Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. Ilehana Xavier belongs to Corrinth and is used with permission. Blaze, Shockwave and Iona belong to Lamby and should not be used without my permission.
Scene 10Wolfsbane snarled, baring long white canines and red, red gums. The low rumble in the back of the wolf's throat was more threatening than a peal of thunder on the horizon. In the breeze from the window, the candles began to flicker, and several blew out. The russet wolf's eyes glowed, and she took a step towards Vertigo…
The violet-eyed girl froze, hand shaking involuntarily in mid air. One pounce, and those sharp white teeth would close around her wrist; tear her hand from her arm. But Vertigo couldn't move…
In a flurry of activity, Shockwave dived over the length of her bed and slammed a hand to the wall. The jarring vibrations of her fingers rippled into the wallpaper like an earthquake, reverberating around the room, spewing dust and confetti into the air. Then the shockwave punched into the door, splintered the wood, fractured the lock and made the door swing open violently. Wolfsbane glanced hesitantly from Vertigo to Sam to the door; tail low and ears flat back against her skull. Then she ran, out the door and away. Iona got up and slammed the door shut behind the fleeing wolf.
Downstairs, Shadowcat had her audience on tenterhooks, clinging to her every word as she built the suspense. Even the X-Men, knowing with the scepticism of age that every word she said was false, found they were enjoying the melodic flow of her story, let themselves be carried away.
"…In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. Spinning, scared and uncertain, he saw the shadow flit from doorpost to doorpost in the hallway. Something was stalking him. A werewolf…"
Bobby twitched in the dark, head snapping towards the doorway, he was sure he had just seen something… Something low and wolf-like, slinking past the door… But now there was nothing there… He shook his head, bewildered. Give Kitty some credit; she was an excellent storyteller. He just hoped this fabrication wouldn't give him nightmares, let alone the kids…
Logan had somehow found a flashlight. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, there were emergency supplies supposed to be kept in set places throughout the school and lower levels. But it was amazing how often a torch would grow legs and walk in a mansion full of young boys… Flicking on the flashlight Logan headed outside to what was un-affectionately termed the maintenance shed. It housed the school's circuit breakers and the transformers that hooked the school up to the local supplier. The lower levels had their own generator, but for security and plausible deniability, it wasn't connected to the rest of the building. If there was a problem with the circuits in the school itself, it was inside this concrete bomb shelter that Logan would probably find it.
The colourless light from the torch danced over the short shorn, pallid grass as Logan stalked towards the shed. The grounds were deathly quite, the numbness of the new moon turning the trees and lawns into ghostly silhouettes and empty, soulless spaces. The breeze carried to him the smells of dew-dampened earth, of the trashcans behind the maintenance shed, of blades of grass crushed under his feet. But not of her, for she stalked the Wolverine downwind…
Torch grasped between his thick neck and shoulder, Logan searched his pockets for the micro-chipped access card he needed to get into the bunker. It was in here somewhere, he'd only had it two seconds ago… Ah, got it… Suddenly, he stopped, sniffing, listening… A wolf?
"Ilehana?" He asked, starting to turn and realising his mistake as the heavy weight of a juvenile grey wolf landed on his shoulders, claws raking his back. The flashlight fell to the floor, rolled away into the grass, dancing like a ghostly candle. Logan hollered in pain as Wolfsbane dragged her back legs down his spine, making him stagger and crash into the concrete building as blood ran from the wounds. Her heavy breath on his neck eased for a second, and then she was snapping at him, aiming for the jugular, aiming for a killing bite.
Logan snapped, roaring in a feral rage, adimantium claws slipping through his hands as he grabbed the wolf off his own back by the scruff of her neck. This wolf was not much more than a cub; she couldn't rival him in a fight. But nobody had told Wolfsbane that, twisting and snarling in Logan's grasp, she wrangled her way free leaving him with a handful of red-grey fur. Dropping to all fours, she snarled at him, the hunger and desperation in her belly forcing her to stand her ground. He faced her, knowing she'd lunge again, knowing again she'd go either for his throat or his soft belly.
She went for the belly, teeth tearing his t-shirt; weight and pain making him slip backwards on the dewy grass. Damn she was quick! He was down and bleeding before he knew what was happening, his blood plastering the fur on her muzzle as she looked at him briefly struggling in his pain.
"Wolfsbane…" Wolverine gasped, claws retracting unbidden, but she didn't know who she was. Baring her blood-plastered teeth, she went to finish him, to tear out his guts and feast. But Logan wasn't done. In one smooth movement, he ignored the pain, the bleeding and took hold of the wolf by her muzzle. She struggled, kicking, but with a brutish roar he lunged back to his feet and slammed her skull into the concrete of the bunker. For a moment she whimpered as he let her body slip to the floor, supporting himself with both hands on the concrete. Then she was still. Logan groaned.
"Great, now we got rabid pupils on the loose…"
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Ilehana smelt the blood drifting in from the hallway, stood and moved quickly but quietly through the children. She choked back on a wild panic as she recognised the scent, Logan… His familiar silhouette was framed in the doorway; his breathing heavy and shoulders slumped. Already his wounds were nearly healed, but his t-shirt and jeans were shredded, seemingly only stuck to him through the blood that soaked them. Exhausted and somewhat disgusted, Logan stopped as he saw Ilehana approach. Slowly he lifted the unconscious juvenile wolf slightly by her thick scruff, before dropping Wolfsbane rather unsympathetically on the floor.
"I think she bit off more than she could chew…"
"Wolfsbane attacked you?" Vixen demanded, shocked but knowing it was the truth before Logan even had time to nod. Suddenly, the mansion's lights flickered and came back on. The projector started rolling again right from where the film had left off, the actors' laughter strangely ominous now rather than amusing. The children all looked at each other as the X-Men extracted themselves and came into the hall.
"You managed to get the lights working?" Cyclops asked, bemused as everyone as Ilehana went to Wolfsbane's side, checking the teenager was still breathing.
"Didn't get in the shed." Logan grunted, squinting at the sudden brightness. He didn't protest as the mansion's doctor turned her attentions to him, Ilehana's soft fingers exploring his rapidly fading scars and the slimy wetness of his blood soaked clothes. "All clear Doc?"
"As usual." Ilehana answered with a wry smile, but it only covered the disappointment in her pupil with the lightest of facades. Logan found his anger and adrenaline from the fight subsiding as he put a light touch to Vixen's slender wrist.
"Need a hand getting her downstairs?" He asked, but she shook her head.
"Scott can help. Go get changed Logan, you're dripping on the floor…"
