FicWad

Crystal Drops and Hawks
Chapter Two

Northern California, Redwood Forest

August, 1 year before

The smoldering ruin of an airplane lay smoldering on the forest floor. A long scar trailed through the foliage behind it, marked its descent into the forest. Redwood trees moaned in protest, marred by the wings of the plane by deep gouges. A lone figure stumbled from the wreckage, coughing and choking on the thick black smoke that billowed from the wreckage. She stumbled to the open air, where she fell to her knees and let out a howl of grief as she stared into the fiery tomb in which her parents were trapped, never to see the light of day again.

Several days later found Alyda kneeling beside the ruins of the plane. The plane had been reduced to twisted sheets of metal, the craft ripped apart as if by a giant's hand before being set alight in a violent rage and thrown away. There was no way to give her parents a proper burial, even if she could have removed the bodies from the wreck. She had never been very religious. Mass, as seldom as they went, more often seemed a boring morning chore than anything spiritually meaningful. Now, however, she wished she had paid more attention. There had to have been something meaningful in the homilies, something that would have helped here. Her parents would surely have wanted a proper burial - or as proper a burial as you can give ash.

The detail, small as it was compared to everything else, seemed incredibly important. Her chest began to tighten again with grief and helplessness. She rubbed her forehead with the back of one dirt-streaked hand. Steepling her hands in front of her, she bent her head. Her chin brushed chipped, broken fingernails, stiff with clotted blood.

"Dear Jesus..." she began, bowing her head as her vision disappeared in a watery flood. Her voice cracked, throat raw from smoke and crying. She cleared her throat, trying to shift the lump that had lodged there, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. She looked down at her bloodstained t-shirt, and her stomach began to churn. She'd been killing mice while her parents' bodies lay cremated on the earth. The ache made her feel sick and dizzy, exacerbating her hunger-pains. The shame that rose within her choked her as it joined almost seamlessly into her grief and fear. She screamed, a wordless keening shriek that rose shrilly on the cool air and silenced the chatter of the birds and insects for a single moment.

Breathing heavily, she gasped for breath as the forest noises whirred back into existence. The pause was as subtle as the tiny shift of a budding blossom, as deep as a long, dark chasm. A silent prayer rose to Heaven, tentative as the first trailing tendrils of a Black-eyed Susan Vine.

She had to delve deep inside for the strength to rise to her feet, and when she did, she swayed slightly. She looked to where she'd tossed the carcass of the mouse. The thought of eating it...but if she did not, she would starve. Alyda squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, shoving all of her emotions back - all the pain, the grief, the sorrow, the anguish - and staggered over to the mouse.

Tensed muscles coiled and bunched, strained and released. Two quick beats with her wings, and she was up - soaring on the wind, taking to flight for the very first time. A wild feeling rose within her, nearly choking her with its power as it flooded in her chest with heat. Her throat seized up. The steady tempo of her wing beats faltered, giving her something to concentrate on, to steady the untamed emotions racing through her blood.

Freedom.

Alyda keened her joy as a cool breeze ruffled through her feathers. She was flying. She tilted her wings down, stooping into a dive. The speed was exhilarating. For a while she was able to forget her loss, forget everything but the flight and the wind, and the giddy, exultant bliss that it caused. Anything was possible. She had the wind; she had the skies. The sun was a blazing ball in the sky, baking her feathers and lessoning the chill of the wind. Her nostrils caught a plethora of scents as she soared upward again on a thermal.

Alyda woke with a start, panting slightly. Closing her eyes again made no difference to the pitch darkness of her surroundings, but she left them open anyway out of habit. The feelings of the hard earth beneath her and the rough stone wall of the cave against her side were comforting. Without them, she could almost believe she was a ghost herself, merely floating in the sounds echoing from the forest outside.

Breathing out hard, she lay back down and closed her eyes as the joy of the dream faded. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could be transported back into the dream and out of painful reality.

