He heard the commotion before he smelled anything. Coming home from the hospital had Logan visibly tired. Seeing Gaia so injured, knowing his dear brother was to blame, it was infuriating. Logan considered leaving to go out for a hunt for him, but he thought better than leaving his family open. He was a short ways away when the sounds of snarling came to his ears. He froze just a moment before he heard the scream from the strange voice, only a brief second passing before he heard the pained roar.
âKlara!â He calls out as heâs running through the woods towards his cabin, claws sliding out without a second thought to the action. Above all else, he would not see another child holed up in the hospital.
He makes short work of his front door, not thinking twice about kicking it in. For his children, against this new threat from Victor, he would tear apart the entire school. He could care less about this cabin heâd come to call home, so long as they were safe.
âyou came and messed with the wrong family,â he snarls at the bleeding girl, seeing the blow Klara landed. He moved fluidly to take a stance in front of the injured lion that Klara was now. Claws out, hands into solid fists, and a most dangerous look now advanced on this intruder, ânow you give me one good reason why I shouldntââ
And suddenly, before he can even finish, the reason hits him in a huge whiff as he approaches. The blood makes the scent clear, and at this point the scent causes deja-vu; his own scent becoming a sign that his world was about to shift yet again. He doesnât lower his claws, and his glare only softens a minute amount, but he doesnât put the sharp points to her throat as he intended. He pauses, glaring with malice, but now with curiosity as well.
âWho the hell do you think you are?â
(Â Â it hurts. sheâs five years old. snowflakes the size of her fist have been falling from the sky all day, leaving a thick covering in the clearing where they found the cougar they had been hunting. sheâs kneeling in it, now, desperately clutching at her shoulder, making an attempt to hold her tiny self together - crimson red stains white, the heat of her lifesblood melting it away. it hurts, she cries, and sheâs SCARED, because she doesnât understand - sheâs five years old and she feels as if sheâs dying just like that animal did beneath her and her father doesnât even BLINK. heâs too close. crouched at her level not for comfort, not to help, rancid breath tickling her face. GOOD. he says it with a smile, and he doesnât even care. GOOD, he says, and she shrieks in new pain as he grasps her tightly by both shoulders, jostling the wound she doesnât know will heal on purpose. IT HURTS SO YOUâLL REMEMBER. it only hurts if youâre weak, AND ONLY THE WEAK CANâT FIGHT.
WHEN IT HURTS, LEARN TO HURT BACK.  )
it hurts, as klaraâs teeth break skin and splinters bone. the damage was done, no matter how quick the younger girl let go - and the memory returned, searing as painfully in her minds eye as the wound caused did. a hundred dozen more lessons had taught her not to hesitate, to strike in the mere seconds after sheâs been stuck, so she DID. animal instinct awakened in time for her to lash out, but it was without direction - without intent outside of âliveâ - and it was a wonder, really, she even managed to catch the girl significantly enough to cause her to back away. she knew she wouldnât have been able to push her off - even skinny, a lion was a dead sort of weight, so she didnât waste a SECOND, gritting her teeth against the pain that rendered one arm and five weapons useless, pushing up and back from klara.
if she hadnât been there to kill her, she might have found it funny how much of a sight for sore eyes the two were, glaring back at one another. the metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air and each of them nursed wounds that they were LUCKY they could handle.
vicki had been trained for moments like these. she didnât know a pause. wounded or not, if an opening appeared where prey slowed, even for a moment, then she was supposed to take it. while klara caught her breath and the two stood stock still, it was the perfect opportunity for victoria to shock once again and make a final move - sink her claws deep into an artery, or make short work of snapping a neck, orâŠ
the possibilities on WHAT she could have done, if she made a move, were endless, and completely shattered by the shout outside of the cabin. she didnât recognize it. not really, not like she SHOULD HAVE. filled with emotion that didnât bode well, though, it struck her still in its bare bone resemblance to her father.
everything happened far quicker than she expected, from there. she hadnât had nearly enough time as she had presumed to finish this final job - and she had a considerable amount less, when it came to that initial shout and the exact moment when he appears between her and klara. the wolverineâs entrance was heralded with splintered wood and a low snarl that also strikes her as familiar, and while anyone with more sense ( more sense of self preservation ) might have made a move to back away, or even to have run - she remained statuesque.
