like they really loved you.”

“Yeah.” Catra sighed, shoulders slumping. “I miss them.”

That was the kind of hurt that nothing could fix. Micah could bring her somewhere safe, give her shelter and stability, but he couldn’t bring back her mothers. He couldn’t help her mourn.

And he hated it.

“Angie always wanted a big family too, but it never happened. She’ll be happy to adopt you.”

Catra scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need your wife’s pity.”

“Oh trust me,” Micah said with a chuckle, “it won’t be pity. She’s not the make cookies and brush your hair type of mother.”

“You’re making it sound so appealing.”

“What can I say? She’s a mom.”

Catra looked back out the window, but she seemed… lighter. Like something had been lifted off her shoulders at least a little. If that was all Micah could do, then so be it.

They were running low on supplies, especially water. They couldn’t stretch it out the way Micah had been able to alone.

“I try to hit towns that have been abandoned,” Micah said slowly. “Don’t like taking supplies from the living if I can help it, you know?”

Catra looked at him, clearly following his train of thought and not caring. “Melog can stay in the car alone for a bit. It’s not too hot.”

The next town was just a little up the road, and definitely thoroughly abandoned. Micah loaded up his gun before stepping out of the car, and Catra made sure Melog was secure in his carrier before grabbing her back.

“You don’t have to come,” Micah said as he locked the car.

“Someone needs to watch your back, old man.”

Well, no arguing with that. Micah nodded and led the way down the street. He made his way into the closest house, listening intently, foot nudging the door open. Nothing living or undead immediately jumped out, but he didn’t relax. It wasn’t uncommon to find things further in.

Catra looked around Micah, scanning what she could see of the house, then tilted her head to the left. “I think the kitchen is this way.”

Micah nodded, heading in the direction she’d indicated. The kitchen was trashed, but again, nothing was waiting to ambush them. “You mind searching the kitchen while I check the rest of the house?” he asked quietly.

“Sure.” Catra swung her bag off her back, bat hanging at her side. Micah smiled a little, going to continue through the house.

They established an easy routine as they worked their way down the street. They found the kitchen, Catra went through it while Micah made sure the rest of the house was clear. Rinse and repeat.

Micah made the mistake of thinking everything was going well as they dropped off their latest stash and went for the last house. They let themselves in — and were almost immediately greeted by a zombie ambling around the living room. He raised his gun, putting a bullet clean through its head. They heard more shuffling upstairs, and something appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Outside, let’s go,” he said gruffly, pushing Catra back. But the gunshot had stirred something in the air. All around, they heard groans and snarls as they ran, and things began stumbling out of backyards and around corners. “Focus on running,” Micah ordered when he saw Catra’s grip tightening on her bat. “We need to get back to the car.”

Zombies were closing in on the car. Micah tried to aim and shoot, but he went a little wide. Catra reared back with the bat, swinging it as hard as she could and cleanly hitting a zombie in the head, knocking it down. Micah shot again, and again, taking out two more. The two at the car were banging on the windshield, but were distracted and turned when they heard the gun again. Catra swung the bat, and Micah shot once more, finally clearing a path.

Melog was hissing and yowling in the backseat, beating on the side of his carrier. “Fuck,” Catra said as she slammed her door. Micah focused on starting the car, slamming it into reverse and backing up fast, taking out another zombie in the process.

“Okay,” Micah said breathlessly as they turned off the street and took off, heading for the town line. “That went well until the end, I… think…”

His voice trailed off when he saw Catra staring at him, eyes wide with horror. He didn’t really have to look to see what she was looking at — the adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was building in his arm. But he looked down anyway, just to confirm that there was a tear in his shirt, blood leaking slowly from an open wound.

“Oh,” he said stupidly. “We’ll… need a new car.”

Catra stared at the gun. Her knuckles were so tight around the handle that they had turned white.

Micah didn’t know if he had been bitten or if it had just been a very bad cut. He didn’t remember being bitten, but he didn’t remember getting hurt, either. And Catra didn’t remember. Everything was a blur.

It took time for the mutation to kick in. Not long — a couple weeks at most. Micah had rattled off facts as they drove, trying to find a safe place, far away from people, to stay. He’d babbled about statistics and odds as they had tracked down a new car and swapped all their stuff over.

