Tooth & Claw

by Kaylee

Logan blinked at the fire as he slowly rose out of nightmare-ridden sleep and into only slightly less nightmare-ridden wakefulness. He was lying on his side, curled up and wrapped snugly in blankets. Heat from the crackling flames danced across his skin and that strange, almost-living scent of the fire filled his nostrils and lungs with warmth.

He didn't remember blankets. He didn't remember undressing. He didn't remember moving to be in front of the fire. Yet all these things had happened...somehow...

With a jolt of realization, he sat up swiftly. Blankets fell from thin shoulders to pool across his lap and around his legs. Dark eyes swept the cabin, nose raised to scent for the other occupant -- an action as natural to him as listening for danger. He'd never really thought about how amazingly keen his senses were in contrast to other people's. It was only a small edge that kept him from being entirely discounted by the older and larger boys in the tribe, and it had never occurred to him to question exactly where it came from, or if he was unique in this heightened awareness.

Scent and sight placed the animal-man instantly, and Logan froze as he matched gazes with him once more.

The animal-man sat there only a few strides away from him, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped loosely over his stomach and his eyes fixed unquestionably on the boy. And those eyes... Like the great woods cat, or the smaller snowcat Logan had only seen a handful of times. Eyes that glowed in the fitful darkness; a burning yellow-tinged-green that caught the faint light from the fire and threw it back stronger. There was nothing of humanity in those eyes. Nothing of what he'd known before from other people he'd dealt with, willingly and not. Breath froze in his thin chest, instinctively stilled in the manner of any animal facing a larger, stronger predator. Just don't see me, was the silent message his stillness tried to put out.

But he was already seen, already marked, and in the animal's lair with no avenue of escape.

The animal-man watched him until his lungs ached and he finally had to let them start working again. The fingers linked over the hard stomach steepled, then raised to obscure part of the weathered, shadowed face. For all that this man's very being seemed alien, Logan recognized that look. Careful consideration. Disapproval. Disappointment. Perhaps disgust. He'd seen it all before from some of the elders. He thought he'd never forget that look, or the anger and shame it called up inside.

Defiantly, ignoring his fear, he jutted his chin up and hardened his jaw. So he had nowhere else to go. So he couldn't escape the animal-man when he tried. So his whole life had been picked up and shredded by the cruel and laughing gods the paleskins were. He still wasn't going to cringe in front of this man, danger or no. If he wouldn't let the scorn of the Atsina -- the people he'd accepted as his -- defeat him, he wouldn't let the silent mockery of this...this yellow-hide break him down.

So he jutted his chin up and met the blazing glare with his own stubbornness, refusing to even pull the blankets up around his again-shivering shoulders.

Creed stared at the boy, keeping his face supernally still with an effort. The kid still had the spark, then. Hadn't lost it out there somewhere in the snow and wind and darkness. Maybe he could work with the boy. Maybe there was something there worth bothering with.

Maybe the kid had to learn his place, first.

Despite the defiance, Creed could hear the brat's heart racing like a rabbit in hand, could smell the fear seeping from his skin. So he ain't too stupid, then. No, not stupid. He knew enough to realize he was anything but safe.

With calculated slowness, Victor let a lip curl faintly into a snarl over gleaming, slightly elongated canines.

Logan's eyes widened a little. He wanted to shrink back. To lower his eyes and let the challenge pass him by. The thin throat worked hard on a swallow, breath coming faster and more shallow.

Then, little tremors passing through the scrawny limbs, the boy's eyes narrowed and his lip curled in a slow, deliberate snarl.

Victor almost lost his expression in a gape. No he ain't... But he was. The runt was baring teeth at him like any animal refusing to acknowledge the supremacy of another. Oh ho ho...this is rich. Too fuckin' rich. Scrawny little half-pint -- could break 'im with one fuckin' hand -- challenging him.

Not letting a trace of his amusement show on his face and keeping the snarl evident, Creed spoke in a low, warning voice. "Ya thinkin' you got what it takes to throw down with me, boy?" No answer, of course. Logan's gaze flicked across his and the kid's head lowered, eyes looking up just a bit, either nerves or aggression beading sweat on his forehead. "We ain't gonna keep doin' this starin' contest. I'm the boss here. Got me?"

Nothing.

In a smooth motion, Victor stood and strode across the room. The kid backpedaled, scooting unconsciously towards the fire, lips still drawn back warningly and breathing coming shorter and faster. Blankets dragged after him and tangled around his legs, and his hands went frantically to try to free them.

Creed stopped a few feet away, looming over him with implicit threat, firelight licking unevenly along his huge frame and distorting his face. "Cut it out 'fore ya burn yourself."

Logan shoved backwards another inch, still struggling with the blankets.

"I said cut it out." If the kid put out any more fear-scent, Victor thought he might go nuts. The odor called to that...that something inside that he tried to pretend wasn't there, was in his control, was leashed. "Now."

His legs were free suddenly. He lunged back harder, something like a small, defensive growl coming from his chest.

Creed moved faster than the kid could respond. One moment he was standing over him like a giant contemplating crushing a bug, the next he was snatching Logan back, one muscled arm clamped tight around the thin chest and pulling the boy's back against his body. A sound not unlike an animal's cry escaped the kid. He redoubled his efforts at escape...which were, of course, futile.

Creed was crouched, holding Logan less than a foot from the fire. He tightened his arm to keep him pinned, then grabbed his chin in the other hand and turned the boy's face sideways to look directly into one wide, scared eye. "All right, you little idiot. Listen, an' listen good."