Alyda perched lightly on one of the upper branches of the tall redwood tree, sharp amber eyes peeled for anything which would constitute as edible. Her stomach complained at the lack of food, a nearly constant ache that reminded her of her slow progress at hunting. It was two weeks since the crash that had killed everyone but her, and she had yet to manage to catch anything larger than mice. The girl scanned the forest floor below for movement. The idea of killing and eating mice had seemed horrible at first. However, after a few days, she'd quickly learned that being squeamish meant not eating, and not eating meant being eaten by something else.

Predators take the old and the weak, Alyda thought wryly. Can't imagine one letting me go free just because I ask politely. "Oh, please, sir wolf! Let this deliciously easy meal pass and go track down something else. I don't feel like being eaten today. Check back in tomorrow, though, and perhaps I'll find time to fit it into my to-do list."

There was a minute movement in the tall grasses surrounding the base of the tree. Alyda dove silently from her perch, feeling the wind whipping through her feathers, the soft crunch of the mouse's skull as her talons pierced the heart... With a triumphant cry, Alyda swung back up to her perch to devour her dinner, ripping into the soft flesh.

A bird's got to eat, Alyda reminded herself as she swallowed a chunk of her kill, lifting her head to peer around her into the gathering dusk. It's not like I'm killing for sport. I'm hunting because I'll die if I don't. Even if I could find some sort of vegetation that looks familiar and edible, how would I really know?

Alyda picked up the remains of the mouse and flapped toward her nest, again seeing the difference between the forests of California and the small town of Sandusky, Michigan where she'd grown up. She washed off her talons and beak before curling up into her nest to sleep, tucking her head under her wing.

Alone in the wilderness, the days seemed to stretch, each minute a year of hunger and loneliness. With nothing to do but hunt, trying futilely to scrap together enough food to fill the stomach and ease for a while the hunger pangs, the weeks ran together like darkly colored dyes. They oozed to form a murky brown haze that covered her memory. It was easier to face each successive day by blocking the past. Without past there could be no future, yet her future would be cut short unless she remained mindful of the present. No form was safe - each animal had a precarious balance of predator and prey. It took all her strength and energy to keep from becoming someone's mid-afternoon snack. She had no time for daydreams or futile hope for the future.

Northwestern Mexico, Laguna Santa Maria

February

The rising sun was reflected over the crystal-blue lake and sparkled in the eyes of the prairie wolf that lay in a small burrow dug into the sandy soil. Alyda's great dark eyes stared unblinkingly at the surface of the lake. She loved this time of day, when the sun was just rising above the horizon and all was cool and bright. Her head seemed clearer at these times. She often thought back, remembering far away places and memories. Often, at these times, she could forget the gaping hole within her heart.

She hadn't stayed in the forest for more than a month before she had begun to feel restless and itchy. Soon she'd been flying away, trusting her instincts to lead her. With time, the temperature had warmed and she'd come to great two-legger cities. Alyda had almost gone straight through, wanting to see another human again. Something within her had rebelled, and she'd stayed to the outskirts, where she would perch in trees near houses and watch people come and go for hours on end.

That is, until a man smelling of old sweat and drink had taken a gun and tried to shoot her for the red-tail's bright feathers. After that, she'd avoided two-leggers. The red-tail's instincts to evade two-leggers had become hers, and with time, that evasion had turned to fear. Alyda couldn't remember the last time she'd changed back into a human.

Often, when she peered into the sparkling surface of the water before ducking into her burrow to sleep through the heat of the desert, she'd remember a small gray house on a hill, surrounded by trees with a small brook running alongside. Alyda loved that picture, and would often sit for hours in her dark burrow until the image resurfaced in her memory. She knew deep down that that picture meant home and home was where she would go once the Big Cold was over and she migrated back up North.

The sun was now high in the sky, and Alyda ducked into the tunnel, curling up against the cool, damp sand as above her the heat began to radiate from the sand and the sounds of the nocturnal desert creatures settling down to sleep reached her ears.

