Sons of the Wilderness: 1849

Disclaimer: I don't own Wolverine or Sabertooth, nor do I own the Marvel Universe or Canada. All rights belong to Marvel and Fox.

AN: This is the first story I wrote for my Sons of the Wilderness series. I plan to have the series cover Victor and Logan's life throughout the 19th century. I'm a sucker for that era and I might as well take advantage of my history degree wherever I can. Mainly, I just want to fill in that time we got a glimpse of during the Origins credits, (which was the high point of the movie in my opinion) and explore the brother relationship between Wolverine and Sabertooth, as they grow up. - This is not slash, only brothers.

The prequel "Sons of the Wilderness: 1845" is also complete and you can find it on my profile. You can read the stories in whatever order you want. 1845 takes place first, but 1849 was written first and probably introduces the idea of the series better.

Rated T for language, violence, gore, and gruesome images, because, unlike Fox, I try to be more realistic about what slashing/clawing weapons really do. People do actually bleed, you know. However, I give warnings before every chapter with content, so you'll know when to expect it.

Summery: After running away from Howlette Manner, Victor and James found a life working in a British Columbian mine. As James becomes popular and well liked in the community, his friendship with Victor stretches, sparking a fight that changes everything.

Chapter One: He-Who-Runs-With-Wolves

The sun had already disappeared behind the snowy peeks of the Canadian Rockies, casting the cold world into shadow. Darkness came early during the winter months and with it a cold that only those native to the country could truly endure.

Amid this wilderness of snow, stone and bitter winds, a lone mining camp scared the side of a steep mountain, a nasty gash in the skin of trees and stone. The mine had already been deserted. The few log cabins surrounding it sent up thick columns of white smoke through their chimneys and buffalo skins were pinned over the windows, trapping the precious heat and light. The whole valley smelled of pine smoke and animal skins. Sensitive noses could also smell the sweat of men and mules. Food, iron, coal, lamp oil: the smells of this little spec of gruff civilization in the sprawling Canadian wildness.

Beyond the small camp, snowy pine forest and mountain slopes stretched endlessly on, still, undefiled and trapped in the silence of winter. Frozen streams cut like whips through the valleys and bald caps of silver ice crowned the peeks. Overhead, stars were piecing through the dim twilight and the last rosy glow was fading in the clouded horizon.

Only two figures, playing with oblivious and rambunctious energy, defied Winter's domain. A teenage boy and a young she-wolf wrestled in the powdery snow near a clearing of pine stumps. They were some distance from the camp, beside the slick road used to sled logs to the river, and both were growling and snarling like beasts.

"Grurrawh!" With a mighty effort, the boy kicked the wolf from him, the stick lathered in cold drool still clasped in his hands. "I got it now!" he laughed then rolled to avoid a snarling lunge from the wolf. Scrambling to his feet, the teenager held the stick high in the air like torch or a trophy. He was short, but powerful muscles were obvious under the tight buckskin of his coat and a thin black scruff was already shadowing his face. At fifteen he was already strong as men twice his size.

The wolf leap and twisted in the air with anxious happy barks, never taking her eyes off the stick in the boy's hand.

"You want it Mika? You want it?" teased the boy in an excited voice, sending the wolf into an even higher frenzy of frantic leaps. "Fetch!"

Swinging back the power arm of a miner and coiling his supple body, the boy threw the stick with all his might, three sharp claws of gnarly bone flashing out from his knuckles, as he did so.

The stick went soaring over the clearing, spinning into the growing darkness toward the dark wall of tall mountain pines. Mika turned and dashed away, kicking up a flush of snow behind her.

Retracting his claws, the boy self consciously, stuffed his fists into his coat pockets and watched the grey streak dash down the slope. Then, as the stick fell between the branches of the trees, there was a sudden rustling in the pines and a large form leapt out of the dark shadows, springing from one tree trunk to another, like a huge cat or monkey. With a final leap, it caught the stick midair in its mouth, before landing on the snow in front of Mika.

The wolf yelped and swerved away, with a defensive snarl and, from his place up the slope, the boy glared, his blue eyes hostel and disapprovingly irritated.

The form stood and took the stick from its mouth revealing itself to be a tall young man in a long fur coat. Snow was splashed over his tangled beard and ratty brown hair and he growled at Mika, barring yellowed fangs, before stomping up the clearing toward the boy.

"You fetch better then Mika, Victor," said the boy, once the man was closer.

Victor glared down at the thick stick in his hand, and then easily snapped it, before tossing it aside. "Where the hell have yeh been, Jimmy?" he snarled, "Smitty and Rose thought you'd froze in the privy or something. The Old-man made me do all yer chores."

