Disclaimer: Not mine, just playin' with 'em. Suing me would be completely pointless as I have no money but many ferrets………..

: Telepathic communication. I'm sure you would guess that, but hey…….

Feedback: Oh, God, yes. Pretty, pretty please. Pretty please with naked Wolvies on top?! Either on here or to andreaslaymaker@hotmail.com. But please be nice – this is my VERY FIRST fic and I have no beta!! (Any and all offers gladly and gratefully received…..!)

Thanks to those luvverly people who have reviewed! Sorry if this looks a bit spread out, but I just loathe seeing words all scrunched up together, don't you?!

On with the show!

******

Chap 4

*

Wild Thing

*

"You hungry?"

A shake of the head. No.

"Thirsty?"

Another negative.

A pregnant pause.

Logan was getting annoyed. He hadn't touched the…the…whatever she was (Woman? Kid? Animal?) all night, just sat and watched her. He had assumed that now she was beaten and he was - quite clearly - the boss, she would start to talk to him. That was the way it went, right?

Apparently not. All she'd done, all night, was wrap herself into a ball, rock slowly, and moan occasionally. Logan had heard that cry before.

He had found a bobcat, once, in a trap. The trapper had clearly not bothered to check his line for a few days, as the animal's broken and torn leg was swollen and green with rot; it had made that same lost moan when it had spied him. The noise that had a very clear meaning for the feral man; it said - I'm stuck, I'm going to die, and I am afraid. Nature is rarely cruel; whilst death is not always kind, it is usually quick, and there is always a chance for the hunted. To see unnatural misery like that of the cat had made Logan angry, and ashamed; it was not his trap, but he was the same species as the trapper. At least he had been able to end the animal's suffering cleanly; then cleared every trap in the area, destroyed them, and lain in wait for the trapper to make him very sorry for what he had done. But this time, it was even worse.

Because it was he that was causing the terrible agony.

"Well…" he stopped, nonplussed, "…what do ya want, then?"

Another moan, and then some words:

"Let me go. Please…"

Only one thing to do then. Admit that this was way out of his league, and contact the only person on the planet that he trusted not to tell anyone else that the fearsome Wolverine had been forced to yell for help. Deep mental breath. WHEELS!

Logan, do you know what time it is?

No, and I don't care.

I see you were successful

Yeah, that's the problem. Any advice? She's sufferin', Chuck, and I can't stand it.

Let me try

Logan watched his captive with interest as Xavier tried to make contact. He was clearly successful, as she stopped moaning, tilted her head, and gave a frown; she also assumed that far-away look that he had learned to recognise as the trademark of intentional voices in the head.

Logan?

He realised that the - oh hell, he had to call her something - the thing (bad choice, bub) was staring at him, an expression of great curiosity on her face. It was obvious that Chuck had indeed got through.

Yeah?

I've managed to persuade her that you are not the enemy. But I can do no more until you get her here

Well, that helps. A bit.

Be careful, Logan. She could still be very, very, dangerous

"Tell me something I don't know" he sighed. At the sound of his voice, the girl flinched, but soon returned to her covert study of his face. OK Wolverine, he thought gloomily, time to make nice.

"What's your name?"

She thought about this for a minute.

"Smoke"

"What, you want one?" A shake of the head.

"Your name, right?" A nod, and the briefest glint of sharp teeth in a ghost of a smile. Take it steady, man, and don't scare her.

"How old are you?" Nice and uncommittal, laid back and cool. Good going.

Another frown. Logan waited, praying he hadn't blown it. He hadn't.

"Escaped…fifteen. Since?" She shrugged.

"How long out here, girl? How many winters?" He was torn between being pleased that he was finally getting through to her, and a creeping sense of horror that she had possibly run from something as horrible as he had. At fifteen.

She looked at the trees, frowned at the snow, stared at her fingers, and finally gave a decisive snort.

"Four."

Oh. God. She'd been surviving out here for at least four years, living as an animal, no human contact at all - except for men who periodically tried to kill her. No wonder she's crazy, he thought grimly, I would be too. Anyone would.

He stood up and gathered together the few things he had brought. Time for the big question. He held out his hand towards her.

"You comin' then?"

The look on her face segued to one of sheer panic. Shit-fire! He mentally berated himself. Blown it! And we were doing so well, too.

She suddenly sprang upright, flung her arms wide - giving him a magnificent view of her still naked body - looked him straight in the eye, and spoke the longest coherent sentence he had heard from her so far.

"Like this? Are you nuts?"

She had a point. He took a moment to run appreciative eyes over the display before him. Not tall, but broad in the shoulder and hip. Breasts high, not too large, but not small either; the thought of what they would look like when encased in satin was enough to make his mouth water. No spare flesh; he guessed that the hunting around here had been pretty lean this winter; still, she had curves in all the right places and would probably polish up real well. Pneumatic. (The thought made him smile - him in a tux, with this curvaceous wild thing on one arm and tall, sexy Marie on the other. Damn!)

Long hair, tangled and dirty, but so black it seemed blue; odd that, as the rest of her body hair was white. It suddenly struck him that it was like her animal coat; short, thick white undercoat, with long black guard hairs. This girl just got weirder the closer he looked! He couldn't help being a little stirred by the sight, mind you; a small rumble escaped his chest as he stared. Her enhanced scent and hearing undoubtedly picked this up, as she dropped her eyes coquettishly and answered him with a small growl of her own.

Oh boy. Best get out of here before things get way too complicated for this boy….

"Well, how, then?" he asked, hoping to get the subject back to where it started. She stared at him, seemingly a little disappointed. Then she smiled briefly, and said -

"Four legs good. Two legs bad."

Oh. I get it, he thought dismally. Gorgeous, crazy, and well read. Jesus.

"Come on then…hope you can keep up." He turned away and set off back in the direction he had left his truck; as much so he didn't have to watch the transformation as to make time. A dark shape ghosted up along side him.

Keep up. Hah!

Mission almost accomplished, he thought as the pair of them set what would be - for ordinary humans - a killing pace back towards civilisation. One wild, one crazy - but which one of us, he wondered with more than a touch of levity, is which?