I myself have only briefest of glimpses and scraps of partial memories of what took place at my last hours as a wolf. Marie… She remembers it all, and told the whole sordid tale to me on one long night after she got tired of my begging. I’m writing it down as a warning for anybody who might want to take the same path that I took when I got bitten.

First you must understand my motivations. What spurred me to continue even after I realized the greatest err in my logic. The Wolf… The raw power it offered, it’s unimaginable. What kind of a hunter, what kind of a predator wouldn’t revel in ability to tear the prey to shreds in mere seconds? What kind of a man wouldn’t be enthralled for the possibility to heal from wounds and aches of the hunt instantly? I craved the power. Yearned it. And foolishly thought I could control the beast that came along with that power. I was blind and arrogant, unable to see that I was nothing but a mere vessel to the Wolverine. I thought I could use the beast and live as a man. I was wrong. Wrong.

Wolf had already dug it’s claws deep in to my soul when I stumbled upon Mick, Alaric and their friends. Instead that I would have instantly detected the taint in them and seen them as a threat I saw it fit to accept their hospitality. Accept and ingest their poisoned food. For poison it was for my kind. Two simple herbs, to draw out the wolf that lay dormant in their kind. For what purpose they even wanted to grant freedom to their bestial side I do not know. But I was poisoned, accidentally. When they sensed what was happening to me, they continued feeding me those herbs. They wanted… Needed new ancestors to keep the wolf in them alive. At first they had been meaning to mate Alaric and Marie, but for some reason Alaric seemed to be more interested in me.

They thought I would take Marie, and our joining would produce new, strong cubs for their pack. Apparently I had been on board with that plan, crazed and horny animal roaming in the night and tracking her down. She didn’t agree with me. We fought. She managed to fend me off with the help from Alaric and I ran. Ran in to the night, enraged and frustrated, and when I stumbled upon another wolf I had decided to punish it for my suffering. I had followed it through the forest to a lair. A spacious cavern filled with wolves. The rebels. We fought. Ten of them against me, but I was powered by those herbs and insane from lust and anger. They didn’t stand a chance against me.

The battle had drained me and I had crawled off to die. Effect of the herbs had burned off the wolf in me. Too much freedom, too much power, too many liberties… It had practically exploded away from my body when I tore open the last throat in that cave.

It took Marie nearly a year before she could make me understand that the Wolverine was truly gone.




”May God rest your soul… Though I’d rather see Satan dragging you to Hell…” Logan huffed, slumping backwards, still clutching his sword, his erratic breath escaping to the cold and crisp air in white plumes. Huge carcass of a wolf started to shrink in front of him, taking the distinct features of human before turning to a grey pile of ash.

He lay on the cold ground for a moment, steadying his breathing. It had been a long and exhausting hunt. His prey had been more cunning than he had expected. But in the end it had been only an animal. An animal he knew from inside out.

He sat up and sheathed his sword. Time to go home. Back home to Marie.

He walked through the forest to where he had made his temporary camp, packed his belongings and strapped them to the back of his horse. Distant echo of wolf’s cry made the small hairs on his back prickle and his upper lip curl slightly to reveal his blunt teeth. For a moment the urge to follow the cry was nearly unbearable. Just shed his clothes, discard his weapons and humanity and run free with the pack, run and hunt and bathe in blood and silver of the moon…

He climbed to the saddle and whistled sharply. Reddish-brown fox scurried from the forest.
“Time to go home, Buddy,” he grunted. Fox’s eyes flickered to his briefly and he could see it’s whiskered snout wriggling as it took in his scent. It let out a small whimper.
“Daddy’s fine, Buddy. Home. Now.”

Delicious scent of fresh bread and stew greeted him when he opened the door of a small cabin. Marie stood by the stove, stirring the stew. She hadn’t noticed his arrival. He shed his jacket silently and crept behind her soundlessly. Waited until she laid down the spoon and grasped her by the waist, tucking his face against the side of her neck and inhaling deeply. She flinched slightly and let out a small yelp. He let his hands slide over her bulging stomach and licked her earlobe. She twisted around in his hold and smacked him to chest with her small fists.

“You scared me, Logan!”
“Scared? Is that why you’re so breathless?” He whispered, capturing her lips under his. She was still struggling, but not really trying to get away from him. It was more out of principle.
“Dinner first… And you’re going to take a bath if you want to come to my bed tonight…” She panted huskily when he released her.
“You’re coming in to that bath with me, little wife…”
“Dinner, Logan, dinner first, you must be starving and…” He silenced her with another kiss, reaching to move the stew from the stove with one hand.
“I’m starving alright, but not for the stew… It has been a long week. Too long. Get these clothes off before I tear them off from you …”

While he filled the large basin with water she had warmed earlier in a large cauldron in the fireplace she undressed, then just stood there, her hands clasped over her breasts and belly.
“Cold?” Logan asked. She nodded.
“I’ll warm you up soon… Help me get out of these clothes.”

He had taken on the habit of wearing a light chain mail under his jacket and vest. It covered his torso and arms, preventing… Accidents. He stood waiting patiently when Marie undid the laces that bind the mail and then shrugged it off, letting it pool to the floor. The shirt underneath it was as good as ruined. He took it off and threw it to the corner. Marie was already fiddling with his trousers, opening the numerous belts and clasps that he used to carry his weapons.

