For a split second Stray didn’t understand what had happened.

Girl. Wolf. Huntress. Staring at one another.

Mistress Gold, her lovely face a mask of fury as Logan’s hazel gaze remained riveted on Stray.

The silver arrow burning coldly in the darkness, its brightness slicing through the twilight from where it stood buried inside Logan’s flesh, where it was pinning him, hurting him-

And then, just as she’d know he would, Stray saw the Once-Was-Logan arch its back in agony, a howl hissing out through its jaws. Its fur matted with blood and viscera, its teeth showing whitely in the pale moonlight. Mistress Red and her husband skittered back, eyes fixed on the wolf and terrified. The rest of the Company of Miracles shaking themselves as if emerging from a dream and rapidly following suit. “If you value your lives,” Stray heard Ororo mutter softly, lowering her bow and readying herself, “Then you will run now-”

And without another word the woman rose to her feet as swiftly as a shadow. Darting out of the wagon, the Company behind her. For a split second Red, Gold and Master Scott made no move to leave, the look on Gold’s face shell-shocked, as if she could not quite believe what Ororo had done- Or who Logan was still staring at. The look on Scott’s face showing that he had been expecting this, and that he was not happy to be proved right. Red tried to yank Stray away with her but the Once-Was-Logan snarled at her, again making her fall backwards; It had shifted itself so that it was between the girl and the doors of the wagon-

Clearly, of all the people in its quarters that night it was only interested in her.

“Stray..?” she heard the doctor whisper, “Stray, come with us- We won’t let him harm you, just come here…”

But before she could finish her sentence the wolf lashed out at her and she was forced to dart out of the way, barely avoiding its claws. Master Scott muttering several swear-words under his breath as he made to pull the red scarf he wore over his eyes down, scarlet light glimmering beneath the cloth. Stray heard Red mutter something that sounded like, “You’d kill them both, love-”

And then the werewolf decided the matter by launching itself towards Scott and Red, teeth bared and snarling. Making them both tumble through the doors of his wagon, landing in a tangle of limbs and curses in the snow. The wolf’s attention going with them and as soon as his gaze wasn’t on her anymore Stray saw her chance, took it. Dashed around the wolf and launched herself down into the darkness, arms and legs a mess for a moment before forcing herself to her feet and taking off into the night like the Devil himself was on her tail- Which perhaps he was. From behind her she heard a wolf’s howl cut through the night and though she didn’t see him make it she instinctively knew that it was Logan’s. That he was calling for her. And that, on some level she couldn’t fathom, she wanted to call back. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Because what kind of madwoman would call out to a hungry werewolf? What kind of woman would want to comfort such a beast?

And yet, and yet…

She couldn’t shake the image of the silver arrow buried in his flesh. It was behind her eyes as she ran, torturing her. The knowledge that silver- the purest of metals, everyone knew, and therefore the most dangerous to wicked creatures- was tearing him open and hurting him something that made her feel sick. Stray knew in her head that she was doing the intelligent thing; She had grown up hearing her grandmother’s stories of werewolves and knew well their taste for human flesh. It wasn’t unusual for a girl to go missing in the woods around Illunis, and everyone knew what had to have happened to her-

But if Logan were going to harm her why hadn’t he done it when he found her in the snow that first night? If he were so set upon eating her then why would he warn her to stay away from him? It would have been much easier, Stray knew, to prey upon her obvious fascination with him and ask her to take a walk alone in the woods. She would have said yes, though she was old enough to know what a man wanted from a maid when he took her into the forest- After all, there had been stories about that too when she was growing up. But Spring Maid’s green or Hunter’s Black he had tried to protect her from the moment he met her. And now he was hurt, probably bleeding to death while his so-called friends left him to die in the snow. All for the sake of someone Ororo called his Moonlight Key. Stray slowed down, the adrenaline surge which had fuelled her flight beginning to dissipate. Worry about the man she had left behind- and he was a man, no matter what skin he wore- taking its place. What if Mistress Gold was hurting him? What if they all were? Stray knew well how it felt to be the most dangerous creature in a room and she knew the contempt it bred; Had she left the man who had saved her twice to die? Could she do that?