Colorado, Rio Grande River

Late April

Alyda sat down by the large river she'd been following in her two-legger form. Over the winter, her wavy auburn hair, already long, had grown almost to her waist. She tried unsuccessfully to comb out the tangles. Her skin was dark and tanned from the weather, and her gold-speckled green eyes shone brightly in a round face. Her frame was petite, almost elfin in appearance. Even at thirteen, she could easily pass for an eleven, or even ten-year-old.

Her head was clearer than it had been in a long time. For the first time in half a year, she remembered exactly who she was and where she came from. The gaping hole inside her had healed somewhat, even though the scar still remained. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she concentrated on the form she was going to try for the first time - gryphon.

The changes happened quickly. Russet feathers sprouted all over her body, turning to cream on her underbelly and paws. A long tail snaked out behind her and she grew talons and a beak as great wings sprouted from her shoulders. As the change completed, Alyda waited for the instincts of the gryphon to rise up inside her, steadying herself to control them if they proved as explosive as some of the forms she'd taken. It'd been several hours before she'd managed to overcome the fear that had accompanied the mouse form.

The instincts never came. Alyda opened great amber eyes, peering around herself. She ruffled her feathers and stood, taking a few steps and stumbling slightly as she adjusted her gait. Opening her wings, she flapped a few times experimentally before launching herself into the air. Her emergency landing several feet ahead of where she'd taken off assured her of one thing - she was going to be really sore the next morning.

Learning to fly wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

It was the work of a moment to shrink into the shape of the red-tailed hawk. Alyda flapped hard to gain altitude before setting off, her wings pointing northeast. There was a great distance to travel, but her mind didn't shy from the thought of hard work. She had all the time in the world. There was no hurry. In the place of the rampant joy, and heavy anguish was a fierce determination. She had soared, she had plummeted, she had fallen, and she had steadied again. She would make it, or her name wasn't...what was her name again? Alyda. She would make it or her name wasn't Alyda.

She repeated the words over and over in her mind, a silent mantra, digging up her memories. They rose, shadowy images at first, slowly coming into focus like an old Polaroid photograph. I am Alyda Joasha. I am Alyda Joasha. I am Alyda Joasha. She latched onto one picture, a picture that rang clearly in her heart and mind.

Home.

I am Alyda Joasha. I am Alyda Joasha.

Alyda Joasha was going home.

There was safety in the flying, a freedom in the ability to travel wherever she wished, eat whenever she liked, sleep when she was weary... The days stretched on in front of her, her perceptions of time flattening out like that of an animal - one day in front of another, one foot in front of another, one meal after a next. Independence was bittersweet.
Southwestern Minnesota, Caledonia

Middle of May

Inside one of the deep forests that blanketed much of Minnesota, a gryphon rose above the trees, gliding above the tops before swooping back down again. Alyda had finally gotten the hang of flying as a gryphon, once she'd gotten past the fact that gryphon's did not fly like hawks or eagles. Gryphons were like cats that had suddenly gained wings. They had grace to their movements, but it wasn't exactly like that of a hawk. Alyda had figured out why normally cats don't fly.

Landing lightly on the forest floor, Alyda transformed into a wolf and began to eat up miles in a ground-eating lope. I'm getting closer, she thought as hope rose within her. I can feel it!

Always to go forward, never stopping. Eventually she'd get there. That phrase drove her on, gave her heart the strength it needed. Eventually she'd be home. Everything would be all right after that.

Welland, Ontario

Early June

Alyda flew over the Canadian woods, pumping her wings furiously to drive back the memories that were raging within her. If she had been human, she would have been weeping with sorrow as the scars of her mended heart were cruelly ripped wide again. A few days ago, she had left her home. A few days ago she had come to the realization that she would never be back.

She'd been so close to the house, she could smell scent of the old nest, but it had smelled wrong somehow. Something within her had cautioned her not to rush right out, and the instinct was right. There was a moving van parked in the driveway. Kids milled around the yard as the adults worked, dragging furniture and boxes inside. One of the kids, a young boy who looked no older than nine, had spotted her. He'd immediately started screaming.

