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A rough hand stroked his victim's face. Storm stopped struggling and relaxed at his touch, closing her eyes in content. "You should stop sneaking up on me," Storm reprimanded. "I almost struck you."

Logan chuckled and guided his beloved to the table where he had paid the waiter to keep it open while he pulled the stunt on his wife.

R

The animal watched the couple in disgust. He had been about to grab the Witch when the Runt beat him to it. No matter, though, the next time she was alone, she would be his.

He noticed something on the ground and smirked. The Witch had dropped something, and he was sure that she was going to come back for it. He settled down to wait in anticipation.

R

Logan was paying the bill when Storm noticed that her purse was missing. "What's wrong, 'Ro?" Logan asked, watching as Storm searched fervently for something.

"My purse is missing," Storm answered, sighing. "Think I can get a rain check on that walk?"

"I'm afraid I can't control the rain," Logan said, standing up and helping his wife. "Of course you can darlin'," he whispered, nuzzling her neck as he embraced her. "As long as the weather is clear for tonight."

"I'll make that happen," Storm replied, kissing him before going their separate ways.

Storm guessed that she had dropped her purse when Logan jumped her, so walked back to the alley close to the restaurant. "There it is," she muttered, bending over to pick it up.

There was a growl and a whisper of movement behind her. She wasn't fast enough to dodge or counter it, and consequently was bowled over, landing smack on her back, winded.

"'Shouldn't be walking alone'," her attacker whispered in a deep voice- much deeper than Logan. "'Never know what's goin' to happen'." Storm's eyes dilated, as she began to tremble involuntarily. He chuckled, stroking her cheek with his claw.

"Sabretooth," she whispered, turning her head in disgust from the beast on top of her.

"Should've listened to the runt, because now you're mine."

Storm struggled in vain to get away from the monster, but to no prevail. He grinned as he grabbed her throat, slowly increasing the pressure on it until she passed out from the lack of oxygen.

R

Logan waited by the tree at the beginning of the trail behind the mansion. He hadn't seen Storm since he got back; he assumed that when she retrieved her purse that she went directly to her Greenhouse. That was her place of refuge, and he didn't like to disturb her solace- except when he was feeling lonely and wanted her company.

Something was wrong, though. Logan could feel it in his gut and his bones. It was almost eight o'clock and she still wasn't at the tree. There wasn't even a strong breeze nearby to announce her arrival.

He tried calling her cell, but only received her voice mail instead. Something was extremely wrong. The smell of blood reached his nostrils on a light breeze. He followed the scent to a dead deer, lying in the bushes, hidden from sight. Judging by the stage of decomp, she couldn't have been dead for more than twelve hours. Familiar claw marks caught his attention, and Logan knew that this meant trouble.

He spent an hour looking for her, retracing his steps to the moment he grabbed her. The first thing he saw was a ripped bag- a ripped bag of fertilizer. A closer look showed that it was ripped by claws.

Logan's blood boiled, and he looked around, searching for a sign that his Storm was okay. Not too far from the fertilizer, was a small pool of blood, and about six inches away, was three strands of silver hair. It was as if he was seeing what had happened to Storm with his own eyes. He growled and began running, his nose guiding him.





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