And he was still talking now, on the other side of the door. The thin piece of wood between them. The only thing that would protect Catra if he turned. Well, that and a gun.

Melog was still in his crate, but somehow seemed to understand the importance of staying quiet in that moment. He licked up some cat nip and and curled up, falling asleep.

“—And you know I’m pretty sure she was dating that girl, looking back. Maybe still is. Casta never tells me anything.”

Seems like you talk enough for five people, Catra thought, staring numbly at the wall across from her. They’d found a house to isolate themselves in, and Micah had locked himself in a room with some food and water. He’d left the car keys with Catra. And the gun. Don’t forget the gun.

“I think you’ll like her. She pretends to be mean to cover things up sometimes too.”

“I don’t pretend. I am mean.”

Micah chuckled. “Mean people don’t hang around and talk to dead men.”

“You’re pretty chatty for a dead person.”

“If I don’t talk, I might lose my mind.”

“Makes sense.”

Catra leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a long sigh. “Hey.” A slip of paper slid out from under the door. She frowned, picking it up. It was a very badly drawn map.

“What’s this?”

“More or less how to get from Mystacor to here. I know you’re too young to know how to really drive, but hey, this is a great time to learn.”

Catra stared at the map for a long moment before crumpling it up and throwing it across the hall. “I don’t need it. You’re gonna drive me there.”

“I dunno if zombies can drive. They seem to lack finer dexterity.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to not turn.”

“You’re asking a lot, kid.”

“And don’t you have a family to get back to or whatever? I’m not going all the way to Mystacor just to tell them you went and got yourself bitten like a moron.”

Micah was silent for a long moment; when he finally spoke again, his tone was uncharacteristically serious. “I know it’s asking a lot. Too much, really. But I… I don’t want them to spend the rest of their lives waiting for me to come home.”

“Then stop making them wait.”

Because no, Catra would not acknowledge a possibility that she was leaving this house without Micah. They were just being stupid and overcautious. It was just a cut or something. He would be fine.

“And you shouldn’t be alone, either. Angie and Casta will take care of you.”

“Just… shut up,” Catra said, curling up tighter. “Go to sleep.”

She was not leaving this house without him.

The next few days were torture.

Micah, for lack of anything better to do, paced around his room and watched the streets from the window. Catra explored the house, and found a bunch of camping equipment. Not that they were going to be camping any time soon, but the equipment included a couple of very large hiking bags. She took those to pack up anything good she found.

By the end of the second day, they were both crawling up a wall. “How long do we have to wait?” Catra asked as she scratched Melog’s ears. She’d blocked off the stairs and every other door and window to make sure he couldn’t escape so he could have some freedom.

“Well, the initial cases took up to three weeks to manifest.” Three weeks. Catra almost cried at the thought of being trapped here for that long. “But it’s mutated more as it spreads and gotten faster. I’d say four days, maybe? Being very cautious.”

“Feeling any urges to devour human flesh yet?”

“No, but I would kill for something not out of a can.”

“I don’t think that counts.”

Silence, again. Catra kind of missed the constant chatter. She hadn’t realized it was keeping her sane as well. “You could go now,” Micah suggested after a moment. “And if I don’t turn, I’ll catch up. It’s not like I don’t know where you’re going.”

“Fuck that.” Catra rubbed her eyes, ignoring the burning tears. “I already told you I’m not going to your family alone.”

“What would you do?”

He sounded genuinely curious, so Catra sucked it up, blowing out a long breath, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “I dunno. Maybe try to find…”

Micah waited patiently while Catra tried to find her voice. “There’s this girl,” she said finally.

“The start of all good love stories.”

Catra pointedly ignored that. “Her name’s Adora. She and her parents lived next door to us, and our parents were friends, so we were friends. And then she was my best friend. And then… I mean, she was an idiot, she would’ve never… but I…”

She paused, then shook her head. “Her parents died in a car accident last year, and she was shipped across the country to live with some aunt. I didn’t know how to be the friend she needed, and we just… fell out of contact. I tried to reach out to her when all this started, but she didn’t answer. She’s probably dead.”