She'd been chased away, chased by the two-leggers with their thundering sticks and their shouts. Chased away, never to return. A new family had taken over the nest. It was lost forever, and she had powered away, changing into a goose. Geese could fly for practically forever. As she flew over a river, a female goose from below cried out a greeting, giving her consolation for Alyda's grief. "Find a new nest," the goose told her. "Nests can be rebuilt."

"What about hearts?" Alyda asked silently as she flew on, over the trees, and turned south, unsure of where she would go but wanting to get as far away as possible from the call of her old nest. She knew her heart would heal again, eventually. That was the way things were. Bruises faded, cuts healed, scars faded. But the sorrow was etched deep within her heart, and she didn't think it would ever fade completely. The sorrow never does fade completely, she thought gloomily. It just hides in the back of your mind, ready to come out and swat you again. She sighed.

Ah well. I wonder what the ocean is like.

Bayville, New York

Early September

Alyda hurtled through the air, wobbling slightly on large, leathery wings that seemed almost too big for her small, scaled body. I didn't know that I could do dragon shape, she thought joyfully as she careened through the cool, autumn air. The light breeze made her lose her balance and she sped out of the trees, toward a great building made almost entirely of metal. The sight made the joy that sang through her veins turn to terror as she realized that she was going too fast and was too out of control to turn.

Alyda began to panic. The wall was coming closer so fast; she barely had time to think. One thought blazed through and out of her mind as she rocketed toward the wall. (BIG METAL WALL PLUS SMALL DRAGON BODY EQUALS OUCH!!!!) She screamed mentally as she curled into a ball, twisting so that she took the shock of the impact along her backside. It felt as if all the breath had been shoved from her lungs as pain exploded within her. Pain obscuring her thoughts, she managed to flare out her wings enough to slow her descent somewhat as she fell to the earth with a soft, "flump!"

Alyda didn't know how long she lay on the earth; eyes squeezed shut against the pain, stunned and breathing heavily to re-oxygenate her lungs. Her eyes flickered open as a tall shadow fell over her. A two-legger bent over her, concern shining in her large dark eyes. "Jean, come over here, quick! There's a dragon that's been hurt badly. At least, I think it's a dragon. I've never seen a lizard that could fly," Tara knelt beside Alyda's small form, excitement rising inside her. A dragon! A real, live dragon! She could remember in third grade, with the Pruett's, when she would sit in the back of class and read library books under the desk, books with big colorful pictures of dragons and unicorns and mermaids.

Another taller figure bent down beside the other girl, stretching out a hand to touch Alyda's scales. Alyda gave a hiss, whipping her neck around to snap at the hand before the two-legger touched her. She could smell Jean's fear. The stench made her nervous. Her hiss turned to a high-pitched whine as pain shot through her body.

"It's hurt bad. I think this is what made the mind shout. Come Tara, we'll have to bring it inside. I think it ran into the wall."

"She's scared, Jean," the girl said softly, reaching out a hand and gently stroking Alyda's forehead scales. Jean watched in amazement. The dragon didn't attack Tara as it had her, but instead pressed it's head into her palm briefly with a small whistle.

"Do you think you can carry it?" Jean asked.

"Yeah, she weights practically nothing," Tara showed this by lifting the dragon, which was about the size of a large dog, into her arms. "And she's a her."

"Have you named her?" Jean asked with a smile, watching as Alyda turned her head to snort at her.

"No, of course not. She has her own name," Tara replied, all her attention on the creature in her arms. It's like a fairy tale, she thought happily. The dragon will get better, and then we'll go off and have adventures, just the two of us. I'll show her the river, and the forest, and we'll explore together.

