Wolves Can't Fly

                              By Joan Milligan
                              (leora-h@usa.net)

Disclaimer: Wolfsbane, Moonstar, Cannonball etc. belong to Marvel comics.
They are used without permission. This is a non-profit work of fiction done
for the sole purpose of personal enjoyment.


Wolves can't fly.

Rahne Sinclair is Wolfsbane, she has been so for most of her life. Whenever
she is excited, angered, or wishes for it, red fur grows over her body, she
walks on four strong feet and grow fangs and claws in a form so very unlike
that of the large-eyed, sweet girl she is normally. She turns from the
essence of innocence into an instrument of Satan, she becomes devilspawn.
Or that's what people told her.

Other people told her other things, told her she's not a demon but a
mutant, the next stage of human evolution, told her she's a hero. But first
she was told she's a devilspawn. The scars of childhood are not easily
erased. She forgets it, she is serene now.

Vaguely she remembers a distant battle. Shouts, dust, blood and sweat. She
remembers searing pain and looking, stunned, at her own blood. She is far
from it all now, calm, it seems like centuries ago.

From the distance something comes, disturbing her peace, voices of that
world now lost to her:

"Rahney, don't do this to us..."

"Wake up, furtop! Wake up!"

Furtop... the name throws her years upon years backward, to a little girl
walking into a big house. The girl is scared, she does not want to be here.
She wants home to her country and her beloved mommy. She fears this huge
house.

Rahne feels distant sympathy for that little girl. So innocent, so afraid
of what she is capable of, so unready for life.

Furtop... the name brings up a face. Familiar once, but now distanced like
everything. A girl, older, prettier, braver. She is riding a horse with
wings. Rahne feels suddenly envious through the serenity. She wants to be
just like that girl.

That envy soon fades as, through the hazes of pure calm, she hears the girl
whisper: "Fly, furtop!" There's something caressing about her voice when she
speaks the name softly. Furtop, it's a nickname, it expresses affection.
This outstanding girl is her friend... they come from such different worlds
and yet here they are brought together. Rahne feels something very close to
love for that other girl. She reaches out to her with a mental hand, to grab
her and never let go. To somehow cherish that friend in the peace she has.
Than the faces ripple as if a stone was thrown into a smooth pool sustaining
the reflection. They disappear.

Voices... voices from far away...

"Hang on, Rahne, just for a little while..."

"For Moira, Rahne... you've gotta live, for her!"

Moira... somehow that name is familiar. It brings up more memories, special
ones -- a hug, a comforting pat, a warm embrace, motherly love, something
she could never have had otherwise. She recalls it with a desperate
yearning, wanting to be snuggled, comforted, loved. She has the peace but
it's not enough. She wants that woman's love, she wants to feel like a
beloved part of a family. Pain comes through the yearning. The woman is
dying and Rahne can feel herself dying, too, mentally, along with her. No
more hugs and pats and love. Torn from a place where she belonged, where
she felt she did good, to assist that woman, she instead feels herself
helpless. All she can do is tick off the seconds, minutes, days, weeks,
months, as they recede into an eternity of desperate, dreadful awaiting.
She recalls this woman she loves as her voice rings out: "Fly, lassie, go
ahead and fly!" Then the image fades.

The voices again... weaker, still calling, still trying:

"What do you mean? She has to be saved!"

"Rahne, please, you haven't lived enough yet! Haven't seen enough, haven't
done enough, haven't loved yet! Live, Rahney!"

Love... that word makes her mind tear apart with nothing but painful
memories. A man, handsome, strong and kind, and she is looking up at him,
adoring him, trusting him, loving him, and he loves another, a woman she
would be so happy so call a friend! So finally she finds herself torn from
them both. Left heartbroken and alone. Yes, she has friends, she has
supporters and a family, but love is denied her. Her soul is shattered when
it becomes clear that even that love, her first, passionate, true love is
nothing but a byproduct of her life's greatest horror. Utterly denied, and
the burden still heavy. And when she is cured, the memories are retained,
and she and love turn their backs on one another. Someone else loved her.
Someone she knew long ago, but he is dead and gone for years. And he died
because of her. Now, suddenly, in that peace, she can hear him whisper
"Fly, teammate, it's not that hard. Fly!"

Peace needs not love. The feelings spread like a mist. Love is lost to her,
but she has the peace.

And it is disturbed by voices, those restless voices, tearing her away from
peace again...

"Sam... it's hopeless."

"No! C'mon, Rahney! I'm here, I'm waiting, wake up!"

She recognizes that voice. Only one person throughout the world will call
her Rahney in that scratchy, southern-accented voice. Only one person cared
about her like this. And as his face floats up in her memory, she recalls
common adventures and exploits and operations and everything together. She
recalls a friendship that could've been more if not for the harsh winds of
change that tore them apart. She recalls closeness lost, life putting her
so far away from all those she cares about, being apart from him. Now the
peace pushes him farther away.

"Rahne, girl, you're strong, you're a wolf, dammit! You're a wild animal.
You can make it, Rahne, you can make it!"

"Stay with us, Rahne..."

A wolf. Sharp teeth, yellow eyes, canine snout, red fur, deadly claws.

Devilspawn.

The voices begin to fade slowly into the peace. Only one of them, one she
knows, one she doesn't understand how it is still there, remains, echoing
strangely inside her hazy mind.

'Wolfsbane... it is up to you. You can choose to survive.'

'I'm sorry, Professor... I cannae... I will nae let th' peace go now that 
I finally found it!'

'Rahne, I beg you...'

'Let me go, sir... it's wot I want. Please. Ye cannae force me tae let it
go.'

'Then... fly."

Voices...

"Furtop!"

"Lassie!"

"Teammate!"

"Rahney!"

'Rahne...'

"Goodbye..."

She'll see them in heaven.

Rahne looked down at her body, that heavy, useless, broken thing. She
hovered above it silently, glancing at her friends weeping around it. Then
she sighed and let it go as she flew upward into the waiting clouds.

                               The end