***None of the Xmen characters belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for fun and entertainment, not for any profit***
Logan was walking through the snow, marveling at the clean smell. After being in the city and smelling the stink of it for so long this was heaven. He had tracked several caribou just by smell alone and he had stood at distance watching them search for grass. Just a few years ago, he would have ran one down for food. He had lived day by day, not knowing where his next meal would come from. Many times he had eaten wild animals he had stalked just to stay alive. A lot had changed since then, but he could still feel the wild animal just underneath, waiting for a chance to escape. The experiments had not only given him superhuman strength, but had also enhanced certain mutant abilities he had been born with and the ability to heal himself, this coupled with his ability for self healing made him a virtual fighting machine.
His friend Charles had helped him, but he still felt like he was stuck in limbo between man and beast. He stood pondering this as he watched a wolf take down a old caribou buck. Life was like that, be strong or be brought down by the wolves. He wondered if he were one of the wolves.
The pristine quiet was shattered by a thin scream. Then something slammed into his brain like a freight train, the scream was now in his head ,"Help me!" The force of the telepathic message sent him to his knees. Standing slowly, Logan could tell that the first scream had come from several miles away and he couldn't get a scent on the wind. He turned sniffing in several directions. When he heard it again, he caught a scent in the air, a taste of some flower and blood. Quickly he set off in the direction from which it came.
He crossed the few miles in no time and found himself in some small northern town that probably was there because of the abundance of fish found in the nearby river. Most of the buildings were shacks and run down shanties. Cautiously, he sniffed again and finding the scent he had followed here, he went to an alleyway between two falling down buildings.
He stepped up to the entrance and quickly sized up the situation. A crumpled body lay just a few feet away. By its smell, Logan could tell it had been a juvenile, still young enough that he wasn't quite sure if it were male or female, but he also knew the kid was dead. A ripped open bag beside the body, the contents scattered, showed him that the child was probably killed over what was in the battered duffel bag. By the looks of what lay scattered, there was nothing worth losing a life over. But, then in the glance Logan decided that it held all the child had in this life.
Logan looked at the back of the alley to see several ugly looking men. They had a young woman cornered. Her clothes were ripped and her face was so covered with blood that he couldn't make out any features on her face, except for her eyes. They were wide with fear. It was from her that the smell of flowers and blood came. She saw him standing there and then he realized she had sent the telepathic message. Another came, and although she was weaker than before it still caused him to stagger back .
With a roar, Logan rushed to the back. His razor sharp claws sliced through the first two guys' arms. They fell to the ground screaming. His second swipe was so hard that it went through the third man's leg and gouged into the cinder block wall behind him. The fourth man had grabbed up a board and hit Logan across the back. "Now, I know you didn't just do that." Logan roared. He turned and sliced through the several layers of grimy clothing and then through the layer of muscle underneath.
The man fell back screaming clutching his chest. Logan stood there, ready to fight some more, but the attackers were already trying to crawl and limp away. None were ready on take on a grown man, especially one that had built in knives. After this all they could tell others what had happened was that the young woman could call wolves to protect her. In years to come, many of the Inuit natives would tell a story of a young woman who when times of distress would become to hard for them to beat, she would call in wolves to protect them. This moment of human tragedy would become a legend.
When Logan realized that they had no more fight left in them, he turned to the girl. She had sank to the ground and was lying there silently. He bent over her and touched her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she tried to pull away. He gently but firmly put one hand behind her neck and the other under her knees so he could pick her up.
"It's okay, I'm here to help. I heard you and I'm here." he told her softly. Not quite sure what to do, he lifted her up to carry her to a hospital. She continued to stare at him with terror filled eyes. He looked at her and said again, "I am here to help you." Without speaking she lifted a unsteady hand and touched his cheek, her fingers stroked the hair that was there. Then, as if that took all her strength, she fell unconscious. Logan tightened his hold on her as he began to leave the alley.
He stopped by the kid; he did not want to leave the body just lying there. He knew that in at town like this the murder would go unnoticed and the body neglected. If she survived, he knew she would ask about the child first thing.
Gently he placed the girl on the ground then turned to the boy. Logan took what ever bits of clothing that were lying about and began to wrap the body in a makeshift shroud. He sat there on his knees, pondering how he was going to get them both back.
Suddenly, an image drove itself through his thoughts. It was of the kid, now he saw it was a male, a boy of about fifteen, possibly sixteen but small for his age because of malnutrition. In the second that he saw it, he realized it was an image of the kid being beaten to death by the four men. Forcing the image back he looked at the unconscious girl. Her forehead was wrinkled and her breathing was coming too quickly. He tried shaking her, anything to keep the image from returning. Instead of waking she only slipped deeper into unconsciousness, which was just as good.
Finally, Logan decided to strap the boy to his back and carry the girl in his arms. Not pleased with the arraignment, but not sure of what else he could do, Logan set out for his jeep that was over ten miles away. When he reached it, the moon was high and he could hear the wolves tracking both his scent and the scent of the dead boy.
He drove the next two hundred miles in silence, touching her throat every so often to see if she lived. One dead body in his jeep was enough for him. Passing more than one hospital, he decided to take the girl to Jean. She would be able to help.