When the last scrap of clothing fell from him he grasped her and pulled her against him, crouching and nuzzling her already fuller breasts, enjoying the softness of her skin against his own. Her fingers slid over his head, releasing his hair from the leather strap and massaging his scalp. He shivered under her touch. Coldness of the room had made her nipples pebble to small, hard peaks. He gave them tentative licks and grasped her harder when she moaned and arched her back.

“We better get in before the water turns cold…” He murmured and scooped his wife to his arms, stepping in to the basin and lowering them both carefully to the warm water. Stench of sweat and metal grew exponentially.
“And you better give me that soap before we both suffocate,” he grunted, letting Marie reluctantly from his embrace. She nodded and picked a lump of soap from the floor, lathering it between her hands.
“Lean back.”

He let his head sink to the edge of the basin and closed his eyes when Marie’s soapy hands started their journey over his battered body. Bruise there, small scrape from a branch here, skin chafed partially off from his shoulders… But it didn’t matter. Not when those hands kept up their soothing motion, loosening coiled muscles and peeling off the accumulated grit and grime. It didn’t matter when he could see her sitting there, her whole body practically glowing warmth and comfort, her soft curves already fuller from the pregnancy.

“It was a long week… But I tracked the beast and put it down. It won’t be harassing cattle anymore. It won’t be scratching in corners anymore…” He murmured.
“Who was it?” Marie asked. He shook his head.
“I don’t know… A drifter? We’ll see tomorrow if somebody’s missing from the village. Then we know…”
“Okay. Sit up and I rinse you.”

They ate the dinner in silence, both swathed from head to toe to warm quilts Marie had made. Though breakfast would probably have been more appropriate word to use from their meal. Sun was slowly rising. After they had eaten Logan shuffled to the bed, the strain finally forcing him to lie down and curl on his side, eyes closed and every muscle twitching. He heard Marie moving around. Cleaning up after them.
“Leave them. I’ll take care of them later.”
“But…”
“Come here. Come here and sleep with me. I missed you so much…”

She crawled on to the bed, trying to curl around his back, just like she had often done before when he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t working very well. The small bulge of her stomach got in the way and soon they were both giggling and laughing, tired and exhausted sound echoing in the small cabin.
“Come on… Turn around a bit…” Logan whispered, wiping his watery eyes, trying to stifle his hysterics.

She discarded her blanket to the floor and scooted under Logan’s, nestling her buttocks against his crotch. His one hand landed protectively over her belly, other hand he used to pull her even closer to him. His cock, already hardened despite his tiredness ended up between her thighs, throbbing and brushing against her curls deliciously.
“Do you want to…”
“Yes. I’d love to. But I don’t think I’m up to it. Not yet. Lets just sleep for now, okay?”

She waited until she was sure that Logan was asleep before she got up and got dressed. It was a market day. Merchants would be in the village, and there were thousand and one things she needed before the winter was over. She left a brief note to Logan, telling where she had gone and snuck out, closing the door quietly after her.

It was a beautiful day. Little dusting of snow under her feet crunched crisply, and fresh air tickled her nose. During her short journey to the village the fox escorted her. She wasn’t sure, but it almost looked as if it was keeping an eye on her whenever Logan wasn’t at her side. Her little shadow. She reminded herself that she should try and see if any of the merchants were selling fresh fish. The fox would probably like it, and surely deserved every treat she could afford to.

“Buddy…” She giggled, noting the fox’s bulging belly. Only Logan would name a female fox Buddy. The fox stopped upon hearing her silent whisper and giggles and tilted her head.
“You’re going to be a mommy as well? Congratulations. May your cubs be healthy and strong,” Marie said smiling, feeling a little foolish, talking to a fox. Buddy looked at her as if she had understood her every word, then suddenly attacked her hind paw, nibbling it with her small teeth and bathing it with pink tongue. Fleas.


He woke up slowly. Fire was crackling in the fireplace, he could still smell the bread and stew, but something was missing. Marie. The bed was already cold from her side. He frowned, then remembered what day it was. Market day. He grinned and stretched his back, kicking the blanket off reluctantly. He was still tired, but felt well enough to get up.

After he got dressed he spent a moment tidying up the cabin. Threw the last scraps from the stew outside. Buddy would need all the extra food she could gather. He found the note from the kitchen table, written with Marie’s flowing handwriting. She had gone to the village as he suspected. Her basket and cloak were missing. As were almost half of their money as well. He should hurry up. If she was planning to use that much money, she shouldn’t be carrying her purchases alone, not in her condition.

He saddled his horse and turned it to the path that was adorned with Marie’s footsteps. She had chosen the shortest route through the forest. He saw Buddy’s paw prints next to Marie’s and smiled. The fox had taken the habit of following Marie seriously.

Buddy was waiting for him at the edge of the forest.
“She went in to the village?” He asked. Buddy yipped and he threw a small piece of bread for it.
“Good girl, Buddy. There’s something for you back at home.” The fox took the bread and disappeared in to the thicket.

He let his gaze rest in the village down below for a moment before he urged his horse down the slope. Weather was nice and crisp, and his earlier tiredness was almost completely gone.

The small village of Blackwater, usually quiet and peaceful lot of land was now filled to the brim with people. Merchants, entertainers, craftsmen and their customers filled every nook and cranny, and it was an effort to wade through the crowd. Logan had left his horse outside of the village and was cursing his decision already. He had shooed off at least ten pickpockets and even more merchants that had tried to sell him items that he knew were mostly junk. Scent of herbs was guiding him towards a small, secluded tent next to tavern. Where there were herbs, Marie would most likely be there.


