Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the X-men, or any of the plot from the movies and/or comics/TV show.

Twenty-two year old Selma pulled her long, straight black hair into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck as she walked through the cold, windy park. Everyone who passed her by made her more and more nervous. She had become more and more paranoid since entering the town of Salem, Massachusetts. There was something about the place. Perhaps it was the fact that there had been witch trials there so many years ago. Something about it made her uneasy, as though the citizens were still looking for a witch hunt.

She quickened her pace as she felt that someone was walking behind her. Probably just someone else taking a stroll through the park, she tried to reassure herself. Nothing to be worried about. Her long bangs fell into her eyes, and she pushed them to the side. There was something about being nervous. She suddenly became aware of everything that was touching her skin, from her clothing, to her hair. It was really a strange reaction to anxiety, at least in Selma's opinion.

"Excuse me!" she heard someone calling from behind her. She quickened her pace, hoping that she could pretend that she didn't hear whoever was beckoning her from behind.

"Excuse me!" repeated the caller. Once again, Selma quickened her pace, now taking long strides, her slim legs stretching as far as they could across the paved sidewalk.

"Please! I just need to ask you something!"

Finally, Selma stopped and turned halfway around, facing her pursuer.

"What?" she asked, hoping to put them off simply by being rude.

"We need to talk," replied the woman. She was an attractive woman with prominent eyes, dark skin, and, most noticeably, white hair. Selma eyed the woman, taking in her appearance.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I don't believe I know you."

"I know," replied the woman, simply, as though she had expected, even planned for, Selma's resistance. "I need to talk to you about Charles Xavier."

Selma felt her heart skip a beat. Charles Xavier. She hadn't heard that name in years. She thought that had been a time in her life that she had left behind her. And, after being disowned by her parents, and even serving jail time, she had hoped not to ever return to it.

"What do you know about it?" asked Selma, aware of her own hostility.

"Please," pleaded the woman. "My name is Aurora Monroe. I'm a friend of Charles Xavier's. He's been looking for you. Please, it's important."

"I-" Selma stuttered slightly. "Um…I really haven't seen him in a long time." It was a sorry explanation for her obvious hesitance, and she knew it, but she couldn't think of anything else to say to this woman.

"I know. But he only wants to talk to you. Please. I promise it's for the best."

Selma thought about this for a moment. It wasn't as though she had anywhere to go. She was alone, roaming the streets, sleeping in whatever empty park she could find. She was too afraid to interact with other people, too afraid that they would discover her horrible secret. She didn't want anyone to know. But, at the same time, with no where else to sleep that night, it might be in her best interests to go with Ms. Monroe.

"Very well," answered Selma, sighing. "I just need to get my things."

"Of course," replied Aurora. "Where are you staying?"

Selma shook her head and smiled a little, in spite of herself. "Right here," she said, motioning to a large willow tree just a few feet down the path from them. "Just give me a second." She walked to the tree and began to climb. It was obvious that she knew every branch of the tree, ever foothold. When she finally emerged from amongst the leaves and branches, she had a slightly threadbare black coat and a large black duffel bag.

Aurora raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Very well, then," she said, shaking her head a little.

"You have a problem?" asked Selma, defensively. "I mean, you seem a little…put off by my…um…situation."

"No, no," answered Aurora. "I just think that we can probably offer you something a little more…comfortable."

Selma shook her head, knowing that it wasn't worth the argument, especially when she hadn't slept under a roof in nearly a month. "Alright," she said, shrugging, and slinging the duffel bag over her shoulder. "Let's go, then."

They walked back along the sidewalk, out of the park, reaching the sidewalk curb within just a couple of minutes.

"This is mine," Aurora informed her, just as they reached a shiny black sports car.

Now it was Selma's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Nice ride," she said, looking the car all over.

The two women climbed in and Aurora started the car. Then they began the ride to Charles Xavier's school for the "gifted."