Three days later, Logan was headed back to the School for Gifted Students, with a very nervous Kit behind him, clinging to his waist. It had taken him all that time to convince her she would be welcome there, and she was still unsure.

"I'm not a natural mutant, Logan. Are you sure?" she had protested.

"Kit, the professor helps people like us deal with our mutations. He doesn't care how you got there, he just wants t' help. Do ya trust me?" he had demanded, holding her by the upper arms until she nodded slowly.

"All right. I'll trust you."

A few miles from the school, though, she asked him to stop and he pulled off the road into a stand of trees. Kit dismounted and walked away, her arms wrapped around herself, suddenly cold. Logan also got off the motorcycle and watched her as she paced.

"Cold feet, Kit?" he asked, leaning against a tree.

"Just a little," she answered quietly, giving him a wry smile. Suddenly, Logan stiffened as a scent he wished he could forget tickled his nose. "What is it?"

"Take the bike and get outta here, Kit," he ordered, tossing her the keys and slowly turning in a circle. She caught the keys, but didn't go as she caught the scent as well. She didn't know it, but it was frightening and predatory.

"Logan ..."

"GO!" he shouted at her, just before a huge mountain of hair and attitude barreled into him from the trees. They rolled together, snarling and slashing at each other while Kit stared in shock. She got the impression they were acquainted, but definitely not friends as they pummeled each other. Kit slipped away to the motorcycle, but not to leave. Instead, she pulled her crossbow and quarrels from her pack and climbed silently up into a tree, waiting.

"Knew I'd catch ya off the grounds if I waited long enough, runt!" Sabretooth crowed as he threw Logan into the trunk of a tree. Logan picked himself up, both sets of claws extended and launched himself, roaring in fury. He knocked the bigger man into another tree, and Kit could hear the crack of the trunk.

Sabretooth picked himself up slowly, wiping blood off his chin. "Where's that little redhead, shrimp? She looked mighty sweet," he growled, grinning and showing sharp, feral teeth that matched the wild light in his eyes.

"Ya gotta get through me first, ya sonuvabitch!" Logan swore, but Sabretooth just laughed.

"My pleasure!"

They started swinging again, but Logan was apparently suffering the worst of it. Kit, still perched in her tree, waited for the best shot, her heart in her throat as she watched Logan slowly being beaten down. Her opportunity came when, with one well-placed swipe, Sabretooth laid open Logan's abdomen. Logan was on the ground, trying to keep everything inside while his healing factor tried to knit him back together, and Sabretooth stood over him, gloating.

"Gonna have yer guts for garters, boy, then I'll find out just how sweet that little redhead o' yers tastes."

Feeling that rare, red haze cloud her mind, Kit squeezed the trigger of the crossbow, sending a bolt into his back just above the right kidney. She smiled in satisfaction as he roared in pain and whirled to find her. He looked up and stomped toward her tree, pulling the bolt out of his back as he did. She sank another in his groin on the left, bringing him to his knees.

"You shoulda left when he told ya to, bitch," Sabretooth growled, staring up at her with furious eyes.

"And you should've left us alone," she snarled back, balanced on the tree branch. "You have two choices—leave now or we kill you."

He moved faster than she expected as he pulled the second bolt free and lunged for the tree, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her down. He smashed her hand against the tree trunk till he broke her wrist and the crossbow dropped from her limp hand, while his other hand clamped around her throat.

"NO!" Logan shouted, and struggled to get to his feet.

"You forgot choice number three, babe—I have my fun with you, then kill ya both!"

He slapped her hard, splitting her lip, then slammed her backward against the tree several times, stunning her. She managed to kick him where she had shot him in the groin and he roared in pain, throwing her to the ground. It knocked the breath out of her and he was on top of her before she could move, his hot, foul breath in her face. He slapped her a few more times till she tasted blood in the back of her throat and she groaned.

"That's it, sweetheart. I like it when ya fight." He bit her shoulder hard enough to draw blood and she shrieked, her back arching in pain. "Yeah, scream for me, babe!" Kit had been able to slip her left hand down to her waist and pulled one of her throwing knives from her belt.

"Never ... again," she whispered and sunk the knife to the hilt in his belly, pulling up to lodge it under his ribs.

His bellow near deafened her and she tried to crawl backward as he reared away from her, murder in is eyes. Logan was still trying to keep himself together, too far away to stop what was happening. He was forced to watch Sabretooth pull the knife free and, in a blood-rage, bury it in Kit's chest just above her left breast. Her scream echoed in Logan's head, then she was still.

Setting the berserker free, Logan threw himself into Sabretooth, sinking both sets of claws into him and knocking him away from her body. He was still weak, though, and Sabretooth was able to backhand him away and get unsteadily to his feet.

"This ain't over, boy," he grunted, in serious pain as Logan picked himself up. Seeing Kit's still form, he then grinned down at Logan. "She's all yers, runt. Have fun," he added before loping away to go to ground and lick his wounds.

