The soft sounds of a crackling fire filled the dark beach, the golden light flickering as sparks were spitted up into the star strewn sky. A make-shift spit had been constructed using broken branches. The animal Logan had killed was in fact a boar, and having since been skinned by Logan (out of the eyes of Storm, after she had vehemently protested to him doing it in front of her,) it was being cooked rotisserie style on top of the open fire.
Logan was sat crossed legged in front of the fire, perfectly still, with his eyes watching the flickering flames. Across from him, Storm was sat on her leather jacket, eyes on the distant shoreline as it crashed with the rhythmical sounds of the waves. The pair had fallen into a comfortable silence as they waited for the meat to cook. Logan was in charge of testing if it was fully cooked through, for he seemed to have more experience in this 'back to basics' lifestyle. After a few moments, he passed Storm some large chunks of meat, which Storm hurriedly took in her fingers.
Being a relatively sophisticated woman, Storm had not eaten without proper cutlery for a long time, and whilst her childhood in Africa had never been forgotten, she had become taking some small things for granted. Carefully studying the piece of meat that was clasped between her manicured fingernails, Storm leant forward to take a bite, being a polite as she could about the whole affair. Logan, on the other hand, had no qualms about eating with his fingers and was promptly eating large chunks easily with a glint of predatory satisfaction in his eyes.
It didn't take long for Storm to throw caution to the wind and tuck in with a little more ardour. After all, she was hungry, and she knew Logan hardly cared about high standards. If anything, he encouraged her to loosen up a little.
"So, what we gonna do next?" asked Logan between mouthfuls, absently tearing off some more meat.
Storm glanced towards him, watching his form as it was distorted through the orange flames of the fire. "We need to get to high ground and try the radio."
Looking round towards the jungle, Logan watched the large precipitous terrain rise up behind the sea of the tropical trees. "You ain't gonna get much higher than that."
Turning her head to look at the grassy mountain side, Storm replied, "Think we could climb it?"
"The hills surroundin' it should be fine, that might be high enough. When we gonna go, tomorrow?"
Helping herself to some more meat, Storm gave a nod of confirmation. "Tomorrow."
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The next morning, Logan woke first, leaving Storm as she lay curled up comfortably in her sleeping bag on the jet floor. He strode out onto the beach, stretching his arms to up the dazzling blue sky. He glanced at his watch, the time still in New York's setting, displaying 1.00 in the morning. He grunted quietly as he lowered his arm. That wasn't ever going to be much use around here. Proceeding to walk on across the sand, he travelled quietly, eyes scanning the blue ocean as it slowly frothed on the edge of the beach.
He didn't have very high hopes for the radio connecting. Maybe he was a pessimist, or maybe he was just trying to face facts. For some reason, the knowledge they could be stuck on this island didn't seem to worry him as much as it should. There was only one person he would have wanted to go back for, and that was Rogue. But since she had had the cure, for all he knew she could have left the mansion. With Charles and Jean gone, the only person left he had any care for was Storm, and she was here with him. Somehow, he didn't find himself missing the mansion, not when he was here, surrounded by nature and the calming sounds that came with it.
Lately the mansion had been full of grief directly related to the three memorials that now stood in the grounds of the school. It was suffocating to someone like Logan, who may have put up a stubborn front when invited on this trip with Storm, but in reality, he was thankful. He still was.
Now a good distance away from the plane, Logan sat down on the beach, out of sight from the aircraft and now completely surrounded by nature. He found it healing, ironically enough. But all this didn't mean he would refrain from finding their escape from the island, nor mean that he would sabotage all attempts. He would try, but accept his fate if it came to it. After all, he'd had worse happen to him.
Just then, curiously, Logan heard a disturbance in the air, but the peacefulness he had just settled into was abruptly shattered only moments later as the entire air around him shook with a rocketing explosion. Wincing at the loud abuse to his sensitive hearing, Logan threw himself upright, training the direction of sound to be at the jet. Immediately he felt his chest tighten with panic. Bursting into a run, he darted across the white sand, following his footprints back around the beach and towards the jet, which still remained out of sight. The closer he got, the stronger came the bitter stench of burning material, with smoke beginning to cloud his vision. He hurtled around the edge of trees to see that where the jet had once stood was nothing but a flaming blackened heap.
His gut writhed uncomfortably as he sprinted towards the ruined aircraft, coughing as the thick heaving smoke blew into his face. "Storm!" he bellowed at the inferno, advancing dangerously close to the roaring flames. He gasped as a gust of wind flew the fire into his face, and he automatically shielded his face with his forearm. Panting, he stared over at the wreckage, fumes sending him coughing once more. "Storm!" he cried again, fearing the worse.
Suddenly, all his disbanded worries of their predicament flew back in full force, combined with the shocking possibility that Storm could be dead. He didn't even ponder on how or why the jet was now a blazing inferno, he just continued to search for the woman. He had left her sleeping, the likelihood of her death frighteningly high. Despite the burns to his arms and face, Logan began shoving apart the wreckage, brushing aside charred remains of their remaining personal items. He was convinced he would find her dead or dying, and any likelihood of being treated was nil on this island.
Forcing back a lump of blackened metal, he suddenly spotted the remains of Storm's black blouse, the one she had worn to sleep. The mangled aircraft gave a soft groan. Logan could only glance up to see the wing of the jet crash down upon him. With a shout he threw himself backwards, sporting a heavily bleeding gash across his forehead. "Shit," he muttered under his breath as he heavily landed on his back in the sand, a good number of feet away from the wreckage. He lowered his head to the sand, his eyes closing as he waited for his burnt skin to heal, and the wound to close up. The heavy smoke wafted across his face, and he raggedly coughed and choked on the thick fumes. He wanted to move but couldn't, and brought his forearm to his face with a groan.
"Logan!"
Logan faltered. Was he hearing things? He never normally doubted his senses. Pulling his arm from his face, he peered blearily into the smoky air. Storm's face suddenly swam into view above him, her knees hitting his side as she threw herself down into the sand with concern covering her expression. "Logan!" she cried again, sweeping her fringe out of her face as she then proceeded to try and help him, mistaking his glazed look for serious injury. She delicately swept his hair back out of his face and the almost closed gash, soon glancing over him.
"'Ro?" he said hoarsely as he stared at her.
"What happened?" she asked, leaning over him anxiously.
"I don't know," he muttered, then slowly sitting up, and reaching his feet with Storm joining him. He was staring at her, "I thought you were dead!" he suddenly said.
Storm watched him in return, "I thought you were!" she replied fretfully. "I came up the beach and I saw you on your back! I thought the explosion had hit you."
"I left you sleepin'.." Logan continued, as though still trying to comprehend what was going on.
Storm laughed weakly, "You woke me up on the way out. I went down to the sea to wash."
Looking back towards the burning aircraft Logan nodded his head slowly. "Well, we're both safe, we should clear the area.."
"I can take care of that," said Storm as she turned towards the flames and extended her hands. Once more her eyes clouded over with ivory as a thick mist of moisture descended upon the flames and doused the wreckage into a charred black heap. Looking back towards Logan, Storm shook her head, "I've no idea what could have caused the explosion," she said as her eyes returned the normal. "There was nothing faulty before take-off."
"No," grunted Logan quietly as he watched the destroyed aircraft. "It didn't combust."
"What do you mean?"
Folding his arms, Logan looked back towards her. "It was fired at with a weapon."
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