Logan tried to get feet under him for leverage. No good. Strained against the strong arm holding him. Nothing.

With an irritated grimace, Creed forced his head to turn back towards the fire. "Look."

Logan looked. Dancing flames seemed far too cheerful, indifferent to the proceedings so close by.

Victor released his chin and reached his hand towards the fire. Fingers lingered for a moment at the outer edge of the flames. His snarl returned at the pain, but he kept his hand there long enough to let the odor of singed flesh permeate the air. Logan was frozen, watching. Victor pulled his hand back and showed him the reddened, blistered fingers with crisped and blackened hair dusting the backs.

"You wanna do that to yourself? Get your little ass burned 'cause you ain't watching whatcher doin'?" With an effort, Creed softened his voice to something less like an impatient growl. "Bein' scared o' me's a good idea, boy. Keeps ya from messin' up too bad...tryin' things that might piss me off. You don't wanna see me pissed, I can promise ya that. But this crap with tryin' t' get yourself hurt 'cause you think I'm about to jump ya...that's gotta go." The runt stared at his hand, transfixed, no longer struggling. Very slowly, Creed loosened his hold on the boy. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, 'less you gimme reason to." Maybe the boy didn't understand any of what he was saying, but a bit of the tension was easing out of the small, taut frame as he spoke; drifting away on the hypnotic waves of flame in front of them. Victor relaxed his hold a little more, but still didn't let go. "Now you an' me're gonna hafta come to an understandin'. There's no tellin' how long I'm gonna be keepin' you here. Those assholes might come for you tomorrow, or they might not show up for a year or more." And when Paine and his fellow flunkies came? What then? Victor had some idea of what they wanted the kid for, and it wasn't gonna be pretty. A man who could heal almost instantly was an invaluable weapon...as long as he had the right...mindset. And if he wasn't born with that mindset, there were ways to make it a part of him.

He growled internally. Think about that later. Or better yet, don't think about it at all. Wasn't his concern, when it all came down to it. All he was supposed to do -- all he was being paid to do -- was keep the kid from hightailing it for the hills. What happened to the boy later...had nothing to do with him.

Logan was very still, very quiet. The fear-scent was dying down just a bit and his breathing was leveling. "So while you're here, you're gonna remember who's in charge. No more runnin' out like a damn fool in the middle of a snowstorm. No skitterin' across the fuckin' floor an' tryin' to get yourself cooked. Just don't make me mad, an' you an' me ain't got a problem. We clear?"

Slowly, tentatively, Logan reached an arm up from his loosened hold and touched a small finger to the hand he'd burned. It didn't even sting anymore. The kid stared silently, wonderingly, at the now healed skin. When Creed made no move to startle him he grew more bold, hesitantly taking hold of his hand and turning it over to gaze at the sparse blond hairs that had grown back where fire had burned them away.

"That's right," Victor said quietly. "You an' me got somethin' in common, don't we, boy?"

Flame-light glistened on soot-darkened claws. A small hand touched the top of one, tracing it back to where much of the weapon was retracted into his finger like a cat's. Followed the curve down to the tip. Victor carefully held his hand steady as the kid tested the sharpness against the pad of a forefinger. Skin parted easily. A bead of crimson rose quickly to glimmer in the fitful light. Boy didn't even flinch, but almost absently wiped the blood away with his thumb before raising the finger to look at the small, healing cut.

Victor drew his arm back and pulled his hand away. Logan didn't try to escape -- that was a good sign. He stared into the fire as if thinking...thinking hard. Kid already knew he had piss poor options. Heh. If you even considered what he had "options." He could make it hard on himself, or he could settle in and try to make the best of his situation. His life would never go back to whatever it was like before, and Vic wasn't interested in coddling the boy and making this one overly comfortable either. He wasn't gonna take having this kid dumped on him lightly. Paine wanted a weapon, and Creed'd give him one...on his own terms.

And he'd do it his way...which didn't include doing whatever Deke and the boys had done to this boy.

Logan said something. Creed listened to the words...more gibberish. But the voice was quiet, the tone almost level. Decision. Was that what he heard there?

The boy coulda been talking to him, to himself, or to ghosts for all Creed knew. But he didn't look back at the man, and he didn't make another effort to pull away from him. In fact, after a minute he reached down and gathered blankets slowly, pulling them over his shoulders as the cold finally reached through his too-thin frame.

Creed stood. The kid flinched, but was otherwise still. Victor grabbed a pot from a cabinet and stepped just outside the door to fill it with snow for water, then came back and set it down by the fire not far from the boy. Kid watched him the whole time from the corner of his eye, but held gamely motionless even when Victor was right beside him...though it obviously took effort.

Creed spent a few minutes digging through the cabinets, then settled on more of the dried meat he'd given the boy the other day. Logan watched his approach, and the heartbeat Victor heard thundering was as rapid as ever...but he still didn't draw away. Creed held out a slice of meat. Logan slowly reached up to take it, little hand exceedingly careful around the claws.

Victor tossed another blanket down by the kid, then headed for the bunk he hadn't been paying its proper due ever since this pipsqueak had dropped into his life yesterday. He stretched out with a silent sigh and didn't bother with pulling off boots...just in case the boy turned out to be a lot stupider than he thought and tried to rabbit again.

Not long after that, the exhausted kid curled himself up in the blankets once more. Breathing leveled slowly...heartbeat calmed. When Creed glanced over, the boy was wrapped up to his ears.

Dawn was breaking -- barely visible in the hazy snow -- when Creed let himself fade into sleep again.

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