She was packing her purchases to her basket when she felt it. A premonition of sorts. Something would happen, soon. She said goodbyes with the merchant and turned to leave when Logan stepped in to the tent.
“Hi! I thought you’d be still sleeping when I get back home,” she said. Logan smiled and took the basket from her.
“I know how much you have waited for this day. I wouldn’t have missed this.” Together they stepped out of the tent.

She had to grasp Logan’s arm to stop the crowd from jostling them apart.
“Hungry?” Logan asked. She couldn’t help wondering how attuned he was to her and her needs. Now that she thought of it, she wasn’t just hungry. She was practically starving.
“I could eat.”
“What will it be for the lady? Tavern or home?” Logan asked. She felt a pang of guilt. They really couldn’t afford to…
“Tavern… If that’s okay, I…”
“Tavern it is. But I must warn you. It’ll be most likely packed to the brim by now,” Logan grunted and started clearing a path for them through the masses of people.

At the door of the tavern they froze. They both spotted a familiar face in the crowd. The man who had been Logan’s keeper during his captivity in the freak show sat at the bar, sipping ale.

“Marie, go home.”
“But Logan, I haven’t…”
“Go home, now. Don’t let anybody from the carnival, especially from the Freak Show see you.”
“Fine…”

He waited until he was sure that Marie had left, then strolled to the bar and picked a spot right beside Enoch. The man was every bit of bald and muscular as Logan remembered. He could smell the scent of wild animals that still clung to Enoch’s clothes.

“Aren’t you the man running the Freak Show?” Logan asked. Enoch turned to look at him.
“Yes. You interested in taking a peek?” Enoch asked.
“I don’t know… I have seen enough of these things. What have you got? A wolf mounted with deer’s horns? A shaved cat? An elephant? I’m sure nothing worth my money for…” Logan grunted ordering ale for himself. Enoch chuckled.
“You’re mistaking our show to those second grade tricksters. No, we have nothing of what you speak of, but something better. A real thing.”
“Real thing? What? A man dressed to bear hides?” Logan snorted.
“A Wolf-Man.”
“Right. A wolf-man? And I bet there’s a mermaid in the next cage…”
“I have had enough of this. Either you are interested or not, but I’m not going to sit here and listen your accusations…” Enoch huffed draining his ale and standing up. Logan grasped the sleeve of his shirt.
“Wait. I am interested. It’s my girl… She likes the excitement. But lately we have been disappointed for too many times. I just have to be sure before I go and tell her that there’s a Freak Show in town.”

Enoch seemed to think about his words for a while. Then he grunted and nodded.
“Follow me. I’ll give you the proof you need…” Logan discarded his ale and followed Enoch.

Enoch led him through the crowd to where carnival had settled. Contortionists and magicians got only wide berth from the animal handler. He led Logan to a small, ragged tent and stopped in front of it.

“It isn’t full moon yet, and sun is up. But if you’re the man of the world as you claim you are, I’m sure you’ll see the difference between what I got and what you have seen before…” He said, grabbing the door flap of the tent.

The stench was unbearable. Rot, feces and sweat, combined with something distinctively bestial. Scent of wildness. Scent of predator.

Sturdy metal cage stood in the darkness.
“Go on. Those bars will hold. They’re iron”, Enoch urged. Logan stepped in to the tent, gagging from the warm, sweaty air that clung to him. There was something in the cage. Something small curled in to the furthest corner. He stepped closer and it moved, stood partially up. Low warning rumble echoed from the cage. Then Enoch grasped Logan’s arm and pulled him out.
“That’s enough. Any more and I’d have to ask you to pay for me…”

“So… You think your girl would be… Impressed?” Enoch asked. Logan nodded, rubbing his jaw.
“I’m sure she’d be more than impressed. Thank you. We’ll be coming here later tonight.”

He stumbled through the crowd to where his horse stood, nausea churning at the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get the image of the child in that filthy cage off from his mind. For a child the creature had been. A small boy with mindless animal lodged deep in to his soul like a leech.

She was finishing her simple lunch when the door of the cabin flew open. Logan walked in with a sharp rush of cool air and scent of ice, and something that she knew, but couldn’t quite identify. He looked absolutely horrified, slammed the door shut and crossed the floor with few steps, pulling her to almost desperate embrace.

“Logan, what…”
“Just let me hold you.”
“But Logan, what hap…”

Further questions were impossible. Every time she opened her mouth to speak Logan claimed her lips to a searing kiss, all the while guiding her towards their bed. When she started to unlace her dress Logan grasped her hands and stopped her. He pushed her gently on to the bed and crawled next to her, curling his whole body around her like a protective cocoon.

For a long moment they just laid there, Logan holding her close, his hand stroking her belly carefully, before he cleared his throat.

“There’s a boy. Looked not much older than six years old. In a cage.” He swallowed.
“Enoch called him a wolf-man. There is a wolf in that boy, I could see it. I could smell it. And tomorrow night, when carnival packs up and leaves, I’m going to follow them. Enoch usually stayed away from the others, left a good distance between him and the rest of the caravan… All I have to do is to wait and see… And finish off both of them, Enoch and the boy, as soon as I get a chance.”

Again they laid in silence. Only sounds breaking it were their breathing. Her breath even and steady, Logan’s strained, escaping in gasps. She could sense there was more behind this than Logan had revealed. She was sure that Logan would tell her as soon as he was ready. They had no secrets.


