I don't own X-Men, and I never will. Written for Skysong, because she's überkewl and mi mejor amiga.
Rahne was running. gottarunfastergottarunfaster They were hunting her, armed with guns. Legend said only silver could kill a werewolf, but they were willing to give lead a shot – literally.
She was back in Scotland, fleeing the angry villagers. She'd tried to control it, she had. But when she shifted, it was at night. Instead of sleepwalking, she sleep-hunted. She'd wake up in the morning with only a bloody mouth and chicken feathers or tattered rabbit fur scattered around her.
But they'd caught her changing, and come after her. She ran over the rough terrain, trying to go as fast as her tired body would let her. She tripped – and fell down a rocky slope...right onto the road she was trying to avoid. The hunters were there. One of them cocked his gun, and...
Rahne sat bolt upright in bed. She hated nightmares like that, ones that were memories, just changed at the end. She hated them!
"Rahne?" Sam murmured, pulling her back down. "Another nightmare?"
Rahne cuddled up to him, nodding. "Sorry for waking ye."
Sam smiled. "It's okay." He wrapped his arms around her, placing one hand upon her round belly. The 'bump' kicked. Sam shook his hand. "That hurt...cubs, it's not nice to kick your dad..." The bump moved again.
"Great, ye daftie, now they kicked –me-."
Sam chuckled. "Be nice to your mother," he told Rahne's belly sternly.
Rahne kissed him. "Since you're already up..." She grinned wolfishly.
"Yes?" Sam grinned.
"D'ye mind making me a turkey and sauerkraut sandwich? And some ice cream with pickled beets on top?"
Sam groaned, facepalming, and got out of bed.
"Love you too, wolfy," he muttered as he headed downstairs. "Stupid cravings..."