Alyda didn't know why she was so quick to trust this two-legger. All she knew was that before this moment, she'd had an empty place inside her she hadn't known existed, and now it had been filled. Contentment filled her, driving away the fear that she may have seriously hurt herself and lost her flight. (I am Alyda) she whispered into the Tara's mind.

"My name is Tara," the girl whispered to the dragon in her arms. "I'll take good care of you."

"Set her down here," the Professor instructed his newest pupil as she entered with Jean. He pointed to a metal surgical table. "We'll have to take X-Rays, to make sure she didn't break anything by running into that wall."

Tara nodded, gently laying Alyda on the table. Alyda hissed slightly as the Professor came closer, a warning not to come any closer. A shiver rippled across her flanks. "I won't hurt you," he informed her matter-of-factly, "and you won't hurt me. This'll only take a moment." He made her lap up some liquid from the bottom of a pan as he wheeled around the table in his motor chair.

At least I'm not the only one who talks to her as if she understands, Tara thought as she watched the Professor set up the X-Ray. "Now stay absolutely still for a moment," Professor Xavier cautioned as he lowered the X-Ray machine over Alyda, who followed his every movement with her large, liquid-like amber eyes.

After the X-Ray had been taken, Alyda laid her head on her front paws with a sigh. The initial pain was receding, leaving in its place a bone-deep ache. Well, I'm not doing dragon form again for a long while, Alyda decided as drowsiness began to creep over her. Shoot, dragons aren't supposed to exist! She watched as the Professor left, beckoning to Tara for her to come with him. As she saw them go safely out of sight and sound, she sat up and changed back to human. The room spun before her eyes and she felt her eyelids drooping. What was in that liquid?! She wondered as she slumped back down on the table and curled up, sound asleep.

"I gave her something for the pain," the Professor assured Tara as he led her to where they could look at the X-Rays. "The medicine will make her sleep. She needs her rest to recover. I also did not want her thrashing around and injuring herself worse, in the event that she was injured."

"Oh," Tara cast a glance back at the door and sighed. "She'll be okay, though, won't she? Will her back be okay?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine. In fact, she probably didn't break anything. If she'd hit any other way, she might have snapped her wing or broken a leg. She'll probably just have some massive bruises by tomorrow morning," the Professor snapped the X-Rays up against the light, examining them carefully. "Ye-es," he said slowly, "no broken bones."

"Good," Tara examined the X-Rays closely, eyes shining with interest. "So, this is a picture of Alyda's skeleton?"

The Professor chuckled. "Yes, it is." She's named the creature already? He thought, looking at the girl beside him. This little dragon might be good for her. Tara's new fondness for the little creature wasn't unlike a little girl's attachment to a favorite puppy. His expression became thoughtful as he thought back to the mental screech he'd heard before Jean had called up to him to tell him that they'd found the owner of the voice. I think this dragon is more that it looks, he thought as he turned his eyes back to the X-Rays. Oh, yes, indeed.

Jean quietly pushed open the door to the examining room several hours later. She stopped dead at the sight of the girl on the table, clad in a worn t-shirt and overall shorts. Alyda's long, auburn hair was now so long it hung down past the seat of her pants. "This is no dragon," Jean murmured. She backed out the door and rushed to find the Professor.

Alyda stirred in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up, wincing. She felt like somebody had been pounding her with mallets. Every inch of her body cried out with sore stiffness. She slid off the table with a small groan, falling to her hands and knees for a moment as her legs gave out.

She caught sight of her long hair trailing behind her and grimaced. Reaching back, she pulled it over her shoulder and began to comb her fingers through it to work out some of the snarls. Catching sight of the handle of a knife sitting on a table nearby, she picked it up and plunked herself back onto the table. Unsheathing the knife, she began to hack at her hair, cutting it roughly to just below her shoulders.

The Professor wheeled in, closely followed by Jean as she finished one half of her hair and started on the other. Alyda froze halfway through sawing through a particularly thick bunch of hair that she'd clenched tight in one fist and pulled tight. "Hello," the Professor said kindly. "May I ask your name?"

