Welcome to Chapter 2 of the Of Ferity rewrite! Hope you enjoy! And please, review! Oh, and yeah, my German and French SUCKS. I need to study LOTS more, but like I said last chappie, I have a 3yr old to wrangle along with a full-time job so my time is kinda tied up pretty often! Bear with me, and if anyone would like to volunteer to help me rephrase some of it, I would openly welcome the help! LOL

Legalities: I do not own Victor, though I wish I did.


FERITY: (fehr-it-ee) - (noun) - 1. The state of being wild or untamed. 2. The state of being savage; Ferocity.


It was cold that night, the temperature lingering somewhere around thirty degrees. The snow had been falling through the dense treetops, dusting the pine needles and forest floor with a shimmery layer of soft, white fluff. A full moon was shining brightly, but if not for the few breaks in the treetops that allowed its beams to light the ground below it, one would hardly know it was there. The quiet covered the woods like the snow was beginning to blanket the firs, and all of Earth's creatures seemed to have taken to their dens to keep out of the cold.

All, but for two.

Two lone figures stalked through the trees, treading through the thin layer of snow in near silence. Both figures wore leather and fur clothing and boots, with fur capes that tied down the front to keep their upper bodies warm. The taller, larger of the two was in the lead, breaking off branches in their way, making his steps obvious to his smaller companion. Behind him, the smaller figure kept close, using his footsteps to help her keep his pace. Though they were not moving much faster than one would take a leisurely stroll, she was having some trouble keeping up, her companion having to stop to let her catch up.

The larger one stopped, suddenly, shaking the snow from his long, blonde mane. He lifted his nose to the air, taking in the scents around him, searching for a familiar one. The smaller one paused her step, freezing in place behind him. After a few silent moments, he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Close." he grunted, resuming his step. "Nicht weit jetzt. (Not far now.)"

Following behind him, the figure was quiet, somber in her response. "Nicht weit genug. (Not far enough.)" He had seemed to ignore her, but she could hear the breath pause on his lips, could feel the slight pause in his step.

For hours they had walked on, following his sense of smell and direction, pausing now and then for the smaller figure to catch up. Dawn would break in another five or so hours, and they had finally found a place suitable for another short stop. They found a tree with low-hanging branches, and scooped the little bit of snow out from under it. Two large pieces of cowhide, one tied over the low limb, the other used as a floor, provided a small shelter for them to hunker down out of the wind.

"Ich bin kalt. (I'm cold.)" she murmured, pressing closer to him. Her back was to the tree trunk, and she lay on her side facing him.

"Nicht bewegen. (Don't move.)" he whispered, stetching out beside her. He pushed her closer to the tree, careful not to put too much pressure against her. She pulled at the leather ties to his cape, slipping it open and folding her way inside it. He felt her tuck her head beneath his chin, and threw his arm over her ribcage to keep her warm as well as safe.

"Victor . ." she whispered, bringing her arms out of her cape, wrapping them around his neck. She kissed the skin where his neck met his chest, then moved her lips to the curve of his jaw, kissing the stubble on his skin. He bent down, gently nipping her neck with his sharp teeth, and she shivered beside him. His arm over her ribs tightened, the hand cupping the small of her back, and he pressed his mouth to her's. She deepened his kiss, tasting him before moving her lips to his chin, nipping him back, teasing him.

As tempting as she was, he paused. It was too cold out tonight, and they were much too close to their destination for his sense of safety. He kissed the skin behind her ear, his hand moving up to the back of her neck. "Wir konnen nicht hier bleiben. Wir mussen an umziehen. (We cannot stay here. We need to move on.)" he said softly. He pulled her closer, his arms tight but not too tight around her, warming her body against his. "It isn't very far now."

She was weeping again then, silently, trembling beside him. He could smell the salt of her tears, feel the warm wetness where her cheek met his skin. Her arms tightened around his neck, and she buried her face against his leather shirt. For all his thoughts, his feelings, for her, he still was not used to the emotions that particular action could stir in him. A slow, sinking feeling in the pit of hit stomach as though every hitch in her throat- every sob from her soft lips- were slowly sucking his insides away. Why couldn't she just be mad at him again? He could deal with mad.