All the way back home the boy’s face had been floating in front of him. Those haunted, empty eyes, dull, glazed look that Logan knew would fill wit rage and lust come the next full moon… And he had known the boy. Recognized him as his own as surely as if Wolverine had still been whispering inside of him, screaming to release it’s offspring from the filthy cage.

He had only vague memory of being chained. Vague whisper of woman, soft clink of gold as Enoch paid for the woman and then opened the door of his cage to let her in. Exactly two nights before the full moon. He had been more of a man than the animal, but it had been Wolverine who had used his body and taken the woman, planting its seed to her womb.

He wasn’t all that sure if it would be a wise decision to reveal the whole ugly truth to Marie, because he had no idea had that woman been the only one, or had there been more like her, willing to carry and give birth to a beast.

“I… I have some things to take care of…” Logan ventured when they were having breakfast.
“You’re going in to town? If you are, there are some things I could use…”
“I’m not going in to town. I found something last night.”
“Oh…”
“Yes. But it’s a bit different this time. It might take some time. Few months probably.”
“When are we leaving?”
“We are not leaving. I’m going alone. You’re in no condition to fight.”
“I wasn’t going to fight. But you’re going to need somebody to take care of your equipment and everything.”
“I have no idea how long this will take. It’s better for you to stay home. I don’t want our child to born on to the road.”
“Born… Logan! If you think that I’m going to just sit home and wait like an obedient, clueless little wife…”
“I don’t think! I need you to do that! This… This is… This is something I have to take care on my own.”

Marie pushed her plate aside. She had been hungry. The porridge had been delicious. Now it was ruined.
“Are you even going to tell me what it is about?” She asked. Logan stared at his plate, hesitation and disgust dueling in his eyes.
“You’re going to leave. I probably have to give birth to our child alone. At least you could do is to tell me if it’s worth it!” She hissed. Logan stood up and started pacing in front of the fireplace, pausing every now and then, obviously trying to come up with right words.
“If it is some filthy bloodsucker I say let those people deal with it on their own. A demon? I’m sure the monks and priests…”
“It’s a werewolf.”
“A werewolf? Couldn’t you contact some other hunter and ask them to take care of it?” She asked, now more worried than angry. Logan was deathly pale, his jaw clenched tightly and his voice a mere whisper when he answered.
“It’s mine.”

For a moment she sat stunned, then followed Logan who had marched out. He had taken his horse out and was brushing its gleaming, black coat furiously.
“What do you mean? It’s yours? What does it mean?” She asked, already having inkling, not wanting it to be true.
“It’s my offspring. At least one. There might be more, and I have to find them all and get rid of them,” Logan spoke with a low voice, his tone even, almost conversational. The horse took the brunt of his confusion and fear, each brush over its coat growing in power.
“I have to hunt them down and kill them all. Since I have no idea of how many times and when and where Enoch sold my services, it’s going to be a bit tricky mission. I’m going to try to get as much information out of him as I can before I leave, but it will take quite some time no matter even if that bastard told me straight away where to look my bastards.”

Her head was spinning. She felt like screaming. For all the things that had happened, this was perhaps the worst yet.

“So I can’t really take you with me. I… It wouldn’t be fair and all. And… I… Uh… I want you to know that this has got nothing to do with our kid. You don’t have to be afraid that I… The one you’re carrying, it’s ours. There’s no taint on it. But these… Things… They’re evil,” Logan kept speaking. His voice was faltering, and the horse started to move restlessly, protesting his hard handling of it. Logan struggled with it for a moment, then huffed and threw away the currycomb, turning to look at Marie.
“I’m going to follow the freak show as soon as they leave. I try to be quick, I don’t want to leave you alone, especially now, but…” He was practically begging. Begging her to understand. Begging her to understand and accept, because this was something he couldn’t just put aside or ask somebody else to take care of. Ultimately the blame lay on Enoch and Wolverine, but now the Wolverine was gone, not able to take care of its cubs, and it was Logan’s responsibility to make Enoch pay for what he did and track down the potential beasts.

“We better get things ready here. If you think that I’m going to let you go on your own you must be out of your mind. We’ll do this together. If I have this child on the road, then be it,” she said, turning away from Logan before he had the time to argue and started towards the cabin.
“The hell we are…” She heard him growl. Hard hand landed on her shoulder and Logan spun her around, forcing her to face him.
“You’re staying where it’s safe, even if I had to chain you down!”
“The hell I will! I’ll…” Logan interrupted her sharp retort, his lips landing on hers to a demanding kiss, his tongue forcing her mouth partially open, his blunt teeth nibbling her lips until she wasn’t all that sure of if he was just trying to kiss her or eat her alive. She shoved him hard, breaking the contact, out of breath and her lips tingling and swelling.
“Don’t you… Logan! Stop…” He was kissing her again, more gently this time, taking his time and letting his hands wander, cupping her breasts and buttocks, smoothing down her sides and back, his fingers rubbing the small of her back and she had no choice but to moan out loud when he managed to find all those small achy muscles, as well as all the right places that made her lower abdomen heavy and hot for him.

She tried to protest feebly when Logan started backing her towards the cabin, but she found it increasingly difficult to argue when his nimble fingers started to unlace her dress, and his lips and tongue kept on their relentless attack, turning her to a quivering collection of want and need.

The dress fell from her and Logan lowered her carefully on to the bed, leaving her only long enough to close the door and to add some wood in to the fireplace. She opened her mouth, but Logan brushed her lips with his index finger.
“Hush, Marie… We have more important things to do than to fight right now…” He whispered, then grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to the bulge at the front of his trousers.