(  will he try to kill me, father? sheâs eight years old and sheâs still clinging to the idea that if she says it enough then maybe, someday, heâll finally BECOME one. thereâs nothing fatherly about the way heâs sprawled in the armchair across from her bed, and the innocent question that hangs in the air comes with a side of childlike fear. she knows he doesnât like that, from the way that his eyes narrow, and he leans forward - its late, and dark, the only light a single candle, but she doesnât need to see that dangerous glint in his eye to know that itâs there, and victoria shrinks into the mattress away from it. she doesnât think that an answer will be what comes, but after some moments tick by, one DOES. he will. because youâre mine. and because he hates me and mine. and because⊠youâll give him reason to. she canât imagine what reason she could ever give the monster he paints the wolverine as to hurt her. she still holds on to some part of a childhood that she never even had, some remnants of purity that sheâll lose, soon enough. her eyes saucerlike in the dark, victoria canât help the tiny but i donât want to, father, that escapes her. the snarl of an answer is more abrupt than anything sheâs ever had before, and she doesnât sleep that night. she doesnât sleep for many nights, after. it doesnât matter what you want. YOU DIE BY HIS HAND, OR MINE. and at least he might make it quick.  )
now, before the only monster in the world that she hoped would end this, victoria found a curiosity that she had never felt before. despite the pain, and the situation - the wounded lion behind him, the claws that would soon, she imagined, by sinking into flesh - her head tilted sideways like a bird, and she regarded him as he moved forwards, menacingly, as if he were an ODDITY more than he was a threat.
she had always thought he would be taller. six foot something, a hulk of a man that would tower above her and make her feel as small and unimportant as she would be, in the end. in her childhood nightmares, he loomed so high that shadow obscured his face, and it was only when he leant in close that she would see the glint of razor sharp teeth and the edges of a face more WOLF than man, framed by an untamed and dirty mane of wiry hair.
it might have been something else to laugh about, if she had the time. how all along, over all these years, the threat had never really BEEN the wolverine - and even when her mind tried to play that trick on her, he was just the mirrored twin of her father.
it was hard to be afraid like she should have been, with him advancing on her, when she had always known she would end up here - and when she now knew that even if his claws took her life, it wouldnât be loganâs fault she died. his hand or victorâs had only ever been an illusion of choice ; and now she knew. victor always won.
âthe wolverine.â he might have paused - but unfrozen, now, she took a couple steps of her own towards him. not threateningly. in fact, her healing factor slow to kick in, one hand hung uselessly at her side while the other cradled the wound that klara had made, claws still out but entirely indisposed. a whole life, spent hurtling towards this exact moment - and the fight was gone from her. gaze flicking towards klara, a feeling blossomed in her chest that she had never really felt before ; relief, that she didnât have to finish THIS. not now⊠not ever. âmy name is victoria. my father sent me, to-â to die, is the weight she doesnât want to drop, â-⊠i killed your daughter. i hurt your grandson. i tried to kill klara. sheâs a fighter, but if youâd taken just a few more minutes, i would have done it.â
âhe called itâŠ- all of it, hurting your family, hurting you- the reckoning. the one that you made, yourself. he doesnât like you very much,â a dead eyed smile graced her lips, and she took one final step - planting herself firmly before him. she wanted him to know. she wanted him to know that it was VICTOR, even if she couldnât say it in so many words. maybe she couldnât say 'sorryâ. it wasnât a word that had existed, in her twenty six years. but she could express what she was only now learning, that she had been a tool. âi donât want to fight you, wolverine.â it was an honesty that was startling, even to her. her claws retracted. after everything, wasnât making this easy for them both one very small right?Â
âyou can do it now. iâm ready, to die.âÂ
because it would be one very small mercy.
Klara hears Loganâs cry before she can smell him coming. Her name, shouted with such concern. Itâs enough to distract her for a moment, make her look and pull her focus. Itâd be a ripe opportunity for Victoria, to kill Klara while she was distracted by pain and Logan, but it doesnât come. Klaraâs eyes flick back to her attacker as soon as she realises, expecting to see the woman flying at her, claws ready... but sheâs not.
Logan bursts through the door, and the righteous fury he exudes and the way he stands in front of Klara speaks more to her than words ever could. This feeling of being protected, unconditionally, is proof of what heâd told her after her nightmares. He wouldnât let anyone harm them. But Klara knows that Victoria wants to hurt Logan, and in the moment she feels a lot more disposable than him. Her siblings, their children, his friends... They all needed him. A low snarl in her chest, Klara steps forward, coming to stand by his side, front paw placed in front of him. Protecting him even just a little from Victoria.
She doesnât smell what Logan does. Or, more accurately, she does but she doesnât make the connection. Klara mistakes the similarities for just being here in his cabin. Everything here smells like Logan.Â
Victoriaâs words confuse her, and she doesnât trust it. The other woman fought like she did, like someone trained to kill. She told Klara not moments before that she wants to kill Klara, and to hurt Logan. She doesnât dare shift back yet, give up her claws.
