AN: I don't own any of the X-Men Characters. I do own Kelpie, however, Gerri, Aunt Erika, Kelpie's foster family, the story-line, and all animal characters she converses with, including the gang members :P. Vixen belongs to one Melody S. (an ex-friend of mine), Aquifer belongs to Rob G. (soon-to-be famous fantasy writer!), Sensherak (aka Alan) belongs to an ex-online-bf whom no longer speaks to me, Jonny LeBeau belongs to an ex-online-aquiantence. Phew! If I've missed anyone, let me know :P

There are some Gaelic words in here that I've aquired through reading and such. Diolain means bastard; Mionnaich is just a curse word, with no real specific meaning. If any of you have read my bio, you'll know that I'm not fluent at Gaelic at all, I only know a few words and phrases. If any of you happen to know Gaelic, and I make a mistake, please, let me know, it's the only way I'm gonna learn!

Chapter 2

"It wasn't a good idea to bring her here, Vixen," Kelpie heard a male voice say with a hint of a Canadian accent as she came to.

"She was getting her ass kicked by those fuckers, Wolverine. They would've raped her after she was out and left her to die."

"Since when do you care about the well-fare of humans?"

She heard a rustling of leather as if the woman had shrugged. "I dunno. Something told me to help her. 'Sides, look at her. She's just a kid."

"She's a human," muttered Wolverine, "You know how they feel 'bout us."

"Hold her down. This might jerk her awake."

Kelpie's eyes shot open and she groaned as the light flared painfully.

"She waking," said Wolverine.

"Stating the obvious, dear," Vixen said sarcastically, "Now hold her down. We need to get that wound cleaned and this stuff burns like hell."

"No," groaned Kelpie. They couldn't put chemicals in her wounds. It would react with her blood and kill her…literally. She rolled over on her stomach and tried to push herself off the strange couch.

"No, you don't wanna do that, " said Vixen.

A sharp pain shot through her thigh and she cried out, falling back down.

"Told ya," Vixen--Kelpie now recognized her as the woman who went into the bar--pushed her back down. "Now hold still," she said as Wolverine put his hands on Kelpie's shoulders to hold her still.

"No! Don't!" She tried to push herself back up, but Wolverine's hands were firm. "Less ye wan' me dead, get that shit away from me!"

"Come now. It may hurt, but it ain't gonna kill ya--"

"Believe me, i' will. Somethin' tae do wit' my blood type."

Vixen cocked an eyebrow, but set the peroxide down and Wolverine removed his hands. Kelpie sat up, looking around. She leaned back against the arm of the couch and gazed down at the knife wound. It had been sewed shut--thank god she was unconscious for that--but was still oozing slowly. As Vixen started to wrap the wound in what looked like a torn-up shirt, Kelpie chanced a look at her surroundings. "Where the 'ell am I?" She looked back at the woman now tying off the cloth. "An' 'oo the 'ell are ye?"

Smirking, Vixen said, "My name is Melody, but you can call me Vixen." She nodded at the man. "That's Wolverine."

The man, his shoulders crossed, was short, with a stocky, powerful build as though the frame of an athletic six-footer had been crammed down into five and some odd inches. His face looked young, his features weathered by a life spent mostly outdoors, she assumed. His dress--jeans as worn as his boots--marked him as a nomadic wrangler. He wore a white t-shirt covered with an open black leather jacket almost identical to the one the woman wore. Both wore steel dog tags that hung from their necks. Great, she thought, Jus' wha' I need, military.

His hair was dark, sweeping back from his forehead in a wave that looked natural on him, but somehow wrong for a human being. He wore sideburns long, right down to the line of his jaw, in a fashion more in keeping with the nineteenth century than the twenty-first. His eyes were a dead giveaway. Like his hair, they were right for his face, yet at the same time they had no right belonging to one apparently so youthful. She had a feeling that those eyes never missed anything and had seen too much. Eyes of a hunter, she thought to herself. Eyes like a predator. She'd seen that look many times in Tigre's eyes. Sharp, calculating. Wolverine interrupted her thoughts, thinking she was staring at him, waiting for the introduction to continue, "My real name isn't an issue, so don't ask."

Vixen rolled her eyes. "You're in our hotel room."

Kelpie ran her hand gently across her tender face. "Why?"

Vixen shrugged. "Felt like bein' nice to someone who was gettin' her ass kicked."

Catching a glimpse outside a window, she saw that it was dark. Kelpie swore. "Wha' time is it?"

"Bout midnight--"

Kelpie swore once again. She groaned and carefully sat up all the way. She should be working!

"No, don't," said Vixen. "You need to save your strength."

"I'm fine." Kelpie stood up slowly, swaying as the room darkened and shook her head to clear it. "Ow do I get outta 'ere?"

"You're not leaving until you've got your strength back."

"I tol' ye, I'm fine."

"Wait a minute," said Wolverine slowly as if realizing something. Kelpie looked at him. "I know you from somewhere. I've heard your voice before," he said, his eyes studying her, scrutinizing.

