By Bobbi Todd
Part One
The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their
permission.
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, both consensual and non-consensual, as
well as for violence and offensive language. If you are under the legal age for
this sort of thing, then GET OUT!
The woman was trudging through the snow, the deer strapped to her back causing
her to bend nearly double beneath its weight, when she stumbled over something
buried in a drift. She went down heavily, instinctively thrusting the unstrung
bow away from her, praying it wouldn't be damaged. She needed it to survive.
She lay face down in the deep snow for a moment, struggling to catch her breath.
Finally, she tried to rise, but the carcass was too heavy. She released the
straps holding it in place and wriggled out from under it, the snow creeping
into her collar and boots. She shivered, having already been out in the cold
longer than was wise.
She retrieved her bow, then poked curiously at the mound which had tripped her.
It moaned and she leaped backwards with more energy than she thought she had
left.
Her heart pounding, she cautiously approached again, using her precious bow to
sweep the snow away. She stared for a moment at what was revealed. The body of a
man, clad only in torn jeans, lay before her. His skin was blue from the cold,
his hands and feet had the deadly white cast of deep frost bite. If he lived,
which wasn't likely, he'd probably lose them. She gingerly turned him to his
back and he moaned again. She couldn't blame him. He'd been savaged by something
big. Claws had torn deep furrows across his chest and belly. His face had been
slashed as well, one claw narrowly missing his left eye. He'd lost a lot of
blood.
She stared down at him for a moment, knowing that she was trying to justify to
herself leaving him here. If she'd come along just five minutes later, he'd have
been beyond help. He probably was anyway.
She sighed and turned to remove the carrying straps from the deer. She couldn't
just let him die, no matter what it might mean to her later. She took her coat
off and put it on the man, his massive shoulders straining the hand-sewn seams.
She had to take her mittens off to fasten the deer horn buttons, and her hands
were numb long before she was finished.
Shivering so hard it felt like her bones would fly apart, she stood, then slung
him across her back with a practiced motion. She staggered, trying to get her
balance. He was heavier than he looked. Just her luck. They were still nearly a
mile from her cabin, and she hoped she could get them there before they both
froze to death. She cast one regretful glance at the deer before she began their
journey. She hoped whatever had mauled the man didn't find it. Then again, maybe
it would be best if it did. She scooped up her bow and began to walk.
She fought her way through the last yards of snow to the tiny cabin she called
home. Her numb hand fumbled with the deer hide strap hanging outside the door,
and pulled it, releasing the latch and opening the door. She stumbled in and
lowered the man as gently as she could to the rough bed. He was still breathing.
She carefully hung the bow, and the crude quiver holding her few arrows, on a
peg near the door. Then she turned to the stone fireplace and began to rebuild
the fire. The cabin warmed quickly. She gently removed her coat from the man,
checked to see that none of his wounds was still bleeding, then covered him with
the bearskin she had laboriously tanned.
She looked longingly at the fire for a moment, then, with a sigh, put her coat
on and went back out into the cold. She had to retrieve the deer. Without it
she, and her unexpected guest, would starve.
The man called Logan woke briefly, aware of the warmth slowly creeping into his
nearly frozen body. The burning pain in his hands and feet told him how close he
had been to freezing to death. He looked around at the tiny cabin, but there was
no one else there. He tried to sit up and the torn muscles in his belly reminded
him of why he'd been in the snow in the first place. Before he blacked out
again, he mumbled one word.
"Creed."
Nearly at the end of her strength, she stumbled against the cabin door, the
frozen deer banging her painfully in the back. She was staring at the deer hide
strap when the door suddenly opened and she fell in, finding herself once more
pinned beneath the carcass. This was becoming a habit. Something shoved her legs
aside and the cabin door was slammed shut against the cold. She didn't even try
to move the deer. She was simply too exhausted.
"You workin' with Creed?" a rough voice asked.
"Who ... the hell ... is Creed?" she asked, her voice muffled against the hide
covered floor.
Logan was started by the woman's voice. He didn't let his guard down, though.
Years of bitter experience had taught him that the so-called weaker sex was
actually deadlier than her male counterpart.
"Creed's one nasty customer," he told her, lifting the deer from her body. The
effort pulled at the healing wound on his belly and made him grunt. The woman
was struggling to get her legs under her. He let the deer thump to the floor and
offered her a wary hand. After a long moment she took it and he pulled her to
her feet. He released her hand and they stood evaluating each other.
She saw a short, hairy man, with wild, dark hair and ancient eyes. His wounds
didn't seem to be as bad as she'd thought, though he had one hand pressed to his
belly. His color was better than when she'd left to get the deer, at least.
He saw a shapeless figure about his own height, her body muffled with clothes
sewn together from a variety of different animal skins, only her eyes showing
beneath the protective covering. They were very weary.
She sighed.