He growled, low in his throat, without meaning to. She jerked at the sound with a soft gasp. She tried to turn from him, but he held her tight, his hand on her neck moving to run through her hair. She was caught against him; she became still again. The soft hitching of her breath continued as she lay her face against his chest. "Je suis . . je suis desole. (I'm . . I'm sorry.)" she whispered, "Je ne voux pas que vous me laussiez. (I don't want you to leave me.)"

He wanted to growl again, but he held it in by force of will. It was upsetting to see her so anxious, so distressed. He knew she did not want him to leave, but there was no other choice. Sure, she could hold her own in any fight, could fish, hunt, and build shelter, but she wouldn't be safe if she went with him now, burdened as she was. She'd only slow him down, and then they'd both be caught.

"Je sais. Il n'y a cucun autre choix. (I know. There is no other choice.)" he said softly, letting the gravel drop from his voice.

She moved her head back, her dark eyes meeting his, searching them as if she didn't quite believe him. She had managed to hold in the last of her emotion, her breathing becoming even again, but her eyes still glittered with unshed tears. She studied his face, lingering on every detail she had long ago memorized. Her hands came back up around his neck. "Je mais . . (I know.)" she murmured quietly. "Mais il toujours maux. (But it still hurts.)"

"Me faire confiance. (Trust me.)" he said, his voice just louder than a whisper. He brought his face back down to her's until their noses were almost touching. She closed the gap, pressing her lips against his, kissing him like she thought she might never see him again.

Returning her kiss, he brought his hand back to her neck, gently brushing his thumb over the two little scars behind her ear- the scars he had put there for her with his fangs. It was a mark she willed remain on her body- her feral wedding ring- marking her as his and his only. He turned his head, nipping the hypersensitive skin under his thumb. She let out a soft moan, a shiver running up her spine.

Before they could slip any deeper into each other, he pulled away. "Nous devrions aller. (We had better go.)" he whispered into her ear. "Ou nous ne le ferons jamais. (Or we will never make it.)" She nodded, watching him sit up onto his haunches.

With a sad smile, she raised her arm up to him, letting him pull her up to sit. It had only been perhaps a half hour, but the wind was dying down, the snow falling lighter. While she watched, he lifted their bags, slinging them both over his shoulder.

"Il sera seulement pendant une courte periode. (It will only be for a short time.)"

She only nodded, following him from their little shelter. The leathers were rolled back up, and the snow pushed back under the tree to cover their tracks. Then, they began to walk again, with her following close behind him.


The sound of the shrill buzzer piercing through the gentle silence of the library almost sent both women through the paneled ceiling above their heads. Between them, the two stacks of test papers were sent flying, scattering to the far corners of the room. As one, they turned their eyes to the grandfather clock on the far wall, then eyed the hundred or so sheets of white, partially ungraded papers on the floor with an expression of disapprobation. It would take at least an hour to resort, and then grade, the papers.

"Who could be here so late in the evening?" one woman questioned the other, taking to her feet as the buzzer sounded again. "It's half past midnight."

The other stood as well, her eyes taking on a far-away look. After a few seconds, they cleared, focusing seriously on her friend's face. "There are two people outside the gate."


They stood just out of the reach of the moonlight, carefully concealed in the shadows between the fir trees. She was pressed against his side, and his arm was holding her possessively in place while they waited. One of her arms was wrapped around behind his back, the other on his chest, her hand placed over his heart. He could smell how nervous she was, and he didn't like it one bit. If only it were a few months earlier- or a few months later than now.

His hand found its way between the ties of her fur cape, coming to rest on the little warm bundle between her cape and her stomach. The soft fur and flannel fabric that held it against her was almost completely still, but he could feel the soft breathing under his hand. Listening hard, he could hear it drawing breath. The tiny life laying there was much too young for such a long journey. He had to know that this was best- she had to know that his was best.

Months before this, Eric had called him aside to explain to him what could, or rather should, be done if, for reasons out of their control, things had gone awry. 'And boy, had they gone fuckin' awry.' There was a school, he'd said, that he had long ago helped to establish, run by a man who would take her in. Here, she would be concealed and protected and he could go out on the lamb without worrying about them being after her skin, too. The big magnet had even written a letter for the professor here, and given it to him- just in case. Drop off the girl, the cub, and the letter, and be on his merry way. Easy-peasy.

