"James, he's a Mutant."

"We need to get him inside."

"How? He's solid as a rock...a rock filled with lead."

"We'll find a way. Just..."

He woke up, on his feet in the span of an eyeblink.

"Oh boy..."

"Careful Heather."

"I know how you act around animals, but...how do we act around a feral Mutant?"

"Search me," James muttered.

"Are you all right," she asked.

He looked to her, understanding the words. Since that female had escaped him, he had been treated badly, losing the speech he was beginning to mimic. Somewhere in his brain, he knew the responses, he knew how to speak, but it frustrated him that he couldn't figure out how.

"We have a cabin, right over there. Would you like some shelter there?"

"I don't think he's simple, Heather," James would have smiled if the Mutant didn't unleash three wicked claws on each hand.

"He knows what we're saying, hon. But I don't think he can respond."

"Keep it simple, stupid."

"That's right."

He relaxed out of his fighting stance, looking in the direction the woman gestured in. With a sniff, he immediately stalked in the direction of the cabin.

"Guess that's a yes," James sighed.

"What do we do with him," Heather asked.

"I have no idea, treat him like a puppy?"

"A puppy," she snorted.

"I don't know, you invited him!"

They set off after their houseguest, who skirted the area like a dog searching for different territorial scents.

"Will he even go in the house?"

"We'll see."

Heather opened the door, making eye contact with the man. He looked like a stray who didn't like being caged.

"I'll make you some food," she called.

James watched him as the continued around the perimeter of their land, prowling the area.

"Do you think we should get some help with this," he asked.

"Whoever did this to him, I think more people would only make it worse."

"You think someone did this to him?"

"It's obvious," she warmed up a large plate of leftovers.

As soon as she stepped onto the porch, the man turned. He sniffed the air and stalked toward them, easily maipulating the fork as he took the plate from her hand. Even if he couldn't make words, he was happy to know this tool.

"You cut up his food in little pieces," James grinned.

"Well, I thought he might be starving. Don't want him to wolf it down."

"Shall we call him Wolf, cause he's doing it anyway."

"He has a tag on that necklace, I can't see what it says," she reached out without thinking.

The man jumped back, watching her with wary eyes.

"The necklace," she pointed to her neck. "Might I see it?"

He glanced down, looking back to her with confusion.

"Your name might be on it," she continued.

Allowing her to grab the tag, she looked to his name.

"Wolverine? What kind of name is that?"

"What shall we call him then?"

"He might have a name."

The man watched them talk, searching his brain for the skills to speak.

"I'm Heather," she placed her hand on her chest. "This is James," she pointed to her husband.

He turned back to his meal, and Heather knew he understood.

Logan, my name is Logan.

--

Heather woke up the next morning, smiling as James kissed her shoulder.

"Good morning," James murmured.

"Hey you-oh my God!"

"What, what!"

"He was lookin' in the window," she gasped.

"You scared him," James jumped out of bed, opening the front door. "Hey, you want to come inside?"

He hesitated, glancing inside as Heather came out of their room in her robe.

"Come in, I'll put on some coffee."

"What if he doesn't like coffee," Heather asked.

"Don't know that, he isn't a baby. If the man wants coffee, he should have it, right."

The feral Mutant stepped inside, sniffing constantly. He smelled the couple all over the place, no trace of the men who made him stupid like this. They watched as he inspected the cabin, looking in doors and moving to the next.

"That's your room, if you want it," James told him.