Before her skin turned deadly, before she ran away from home, they called her Rogue.
They called her other things, too, none of them flattering, but Rogue was the one she answered to.
Her next Mama put a roof over her head, food in her belly and knowledge in her mind-
knowledge and a dozen other voices
-but the most valuable thing Mystique ever gave her was this.
Brimstone, strong arms, warm fur and a protective growl. "Keep your hands off of my sister."