'I don't like this. Not one fuckin' bit . . .'

What would he do if they wouldn't- couldn't- take her in? She couldn't keep up with him with their cub. Though they were impervious to the cold, the cub was not. It would never survive. Even should the algid weather not kill it, the people after him would. They would take pleasure in snuffing out the tiny spark of life- hell, just to do it. What was she to them but another in the epidemic? Just another disgusting abomination?

"Me dire que vous reviendrez pour moi. Pour nous. (Tell me you will come back for me. For us.)" Her whisper brought him back to the present, and he looked down at the top of her auburn head. "Que ne vous ne nous lausserez pas ici pour toujours. (That you won't leave us here forever.)"

"I will come back to get you." He kept his voice gruff. He pulled his hand from their cub. He could hear a door open and close on the other side of the wall. Voices and footsteps were coming down the gravel driveway beyond. "I won't leave you here forever." Before the voices were close enough for them to be seen, he pulled her to the other side of him where she would be safe.

"Je t'aime. (I love you.)" she whispered. He knew she didn't expect him to voice it back to her. He reserved those emotional confessions for more private occasions. He knew that she was secure with him- that she realised he whispered those words to her in his actions and treatment of her. She knew she belonged to him, and that he would protect her and their cub with his life.

'Then why am I delivering her here?'

The ornate iron gates were swinging open now, and the two stepped apart. He wished he had paused to take a last look at his cub, to re-imprint the little face into his memory, but quickly banished the thought, clearing his mind.

"I don't see anybody." a male voice said. He came into view- the one with the red visor. He wore wrinkled khaki slacks, and a leather jacket, one hand in his pocket, the other up to his temple beside his glasses. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand, "No car- no fresh tire marks."

Two women- the redheaded telekine and the white-haired weather witch- stepped out with him. The brown-skinned woman had donned crinkled black pants under her white trench coat, but the redhead was sporting pink, purple, and green striped fleece pajama bottoms that seemed to match the purple zip-up jacket covering her torso.

The three couldn't see them standing in the shadows, but Victor knew that any moment that damned telekine would feel them here, and he would have to somehow manage to convince them not to immediately attack him. The others had walked out onto the road past the gate, each one stifling yawns, trying to blink the sleep away. Just as he had predicted, Jean suddenly turned her head towards the shadows. She could not see him, but she knew he was somewhere in her line of sight. She hesitated for just a second too long, and Victor stepped in front of his companion to protect her.

"It's Sabretooth." Jean said, jerking her head towards them. Scott touched his hand to his visor, but Jean grabbed his arm before he could take aim. "No, wait, Scott!" Her other hand grabbed Ororo's shoulder, keeping her calm. "Wait." She turned expectantly towards Victor.

Taking his cue, the feral mutant stepped just into the beam of moonlight, hands at his sides to appear as 'unthreatening' as possible. When they did not attack him, he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to make the first move. Though he hated it with a mad passion, he had to take a submissive role here for the sake of his companion and his cub. Shit, if it meant their safety, he'd crawl like a worm over hot coals, but he sure as hell didn't have to like it.

"What do you want?" Scott demanded, keeping his hand on his visor.

He wasn't sure what to say, so he said what first came to mind. "Sanctuary."

Scott and Ororo snorted in perfect, synchronized unison. Jean still watched the woods carefully.

'Can she see them back there, too?'

"Sanctuary?" Scott shook his head. "You are a wanted man, Sabretooth, and rightfully so. Why would you think we would ever help you?"

"You almost killed Logan and Marie." Ororo spat. "And could have killed all those people at the Senator's meeting."

He shook his head, feeling his blonde mane fall over his shoulders, warming his ears. "Not for me." he said, his voice louder, forceful. He dared a glance back behind him at her. She was standing perfectly still, her soft face emotionless, her arms crossed under her cape. He turned back, looking Jean in the eye across the road. "For her." 'Please, for her?'

Ororo and Scott looked puzzled. Scott even leaned over a bit, trying to see if he could detect anything behind the larger man, but he could make out nothing in the inky blackness.

Victor heard her step up behind him, into the light just enough to reveal her presence, but not her features. She stayed close, his side and shoulder overlapping her body. Victor gestured his head in her direction. "Her."

