ThunderCats Fanfiction Project (Ch 4 Episode 6)

In the stillness after crisis, Cheetara, Snarf, and the children walk the wounded halls of the flagship in search of water, food, and a moment to breathe. What begins as an awkward errand becomes the first fragile step toward a new kind of family — one born not of ceremony, but of shared fear, shared loss, and the quiet work of tending one another.

THE QUIET HOURS

Book 1 – Exile and Vigil – Chapter 4, Episode 6

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The Walk Through the Wounded Ark

The corridor outside the bridge was dim, lit only by the trembling gold of emergency strips. The air smelled of burnt wiring and coolant, and the uneven gravity made every step feel uncertain — as though the ship itself were learning to breathe again.

Cheetara walked ahead, her bare feet silent against the metal floor. Snarf followed close behind, ushering the children with gentle nudges and soft murmurs.

No one spoke.

Lion‑O kept his eyes down.

WilyKit and WilyKat whispered to each other in hushed tones, glancing at Cheetara, then quickly looking away.

Cheetara felt every glance.

She had fought Mutants, piloted through a nuclear shockwave, steadied a spinning flagship…

yet walking beside three grieving children still felt hard.

Snarf noticed her silence. He noticed everything. His tail flicked protectively, positioning himself between Cheetara and Lion‑O without thinking.

She saw it.

And it stung — not because she blamed him, but because she understood.

He was the one Prince Lion‑O knew.

He was the one who had comforted WilyKit and WilyKat when panic overtook them.

He was the one the king and queen had trusted.

She was a warrior.

A stranger.

A woman with no one left to hold her.

Her parents’ faces rose in her mind, and she blinked hard, swallowing the ache.

Then pain shot through her foot.

She stopped.

A thin line of blood traced her heel — a cut she hadn’t noticed during the escape. Her slippers had been lost in the palace, and she had run barefoot across debris and shattered stone.

WilyKit noticed first.

“Your feet…” she whispered.

Snarf’s ears twitched. “The Communal Washroom is just ahead. There should be medkits there — and we need to stop there anyway.”

The twins flushed with embarrassment.

Lion‑O looked away, cheeks red.

Cheetara nodded gently. “Let’s go.”

She could smell the children’s discomfort now that she walked behind them — the quiet, human consequence of terror. Snarf smelled it too; his whiskers twitched with sympathy, not judgment.

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The Communal Washroom

The Communal Washroom was quiet, lit by soft gold strips along the walls. Hygiene stations lined one side of the room — compact stalls with mirrors, wipes, suction ports, and storage drawers. Everything was magnetized or clipped into place so nothing had flown loose during the ship’s violent tumble. Only a toppled stool and a few stray cloths hinted at the chaos they had survived.

Opposite the stalls was a long grooming area: benches, wide mirrors, shelves of grooming products, and warm air vents. It felt like a Thunderan gym bathhouse — practical, communal, familiar.

Cheetara gestured gently. “Choose a hygiene station. One each.”

The children hesitated — expecting showers, not space‑ready cleansing units.

WilyKat frowned. “Where’s the water?”

Snarf answered softly, guiding Lion‑O. “Use the cleansing wipes first. They’re soaked — see? Then the deodorizing ones. Then the scented ones.”

Cheetara opened a drawer to show them. “These are for hair. These for skin. These for teeth. And these—” she tapped a small silver tube “—are for the toilet suction ports.”

The twins’ eyes widened.

Lion‑O blinked. “That’s… strange.”

“It works,” Snarf said simply.

They began.

The children peeled off their soiled ceremonial robes with small, ashamed movements. Cheetara pretended not to notice, giving them privacy without stepping away. Snarf helped them seal the garments into disposal bags and drop them into the waste chute — a soft thunk marking the end of the moment.

Thunderans wore no clothing in daily life; garments were ceremonial. Once the robes were gone, the children relaxed a little, as though shedding the last reminder of panic.

They moved to their hygiene stations.

WilyKit opened a packet and sniffed. “Mine smells like… berries.”

Lion‑O perked up. “Mine smells like honey.”

“Mine like pine,” WilyKat said, rubbing his arms.

Snarf chuckled. “Mine smells like roses.”

Cheetara, cleansing her own skin with slow, careful motions, added softly:

“Mine smells like lavender,” Cheetara said softly — a scent her mother used to keep in their home.

