Logan stepped quietly down the stairs, occasionally glancing to the left or right. He didn't want to wake anyone. He was not good at goodbyes. A battered leather rucksack hung from his left shoulder, packed with only the essentials: A spare change of clothes, a pack of matches, and several bottles of whiskey. Logan wasn't bringing any food. He'd catch his own in the forest. As Logan made his way into the garage he absentmindedly rubbed the flesh between his knuckles.
Scott's motorcycle was right where it always was. Recently waxed, the bike glistened in the faint garage lights. Logan smiled. Scott hated it when Logan borrowed his bike without asking, thus Logan borrowed Scott's bike without asking. Logan mounted the motorcycle. A shiny blue helmet hung from the tilted handlebars of the bike. Logan shoved it off and it fell to the floor with a dull clunk. If there was one thing Logan did not need, it was a helmet. He had one custom built right into his skull.
Logan gunned the engine and rocketed out of the garage.
Logan pushed the bike to its limit. He was rocketing around curves and zooming down the roads at over 125mph. No normal person could go that fast on a motorcycle around such curves and live to talk about it. But then, Logan wasn't normal. His mutant abilities gave him heightened senses and reflexes. And he wasn't afraid to fall. Fear is crippling, but Logan crippled fear.
After hours of high speed driving, Logan arrived at his destination. His already feral-looking hair was even wilder. He propped the bike up on its kickstand and faced the edge of the woods. He'd leave the bike where it was. The high tech security system installed in it would keep any would-be-thieves away from it.
Logan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scents of the forest came rushing at him. Logan could smell a group of campers several miles away, four men and a bloodhound. Hunters. There was another scent…something…Logan couldn't place it.
He opened his eyes. The sun was not yet rising, but the night was brighter. Logan hung his rucksack across his chest and stepped past the first trees. It was darker under the cover of the trees. The forest was silent. The only noises were the crunching of twigs and dry leaves beneath Logan's boots.
He had no particular destination. He just wanted to be alone. Logan felt that he was wearing the nerves of everyone at the mansion thin, and had decided to take a trip into the wilderness. He'd actually come to the decision earlier that very night while lying awake in his bed. He knew some people would be worried. Logan hoped Jean would miss him, although he buried that thought. No doubt the Professor would find him with cerebro and put everyone's minds at ease.
The first rays of sunshine began breaking through the canopy of leaves and branches overhead. Birds began to chirp merry songs and Logan saw squirrels scurrying up and down tree trunks. But as he was walking, Logan noticed that the birds became gradually silent and the squirrels stood still, ears pricked up, listening to something. Logan stopped walking and glanced around. His nostrils twitched, sniffing the air. Logan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell? He barely had time to contemplate the origins of this strange scent before he was deafened by a shockwave and slammed into a tree. Darkness.