By now, Jean could tell that they weren't here for any conflict, and she put her hands back to her sides. She had tried to read the mind of the girl in the shadows, but the thoughts were vastly jumbled and in a language she couldn't understand- when the thoughts were even slow enough to be read. "Who is she?"

"Her name's Zosia." answered Victor.

"Where did she come from? Does she work for Magneto, too?"

"Yes." The feral man pulled Eric's letter from his back pocket, and held it out to the three. None of them came the dozen or so steps closer to take it. A few seconds later, he felt it snatched away by an invisible hand. It floated its way to Jean, where she read the words written on the envelope, but didn't open it. "That is for Xavier. Eric wrote it before we came to New York. He told me that your professor would help her."

Zosia stepped closer to Victor, her side and stomach touching the left side of his back. She kept her arms crossed, resisting the urge to grab onto Victor's arm for comfort, for support. Her eyes watched the three mutants across the drive, examining their every move.

"Where was she in New York? At the statue?" Ororo asked. Though Jean seemed relaxed beside her, she still wasn't so sure.

"I didn't go." Zosia answered for herself. "I didn't fight."

Scott finally put his hand down from his glasses. "Well, why not? Do you work for Magneto or not?"

"I live within the Brotherhood, yes." she answered, her accent thickening with her growing anxiety, giving her voice a charming ring. "But I chose not to fight, and they won't force me to." She glanced up at Victor, then turned her eyes back to Jean and Ororo, lingering on the windrider over the redhead.

"Why do you need to stay here?" Scott asked, his voice still suspicious.

"She's got nowhere to go." Victor answered for her. "She can't keep up with me, and I don't have time to wait for her. She's got nowhere else to go after that."

"So you just want us to take in a potentially dangerous mutant- as a favor to you- into a school full of mutant children, and let her stay here until you up and take fancy to come for her?" asked the Cyclops.

"Potentially dangerous-?" Victor returned, his voice a growl. "Its not a fuckin' favor from you ta me, it's one from Xavier ta Lehnsherr." He turned his attention to the telekine. "She's not that vicious."

"I'm not here to harm anyone." Zosia added quietly, just loud enough for them to hear. "I've no interest in harming innocent mutant children."

The three mutants across the road whispered amongst themselves for a few minutes, glancing over at the two every few seconds.

'God-fucking-damnit, telekine!' His scowl deepened as he tried to think of anything but the cub- she wasn't going to hear about the cub from him!

Finally, Scott was the one to step forward. "She can stay here for now." He crossed his arms again. "But only so long as she is civil. She steps out of line, she's out in the snow."

Victor heard Zoe let out a little held breath, her hand, hidden, clutching his cape over his spine. He looked down to her, and met her eyes. He could see the forlorn expression in her eyes, the tears ready to fall again, and he could smell her nervousness. She'd be at their mercy, and he felt like he was throwing a kitten into a pit of starving wolves. "Il sera bien. (It will be alright.)" he said softly.

If Magneto were wrong about this- if they hurt her- if the mutant magnet were still alive, he was going to wish he were dead when Victor made him pay for that look in her eyes.

She blinked the tears away. "Je te fais confiance, mon Lion. (I trust you, my Lion.)" she whispered, her hand coming from his back to touch his arm. "Je t'aime. (I love you.)"

He glanced at the three across the road out of the corner of his eyes. Jean was saying something to the other two- they were momentarily distracted. He looked back down to Zosia, bringing one hand up to cup her jaw. He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. "Je t'aime aussi, Katze. (I love you too, Cat.)" he whispered. She broke into a smile, nodding while turning her lips against his palm before he pulled it away. "Je serai de retour quand il fait chaud- quand il est sur pour toi tous les deux. (I will be back when it is warm- when it is safe for you both.)"

She nodded once more. "J'attendrai. Nous attendrons. (I'll be waiting. We will be waiting.)" He grunted softly, letting her know he heard her and was pleased. When she turned back towards the three across the road, they were ready for her.

Jean smiled at her. "Come on, Zosia. It's cold out here."

She took her bag from Victor before taking the eight steps across the road, following the three to the gates. When Scott pushed the button to shut them, she turned and watched through them as Victor stepped back into the woods, listening to the crunch of snow as the feral walked away.


To Be Continued . . .


So, what do you think? Please, share your thoughts in a review. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

The Lady Mage