"How'd I get here?" he asked after a long silence. She pulled her mittens off
before answering. Her hands were small and surprisingly delicate, though the
nails were broken, and calluses were obvious on her palms and fingers.
"I ran into you in the woods," she said simply, unwinding her scarf as she
spoke. "You looked like you could use a hand, so I brought you back here." She
hung the scarf and mittens in front of the fire. Her hair was dark, and her face
gaunt. There were dark circles under her eyes. She unbuttoned her coat and hung
it, too, near the fire. She was a small woman, and her frame was painfully thin.
Her shoulders drooped with fatigue.
"You been here long?" he asked as she wearily added a stick of wood to the fire.
"A while."
Logan was considering his somewhat limited options when the woman sighed again.
"Sorry, I'm not much of a hostess. There's a shirt over there that might fit
you," she pointed at a rude box in the corner, it looked like an old ammo box.
"One of my first attempts. I misjudged and made it too big. Just couldn't bring
myself to waste the hide, an' it was just too much trouble to cut it down."
He lifted the lid and sorted through the few items in the box. He found the
shirt quickly. Under it was a worn pair of blue jeans, a torn tee shirt, and a
ragged pair of tennis shoes. She'd apparently been living off the land for a
while, and it didn't look like she'd started with much.
She stepped past him and took the tee shirt from the box.
"Knew this'd come in handy." She poured a handful of water, from a skin she took
from a peg on the wall, on the cloth. "Have a seat and let me look at those
cuts, then I'll see about fixing something for us to eat."
"That ain't necessary."
"Yeah, well, humor me. Up here, an infection isn't much fun."
She gently cleaned his wounds, even though her exhaustion was obvious. She
flinched when he reached to move a lock of hair from her eyes.
"Sorry, darlin'." She didn't answer, but she quickly finished her task and moved
away from him. He could smell her fear. He pulled the shirt on over his head,
painfully stretching the cuts the woman had just cleaned. He pulled the laces
tight. It wasn't a bad fit.
She picked up a hatchet, with a broken handle, and began to chop at the deer
carcass. It was frozen solid and she wasn't getting very far.
"Let me give it a try, darlin'." She looked at him for a second, then shrugged.
"Sure." She offered him the broken hatchet, but he shook his head.
"Think this'll work a mite better," he said, extending one claw from the back of
his hand. She blinked, but didn't say anything. The adamantium sliced easily
through the frozen meat and bone. She moved closer to the fire. She shivered and
added the last piece of wood to the fire. He continued to cut the meat.
"How much o' this do ya want cut up?" he asked, turning to look at her several
minutes later. She was sitting in front of the fire, dozing. She was younger
than he'd thought. A lot younger.
The fire was getting low, and there wasn't any more wood. He put the bearskin
blanket around her and lifted her coat from the peg. It looked big enough to fit
him snugly. He started to put it on and noticed bloodstains on the inside of the
coat. He could tell by the scent that it was his. Kid musta found him, put her
coat on him, and dragged him back here. Then gone back for the deer. No wonder
she was exhausted.
He put the coat on and quietly stepped outside, the snow burning his bare feet.
He had to hunt around to find any wood, and he was pretty unsteady when he
returned to the shelter of the rude cabin.
The girl had curled up under the blanket, but started when he opened the door.
She scrambled to her feet, terror in her eyes.
"Easy, darlin'. Just went out for more wood," he told her, closing the door
behind him with one foot. As she helped him with the wood, he noticed that she
was favoring her left arm. He also noticed her scent. It was very ...
compelling.
"What'd ya do to yer arm?" She put several pieces of the deer on a metal grate
above the fire before answering.
"I lost an argument with a wolf. He didn't want to share his territory with me.
Chewed up my arm, an' kept me up a tree for three days." She shrugged, careful
to keep as much distance between them as possible. "By the time he got bored an'
left, my arm was infected. I was sick for a long time." She looked around the
cabin. "That's why I'm short on wood." An' food, he thought. Maybe he could help
her before he moved on. Unless Creed caught up with him first.
She dragged the ammo box over near the fire.
"Sit down an' let me look at your feet," she ordered. "You should'a let me go
get the wood. Your feet were probably still half frozen from earlier." He grit
his teeth and took off her coat as she examined his feet, then wrapped them in
rabbit skins.
"I don't know why you don't have frost bite, but it's a good thing. I don't have
any medicines." She took the coat and hung it on the peg near the fire.
Using the hatchet she pulled some of the meat from the grate onto a chipped
plate she had retrieved from a shelf. She handed it to him.
"Sorry, no silverware."
"Thanks, darlin'."
"Get some of that inside you. It'll help you warm up." She snagged the last
piece of meat from the fire, and sat down with her back against the wall. She
ate hungrily for a minute, then asked,
"So, what happened to you?"