She stroked the hot and hard column she felt there, flames at the pit of her stomach threatening to consume her whole. No matter how often they did this she could never get enough of him. Never close enough no matter how deep he got. Never enough no matter how long it lasted or how many times Logan made her scream his name.

“Please… Take off your clothes…” She whispered.
“Help me?” Logan asked, helping her to sit up, her face barely reaching his crotch from where he stood. She leaned slightly forward and nuzzled against the soft leather of his pants, her hands tugging the hem of his shirt upwards.

It was clumsy. But it didn’t matter. Finally Logan lay naked next to her, all that muscle and scarred skin gleaming in the light of fire, pure lust boiling in his eyes. He grasped her hips and guided her on top of him, his cock ending between her soft and moist folds.
“I’d like nothing more than to have you on my side every night and day… Every battle… But there’s more at stake now than just the two of us. The baby, you have to keep it safe…” Logan whispered before entering in to her.

She laid her head on his chest, her ear pressed against the warm skin, wiry hairs tickling slightly but the sound of his heart beating making her reluctant to move. Logan’s softening cock was still inside of her, stretching and rubbing against the swollen folds deliciously.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said. Logan petted her back and hair.
“It’s not my idea of fun either. I’d much rather stay with you. At least until the kid is old enough to travel and we could go together.”
“Why can’t you wait, then?” She asked. Logan shifted slightly, and when she looked up from where she laid she could see his throat working furiously, adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“It’s easier now. Easier to kill them before they grow up,” he finally answered.
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“It shouldn’t. They’re… They’re just kids. It’s not their fault that it was the beast that conceived them.”
“You don’t even know if there’s more. Who knows, maybe there’s just that one and after it’s over, you can come home,” she said, small glimmer of hope igniting in her.
“I hope that there isn’t more. But Enoch strikes as a greedy man for me. I have no idea how much the people running those freak shows are willing to pay for a cub, but… Most likely anything Enoch asked for.”

She rolled off from Logan, cuddling against his side, letting her palm wander over the hard planes of his body.
“I should start getting ready. Enoch and his crew move out tomorrow morning…” Logan huffed. She expected him to sit up, but instead he turned on his side, facing her.
“Which one do you think it is?” He asked. She stared at him confused.
“The baby. Girl or a boy?” Logan clarified, his palm landing over her belly, stroking gently.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you witches knew everything,” Logan smirked.
“And I thought that big, bad hunters like you weren’t supposed to get friendly with the enemy…” She giggled.
“I made an exception, and it looks like it paid off…” Logan said, gathering her against him, breathing her scent and nuzzling her hair.
“I love you, Marie. What ever happens, I want you to remember that.”
“And I love you, Logan. You better remember that. This is your home, and I’ll be here waiting for you, no matter what happens.”

They laid like that, limbs tangled together and their bodies touching for a long moment, just enjoying the closeness of each other. It was Logan who reluctantly broke their embrace and sat up, reaching for his clothes.
“I’m going to pack now. Need to check my weapons as well.”
“Need some help with that?” She asked.
“No. But you could make me some cure.”
“Logan…”
“I’m going to be careful. It’s not for me, anyway. Those creatures can sense each other from distance. I was thinking that I could use the one Enoch has, give him the cure and let him lead me to the others.”

Chill ran down her spine. In a matter of seconds Logan had turned from remorseful father to a hunter. But perhaps it was better this way. Easier for all of them. Easier for Logan to cope with what was coming. She stood up and went to her workbench, not bothering to dress up.

She was mixing the concoction when she felt Logan moving behind her, leather of his jacket plastering against her back and buttocks, his hands wrapping around her and his palms cupping her breasts rather roughly.
“You said that you needed something from the town. I probably have the time to get it, if…”
“Oh, it was nothing… Just thought that I should make some more candles…” She gasped when his fingers pinched and rolled her nipples, making them swell and harden.
“You better not leave before you finish your business with me…” She hissed, twirling around and locking her legs around his waist.
“This is all your fault… Walking around naked like this… I can’t help myself,” Logan murmured, his forehead pressed against hers.
“How on earth I’m supposed to concentrate to anything else when you’re acting like this?” He asked, grasping her buttocks when she slid lower, grinding her still moist mound against the front of his trousers.
“I’m acting? I was just mixing my herbs when this vulgar ox of a man started pawing at me.”

Logan grinned and let go of her, much to her disappointment, and laid surprisingly chaste kiss on her forehead.
“I’m sorry. But you do look good. Better every day I spend with you.”
“And you’re just going to leave me like this?” She asked, her fingers already itching over her breasts and stomach, sliding slowly lower.
“Like this? I’m afraid you have to be more specific…”
“I want you Logan.”
“Uh-huh…”
“And you’re not going to leave until I get what I want…”
“Really?”
“Really.”

He checked his bag one last time and frowned. There really was no way to avoid excess weight, no matter how carefully he had considered every item he was going to take with him.
“What is it?” Marie asked when he started to pull out clothes and weapons from the leather pouch.
“Too heavy. I have to leave something behind.”
“But there’s almost nothing left!”
“I know.”

Had he gone soft during the years? Did he really need the change of clothes? Or that small pot? What about that extra cartridge of bullets? He stared at the items in front of him, trying to decide which one of them he could do without, small whisper at the back of his mind taunting him. Wasn’t it all so much easier when he could rely his fur and claws? Wasn’t it much easier when he didn’t have to consider his horse, but his own two feet only? Was it really that bad when you could run through the night and day, hunt your food on the road and get nourishment from the fresh kill? Hadn’t it been a great advantage when you could tear in to those you hunted with your teeth and claws, even fight for two equals instead of having to settle to pure luck and guns?