Just like everyone else Catra cared about. Dead, or soon to be.

No.

“You never know,” Micah said thoughtfully. “Fate works in funny ways sometimes.”

“Sure does.”

Day three.

Catra found a sketchpad and pen and brought it back up to her guardpost, drawing the only model she had — Melog.

“Whatcha doing?” Micah asked.

“Contemplating the futility of life.”

“You need a hobby.”

“I have one. It’s making fun of you.”

“Ouch. I’m wounded.” Catra imagined him putting a hand over his heart. “Have you considered reading?”

“Nah, that’s boring.” She flipped to a new page. “You got a picture of your wife?”

“Hmn? Oh, yeah.” There was a pause, then Micah slid his phone out under the door. Catra picked it up, raising an eyebrow. The woman standing beside Micah was at least a foot taller than him, and looked like she might have been terrifying if she hadn’t been given him a look of utmost adoration. “What do you need that for?”

“Just curious.” She scanned the photo for a long moment before giving Micah the phone back, and getting to work. “You talk about her so much, and I’ve been trying to guess what she looks like. I was waaaaaaaaay wrong. What does she even see in you?”

“My charming personality.”

“I hope your daughter got her height genes.”

“Last I saw her, she was about as tall as me, unfortunately. And it’s not like I’m short!”

“No, your wife is just like, seven feet tall.”

“What can I say.” Micah’s voice was almost dream-like. “She’s like an angel.”

“And her name is Angella. Very smooth, old man.” Catra started sketching. She’d never been good at drawing people, but she had time to practice. They still had at least another day here before Micah would consider leaving.

They sat in silence for a bit, and Catra thought Micah had fallen asleep. “I always thought we’d grow old together,” Micah said finally, tone sad.

“You’re already old,” Catra said distantly. “But you’ll get older, don’t worry.”

“You’re really not going to consider the idea that I’m not going to walk out of this?” Micah asked.

“Absolutely not. I can’t siphon gas. I need you.” Catra stopped, stared at her sketch for a minute, then flipped to a new page. “Besides, you don’t feel like anything’s wrong, right? Still no burning desires to break the door down and turn me into an entree?”

“No,” Micah admitted. “But we don’t know exactly what happens in the time before someone changes.”

“And we also don’t know that you were actually bitten. How’s that wound looking, anyway?”

There was a pause, and some shuffling, presumably as Micah unwrapped his bandages. “All right, honestly. A little inflamed, but that’s no surprise."

“See? I bet you’ll be fine.”

Micah didn’t bother arguing. He wasn’t going to change her mind.

By day seven, they were both losing their minds. Micah was carefully taking care of the wound, making sure it didn’t get infected (because how much would that suck if he didn’t turn but he did get an infection?). Catra spent half of the time outside the door silent to the point where Micah wasn’t sure she was still there, and the other half pacing back and forth across the landing, talking quietly to Melog.

“It’s been a week,” she finally said, frustrated. “Don’t you think we’re safe?”

Micah knew she was impatient. He was too. But he was scared to push it. “Come on,” Catra said, lightly kicking the door. “We’ll leave, and if it starts to look like you’re changing, I’ll put you down. Okay?”

“Okay,” Micah said, letting out a long breath. “But I’m teaching you how to drive.”

“Oh no, what a threat.”

He smiled despite himself. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

And they did, slipping out of the house at first light. They got their stuff loaded into the car, and Micah handed over the car keys. “Ready?”

Catra stared up at him, her expression unreadable. Then she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Oof, okay.” Micah held her close, brushing her hair back. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Catra muttered, pulling away and taking the keys. “Everything’s okay.”

Catra was a quick learner. It probably helped that the roads were completely empty. Either way, she picked up driving in no time, and had a little bit of a lead foot. Not that speed limits really mattered. Micah was a little concerned about his heart, though.

“You know you don’t have to turn that tight around every corner, right?”

“I don’t have to, but it’s fun to see the look on your face.”

They made good time now that Catra was driving as well. She mostly drove during the day, and Micah took over at night, since he had more experience and it just made sense. They only had to stop a couple times for gas. And Micah, blessedly, didn’t turn.

