Art Credit: Faye
Prompt: Angst
Pre-show AU
Adora and her squadron are scouting the area near Princess Frosta's domain. It is in a sheer moment of chaos that ice cracks over her, and Catra, for the first time, has to be the one to save Adora.
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The mission was easy: scout the nearby icy realm of the Kingdom of Snows for signs of rebel forces. It was something Adora had been ecstatic forever since Shadow Weaver told her she would be head of the team. Not quite Force Captain, but close enough for the blonde to count as a win.
Catra, as usual, wasn't so fortunate. Adora was given a stern talking-to by the mysterious magic woman. She tried to make her point across about how Catra should stay with the rest of the Horde and her squadron. Adora had learned a few things from Shadow Weaver over the years, and one of the more prominent and helpful things she learned was sly persuasion.
That was how a certain catgirl with sun-kissed skin was allowed to go on a treacherous mission.
Catra sneezed. The air was frigid and subzero, making her quake in her boots (she didn't want to wear any shoes at all, but she was now glad Adora forced her to). Despite the oversized, worn coat wrapped around her like a blanket, she was freezing. The sun was setting upon the day. Catra had to squint to look past the sparkly snow that was hurting her eyes to no ends.
She sneezed again, her nose numb and tinted a pinkish color, as another roll of wind passed by. She was following closely behind Adora throughout the mission-these strangers outranked her and made her nervous-but it seemed as if she had fallen behind. She rushed towards her, only to feel her feet slip under her.
Catra yelped as the sky above her took her vision. The only thing grounding her was a strong hand tugging at her wrist. Looking down, she could see it was none other than Adora who had kept her on her feet. The ground had changed; it was now blue and flat, yet wet and slippery. It was something fragile that she couldn't name.
Regaining her balance, Catra swatted her friend away. Adora repositioned the special earmuffs she was given, then rubbing her nose and sniffling. "It's ice," she provided. "Remember what Shadow Weaver said? 'Ice is slippery.'"
Catra nodded, a smirk plastered on her face. Of course, she had tuned the old hag out. Adora, knowing fully well, rolled her eyes and moved to address the rest of the group, which was far ahead of the pair by now. They were trained to keep trekking forward, even if they had to leave their teammates behind; that is not to say it didn't pop Catra's under-the-surface bubbles.
"Alright, team!" Adora yelled, cupping her mouth with her hands and then using said hands to clap. The team turned to face her, falling closer in line like the undead. "We have almost made it to the mountains, so, I propose we start heading back."
After many affirmative nods and grumbles of the agreement, Adora twirled her hand in the air and started her trek downward. She was treading down thin ice-literally. If she had known better she would have noticed the signs before it was too late. As it seemed, fate's red thread had other plans. It wrapped around but her pinkie, pulling her ever so slyly over the edge. Adora gasped as she heard the crack, her breath visible and swarming around her like a swarm of flies.
Catra was the first to notice. Her ears twitched frantically, her eyes darting to and fro for any sort of explanation for the resounding scream Adora let out, followed by an abrupt splash. But the blonde was nonexistent. All that remained was a gaping hole in the ice, and no one would bat an eye at the sight.
