Black, inky clouds shielded the sky, hiding the stars and moons from the pitiful humans that inhabited the world below. It was a dark night, the darkest it had been in ages, and, as the nocturnal creatures went about their business, below, in the valley of trees and dirt, six children stood.
Out here, in the dark, in the secret hide-away only they knew of, no one would look for them. Humans avoided these woods- and with good reason. It was far too close to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters for comfort but, not only that but, lately, there were rumors and whispers of a cult living in the woods. Stories of mutant monsters that would steal you away if you caught sight of them and their world, never to be seen again, had begun to spread like wildfire within the past week.
They were all true, of course. In these woods did live mutants, and though they were not monsters, they would defend their new home from any invader. Human or not.
And, yes, it was true one or two humans had gone missing within the past week but, unfortunate as their disappearances had been, it was needed. Monsters, mutant or not, had to protect their homes.
These six children, inhabitants of the woods, knew these stories and rumors well.
Anyone knows when someone is speaking of them, after all.
But, none the less, these six children, children of unfortunate births and raising, were gathered tonight, gathered around the now lifeless body of an older man. He wore a dark business suit, clearly whoever it was had been important.
Not so much now.
The six spoke quietly to each other, each eying the body with distaste. At one point, during their quiet whisperings, their eyes shifted to the hulking, spiked gray dragon-like child towards the middle of the circle. The start of the monster rumors, their brother in arms. They all shook their heads however, and went back to talking.
No, they couldn't ask that of him. Not after the last one.
So, instead, the six took a hold of the far too important corpse, and, dragged it off, towards the cliffs. They traveled alongside the stretched road, sneaking out of their woods and looking far too much like a funeral procession to be comfortable.
And, then, once they reached their destination, they spat on the body and shoved him over the railing, into the dreary waves below.
"Je ne regrette rien," the eldest had said, and they had all nodded, because even if they did not speak the language, they knew what it meant and agreed wholeheartedly.
They did not regret anything at all.
The next day a search party was gathered at the cliffs, all looking for a man who too important and too bigoted for his own good.
He would not be found for another two weeks.
And, by then, by then any evidence the six children, the six little mutant monsters, had ever touched him would be far gone.
