Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. I am making no profit from this fan based work.
Letting out a deep breath, she watched as the smoky tendrils of it snaked away from her until they disappeared in the snow that was still coming down around her. She giggled softly to herself as she did it again, pretending she could breath fire, before shaking her head at her own childishness and swinging her bags higher up on her shoulder so she could make her way back inside.
The decoration inside the cabin itself was sparse, but just as warm. None of the furniture matched except for the table and chairs in the kitchenette which all looked to be handmade. And given the small community in which she had so firmly planted herself; they probably were. Preferably by somebody's grandfather in his free-time.
The community was, after all, so small that apparently the grocery clerk even acted as the postman; the elderly man behind the counter knew everyone by name and could probably tell you their life stories if you asked. Very nearly had when she'd called about the cabin; Rouge had listened to the soft rumblings of the old man as he talked about her temporary landlord for a good ten minutes before finally being asked to leave her number with him so he could drive up the mountain and go retrieve Mr. Logan to take her call.
There were no hard lines out this far into the mountains; so it was either a cell phone -which probably had no signal-or the sweet old man who was going to gossip about you. And she'd given him a lot to gossip about.
Note: chapter 7.