Logan dropped to the ground beside Kit, who was still alive, but barely. Her breathing was labored and her shirt was red with both her blood and Sabretooth's. Moving quicker than he should have, Logan made his way to his motorcycle and hit an emergency beacon there before staggering back to Kit's side, his body on fire with pain. He picked up her cold left hand and, to his surprise, her eyes opened a little.

"Logan." Her voice was barely a whisper and pink foam formed on her lips from her punctured lung.

"Don't talk, Kit. Help's comin'. That was a damn stupid thing t' do," he told her, angry at his helplessness. "Why the hell didn't ya leave when I told ya to?" She managed a smile and a small squeeze of his hand.

"Love ... you," she replied and her eyes closed again. Logan brushed the blood from her mouth, then heard Charles Xavier's voice in his head.

"Stay with me, darlin'," he said aloud, keeping her hand in his.

The Blackbird arrived only minutes later, and Jean and Scott Summers hurrying to Logan's side. Jean gasped at her condition and Logan glanced up at her.

"We gotta help 'er, Jeannie. She risked her life for me, but she's fadin' on me."

"All right, Logan, but you're hurt too. Let Scott help you while I lift her into the Blackbird. She'll be all right."

Jean wrapped Kit in a telekinetic bubble and lifted her gently into the Blackbird. Logan shook off Cyclops helping hand, moving slowly to pick up her crossbow from where it had dropped and walking to the motorcycle. He bent over the bike, trying to catch his breath, when Cyclops laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it. I'll come back for it later. I think you're hurt worse than you wanna admit and the longer we wait, the less chance we have of keeping her alive. C'mon."

Silently, Logan leaned on Cyclops and let him help him onto the jet. He looked askance at Jean who nodded, while Scott fired up the jet.

"She's still alive. Luckily, we're not far from the mansion." She squeezed his hand in reassurance and he closed his eyes, drained.

They were inside the mansion in only minutes and Jean continued to carry Kit telepathically while Logan insisted on walking without help. In the infirmary, Hank McCoy was waiting for them and had Jean lay her gently in the operatory.

"Oh, my," was all he said as he saw the knife still embedded in her chest, but turned as Logan grabbed his arm.

"She's lost a lotta blood. I wanna give her some o' mine."

"A noble idea, my friend, but in your weakened condition, I do not feel that would be a wise endeavor."

"Cut the crap, Hank. She put her life on the line for me, it's the least I can do." Hank knew Logan was a universal-donor blood type, but was still apprehensive.

"You do realize what you're proposing may slow or even stop your own recuperation?"

"What happens t' me ain't important. I lived through worse. It's more important that she does."

Hank understood then that this woman was more than just someone he had found on the side of the road and nodded.

"Very well, then. Jean, I will need your assistance in surgery. Storm, would you help Logan to a bed and draw a pint of blood from him?"

"Of course, Hank," the woman replied. Logan realized then he was weaker than he thought as Storm stepped forward and gently urged him to come with her; he hadn't even known she was there.

It was several hours before Kit was brought into the infirmary and settled into the bed next to Logan's. He had been sleeping, giving his body time to knit back together, but came awake the moment Jean and Hank entered the room with her. He was, in fact, healing nicely despite his own blood loss and the extent of his injuries.

"Well?" he demanded, sitting up in his bed with only a slight grimace of pain.

"I believe she will recover in time. I was able to repair her internal injuries and set her broken wrist. Thank you, Jean, for your help. Logan, would you care to tell me who she is?" Hank asked, taking a seat between the beds as Jean silently left the room. "I gather she is someone important to you for you to offer to share your blood and possibly your healing factor with her."

"She risked her life for me, Hank. I told 'er to leave as soon as I knew Sabretooth was there, but she stayed. As bad as he hurt her, she hurt him too. Put two arrows in 'im an' sliced him open before he stabbed her. She fought good, distracted him long enough t' keep him from killin' me when I was down."

"We all owe her our thanks as well, then. Have you known each other long?"

"Met 'er a few days ago. We hit it off real well, and got talkin' She's a mutant, but it wasn't a fluke with her. Said her father created her by mixin' her genes with fox genes just t'see what'd happen."

"Gene splicing to create mutants. Fascinating. I must look at her DNA. What sort of abilities has she developed as a result of this manipulation?"

"Enhanced senses, like mine, and some pretty strange eyes. That's it, far's I know."

"Fascinating," Hank repeated, then rose. "I will leave the two of you alone now to rest and get well. If you should need anything, I won't be far away. There is a call button on the bedside table."

"Hank." The furry blue man turned at the door to regard his friend. "Thanks." Hank nodded with a smile and left the infirmary. Logan then climbed painfully out of his own bed, pulled the chair closer to her bed and, putting his feet up on the side of her mattress, lay back with closed eyes to wait.