The children smiled — small, tentative, but real.

They washed their faces, brushed their teeth, used rinseless shampoo wipes, and dried themselves under the warm air vents.

Then they moved to the grooming benches.

There, in front of the wide mirrors, they began to look like themselves again — the twins with their wild, iconic hair, Lion‑O with his soft curls, Snarf with his neatly fluffed fur. Cheetara brushed her hair, trimmed fire‑damaged strands, and applied a light Thunderan jasmine oil to her skin.

Only then did she sit on a bench to tend her feet.

Saline stung.

Disinfectant burned.

Bandages wrapped around her heels like soft white armor.

When she looked up, WilyKit was standing beside her, holding out a scraped arm.

“Um… I have a scrape. Can you show me what to do?”

Cheetara blinked — then smiled softly. “Yes. Of course.”

She cleaned the wound gently.

WilyKat came next.

Then Lion‑O, watching her with wide, thoughtful eyes.

Snarf watched too — protective, perceptive — but he said nothing.

He saw the way Cheetara’s hands trembled.

He saw the way she blinked back tears.

He saw the way the children softened toward her.

And for the first time, he understood:

She needed them as much as they needed her.

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The Kitchen

The kitchen was compact but well‑stocked, with drawers of sealed food pouches and water. Cheetara opened a drawer — and froze.

A pouch of Catty Kat’s Thunderan Coffee stared back at her.

Her parents’ favorite.

The scent memory hit her like a blow — mornings in their home, laughter, warmth, safety.

Her eyes burned.

WilyKit stepped closer. “Can I… have some water?”

Cheetara nodded, handing her a pouch. Their fingers brushed.

Something warm flickered in Cheetara’s chest.

WilyKat approached next.

Then Lion‑O.

She placed her hands gently around his as she gave him water.

He didn’t pull away.

Snarf approached last. She offered him a pouch.

He accepted it with only his fingertips, avoiding her touch.

She noticed.

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

They gathered food pouches for the adults and children, then stopped at the janitorial closet to collect cleaning supplies — disinfectant cloths, gloves, waste bags, and a canister of Temple Hearth Citrus Cleanser.

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The Walk Back

The silence was softer now.

WilyKit walked beside Cheetara.

WilyKat walked just behind her.

Lion‑O stayed close to Snarf, but kept glancing at Cheetara — curious, not fearful.

Cheetara felt the shift.

A small one.

A fragile one.

But real.

She breathed a little easier.

The Bridge Doors

The airtight doors to the bridge stood open — left that way by Tygra and Panthro when they returned earlier. The hum of the heartline deepened as they approached. The lights glowed warmer. The ship felt less like a tomb and more like a wounded creature slowly waking.

Cheetara paused at the threshold.

The children stopped beside her.

Snarf looked up at her — cautious, evaluating — still placing himself subtly between her and Lion‑O.

“Anything wrong?” he asked quietly.

Cheetara shook her head.

Together — awkward, quiet, with grief resting in the background of their minds — they stepped onto the bridge.

The quiet hours had begun.

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Ceremonial Closing Seal

In the dim corridors of the ark, the remnant walked in silence, bearing water and bread like offerings.

Warrior and children moved as strangers at first, yet grief drew them gently toward one another.

Thus began the quiet hours — where wounds were not healed, but held,

and the first threads of a new family were woven in exile.

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Continue the Saga

Click to read the saga from the beginning → The Prologue

Click to read the previous episode → Episode 4.5

Click to read the next episode → (coming next week)

Disclaimer

This work is a piece of fan fiction inspired by the ThunderCats franchise. All characters, settings, and original concepts from ThunderCats are the property of their respective rights holders. I do not own the rights to ThunderCats, nor do I claim any affiliation with its owners. This story is a transformative retelling created for creative expression and audience engagement, not as a commercial product.

AI Collaboration Statement

In creating this work, I collaborated with Microsoft Copilot as a creative tool within my writing process. Every element of this saga — its emotional architecture, mythic logic, themes, and direction — originates from my design. Copilot assisted by generating draft language in response to the direction and creative vision I provided. I then revised, reshaped, and rewrote those drafts extensively, ensuring the final text reflects my voice, my choices, and my vision. This is a guided, intentional collaboration that honors both the craft of writing and the legacy of the original ThunderCats universe.