And the simple answer- The only answer was: No.

She couldn’t leave the man who’d saved her, no matter what he carried underneath his skin.

So she turned then, began retracing her steps. The moonlight glinting coldly off the snow, making it shine like silver. The image of the arrow which had hurt Logan filling her mind. Stray knew that it was foolish, that any sane understanding of her situation would have told her to run far and fast. But she wouldn’t do that, not when Logan was hurt. Not when he had been trying so hard to save her life. From far away she heard his howl keen through the forest and she began following the sound, tracking it. A couple of steps back the way she’d come bringing her to a trail of blood and wolf prints which slithered through the snow. Stray paused, hunkering down to examine them: The creature who had made them was limping badly, but it had purposefully run in the opposite direction to her footprints and that told her everything she needed to know.

He was bleeding, but he was still alive. And he was still trying to protect her.

So Stray began to hurry, following the tracks as best she could. They led towards a huge oak tree, its shape stark against the crescent moon; The roots of the tree were hollow, barely touched with snow though the branches were white with it. It was, she realised, the closest thing to cover she would find out here in the woods. The tracks led down a sloping incline and Stray followed them, rolling through the snow in her haste; She came to a halt before the trunk, shaking the wet out of her hair only to hear an ominous growling. A pair of hazel, nearly-human eyes glowing at her in the dark. The girl peered into the shadows- “Logan, are you there?”- Trying to see the man she was searching for. Made a move towards the darkness only to have him snarl at her, a bloody, vicious-looking claw swiping at her though it did not make contact with her skin. She heard a voice, like that of a man and yet not like it, growl from the tree-roots. “Go,” it hissed, “Stay back-”

“I can’t do that.” She knew in her bones it was the truth. “I need to make sure you’re all right-”

“I am not the man you know,” that strange voice growled. She heard him take a hissing, indrawn breath. “I am- I am under the moon’s influence. I will hurt you, I will tear you to ribbons-”

“I’m a silk merchant’s daughter,” she said, keeping her voice as level as possible. “I take no fright at the notion of being decked in ribbons.”

“And blood?” The eyes moved nearer from the shadows. “You take no fright at the notion of being decked in that too?”

“You will not let that happen.” And acting on impulse Stray reached her hand into the darkness of the tree’s roots, guessing where Logan’s claws would be. Her hand made contact, his fur warm and safe against her skin. He gave a strange, feral whine but he did not pull away. “You’re hurt,” Stray said softly, stroking her fingers gently along his fur. It felt so wonderful to be able to touch him and know it wouldn’t cause him pain. “The arrow must be removed so that you can heal-”

“Why should I heal?” he demanded. “What makes you think I have the right to?”

“Did you sell your soul to the Devil for the power to change?” she asked him flatly. “Did you seek this state so that you could maim and kill?” Stray had listened carefully to the stories her grandmother told her, and she knew all the traditionally accepted reasons why someone became a werewolf.

She doubted that any of them applied to him.

He shook his head. “I was born this way,” he said quietly. “All of my people were-”

“Then this is who and what you are,” she said gently. “There’s not a body in the world can be blamed for being what they were born to be, we both know that.” And she reached out, extending her entire arm into the shadows this time. Tracing his claws- so sharp- his shaggy coat luxurious beneath her fingers. The warmth of his belly, his chest calling to her. The shape of him like a puzzle she had to solve in the dark. When he had transformed in the wagon he had looked exactly like a wolf, exactly as he had when she had first seen him- But the form her hand traced now did not feel canine. The chest was too broad and the waist too narrow, the arms- were they arms?- elongated like those of a man. When he didn’t pull back she crawled further into the darkness, her heart hammering; Inside the tree’s roots was so much warmer than outside, breath and body-heat flaring against her skin. Her hand slid delicately around to his shoulders, fingertips searching- The topography of his body felt strange and yet so familiar, almost as if she were mapping something that she had touched in her dreams. He took a huffing, sharp breath as her hand found the shaft of the arrow, the metal warm and gory beneath her fingers as she moved to pull it-