Marie’s hand landing on his shoulder interrupted his trail of thoughts and he swallowed, disgusted over the path his mind had chosen.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“You do?” He asked.
“Yes. Don’t even dream about leaving those clothes behind. You have a nasty tendency to ruin what you’re wearing, and it would comfort me a great deal to know that you have at least one spare shirt and trousers with you. What good are you to anybody if you get cold and sick while you’re chasing those beasts?”
“Oh… You’re probably right…” He sighed relieved and started packing his bag again. Had she really known what went through his mind she would have chained him down and stopped him from leaving then and there.

Yes. Having the wolf in him had given some advantages. But when he thought about it, it had brought on many problems as well.
“What about Buddy?” Marie asked.
“What about her?”
“Are you going to take her with you?”
“That’s really not my decision. She comes along if she wants. If she doesn’t, she’ll be probably lurking around here. Just give her some food every now and then, I kind of… I like that fox. I don’t want her to wander off while I’m away.”
“She’s going to be mommy as well,” Marie said, her tone rather accusing.
“And she’s a fox. You’re my wife and the mother to my child. There’s a difference.”
“Fine… I’ll stop nagging…”

The sun was already creeping lower on the sky, extending shadows and painting eerie yellow and red glow over the thin layer of snow covering the ground when he went to saddle his horse. He had decided to camp out near the freak show for the coming night, just in case. It wouldn’t do to ride out in the morning just to find out that they were already long gone.

“Be careful,” Marie whispered from the doorstep of the stable. Buddy was there as well, sitting next to her, bushy tail curled over its paws.
“You know me,” Logan smirked, trying to lighten Marie’s mood. It wasn’t working very well. If possible, even deeper frown settled over her features.
“I know you. That is why I worry.”
“You seem to have quite high opinion about my skills…”
“Just try to come back in one piece. No more foolish heroics, we need you here.”

He checked the reigns and the saddle, straightening the blanket underneath it and patting the horse lightly, feeling Marie’s gaze at the back of his neck. She was expecting something. An answer. A promise. Something he was unable to deliver. Instead of lying straight at her face he turned to look at her.
“I’ll try.” She stepped closer at him and brought her hands to his face, smoothing back stray strands of hair from his forehead.
“That’s all I’m asking. Try. We’ll be here waiting when you get back home.”

That night he spend hiding near the carnival, not daring to fall asleep, taste of Marie’s lips and feel of her fingers still fresh in his mind.

It wasn’t big of a problem to stop Enoch once rest of the carnival had rolled on, and he had purposefully chosen slower pace. No problem at all. In fact, Enoch looked almost relieved when Logan stepped from the woods and told him to stop the wagon before he blew Enoch’s head off.

“I was expecting you sooner, Wolverine,” Enoch said, stepping down from the wagon and tied the reigns of his horse.
“You knew me?” Logan asked, surprised but none too pleased. Enoch let out a dry cackle.
“I never forget a beast. What is it that you want? A chat with your cub?”
“I came to finish it.”
“Ah-ha… So it is the man that I’m speaking with… Found a cure? I’m impressed!” Enoch said.
“And I have some questions for you as well.” Again Enoch laughed, making Logan cringe. This wasn’t going as this should have been.
“Ask away, my boy!” Older man cackled, clapping Logan’s shoulder as if he wasn’t pointing a heavy revolver at his face.
“How many?” Logan asked. Enoch pointed at his wagon.
“That is the only one. I tried…” Logan cut him off with a hard shove, nearly crushing the man against the wagon.
“Don’t lie to me, Enoch. You’re one greedy bastard, and if there was a way to make money with me, you took it! How many?”

Enoch was barely breathing, clearly scared now, barrel of Logan’s gun digging under his jaw.
“I tried! I tried more often than I care to remember! You killed most of the women that I brought to you! Rest of them backed off when they saw you! That boy is the only one! I swear!” He rasped. Logan tilted his head and eyed him for a second, then threw him to the ground at his feet, keeping the gun trained at his head.
“I don’t believe you. Where there’s a one, there’s another lurking somewhere… Start talking before I forget why it was such a good idea to just ask politely instead of torturing the answers out from you…”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a man of God?” Enoch whispered, pointing at the silver cross that hung on his chest. Logan grasped the cross.
“This is between you and me Enoch. God has no business with me anymore; I carry this cross as a mere weapon. I’ll ask you once more. If I don’t get an answer, it’ll get ugly… How many more of those creatures you bred?”
“There isn’t more, just that one…” Enoch started to scream when he cocked his gun.
“Not the answer I wanted to hear!”
“But it’s true! It’s tru…”

Enoch was rolling on the ground, clutching the stump of his mangled left hand and screaming. Logan walked to him and held him in place with his foot braced over his chest, letting him see the smoking barrel of the gun.
“I have enough bullets to blow you to pieces, Enoch. I know how to make it last. I suggest you tell me the truth before I really hurt you,” Logan spoke with a hushed tone, his face only inches apart from Enoch’s. The old man smelled of blood and sweat. Wild animals. Onions and beer. And for a moment Logan felt like tearing in to him anyway, to hell with his quest, to hell with the rest of the world, this man in front of him had hurt and humiliated him in the past on unspeakable ways.

