Since the train ride, I couldn't get Cain's words out of my head: "I normally would have killed you on the roof…You should be grateful."

I hadn't told anyone what had happened on the train, especially not Harry. He would've been infuriated, seeking revenge for Cain kissing me.

However, I couldn't deny the fact that he'd put prayer beads around my neck. Inu-Yasha was the first to notice.

"Now I know how you feel when Kagome and Shahara tell you to sit," I said. The thing about prayer beads is that only people who put them on you and people close to you can activate the spell, so Inu-Yasha didn't go down.

"What word does he use on you?" he asked.

"Do—D-O-W-N," I spelled.

Immediately, Inu-Yasha tried it. Nothing happened.

"I thought at least you would know it wouldn't work. That's just pitiful."

Inu-Yasha growled but did nothing.

My kids noticed it, too, but they, unlike Inu-Yasha, wouldn't badger me about it.

Now all I had to worry about was treating the new scars Cain had given. The camp nurse came to treat the wounds with a stinging liquid.

However, the broken wrist was beyond repair. I could conjure the adamantium claws and move, she did it up so well, but I couldn't walk on it when I transformed.

Nakago was pretty beat up. Across his muzzle, he had three scars. Also, he was pretty much skin and bones from lack of food. He didn't want anything specially prepared, though. He wanted to "carefully maintain his demonic attributes" and eat whatever we caught raw. For a while, I thought he was being selfish and stubborn. But then, I realized he hated and feared this place as much as I, Rin, Shippo, or anyone else did. So I went easy on him. Finally, he was healed and free to roam about on his own. No matter how silly he looked when leaping for joy, he reminded me of how I once was, before my family fell apart. And it was comforting to have a slight memoir of my previous life. So I continued to observe him, wishing that none of this had ever happened.

Five days after the train ride, Sofy and Neko-Gal arrived, and there was much rejoicing. Miroku rejoiced by taking each of their hands in turn and asking his famous, perverted question; in seconds, he was in the nurse's office with a black eye and broken fingers.

Harry conjured some doe meat and prepared a feast. In minutes, it was completely devoured with a few demons (mainly me, Inu-Yasha, and Shahara) claimed the bones.

We partied all night, until we were blue in the face and fainted from exhaustion. That was near three o' clock in the morning, and we slept way late until five-thirty in the evening, waking up just in time for dinner. As if doe meat wasn't enough, they were serving steak with A1 sauce. In a demon's eyes, it was fit for a king.

In the dead of night, I attempted to call Wolverine and my father. Dad left his cell in America, so I attempted to call a hotel where he once stayed for a business trip in Italy: no sign of him. When I called Wolverine, Charles Xavier answered, saying Wolverine was traveling to Tennessee to talk to my mother. I asked him if there was a number I could reach him at. Xavier recommended my home phone.

Instantly, a cold hatred struck my heart. I didn't favor calling home, in case my mom answered. Since she betrayed me once, maybe twice already, I doubted whether I could trust her anymore.

"Akela, your mother loves you very, very much. She just doesn't want to lose you, too. Give her another chance. I'm sure she'll come around. Go ahead: call."

At that, the telepathic professor hung up the phone, leaving me to stand there, stupefied that he had read my mind from the Northeastern states.

It was almost three days after I had made the phone calls, and a growing suspicion continued to gnaw at me. What if Charles was right? But then, what if he was wrong? Those questions I kept pondering in my head.

Finally, I made up my mind. I went to a pay phone and dialed my home number. It rang four times before someone answered. And it wasn't my mother.

"Hello?" a deep voice inquired.

"Hey, is Wolverine there?" I asked. "It's Akela."

An awkward silence followed, as if the speaker was trying to hide something.

"Is it Wolverine?" I asked.

"Yep. Akela, I don't know how else to put this, but yer mother's dead."

More silence.

"She committed suicide: hung herself from the kitchen ceiling. I'm so sorry," he said.

"Don't be. I only called to talk to you. I wanted to avoid her as long as possible," I retorted.

More silence, but this one was tense and angry.

"I think that's a poor way to treat the woman who gave birth to you, don't you think?" he snarled.

"How so? First, she forges my signature, so I end up in this dump. Then, she sends in a contract that forbids me to hate this place. I think that's pretty hate-worthy."

Click! Probably the only living relative of mine hung up, leaving me in the blues.