"Some folks want me ta do somethin' I ain't interested in doin'."
"That Creed person one of 'em?"
"Yeah. An' he'll be lookin' fer me soon."
"Not in this weather, he won't." She finished her piece of venison. "What'd they
do, sic a mountain lion on you?"
"Somethin' like that." The wind howled outside the cabin. Neither spoke again.
The extra wood soon had the cabin warmed to a more comfortable level, and the
woman dozed off again, still sitting with her back to the wall. His feet had
finally stopped hurting, and the food had helped as well. The cuts on his chest
and belly had nearly healed, and it didn't hurt as much to move. He put the
plate on the floor near the fire and took the hatchet from the woman's nerveless
fingers. He quietly banked the fire, adding another piece of wood, then
carefully picked her up and put her on the makeshift bed. The mattress was
several old cloth bags, laced together and stuffed with grass. It was covered
with rabbit hides, making it fairly comfortable. He covered her with the
bearskin and carefully crawled in beside her. The warmth of her body against him
felt good after the cold. She murmured in her sleep, and snuggled into his arms.
In moments, he had joined her in sleep.
When he woke, his injuries had completely disappeared, taking the pain with
them. He could ignore the gnawing hunger in his belly for a time. The woman was
curled against him, her breath warm on his throat. There was still something odd
about her scent, but he couldn't place it. He breathed deeply of the heady
aroma. His left arm was across her waist, his hand resting on her back.
Unconsciously, he pulled her closer, reacting to the urging of his body. Her
head was pillowed on his right arm, and he stroked her hair and cheek with his
right hand. Her lips parted in a gentle smile at his touch. He bent his head and
brushed them with his own. The taste of her mouth was intoxicating, and he
stroked her back with his left hand, sliding it up under her shirt to caress her
bare skin. The bones of her ribs were easily distinguished beneath his hand, but
he barely noticed. He pulled her hips against him, pushing his growing erection
into her through their clothing. He deepened the kiss and she roused, blinking
at him sleepily for a moment, before her eyes widened in alarm.
She pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to pull away, but he
twisted his right hand in her hair, holding her tightly. He shifted her to her
back, pinning her beneath him as his left hand explored her body and his mouth
plundered hers, his passion overriding all control.
He released her mouth so that he could taste the sweet flesh of her throat, his
hand now caressing her breast, stroking the nipple with his thumb.
"No, please," she whimpered, pushing against him again, writhing beneath him.
The movement of her body only excited him further. He released her hair and
captured her left wrist in his powerful right hand, pinning her arm above her
head. She whimpered as the position pulled at the injured tissue of her arm. He
pulled her shirt up so that her breasts were bared to him. Pinning her right
hand with his left, crossing her wrists, he freed his other hand.
"No!" she cried as he shoved one knee between her thighs, forcing them apart. He
pulled at the deerskin pants she wore, desiring the warm center of her. She
struggled beneath him, but to no avail. He would have what he wanted, and there
was nothing she could do to stop him. She sobbed with fear and pain as he kissed
her brutally, bruising her with his need. In terror, she bit his lip, drawing
blood. With a shout of rage, he pulled free of her teeth. Without releasing her,
he clenched his right hand into a fist and struck her in the jaw with all his
might. With his adamantium laced skeleton, and the muscle structure strong
enough to carry it, he might as well have hit her with a hammer. She went limp
beneath him.
Lifting himself slightly from her, to allow better access to her clothing, he
extended all three claws from his right hand. He clumsily shoved these under her
shirt, intending to slice it from her body. In his haste, he cut her. Three
long, narrow gouges opened in the skin of her chest and right breast. He froze
at the sight of the blood on his claws as they emerged from the open neck of her
shirt.
He realized that he was only moments away from raping the woman, no, the girl,
who had saved his life, shared her shelter and her meager supplies with him.
He carefully withdrew his claws, retracting them with a sharp, metallic sound.
He shifted his weight from her and looked down with horror at the already
bruising flesh of her wrists and jaw. He gingerly checked for a pulse, and felt
a surge of relief when he found one, slow, but strong and steady. He gently
probed her jaw and neck, praying that he hadn't broken her bones. It seemed that
luck was with him, even if his sanity appeared to have departed.
He stroked her cheek tenderly for a moment, until he realized that the
uncontrollable lust was returning. He staggered to his feet, backing toward the
door, as the girl continued to lay, motionless and oh, so inviting, on the bed.
He licked his lips, and actually took a step toward her, before he yanked the
door open and stumbled through, slamming it behind him.
It was snowing heavily and he had no idea where he was. His injuries had healed
and, thanks to the girl, he had eaten and rested, and was better clothed than
before. None of which mattered. He knew that if he did not put some distance
between himself and the girl, the beautiful, desirable, tempting .... He pushed
away from the cabin, running into the forest.