Alyda began to breathe again. Keeping one eye on the Professor, she returned to hacking at her hair. "Alyda," she told him shortly, eyes narrowed in a mixture of concentration and suspicion, concentration to keep from slicing her neck open and suspicion because of the two-leggers in front of her. They helped me, though, she thought, eyeing them.

They drugged you, part of her whispered. They brought you in here and drugged you.

"What are you doing to your hair?" Jean asked, horrorstruck. She resisted the urge to pat her own fiery locks to comfort them at the blasphemy that was taking place in front of her.

"Cutting it," Alyda replied, eyes almost crossing with trying to look at the corner of her vision. She cut the last strand of hair and set the knife back into its sheath. Jumping down from the table, she limped over to the table to put the knife back.

"Sit back down," the Professor said kindly. "You must be in pain."

Alyda shrugged. She'd been in pain before. Likewise she would be again. She didn't need to be squeamish about it.

"Would you like to stay here?" the Professor asked her. "We can help you to gain control of your mutant powers."

Alyda stared at him for a moment, considering. His posture said that he told the truth, as did Jean's. "No," she told him softly. I got them under control. I just have to work on my flying, Alyda thought ruefully. A familiar stirring rose within her and her head turned, looking due south. Time to go. Time to move on. Maybe I'll find a nest.

"Why not?" Jean asked. "You've got to be hurting from colliding with the Institute wall. Why not just stay here until you feel better."

"The Big Cold is coming," Alyda said slowly, her gaze fixing onto Jean. The calm, piercing stare was unnerving. "I should have left many suns before." I'm not going to get very far like this, though, she thought; worry beginning to creep up on her. She hid her anxiety behind a poker-straight mask. Weariness rushed over her. What did they put in that liquid?

"Winter here with us," Professor Xavier offered. "You can leave in the spring."

Alyda thought about the girl who'd helped her, Tara, and the people who'd chased her from her old home a few months before. "Why?"

"We just want to help you," Professor Xavier told her. "We train people to use their powers here. Children like you come here to learn to control their special talents."

"Okay," Alyda said slowly, eyeing him warily. I'll stick around, she thought, but one sign of trouble and I'm out of here!

Professor Xavier smiled reassuringly at her. "You can share a room with Tara. She is our newest pupil," he chuckled as Alyda's eyes lit with recognition. "She was also the one who found you after your - accident."

Alyda snorted, but made no comment. "If you are hungry, dinner is being served in a few minutes," Jean informed her. When Alyda's stomach grumbled, Jean smiled. "Tara will show you where you'll be sleeping after dinner," Jean told the girl as she led her from the room. "We can also lend you some other clothes. You must be getting rather chilly in those."

"Oh," Alyda looked down at herself. The cold didn't bother her. "Okay."

Tara eyed her new roommate nervously as she led Alyda upstairs. Alyda hadn't spoken more than five words at dinner, one of those being her single-worded greeting. She'd smiled willingly enough, laughed quietly at the jokes that Kurt had made, but other than that, had just sat silently, face completely void of any emotion. Her nose had twitched when the food had come in. Jean had tried to involve her in the conversation, but Alyda had merely smiled, nodded, and answered with one word, three at most. Jean's frustration had been funny to watch, even as Tara had battled her disappointment. She had really wanted a pet dragon.

Alyda looked up at Tara, expression inscrutable. Her face suddenly split into a smile. "Thanks for earlier."

"Oh, you're welcome," Tara replied as she flung open the door to her bedroom. She pointed to the bed closest to the window. "That bed's mine, but if you want it, I'll move."

"No, I'll have the other one," Alyda sat down on the window seat, looking out at the moon rising above the grounds. "The moon is bright tonight."

"Yeah," Tara sat down cross-legged on her bed. "At my old home, I used to drag my friend Kari outside after dark to watch it sparkle above the lake."

