There was something about the quiet tranquility of the northern wilderness that Logan liked. The gentle sounds of nature and the nippy breeze as it journeyed from the open plains to the mountains in the north was a calming contrast to the violent noise of his past. His shack, as compact as it was, did not bother the landscape too much, occupying a small space alongside a dirt track which branched from a larger road, which itself was a lengthy drive to civilisation.
Like any other day, Logan had risen from his bed and readied himself for the day whilst the sun was still in it's infancy. He didn't have much in the way of a morning routine, especially when there was too little to do and too much time to do it. The most exciting thing in his life was opening his sock drawer, which was fine by him.
He passed the couch and navigated through the small gap between the wall and a coffee table hidden beneath a landscape of empty cans and magazines of various interests. He looked at the couch he had just passed then returned his gaze to a magazine at the top of one of the piles, flicking it over so the blonde-haired bikini model was no longer seen.
His feet wormed their way in to his boots, the laces having been tightened enough for them to go on easily without needing to recreate the bow each time, but also loose that he could pull them off with a swift tug. He then stepped out on to the porch and shuffled quietly over to the bench, wiping away the sprinkled remains of it's former skin before sitting down with a heavy sigh.
Retirement, or what this was called, was supposed to be a life free from stress, where the once-familiar scent of drama was a distant smell that had been long forgotten. Yet here Logan was, head bowed, staring down at the wood between his feet.
He rummaged around the chest of his shirt and picked out a cigar, took out a lighter from a different pocket then joined the two and took a taste as he returned the lighter to his denim.
A young woman had entered his life during the night. She called herself Rogue, but eventually he got the name Marie out of her. She'd ran away from home, not giving Logan much in the way of a reason, with the intention of heading as north as she could before she ran out of land. He'd found her hiding in the back of his pickup truck, unaware that her light steps across the grass had sounded like a heavy march to the slumbering mutant. He wasn't sure why he agreed to let her come in, though his offer of a couch for the night had lit up her eyes like she had won the lottery. He hadn't quite said that his offer was a one-night only deal, but watching her face form something which seemed like a smile for the first time in nearly a month meant there may have been room for negotiations.
He heard her shift from the couch and climb to her feet, and it didn't take long for her to shuffle towards the front door.
Logan rolled the cigar between fingers then took another draw. "Sleep well?"
She nodded, wiping at one side of her face.
He pushed himself up. "You want something to eat?"
Another bob of the head as she rubbed at the other eye.
"What do you eat? Cereal?" He asked, as if the younger woman was a different species and he was unsure of what it ate. He side-stepped past her and took an immediate left, where the small corner of the living area formed a kitchen. He opened one of the cupboards on the wall and reached in for a box that looked like it had came with the house. He slammed it on to the counter, causing some of it's contents to shoot up like an anti-climatic firework display. "Here."
Rogue leaned forward as far as she could without lifting her toes and scrunched her eyes at the packaging. "What's this?"
"Look, kid—it might not seem like much, but it's good for you. I know you're probably used to cereal with a cartoon character on the side of the box, but this is all I have."
Rogue continued to frown, but this time it was directed at him. "Excuse me? I'm not twelve."
He snatched the box and returned it to the place it had been hiding, slamming the door shut with such force that it caused the unsteady sculpture of dry crockery and cutlery to shudder on the drain board of the sink. "Fine. Then what do you want? Bacon? I don't have much else. I don't usually take in strays."
"Strays? You make me sound like I'm some cat you found digging through your trash."
Logan lifted a brow, which caused her face to warm up.
"Well, maybe the trash part is true." She coaxed as many strands of hair as she could to fall in front of the emerging red tone of her cheeks.
He nodded towards the bathroom door. "Why don't you freshen up and I'll make breakfast. You look like you could do with a shower."
She gasped.
"No offence."
After coming to the realisation that she couldn't properly defend herself when the fact was she hadn't had a proper wash in weeks, she slowly turned on the spot and navigated her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Very soon, the sound of water could be heard.
Logan's hand reached for the cool surface of the fridge when the crackle of rubber hitting stones diverted his glance. He didn't get visitors, so to have two in the space of twelve hours sent a ripple up his nerves. He peeked through the blinds at the black SUV which came to a rest next to his own truck, and a pair of dark-shaded men came out.
Men who looked like trouble. He headed to the door and could feel the itch beneath his knuckles.