Wolf went looking for Peter as soon as she walked into the mansion. She looked in his room, but didn't see him. She checked outside, but he was nowhere to be found. She finally found him drawing in the front room.

When she stepped into the room, Peter smiled at her. She smiled back. Seeing him after being gone for so long relieved her. She'd missed him, and judging by his smile, he'd missed her, too.

They shared a hug, Wolf pressing her cheek into Peter's chest. Because he was almost a foot taller, Wolf could listen to his heartbeat whenever they embraced like that. She could feel it beneath her ear.

"I missed you," she said.

"And I missed you," he said back. "It's so good to see you again."

Her smile widened as she pulled away. "So, anything happen while I was gone?"

He shrugged. "No, not really. What about you? Meet anyone interesting? See anything exciting?"

Wolf pursed her lips. "Well, I met one guy. A Cajun card player. He was a strange person, but I guess all Cajuns are."

He chuckled, a deep and warm sound that filled Wolf with joy. She had to laugh, too.

"Did this strange Cajun have a name?"

"Remy LeBeau."

"Never heard of him. But then again, I don't get around very much. Did you give him your real name?"

"No. Only a handful of people know my real name, and I would prefer to keep it that way."

Peter sighed. "You know, you don't have to be so sensitive about it. Most of us here go by our real names. There's no shame in it."

"Look, I just got back from this long trip. I'm tired, and I'm ready to get off my feet. I really don't feel like arguing with you about whether I should go by Wolf or—"

Cold bit Wolf's face, numbing her cheeks and stinging her eyes. She blinked, but the stinging didn't go away. She covered her eyes with her hands, trying to shield them from the pain.

"Hey, are you all right?" Peter asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"No. My eyes are burning from this cold. Can't you feel it?"

"I don't feel any different. Are you sure you're okay?"

Wolf looked back to Peter. He was the way he had been, but everything around them had changed. They no longer stood in the middle of the mansion. They stood in the middle of a pine forest, knee-deep in snow, a cold, whipping wind tugging at their clothes and hair.

"What...?" Wolf asked, turning in a small circle. "This isn't..."

"Hey, look at me." Peter spun her back around and forced her to look at him. "Come on. I'm here." He reached for her, hands open. "This is—"

Wolf grabbed his wrists and pushed his arms down. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "No. This isn't real. You're not real. You're back home, in New York, safe and sound." She hated to say it. She really missed Peter. She wanted nothing more than to see a familiar face in the barren wastelands of Canada's backwoods. But she was locked in some sort of vision, and she had to snap out of it.

"I'm sorry, Peter, but this isn't real." Wolf gave him a long look, then extended her claws. "This is a dream. The real Peter couldn't have carried on such a long conversation without stuttering. He's too shy. You're just a dream."

With a grunt, she drove her claws into Peter's stomach. He didn't even flinch. He only glared as he seized her wrists and jerked her claws from his abdomen.

"You shouldn't have done that," he growled, pulling her closer. He held his face only inches away from hers; his breath was hot on her numbing cheeks.

Feat gripped Wolf's heart. Even though she knew that she was only dreaming, everything felt so real. Peter looked so angry. He looked ready to hurt her, or even worse.... No, she couldn't go there. She had to wake herself up.

Tears fell from her eyes as she pulled away from Peter's grip. "You're not real. This is just a dream—no, a nightmare." She looked at her silver claws. When she'd stabbed Peter, they should've become coated in blood. But they were clean, not a trace of red on them.

She steadied herself, then turned her claws towards her own stomach. "I'm sorry."

Sucking in a deep breath, she stabbed her claws into her belly. Sharp pain tore through her, and the dream world spun on its crazy axis.

With a start, Wolf sat bolt-upright. Head still spinning, she scanned her surrounding, trying to get her bearings as quickly as possible.

She sat in the snow, in the middle of a clearing. A smoldering wood pile rested a few feet from her, wispy smoke curling into the air above. The surrounding pine and fir trees offered some protection from the bitter cold breeze, but not enough to keep Wolf from shivering.