Enoch turned his head and bared his throat, closing his eyes.
“Go ahead. Do it.”

He could feel and hear the blood pounding at his temples. Bitter saliva pooling at the back of his throat.

“Do it!”

The gun fell from his suddenly numb fingers and he threw back his head, stepping away from Enoch, horrified yet victorious scream bubbling inside of him.

“Just do it! You might as well kill me!”

He could feel the all too familiar pain gathering to the base of his skull, spreading through his whole body from there as every bone, muscle and tendon groaned in agony. Enoch kept speaking, but his voice sounded awfully distant. Over the old man’s voice echoed much older and primal call of the pack. The boy was howling in his cage in the wagon, calling him, calling Wolverine.

Then it was over, as suddenly as it begun. Everything came rushing back. Enoch on the ground, no more begging, but smirking and pointing Logan with the gun he had discarded.
“Well, well… It looks like you’re not as cured as you thought you were…” Enoch cackled.

He fell heavily on his knees, scrabbling his second revolver. The gun in Enoch’s hands went off and he could feel the burn piercing his left shoulder. The boy in the wagon started hollering again, but now he was crying. It wasn’t the sound of a beast.

His fingers brushed the handle of the revolver just as Enoch shot the second time. Bullet wheezed past him, near enough to scorch the skin over his cheekbone. He gave up, and instead of trying to pull the revolver he launched towards Enoch, his fingers curling around the old man’s throat.
“A beast you were… A beast you will be for the rest of your days…” Enoch whispered before Logan’s grip crushed his windpipe.

He wiped his hands to his thighs, picked up his revolver and rose to his feet, kicking the limp body of the freak show master for the good measure before he made his way to the back of the wagon. Wrenched open the door. Iron bars of the cage gleamed in the sunlight. The boy leaned against them, something akin of a hope shimmering upon his face.

He swayed on his feet, shivering from the coldness. His trousers were soaked through from the melted snow, his shirt and jacket from his blood. The boy was staring at him. There was no fear on his face, just curiosity and… Worry?

The gun felt heavy in his hand, like it was tied on to the ground at his feet. It was nearly impossible to lift it, and his hand shook when he finally managed to raise it. The boy tilted his head and reached his hand, his fingers brushing the cold barrel of the gun, wrapping around it, his eyes staring at him questioningly. The poor bastard had no idea of what a revolver was. Not before his fingers brushed against the silver etchings that burned his skin. The boy shrieked, let go of the gun and scrambled back from the bars, in to the shadows of the wagon.

“Don’t worry… I’m not going to hurt you. Not after this anyway…” Logan whispered, pulling a syringe from his pocket and reaching through the bars, expecting the boy to try and bite him at any second. The needle found the target and the boy let out one more scream before scooting to the furthest corner of the cage to lick his wounded arm.
“It’ll hurt like a bitch for a while. But if Enoch was as heavy handed with you as he was with me, you should be accustomed to pain already…”

He walked off from the wagon when the boy started to cry and slumped under a tree. The beast taken care of it was time to tend his own wounds. The one on his cheek had already stopped bleeding, the bullet had probably cauterized it immediately, but his shoulder was bleeding profusely. His whole left side felt cold and numb.

He shed his jacket and the shirt as carefully as possible, then prodded the wound lightly. The bullet had gone straight through. He had been lucky. As far as he could tell, it hadn’t ruptured any major vessels. There were no broken bones. Just ugly, torn hole which he would have to plug before he bled out.

He fumbled through his bag, cursing his stupidity and arrogance. His reaction to Enoch’s closeness and taunts had nothing to do with Wolverine, but everything to do with his wounded pride and thirst for revenge. His rather animalistic reaction had been nothing but something Enoch had taught him. How a good beast should react when people got too close to the cage.

“Oh, would you shut up already!” The boy was clinging to the bars of the cage, his eyes fixed to Logan, bawling his eyes out. He tried not to look at his pleading face. Tried his best to concentrate to his shoulder, scooping handfuls of snow to the wound, trying to slow down the bleeding. It wasn’t working very well. He felt dizzy. The snow around him was turning from pink to deep red. And it was starting to hurt. Impact of the bullet had temporarily stunned him, but now all the torn and shredded nerve endings were slowly waking up, one after another.

“Thank God for that little witch…” He sighed deeply when he found the small pouch of herbs and bandages Marie had slipped in to his bag when he hadn’t been watching. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do with most of them, having not paid nearly as much attention to her works as he should have been, but when he found some dried moss he pressed fistful of it to the wound, then wrapped the bandage on top of it. End result was clumsy at best, but it would have to do until he felt good enough to dress it properly.

The boy had stopped crying and was staring at him, regarding him silently. He cocked his head. The boy didn’t seem to be in any pain. How the hell was it possible? He had squirted the cure in him mere minutes ago. He should have been rolling on the floor of the cage in agony, not standing there, worry and fear shining in his eyes. In his very human eyes.

There was not a sign of the beast in the boy that was watching him. In fact, he wasn’t the same boy that Enoch had shown to Logan earlier. Same height and build, dark hair and eyes, but it wasn’t the same boy.

“Who are you?” He asked. The boy blinked, and for a moment Logan was afraid that he would start crying again. Then he spoke.
“Enoch bought me from the town. Everybody just calls me Boy.”