Catra took great joy in saying “I told you so.”

“Ha! Check it out!”

Micah jerked awake as Catra hit his arm. It took a few blinks to focus on what she was pointing at — a sign that said Welcome to Mystacor. He could feel the smile tugging at his lips. Not much longer now.

“All right, drive straight through town…”

Anxiety and impatience were at war with each other in Micah’s head as they drove through the mostly empty streets. Mystacor had never been a big place, and he suspected most people had cleared out when things got bad. But his family was here, and safe, and everything would be okay.

He kept that thought in mind right up until they pulled up in front of the house, and saw the door wide open. It felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over Micah’s head; his expression fell, fear flooding through him. No, no, no, no—

“Hey!” Catra yelled as he bolted out of the car and to the house with no worry about his own safety. She swore, grabbing the gun and fighting to get unbuckled so she could run after him.

The door opened right up into a living room in shambles. Furniture had been overturned, broken glass littering the floor. Micah stood in the middle of it all, looking around, completely lost.

“There’s no blood,” Catra noted, scanning the floors and walls. That was a good thing, right? “Wait…”

She narrowed her eyes, stepping further into the room, looking at the back wall. “Are zombies using assault rifles now?”

“What?” Micah turned to follow her, gaze hollow. It sharpened when he saw the bullet holes in the wall. Catra walked further into the house and saw more broken windows, more bullet holes.

“Hey, Micah?” It was rare she actually used his real name. “I don’t think this was zombies.”

“I think you’re right,” Micah said slowly as he followed her. “Do you remember what I told you? About why I sent Angie and Glimmer here?”

Catra looked at Micah, frowning. “Because the government was trying to shut you up about all the zombie stuff. You think… they found them?”

“Stay close,” Micah said. “Let’s search the house. Quietly.”

There was no blood anywhere, which was a relief. But there was also no sign that anyone had left the house of their own free will. Had his family been taken? They could be anywhere by now if that was the case.

Catra was on her knees, peeking under a bed. There was a stuffed bunny that looked like the back had been ripped. She grabbed it, pulling it out. “This look familiar?”

Micah’s heart jumped into his throat. “That’s Glimmer’s.”

It had been her first stuffed animal. She loved it. She never would have gone anywhere without it. Catra carefully picked at the ripped fabric. It didn’t look like an accident — it looked like someone had stabbed it in the back. She picked through some of the fluff, and found a piece of paper. Micah immediately grabbed it, unfolding it. There was one word scrawled across it in an elegant, familiar scrawl — Hope.

Catra stood with the bunny, looking over Micah’s arm to the note. “Hope? Is that a code or something?” She looked at Micah, who was breaking into a slow grin.

“No. It’s Angie’s sister. They must have gotten away and tried to run.”

“Do you know where Hope lives?”

“Elberon.” He took the bunny and gave it a tight hug. “Let’s go!”

“Hang on!” Catra stopped him before he could run out. “I mean, we’re here, we might as well sweep for supplies, right? It’s not like they’re going to need anything.”

Wasting any time grated on Micah’s skin, but Catra was right. They did need to stock up on stuff. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s get moving.”

Catra was carrying out a third round of stuff when movement at the end of the street caught her attention. She looked up, expecting to see a zombie coming toward them. But there was nothing. Catra watched the spot as she slowly backed up from the car.

“Hey,” she called inside without looking away. Micah came out of the kitchen with another bag. He stopped, following Catra’s gaze.

“What’s up?”

“I saw something.”

“Something undead?”

“Not sure.”

Micah watched for another moment, then handed Catra the bag. “Get in the back,” he said quietly. Catra nodded, going to the car and climbing into the back. She pulled Melog’s crate into her lap, hugging it tight. Micah climbed into the front seat, starting the car.

A black car came whipping around the corner.

“Fuck!” Catra squeaked. Micah threw the car into reverse and slammed down on the gas. The tires screeched against the pavement as they backed up, racing backward down the street. She hadn’t buckled in, of course. Melog yowled, and Micah expertly ignored it all, jerking the steering wheel to turn them back onto the main road and slamming the the gear into drive. Catra straightened up to look out the back window and saw the black car close on their heels. “Uh—“

“I know,” Micah said through gritted teeth. He was already going as fast as he could, pedal against the floor. Mystacor was his home. He knew it better than whatever cronies his bosses had sent. He could lose them. “Just hang on.”