"I used to go watch the moon on the brook," Alyda watched as a moon moved in front of a cloud. "I'd bring my flute and play it all night long. Then mom-" she stopped for a moment, forcing herself to continue, "Mom would always wonder why I was so tired in the morning."

"I used to get headaches," Tara confessed. "The water helped ease them."

Alyda turned to look at Tara. The moonlight shone through her eyes, changing them from mostly green to mostly gold. "Let's go outside. It's peaceful out, with the crickets. We can watch it over the river."

Tara hesitated for a moment, and a broad grin spread across her face. "Okay," she levered open the window and stepped onto the sill. "You'll have to jump to this tree branch. Just watch me."

Alyda watched as Tara leapt out, grabbing the branch and holding onto it just long enough to steady her before she dropped down to the ground and rolled forward. This'll be almost as fun as flying into that metal wall, Alyda thought as she climbed onto the sill while Tara whispered instructions from below. She very much doubted she wanted to start imitating tree monkeys right now, but it was too late to back down. The muscles of her back and arms screamed in protest as she leapt. The impact of the rough wood against her chest forced the air from her lungs. She clung there for a moment.

"Alyda, just let go and roll when you hit the ground," Tara whispered. "Hurry, before someone comes!"

Alyda closed her eyes with a prayer and released her grip on the wood. She rolled forward onto her hands and knees as she hit. "Wow," she gasped. "Wow. Next time I'm flying."

"Come on," Alyda could hear the grin in Tara's voice as her new friend tugged her to her feet. "It's this way."

The forest was dark and quiet. The moonlight painted everything in shades of white and black. It sparkled above the surface of the river. "Vesta, the guardian of the sacred flame, lives in these waters," Alyda announced softly to the night. She sensed rather than saw Tara turn her head to look at her. "I used to invent little stories, to keep me company."

"I used to imagine the water could speak," Tara smiled in the darkness, lying back against the soft grass. "Did you have any siblings?"

"No," Alyda squatted down beside a beech tree, plucking a few strands of grass and weaving them together. "I was an only child. My parents and I - we traveled a lot."

"Cool," Tara sighed, thinking how wonderful it would be to actually have a real family, one that loved her for who she was and didn't try to change her. One that was actually kind to her. The X-Men are my family, she realized with a start, standing back up reluctantly. "We should head back, though. Just in case," she didn't add the shiver of fear that still went up her spine whenever she stood at this part of the river, remembering how Rob had come and nearly taken her away again. The Professor had said that his power over her had been broken, but she was never quite sure...

"Okay," Alyda got up reluctantly.

"How come you never talked so much at dinner?" Tara asked curiously as they wandered back up toward the mansion.

"I didn't have anything to say," Alyda answered as they neared the tree. She nearly groaned. "I'm not climbing this," she told Tara in a half-whisper. "I'll fall and break something if I do. I'm going to change."

"Into a dragon?" Tara asked excitedly.

"No, an owl," Alyda sailed in through the window, changing back.

"Alyda, there's nightgowns and stuff in the closet," Tara's voice echoed to her through the window. "You can pick out one to wear."

"Thanks," Alyda dug through the closet, coming out with a pair of pajama pants and top. She shrugged into them as Tara swung in through the open window. They were huge on her small frame. "You make that look so easy."

"I just practice a fair amount. It's a good stepping place for getting onto the roof," Tara explained as she levered the window shut and dug through the closet for her own pajamas. "I always have to be careful, though, in case Logan is listening."

"No two-legger could hear us from inside, unless they've got their own window open," Alyda flopped onto her bed, burrowing under the covers. Ah, the blessing of warm sheets...

"Well, they don't call him "Wolverine" for nothing," Tara said with a grin. "I swear, he hears just about everything! Every few months or so, he decides to take everybody off on a survival trip to the middle of nowhere. I've heard it's horrid." She switched off the light and clambered into bed. Alyda's eyes gleamed in the moonlight like that of a wolf's.

"Goodnight, Tara," Alyda sighed as she rolled over so that she was facing the window.

"Goodnight."