He scrambled up to his feet and staggered to the wagon, leaning against the cage.
“Show me your hands…” He whispered. The boy stepped hesitantly closer and extended his hands, his palms turned upwards. Logan swallowed and grasped his wrists. There were no burn marks on his fingers or palms, just old blisters and cuts, pads of his fingers calloused from hard work. It hadn’t been the silver of his gun that had hurt the boy’s hands. Enoch had probably bought the boy from the blacksmith. The boy had probably hurt his hands while working on bellows at the smithery.

The boy he was after was most likely long gone now, either killed by Enoch or sold for some other freak show for good money.

He grasped the padlock that held the door of the cage locked.
“Back off. I’ll try and see if I can get this thing open…” He whispered. The boy scrambled to the back of the cage and curled around himself, shielding his head and ears with his hands and feet.

He raised his gun and shot once. Twice. Finally the padlock gave in and fell to the ground. He yanked the cage door open.
“Go home, kid.”

He was sweating, his whole body bathing in sticky, cold substance. The boy brushed past him. He couldn’t bring himself to move or to let go of the iron bars of the cage. If he let go of them now, he’d fall flat on his face to the ground.
“What the hell are you waiting for? Go home…” He growled when the boy just stood there, naked on the snow, staring at him.
“I… I have no home. And if I go back they’re going to think that I escaped. They’re going to whip me or…”
“Tough luck, brat. I have no time to take care of you or your problems…” He felt like puking up, but managed to force back the bile that had risen to the back of his throat. He turned to look at the edge of the woods. His camp wasn’t that far, few hundred meters away, but right now… It could have very well been on the other side of the goddamned world.

He let go of the cage and took few swaying steps on the snow. Then darkness engulfed him and he fell.

Waking up was a slow and tedious process. First thing he realized was that he wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, he felt scorching hot, bathing in his own sweat, his feverish skin feeling all too thin and dry. He could taste herbs in his mouth. Could smell the scent of them in the air. There was something soft and raspy on top of him, covering him from the waist down. A blanket, his overly sensitized fingertips told him. His left shoulder felt like it was on fire. Every breath he took felt like it was stretching the wound open, tearing it larger.

He dared a quick peek, cracked his eyes open just the slightest bit. Roof above him looked familiar. But the light that came from his left was all too bright and he pinched his eyes shut again, cursing silently when flickering flames of the fireplace kept still dancing behind his closed lids, ruining his eyesight and making him nauseous with their twirling.

“I know you’re awake,” voice came from somewhere further from the room.
“Yes…”
“What part of coming home in one piece did you not understand?”

He cracked his eyes open again, squinting against the light and licked his chapped lips. Marie was standing by the bed.
“Thirsty…”
“Wait a second.”

It was too big of an effort to speak. The whole world was spinning wildly. Then Marie was there again, and there was something cold on his lips. Snow?
“You’re too sick to drink. But this should help a bit.”

It wasn’t just snow. It was more like ice, and tasted slightly bitter. Some herbal remedy. Frozen. Icy slush felt good on his tongue.
“The boy…” He croaked when he felt good enough to speak again.
“He’s chopping wood. Hard worker that one. Where did you find him?”
“Enoch…”
“What about the one you went after? Is it over?” Marie asked. He thought about it. Thought about it long and hard. Then almost shook his head, but nodded instead, bitter tears burning at the corners of his eyes.
“It’s over…”

She wasn’t all too sure of whether to believe him or not. Logan had never been a good liar, and there was something in his eyes… Whatever it was, he wasn’t done with his quest. For now he was forced to lay low and allow his body to heal. He might even think that he was going to stay home with her for good now. She knew better. He couldn’t live with himself if he knew there were monsters out there in the world, worse yet, monsters that he at least partially was responsible of.

When Logan’s eyes drifted shut and his breathing evened she gathered the soiled bandages she had laid on to the floor earlier and threw them in to the fireplace. She had no idea of what Logan had used when he had made his bullets, but it had been something bad. A nasty infection had settled in to the wounds, making his shoulder and cheek swell twice to their original size and bleed disgusting, foul-smelling puss. His cheek was already slightly better, but his shoulder seemed to get worse no matter how often she cleansed it or how carefully she applied cleansing herbs on it.

She sat in front of the fireplace just as the door opened and the boy scurried in with an armful of logs. He was surprisingly strong. Tall and skinny for his age, but hard worker. She still couldn’t imagine how he had managed to jostle Logan back on to his horse when he had lost consciousness in the woods.

“Hungry?” She asked. The boy shook his head and sat by the bed, his whole attention riveted to Logan.
“How is he?” The boy asked. She sighed.
“No better than earlier. But not worse either…”
“That should count for something. Right? If he’s not getting worse, he’s going to heal, right?” The boy asked. That’s when it struck her for the first time.

Logan was really sick. There was no telling if he was going to push trough. So far nothing she had done had had any effect on his condition.
“He’s going to get better, isn’t he?” They boy asked.

She tried to answer. Something light and easy. Of course Logan was going to get better. Of course he would heal. Of course. By this time tomorrow he’d be up and running, planning the best course of action of how to track down anything and everything lurking in the darkness.

She couldn’t bring herself to lie.

She tried to tell the boy the truth, not succeeding in that either. When she opened her mouth to speak out came only a strangled whisper that turned to uncontrollable sobs.

She couldn’t cry. Now wasn’t the time to start blubbering and weeping. But she was unable to stop. Unable until the boy suddenly jerked up from where he sat as Logan struggled, first on to his side and from there to half sitting, half crouching over the edge of the bed.

“I’m not dead yet, witch… Do your goddamned work… Heal me…”