Catra sank back into her seat, gripping Melog’s crate.

Micah had been a punk teenager at one time. He knew how to make the tightest turns, knew where all the blind corners were, and knew exactly where every exit out of town was. Catra didn’t say much through all this, mostly because she was afraid to open her mouth and risk throwing up.

They made it out of town, and Micah took another sharp turn, disappearing into the trees. No one followed them. Micah was silent for a moment before he started laughing breathlessly.

“That was a trip, huh?”

“Please pull over,” Catra groaned. Micah did as requested, and Catra stumbled out of the car, resting her hands on her knees as she heaved. Nothing came up, though not for a lack of trying. Micah climbed out and rubbed her back.

“Sorry, kid. I know that was a lot.”

“Where the fuck did you learn to drive?”

“In Mystacor.”

Catra sank to the ground, resting her head between her knees. Micah gave her a moment, and started to plan. They were definitely going to need a new car. He didn’t want to risk going back into Mystacor, which meant they’d have to keep going down this road and hope they got lucky. And probably spend a night or two hiding out. He was sure the government goons would be spreading out now that he had been seen in Mystacor.

“Do you know how to get from Elberon from here?” Catra asked weakly, raising her head. “How far is it?”

“Not long — a day or two. We’re gonna lay low around here for a bit, though. Make sure the area is clear, get a new car, and maybe take a break from driving.”

“That’d be nice.”

They found a vacant house with a car and and held up there for a few days so Catra and Melog could recover from the last car ride. Micah took over driving completely, since he knew where they were going, and Catra still felt a little queasy.

“So, no more high speed car chases?” Micah asked cheerfully as they started down the street. Catra glared at him.

“Just focus on the road, old man.”

They drove silently, watching the roads for any sign of life or non-life. Micah had shifted his hyper focus to their new destination — Elberon. Angie, Casta, and Glimmer had gone to Elberon, to Angie’s sister’s. They were safe. They would be okay. And Micah would find them. And they would all be okay.

“Sure we’re not gonna get ambushed again?” Catra asked as they drove into Elberon.

“Not really,” Micah admitted. He wasn’t even sure he remembered Hope’s address. Angie and Hope were cordial and on speaking terms, but not really the type to call and visit often. But he didn’t want to tell Catra that.

The house they pulled up in front of was familiar, at least. Micah was mostly certain he had the right place. “Well, old man?” Catra gave him a small shove. “Gonna go find your family or what?”

Micah gripped the steering wheel, staring at the house. What if they weren’t there? What if he was wrong about everything? What if Hope wasn’t there, and the rest of his family had moved on? How would he ever find them?

The front door opened, and a familiar face looked out. Micah choked on his next breath. Angie.

Catra watched, a little amused, as Micah threw himself out of the car and bolted up the walkway. Angella opened the door fully to catch him in a tight hug. Fantastic, she thought, getting out of the car as well and going to the back to check on Melog. Maybe he’d let her keep the car and she could—

“Catra?”

Every single thought process stopped. No. No way. It wasn’t possible. Absolutely not. Catra straightened up slowly, wide-eyed, daring to turn just a little. More people had gathered at the door now, including an extremely familiar face that couldn’t possibly be there. Ocean blue eyes wide, blonde hair pulled back in that same ponytail.

“Adora?”

Adora shoved passed everyone else, running to Catra and grabbing her, pulling her into a hug so tight that it lifted her off the ground. Catra’s arms moved automatically to wrap around Adora, irrationally afraid that she would disappear if Catra didn’t grab her right now. She buried her face in Adora’s shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. How? She wanted to ask.

And then she remembered — Adora’s aunt lived in Elberon. Oh.

“Um…” Catra didn’t open her eyes at the sound of the voice, and Adora didn’t let go; she just turned slightly toward it. “We may want to get inside.”

“Oh, right—“

“Hang on.” Catra reluctantly pulled away, but kept her hand firmly in Adora’s as she opened the back door.

