Thundera was dying. For a long time a hot wind from the sun had blown across the land. Only then did the wind begin to blow stronger, hotter. The constant wail echoed through the cavernous ruins of the abandoned cities. Steaming hot clouds, rolling, curling in the air in dense formations of demonic character spread through the air. The air. The choking air, the fuming air, unbreathable, unbearable. Little life survived, only the Thunderians had managed to keep on.

Tygra and Cheetara hid their faces behind their hands while the sand blew around them, above them. Their clothes fretted violently and slapped their bodies in painful sounds. Something got caught in her eyes and she stopped, he held her close to himself, he drew her close with his arms wrapped around her. He bowed his head onto her shoulder.

"How long do you think we have left, Tygra?" she asked her tiger.

"Four weeks, four days," he told her. "Four hours." He left that last one to himself.

"Will it happen quickly?"

He kissed her cheek. "Quickly."

The wind grew stronger still. A blood-red sun, thoroughly, profusely, grossly distorted in massive heaves of flamed plumes loomed over the jagged outline of distant gray mountains. Night -- the hot, hot night -- was soon near and before them, amidst the throws of elongated shadows, the sun set behind the scorched peaks while flares flickered and licked the air.

Years before millions of Thunderians had left in spaceships to the safety of other planets, colonies and yet other systems unexplored and unknown. Only a few had chosen to remain behind, that could not leave for Thundera was home.

At last Tygra and Cheetara returned to their house, the steel house the tiger had designed to withstand the brutal environment. The outer door slid open with an audible his and the two entered into the dark, small room. While the front door swung back closed the inner door softly rolled away to reveal the otherwise calm, otherwise cozy interior.

The living room was shaped like the inside of an igloo, albeit in vast proportions. The slate floor was shiny and reflected the light emitted from the small kitchen. The dining hall itself was low and flat, the walls were covered in an orange -- a light orange, yellow -- clay dotted with the spare streaks of a while, chalky substance. The fixtures, the cupboards, the floor, the ceiling, down to the furniture was gray and beige and every other shade in between.

The stove glowed red, water boiled in large sauce pans, the table was set and ready. Wileykat had prepared dinner. The adults brushed off the sand that had collected in their fur and, stripped naked, the two sat at the table while he served the meal.

The kitten was fourteen and a quiet boy. Last year he could have taken long walks at night but that was not possible anymore. He knew everything was ending. He would dream of great fires and when dawn arrived he saw that his visions were coming true.

The three sat at the table eating. There was no conversation, there was only silence, the kind of silence that could shatter nerves as surely as a jackhammer could.

With a soft chime the phone caught the collective attention. "I’ll get it," Wileykat said. He ran to screen and turned it on thankful that something had distracted him from the reality of the situation. A young face came into view from a sudden storm of blue snow.

It was Wileykit.

"Hi, Kat," she said. Something about her smile was infectious no matter what the condition. "Can you come over? Panthro just came home with a bunch of old shows. He found them at the museum. You know the old shows, the ones kids used to watch."

Wileykat was happy. When he was with his twin sister he felt like an adult. "Somehow, I’ll protect her, when the day comes, I will protect her," he thought to himself.

He ran back to the two at the table. The pottery dinnerware steamed, the cups were nearly empty of water, utensils clamored in the course of use.

"Wileykit wants me to go over to Panthro’s," he said to Cheetara. "Panthro found some old shows and she wants to know if I could go watch them with her."

"I think we can manage it, Wileykit, the wind seems to have died down, a little."

"I’ll get the vehicle running," Tygra said from the kitchen. He was already up and had even managed to put most of his clothes back on.

Tygra and Wileykat walked down below a set of stairs into the garage. The lights suddenly turned on, rather flickered on, the illumination never rose beyond the level of a faint glow. The tiger had his hand on the boy’s shoulder, pressed firmly. He gave him one last hug before they boarded the vehicle.

"I love you, Kat," he said under his breath.

Outside the night had grown black and the wind was still strong. The temperature was a constant one hundred and fifteen degrees. When Tygra and Wileykat left Cheetara walked into the bedroom to look at herself in the mirror. In the oval looking-glass she saw herself basked in the eerie blue light of the chamber. She wanted to cry but there were no tears. She was still young, strong and beautiful. What a waste, she thought, what a waste.

Years before, when everyone was leaving, she had thought about going too. Then she remembered what she told little Liono. "I can’t go. How can I leave Thundera? I can remember what winter was. I can remember what snow was. The cold mornings." The boy said nothing and walked away to Jagga’s side. Walked away, blasted away forever.

From then on the sun had grown hotter and redder. The ice caps had melted. The seas rose. Most of the major cities were under water, under boiling, bubbling water until it all evaporated and was lost to space.

The vehicle approached minutes later. Her tiger came to her and together the two spoke quietly though outside the torrential winds echoed loudly: "The sun, Cheetara, the sun. It’s only a matter of hours."

Wileykat and Wileykit were having a wonderful time. In the dark basement of Panthro’s warehouse, the two watched the old shows and laughed until the tears ran down their faces. The twins sat on the couch hand in hand, arm in arm. They enjoyed themselves completely. It was not very often that they visited each other. She was always the more outgoing, the more active. Panthro was more to her tastes while he preferred Tygra’s mellow tranquillity.

That night the hot wind blew stronger than ever before and even the house shook. Tygra opened his eyes. He touched a wall but when he did he pulled back quickly. He had burned his fingertips. Out a nearby window he saw that the darkened sky had turned yellow. He turned to Cheetara, he kissed her tenderly.