She studied him a bit longer and involuntarily, her eyes widened. She swallowed, composing herself as best she could, and said, "I 'ave no idea wha' yer talkin' 'bout. Neva seen ye before in me life." She prayed to whatever god that was listening that he wouldn't recognize her. Several years ago he had caught her coming out of a convenience store she had just robbed. Only the sudden fog and the ability to disappear into the large oak outside the store had saved her hide.

Finding the door, she started toward it.

"Wait," said the woman, "You need medical attention--"

"An' I'll ge' it. But no' from ye."

Wolverine was suddenly blocking her way. "Tellin' by your speech, kid, you've either lost a lot of blood or you might have a concussion--"

"Wha' ye talkin' bout? This is the way I always speak!"

Vixen came to stand next to Wolverine who smiled sarcastically, "Didn't your teacher tell you how to speak properly?" he asked.

Kelpie snorted as if that were funny. "Wha' teacher? I ain't neva been tae school in me life. An' 'oo are ye tae talk? Ye got sometin' stuck in yer throat? Le' me pass."

"Just a minute," said Vixen. "We need to know why those sons of bitches started beating up on you," said Vixen.

Kelpie sighed. She was never going to get out of here! "They wan'ed sometin' they couldna 'ave. Leas' no' from me."

"What would that be?" Wolverine asked. "Drugs?"

Kelpie almost laughed. "Do I leuk like a dubbie tae ye?"

Neither answered, both staring at her with eyebrows cocked. She glanced into a mirror on the wall behind her. What she found made her wince. No wonder they wanted her to go to a hospital. Her face was swollen and bloody, her hair standing up in all directions, and her clothes were dirty with mud and dried blood. "Okay, dunna answer tha'. Leuk, I may do pot an' drink once n while, but I ain't sellin' no drugs."

"Then what did they want from you?" the woman asked.

"Less the guy's a homo, wha' else does e'ry guy wan' from e'ry woman?" The two were silent. "Exac'ly, now may I go?"

"No," staed Vixen firmly. "You're not leaving until that wound in your leg has healed more. We don't need a half-dead person walkin' away from our room." She smirked. "Bad publicity."

"I've go' stuff a' 'ome tae take care o' it. Jus' le' me leave--"

"What's that?" asked Wolverine sarcastically, "Your pot?"

"No," Kelpie said angrily. "Medicine tha' I ain't allergic tae."

"You're not leaving," said Vixen.

A knock at the door cut off Kelpie's next protest. "Volverine, Vixen, iz me," came a voice with a heavy German accent. Kelpie stared as Wolverine opened it. A man, with black tattoos covering skin of such an indigo that it looked as if he were cloaked in his own personal shadow, stuck his head in. The only real points of color on him were the gleaming of his yellow eyes. His ears were pointed, his teeth had fangs and his hands had two fingers and a thumb instead of the normal four and thumb. A tail twitched back and forth behind him in excitement. "Ve found ze druggies. Zey just showed up. If ve get zere quickly ve can bust zem before ze sunrise."

Vixen nodded and looked back at Kelpie. "You stay here--"

"No. Ye canna make me," she said childishly.

Wolverine nodded and smiled. He grabbed Kelpie's arm harshly and shoved her over near the couch.

"Ge' yer stinkin' han's off me, ye diolain--"

Wolverine interrupted her, "Usually I don't do this to women, but right now, I'm going to make an exception."

Before Kelpie could reply, Wolverine's fist slammed into her face and all she saw was darkness.

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Kelpie awoke to silence. She sat up, gritting her teeth at the pain, new and old. Looking around, she saw that the hotel room was empty. She shot to her feet and limped over to the door. Locked from outside. Limping over to the window, she looked beyond the glass. Perfect! They had a window that looked outside on the first floor.

Looking around, the only thing she could find useful was the phone. Limping over, she jerked the cord from the socket and threw the phone at the window.

It shattered, glass flying everywhere. She jumped out--cutting her legs up in the process and ran as fast as she could around the hotel and burst into the parking lot.

Mionnaich! They'd taken her across the city! There was no way she could walk that far with a knife wound. Speaking of which, it had opened and was bleeding profusely. She needed to get home and quickly. But she'd never make it that far.

Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she backed up into the shadows and sat on the pavement against the wall. Holding her hand palm up, she stared at it. Had anyone been watching, they would have seen the center of her palm glow a strange green color before the skin parted and a small seedling appeared. As it grew, stretching her skin, she laid her hand palm down on the wound. She put her head back, resting it on the brick wall behind her as the vine began to wrap it's length around her leg and cover the deep gash.

She winced as it squeezed painfully then relaxed. She felt as if a breeze blew across her thigh. When Kelpie looked down, all she saw was an angry red scar where the knife had entered. Holding her palm up once again, she watched as the vine retreated back into her palm and the hole closed up.

She then stood, brushing dirt off the seat of her pants. Now tae talk tae Cal 'bout 'is boys, Kelpie thought.