Teeth chattering, Wolf stood, only to realize that she was wearing LeBeau's trench coat. LeBeau! Where was he? He couldn't have been far. Someone had put the coat on her, and someone had started that fire. It must've been her unexpected ally.

"LeBeau?" she called into the trees. "Are you there?"

"Behind ya, chere," a voice said.

Wolf spun around and saw a battered LeBeau behind her, arms loaded with wood. His shirt had been ripped and stained with blood. His face was marred with scratches and bruises. His hands were chapped and bleeding. He looked awful.

"What happened to you?" Wolf asked, her voice softening. She was surprised when it cracked.

"Dat thing dat attacked ya, I had ta fight it off," he said, setting the wood down. "A lot tougher den I'd've cared for, ya know, mon ami?"

"Did you see what it was?"

"Black as hell itself. Big, too. Couldn't see much more den dat. It started ta drag ya away, but Remy wasn't about to let anythin' happen to ya, petite."

"So, like an idiot, you took that thing on by yourself."

"Didn't think you was wakin' up anytime soon. What was I supposed ta do? Let it take ya away?"

"You could've been killed!"

He winked. "But I wasn't."

Wolf huffed. She walked over to him, took his hands in hers, and examined the bleeding sores. "Why aren't you wearing your gloves?"

"T'ought ya needed dem more den me."

Wolf looked at her own hands, realizing then that she was wearing Remy's gloves, too.

"Why are you being so kind to me? You didn't sign up for any of this." She forced him to sit down so she could examine the rest of his wounds better.

He tried to wave her off. "I'm fine, chere. I've been fine on my own."

"Shut up. Let me look." She looked his face wounds over, then decided they needed to be cleaned. "How are you not freezing?"

"My powers keep me warm, mon ami. Figured yours didn't."

He was right, but she wasn't about to admit it. She turned to the smoldering wood. They needed a fire. She broke up some of the sticks Remy had carried in, threw them on the old wood, then found a stone. She extended her claws against the stone. Sparks flew and landed on the kindling, catching easily. Soon, a large fire was burning.

"How long was I out?" Wolf asked as she stoked the fire.

"Two days. Dat monster, whatever it was, hit you pretty hard."

"Why didn't you head back down the trail?"

"Couldn't find it. Your attacker took ya way off de path. I got lost. Wandered around for a little, den realized dat I wouldn't know which way ta go 'til ya woke up."

Wolf stared at the flames, listening to them crackle. "You didn't have to stick around. You could've left me up here to freeze."

"Why would I do dat?"

"You don't know me. We haven't gotten along since we met. I would've left you at that bar. Why do you care so much?"

"B'cause, why shouldn't I? You're just a kid. A girl who's just tryin' ta remember who she is. I ain't about ta abandon ya when you're unconscious and stranded on top of a mountain."

"Still doesn't add up. No one's ever stuck around for me. It's been me against the world for... as long as I can remember. Why would some gambler care so much about an amnesiac teenaged girl who has hated having to drag him around since this whole adventure started?"

"Like I said, you're just a kid. I may not be de most honest man on de planet, but I ain't cruel, and I ain't gonna leave some poor girl up a mountain ta freeze ta death on her own. If you're gonna freeze, den I'm freezin' with ya."

Wolf thought on his words. He cared, but why? What were his motives? She couldn't believe that he was following her just because he wanted to be nice, or he was too curious to quit. He had to have ulterior motives. Or did he? Maybe he was just curious. Maybe he was just nice.

"Chere, ya don't have ta worry about me," LeBeau said, breaking her out of her trance. "I ain't askin' ya ta trust, but I am askin' ya ta put yourself and your mission first. If I start ta get in your way—"

"What, you think I'm just going to let you sneak away that easy?" She chuckled as she turned to face him. "No, LeBeau. You're in it, now. I really owe you, and I can't let you slink away until I can pay off my debt."

He smiled, and the scratches on his face stretched. "I was hopin' ya was gonna say dat, petite."

She grinned to herself, then whispered, "Kirsten."

"What?"

She gave him a soft look. "My name. It's Kirsten."