Jimmy smirked then shrugged, "You know the cold can't bother me, Victor," he said lazily, rubbing Mika's ears, as she warily took cover behind his legs, still watching Victor like he'd eat her up. "I've been out here with Mika the whole time."

"Out here avoiding work," accused Victor, "I swear Jimmy yer more spoiled than that damn dog of yers. Just cuz Smitty favors yeh don't mean he'll let yeh get away with this. The whole fuc…"

"She's a wolf, Vic, not a dog," interrupted Jimmy and shook his thick black hair out of his face, "And I weren't 'voiding work. There's a wolf pack not far off. Been try'n to get Mika to go back to the wild, running with th…"

Victor spat in to the snow. "He-Who-Runs-With-Wolves," he said in very bad Blackfoot, "So I've heard Jimmy. Everyone thinks yer 'maze'n! But you know what I think?" He stepped closer, leaning over the shorter boy, "Ah think it's just yer way'a find'n an outlet for the bloodlust. Yer way of disguising what yeh are."

"I don't lust fer blood, Victor," Jimmy snapped, stepping back, "I just like… like the exercise."

"Sure yeh do Jimmy." Victor rolled his grey eyes. "Perhaps yeh can hide the animal from Rose, Smitty and the rest, but yeh can't hide from me, Runt. Maybe yer not the one with yella finger claws an' fangs..." Victor stepped close and grabbed Jimmy's coat, nearly lifting the boy off his feet, "But ah've seen the rage burn in yer eyes, Jimmy. Same that burns in me. When yeh swing a pick-ax in the mine, when yer runn'n with yer damn wolves… You hate them all! You burn with rage fer no reason. Burn for blood."

"I don't!" snarled Jimmy, shoving away from the man, "I'm just trying to get Mika back to her family. I'm not a damn animal! I don't hate anyone! Just leave me alone fer once Victor. I don't need yeh to take care of me anymore. I don't want…"

Victor shoved Jimmy hard in the chest, causing him to stubble backwards, where he tripped over Mika. As he crashed into the snow, Jimmy's claws flashed out, his temper beginning to flare.

"Yeh'll always need me Jimmy!" shouted Victor, "Ah'm yer brother and brothers look out for each other!"

"You're not my brother! Yer only my half brother!" snarled Jimmy getting up. He was met with a clawed smack in the face that sent him crashing back to the ground and splashed the snow with a spattering of red blood.

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" growled Victor furiously. He stepped forward to stand over his little brother, as the boy tuned to reveal a mangled face that steadily repaired itself, under Victor's eyes. "We're brothers and yer the one who killed our…"

"Gerrawh!" Before Victor could blink, Jimmy lunged up claws first and burred all six into his waist.

Roaring like a lion, Victor staged back his grey eyes burning with animalistic rage. Grabbing both of Jimmy's arms, he pulled the claws out of his stomach and flipped the boy up, over his head ten feet across the clearing, where Jimmy landed at the base of a tree stump.

"No bloodlust eh, Jimmy Boy?" panted Victor, putting a hand on his bleeding waist and stumbling toward his brother, "Wonder what sweet little Rose would do if she saw yeh now."

Snarling, Jimmy got up to face him, claws out, face stubborn as hell. Victor smirked slightly. The hot rage was plain to see in Jimmy's eyes and the boy's breath was fast and steamy, like an enraged bull's.

Stopping a few feet from him, Victor stood strait, crossing his arms the smirk still showing off his fangs. "Come on Runt. I'd love to see you try."

Jimmy grimaced then, to Victor's disappointment, relaxed. He retracted his claws and slowed his breathing, going from beast to civilized man in only a couple seconds. "I'm not go'na fight you Victor," he said almost solemnly.

Victor laughed, but his eyes were frowning. "Damn right you aren't. You know why? Cuz ah'd whoop yeh so bad you'd still be growing back yer balls come morning!"

Giving him a disgusted look, Jimmy turned his back on his brother. "No. I'm not go'na fight you, cuz, unlike you, I don't need to prove I'm better day in and day out. Yer so dense, Vic. I'm going fer a run." He whistled for Mika, who was hiding behind a snow bank and began jogging away, toward the forest.

With a snarl, Victor stepped after him. "Jimmy," he shouted, "Smitty wanted yeh back at the house!"

"Tell 'im yeh couldn't find me!" Jimmy called back, with out stopping. A few seconds later, he and his pet wolf had disappeared into dark forest.

AN: Please review. Tell me what you think of the first chapter and the characters introductions.