The child had been born on the first night of winter, in a city so small it could barely be found on the map. A city with no snow, until that night. The angels wept, and the harsh winds froze their tears, casting them as a crystal blanket across the grounds. They shed tears for the birth of a mutant.

Seventeen years later she sat atop a hill overlooking that city, where snow had never come again, silver moonlight washing across her pale face. Stars danced in the ebon abyss of her eyes, a felinish gold in color, and rose lips were turned down in a troubled frown. Fingers laced idly across knees, and a pair of pointed cat's ears lay flat across the top of pin-straight raven tresses. The wind bit mercilessly at her cheeks, but she took no notice as she stared in a mixture of hatred and adoration at the tiny city. She had never ventured farther from it than she was now. "Until today," she breathed, the frozen air curling in front of her face. She stood up, a thin, catlike tail flicking to and fro behind her. "Mother," she whispered. "I know Papa cursed the day I was born... called me a..a mutant. That's why you kept me in this town.. kept me away from people. I'm through hiding, though. I want to be in cities, to be with people. To go to a real school. You might be wrong.. maybe there is someone out there who will accept me.." And with that she turned her back to the city and took off running, down the hill and into the shadows.

The motorcycle roared in his ears, like the purr of a contented cat, and he could barely make out the street in the glare of the headlight. Suddenly, a tiny black kitten leapt in the path of the wheeled beast and fell over, no longer moving. Logan pulled to a halt so quickly that a cloud of dust rose around him. "Stupid cat, " he growled as the dust cleared, then he looked down. The kitten was gone, replaced by a teenage girl, sprawled facedown on the road. Almost a girl thought Logan, catching sight of the cat-like black ears, nearly hidden beneath inky locks, and thin, curved tail, flopped limply beside her. Better take her to Charles... and so he gathered up the unconscious form, balancing her carefully between him and the bars of the motorcycle as he road the last few miles to the institute.

The first thing she saw was darkness. In a flash it became clean, flawless white, and then shapes formed, sharpened, and finally everything began to make sense. She was in a hospital of some sort..but where? "Oh, you're awake?" came a cheery voice, and, looking to her left, the girl saw a figure dressed in blue capris and a pink sweater. "I'll go tell the professor," and the stranger hurried out of the room. The girl closed her eyes, trying to clear her head, and her feline's auds perked as she heard the whirring of an electric wheelchair. She cracked one golden eye lazily. A man with deep, sage eyes was sitting next to her bed. The girl sat up and looked at him in confusion. "W-where am I?" she stuttered, wide eyed, her tail thrashing in troubled circles behind her.

"Allow me to explain," said the man. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, and you are in the infirmary of the Xavier Institute. Logan found you unconscious on the street on his way back here, and thought it best to bring you to recover."

"You nearly got hit, jumping out of no where like that," mumbled Logan, who was leaning against the adjacent wall.

"Who are you?" the question shot from her mouth in absolute confusion, not even giving her a chance to register that this question had already been answered. Professor Xavier smiled a bit, leaning back.

"Ah, yes. We are mutants."