“Melog!” Adora sounded absolutely delighted as she Catra pulled out the cat carrier and hefted it over her shoulder. “Hey buddy!”

The cat meowed.

The next hour or so was a little chaotic as everyone tried to get introductions in and tell their stories. Angella, Glimmer, and Casta were all there and all thrilled to see Micah, of course. Glimmer kept both her arms wrapped around one of his the entire time. Adora’s aunt Mara, it turned out, was Hope’s partner. Small world.

“Wait.” Adora pulled back slightly to look at Catra, wide-eyed. “Where are your moms?”

Catra looked away, a bulge swelling in her throat. “I uh… I found Catra in Half Moon,” Micah explained quietly. “We searched, but it looked like she was the only survivor.”

Adora’s breath caught, and she squeezed Catra’s hand a little tighter. “No one else?” she asked, voice shaking. Catra shook her head. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Micah said. Adora wiped her eyes with her free hand and shook her head.

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” She pulled Catra back into a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Catra said with a weak laugh. “Good thing I didn’t let another weird drifter pick me up, who knows where I might’ve gone.”

Adora looked over Catra’s shoulder, meeting Micah’s gaze. He’d known the girl for about twenty minutes, and he could already tell she’d move heaven and earth for Catra if she could. He nodded in response to her silent thank you.

“What happened here?”

Micah looked down at the fresh scar on his arm, which Angie was tracing with a finger. It was late; Adora had dragged Catra upstairs to sleep, and Hope and Mara had followed, giving the family some space to reunite. Glimmer was between Casta (who was working on knitting something) and Micah, asleep on her father’s shoulder.

“Ah… a scratch, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Got it when we were running away from a horde of zombies. We weren’t really sure what it was — if it was a scratch or a bite — so we just held up in a house for a bit to see what happened.”

“Don’t tell me you told that poor girl to shoot you if you turned.”

“I gave her the gun and told her to run, but she didn’t want to.”

“Poor thing,” Casta said with a sigh. “You said she lost her parents? She must’ve been horrified.”

“Great company, though. She let me talk for hours without interrupting or anything.”

“Are you sure you just never let her get a word?” Angie teased, squeezing her husband’s arm. He chuckled.

“Maybe that too.”

Elberon, it turned out, was one of the towns that had managed to hold together in the face of the end of the world. It still had a population (though it was significantly smaller) and an informal police force which patrolled the town and raised the alert about any incoming zombies. They had a good trading system that kept everyone fed and safe, and even electricity and running water.

Not that Catra saw much of it. She spent most of the first day inside with Adora while Micah went to out explore with his wife and daughter. And she was fine with that. She’d figured he’d basically drop her the minute he had his real family back. But at least she wasn’t alone.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Adora whispered into Catra’s hair. They were lying in bed, clinging to each other. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Catra admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch. I was so useless.”

“No, no,” Adora said quickly. “I don’t blame you. I wasn’t a lot of fun to—“

“Adora.” Catra pulled away to look at her, scowling a little. “Your parents died. You were mourning. You’re allowed to be not fun or whatever. I was just a crappy friend. And I’m sorry.”

Adora shook her head, tugging Catra back against her chest. “I don’t care. I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Yeah. So am I.”

Eleberon really was nice. Catra could only observe what she could see from the front step of Mara’s and Hope’s house, but she liked what she could see.

“Hey, kid,” Micah said cheerfully as he stepped out beside her, ruffling her hair. She shooed his hand off halfheartedly.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be spending time with your family.”

“Glimmer abandoned me to go watch the boy next door shoot arrows on his archery range. Besides, I haven’t seen you all day.”

Catra shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course it is.” Micah gave her a shocked look. “Did you think I was just going to ditch you when we got here? You’re stuck with me forever, kid.”

“Wait, what?”

Micah beamed, wrapping an arm around Catra’s shoulders and pulling her into a side-hug. “You’re basically my daughter now too. Glimmer will be thrilled. She’s always wanted a sister.”

“Hang on!”

“Micah, stop harassing her,” Casta said as she poked her head out the door. “Come on, dinner is ready.”

Micah turned Catra to lead her inside, completely deaf to her protests.