And then, before she knew what had happened she was on her back, Logan glaring down at her. Hands nearly-human and tight against her wrists. Breath frosting out into the night air. He had her pinned, his bulk so much heavier than hers, his sharp teeth white in the moonlight. His form massive as the oak’s had been, there against the stars. Stray shivered, the memory of night she had been cast out of her father’s house flaring in her. Humiliation and hurt linked as always in her mind with snow. But this sensation did not match that remembrance, she suddenly realised. This was wanted, welcome even. It did not make her body tighten in protest and fear, this made her limbs feel loose and honey-trickle-warm. They had spilled out into the moonlight when Logan pushed her back, and now every inch of him was visible to her. His shape that of a man though fearsome, his skin still covered in thick, dark-as-promise fur. Despite her best intentions she licked her lips, her body quaking-

Suddenly, for no reason she wished to fathom, neither of them could breath.

“What the Hell are you playing at, girl?” he demanded then. He was staring at her in a way nobody had ever stared at her before. Not in Illunis, not even on the road.

It was terrifying- In a strangely wonderful way.

“Did I- Did I hurt you?” she stammered. She could still feel his blood on her fingers; It was sticky and wet. Her hands ached to reach out and try touching him again.

“Would take more than a slip of a girl like you to hurt me,” Logan growled, pulling roughly away from her. But he was frowning, the expression strange on his Once-Was-Wolf face. Taking in her scent- she blushed automatically-his skin so warm and tempting and safe where it pressed against hers that it made her a little dizzy and not from the cold. “You’re really not frightened of me,” he muttered after a moment, expression perplexed. “This is- I become a monster and you’re not terrified.”

And he shook his head, smiling slightly.

It made him look a great deal less fearsome than it should have done.

“No,” Stray answered softly, “I’m not terrified. But we both know you need my help because if we don’t pull that arrow out of your back you’ll die-”

“And you wouldn’t want that?”

“No, I wouldn’t want that.” Suddenly she was fascinated by her hands. The thought of him dying bothered her a great deal more than she wanted to admit. “So will you let me help you?” she asked without looking up. “Please, Logan? I know it will hurt when I pull the arrow out but it must be done…”

She didn’t know what else to say.

He stared at her for what felt like an age then. His hand going to the pendant he wore around his neck, the flash of metal Stray had spotted the first time she’d met him. Tugging at it thoughtfully as if he were trying to make a decision of great import- Almost as if he had forgotten the arrow buried in his back. The pedant was a small iron rectangle, engraved with markings in an alphabet Stray had never seen before. Its edges worn and weary, its surface splashed with blood. Without warning he suddenly pulled it off his neck and looped it around hers in one swift, elegant motion. The certainty of the movement telling Stray that something important had happened though she could not guess what. “Yes, Mistress Stray,” he said then. “I ask you to help me. I ask you to heal me from my wounds and sorrows, and I offer my own service in return.” And he lowered his head as he said it, the symbols on the metal glowing suddenly golden in the pale moonlight. Stray couldn’t help but feel that more had been agreed to than was being said. “But not here,” Logan was muttering, “Not somewhere where it isn’t safe for you. We’ll find ourselves some shelter and then you can pull the arrow out, you have my word-”

And with that he pulled the girl to her feet, holding her close to him. Hissing in pain with the movement but waving away her protests about wanting to pull the arrow out right now. He began moving swiftly and silently towards the trees, his path straight and constant. His fur wet and strangely comforting against Stray’s body as she huddled into him for warmth. The girl walked quickly, not quite sure what was happening but somehow knowing that a die was being cast, that a path had been chosen-

And somewhere to their left, completely unseen, a single, flame-gold feather tumbled to the ground, the flash of cold brightness which had produced it disappearing rapidly into the night air.

Neither girl nor wolf would never notice it, but the feather turned the earth to ash where it lay.