"Where are we going?" Rogue finally asked, about thirty-five minutes after leaving the cabin and around ten minutes of silence after their last conversation dried up. The trees had failed to give her the answer she had been looking for, a repetitive background which occasionally looked like it was on a loop. The route they took never passed anything that resembled civilisation, and she wondered whether this part of the country had ever been inhabited, or if they were discovering a new part of the world, free from the destructive nature of mankind.
Logan didn't answer immediately, instead slowing the vehicle down to pass between a pair of elderly trees which grudgingly allowed them to crawl through with little more than an inch of space on either side. His foot pressed down and they resumed the quicker speed that had been constant during the journey. "I got an old friend who will help us out. Give us a place to stay for a bit."
"And then what?"
He gave her a glare which filled her with guilt. "Does it look like I have a plan, kid?"
"Uhh. . ."
His face softened. "Look, we're nearly there. Just a couple more minutes. Once we get there, we'll sort something out."
"OK. . ." She nodded, biting her lip as she went to ask her next question. ". . . your friend, is he a—?"
"A mutant?"
"Yeah. . ."
"He is. And before you ask, this one doesn't look like a frog either. So that pretty much kills that theory of yours."
The red tone of her face returned, a shade which Logan had now nicknamed Rogue. She folded her arms as her stomach began to make noises, ones she hoped were not as audible as they sounded to her. Even the cereal at Logan's house—or at least that's what it called itself on the box—sounded delicious at this moment as the promise of breakfast had yet to be fulfilled. She couldn't complain, of course, as she didn't feel comfortable with complaining with what seemed like his uncharacteristic generosity.
Her attention had changed from the passing scenery to studying the man that had given her a home for the night. He seemed withdrawn and distant. She wondered how long he had been alone—the cabin's interior was disorganised and a stranger to the homely feel of a woman. There were no pictures on his wall, nothing of personal attachment, as though the cabin was little more than four walls and a roof.
He seemed tortured, carrying a burden which he had never been able to shake. In moments like this, she wondered what was on his mind, whether he truely blamed her for having to leave his home or for murdering those men. Her eyes rolled to his hands. The claws—she wanted to ask about the claws. But like Rogue, his past was a mystery which would take a while to reveal.
The familiar background of trees was soon replaced with a wonderful lake which was nothing like she had seen before. The bold blue water weaved through the forest, like it had fallen from the sky and landed with a wide-reaching splat. On one side was the mountains which she had seen at Logan's place, their cold reflection casting on to the lake without neglecting any of their beauty. Then, something which was the most surprising of all, they drove through a small town—no more than two dozen buildings—and despite their visit being brief, she felt comforted by the sight of a peaceful settlement. While she had ran away to hide from the world, she was happy at the reminder that not everywhere on this planet was rotted.
Not long after that, they arrived at their destination. A cabin was nested by the lakeside, facing towards the resting water with a view which would have been the envy of many. It was similar in appearance to Logan's shack, except upscaled in size by at least twice the length and a second floor. Each window radiated with a warm, inviting glow which brought a smile to Rogue. "Is this it?" She asked.
"Yeah."
"It's a big house."
"Well he's a big guy." Logan said, as the wheels of the truck slowed down to a gentle stop. He applied the brake and opened the door before leaving and shutting it with such force that the whole vehicle trembled.
Rogue remained in her seat, her hands joining and fingers chasing each other to settle her nerves. The front door opened and she was in awe at what came out. A hulking silver figure emerged, a man of enormous size, like nothing she had seen before. The features of his face looked like they had been carved out of stone, but as he stomped closer to them, Rogue could see it appeared to be some form of metal. His sculpted mass had been squeezed in to a checked shirt and no attempt had been made to join the buttons, instead the ripples of his abdomen were visible through a white vest. But there was another distinct feature of his appearance—his left arm was gone. For some reason, she was more intrigued by this than the fact he was a walking man of metal.
"Logan?" He boomed, his boots sinking with each stride.
Wolverine approached slowly, hands pushed in to the deepest part of his pockets. As the distance between them closed, he had to tilt his head back to look up in to his blank eyes. "It's been a while, hasn't it Pete?"
"Too long, my friend." His voice was as cold as his native Siberia. He looked towards the vehicle, where the young passenger had yet to make an appearance. "Is something wrong? It is not like you to arrive unannounced."
"Yeah, I'm afraid there is." It was his turn to turn to the truck. "I need somewhere to stay. Just a few nights. I'm in a bit of trouble."
"Trouble?" He sniggered. "It is not like you to need help."
Logan sighed, lifting a foot on to a nearby stone. "Well, there's a first time for everything."
