Ororo touched her lips absently and could not resist a soft, tender smile at the memory.
Everything seemed brighter, more vivid, more alive than ever before.
She was more alive than ever before.
The walk toward the village was slow and langerous, not hurried, as she paused every few moments to enjoy the panorama her senses pieced together for her.
Distant trickle-burble of water from the tiny waterfall. The soft rasp of leaves brushing together as a wind teased them with it's touch. The chirrup-whistle of a small flock of birds carolling sweetly in the trees.
Memory of Logan's touch, his taste, his warmth.
That hurried her steps a bit, but not for the village.
Even the short seperation seemed to dim the world despite it's living brightness, and she wanted to be back to (his arms) by nightfall.
Logan did not like the seperation from his mate.
She had gone to the warren of two-legs, his nose told him, and this brought a faint frown, despite his gentle pounce-play with the two young lion cubs that rolled and squealed at his knees.
He cocked his head suddenly, coming alert a moment before the young lioness.
The big cat growled low in her throat, ears flattening in warning-defense as she crouched over her cubs protectively.
Logan's rumble told her to stay near the lake, guard her young, the injured cub - still unconcious - and den-protect.
And he was moving with the ease and grace a lion could only envy through the branches.
Two-legs had invaded his domain, his territory, and their scent carried the unpleasent tang of the cage-place, of danger and fear and scent-lies.
Settling on a branch to watch the invaders' approach, Logan extended his claws and bared his fangs.
They were looking for his mate.
Mine! thought Logan, furiously, feral rage rising in his throat.
His claws made a faint pattern in the air, but he observed in silence.
Strange - cub-scent.
Why had they left the alpha's territory?
The beta had what he always fear-wanted - to be alpha, why had he not kept the three young ones in his no-scent lie-sense den?
Logan growled low in his throat, and watched.
If they threatened Skyfur-mate, they would not live long enough to regret it.
"We're lost." groaned Rogue, tromping noisily behind Kurt as Remy turned a bit to the left with a frown. She would have preferred to fly, but Kurt had wisely pointed out that landing near a feral Logan could provoke him.
So they walked.
Her feet ached.
It seemed ridiculous, that with her near-invunerability her feet could pound so, but they did.
"Remy, slow down, sugah." the young woman said, plunking down on a fallen log. "It's gettin' dark."
Fire-on-shadow eyes regarded her for a moment, glinting behind the expensive glasses the Cajun was wearing, and he sat down on a stump in the small clearing, regarding the map with some irritation.
"De place marked is off." he commented, as a faint breeze riffled the paper.
Kurt chuckled. "We will find them, mien fruends." he comforted. "Cannot be too far, ja?"
Logan watched the strange behavior of Stripe and Fire-Eye.
They bickered and worried over the dead tree-piece the young male held, but the watching figure caught the scent of want/need/fear/hope - the alpha must have chased them off when Stripe went into heat. Fire-Eye was obviously her mate, but he scented no cross-scent - perhaps the cubs were still too young. Seeking territory, pack-places.
He snorted silently to himself.
Nightfur - the scent made his nose twitch.
Vauge memory.
Laughter.
The strange noise-sound that told one's thoughts.
Yes, Nightfur was pack, had never challanged, he was the omega, but without the omega, the pack would not have it's comforter, the one who kept place-battles bloodless - what was the beta thinking?!
Obviously, the cubs had not been taught to respect territory, and this made him circle, positioning himself near enough to observe.
Fire-Eye and Stripe were still yipping like the cubs they were, but Nightfur's gentle rumbles kept them from a roll, the bear of throats.
Logan sniffed the air, eyes narrowing.
Flat and strange, the eye-hiders Fire-Eye wore were tucked away, and he looked around carefully.
Time to teach the cubs their place, before a kill-hunter came looking for them.
A shadow flickered, Rogue had enough time to shout a warning, as Kurt was snatched up, carried into the trees, in one smooth, easy motion.
Remy spun, reflexively charging a card, and a sharp swat between his shoulder blades sent him face-first into the dust, tumbling into Rogue on the way down.
The pair untangeled themselves too late to stop the shadowy figure, but Remy yelled, "Logan!" and set off after them in a run.
Logan growled, giving Nightfur a sharp thump with his paw when he moved to leap from his shoulder.
The yellow eyes met gold, and again, the black-furred young mutant was thumped, not hard, just with exasperation.
Finally, Kurt stayed still until he was set down on a thick branch.
"Logan?" he asked, tenatively.
The other mutant growled, clamping his fangs over the cub's neck sternly.
Wisely, the cub became still, and Logan listened to the crashes of the other two.
The beta had not taught them to flow through their own territory, much less his.
Nightfur was yelping softly, worried about his littermates, and Logan forced him back against the treetrunk, baring his fangs in warning.
The cub was still again, and Logan set a paw on his chest, keeping him immobile, listening to the awkward crashes of the other two cubs as they made their way toward his location, high in the boughs of the ancient tree.
Thunder cracked in the distance, announcing a soft current of a breeze, and Logan tilted his head back a bit, aware of the still cub behind him.
The sky-lights that came reminded him of Skyfur-mate.
She would be at the two-legs warren by now.
He sniffed the air, remained still.
Flicker of awareness, of wrapping his body around his mate, paw caressing her head-fur, of flying-without-wings as he stroked her back and held her against him.
Mate. Safe. Warm. Answering that call, he flicked the now-sqirming cub sharply on the tip of it's nose and flipped the slender form over his shoulder, leading the other two through the dangers of his domain.
Cub. Protect. The scent-ripple-awareness reached the lioness down by the lake, and he knew when she raked her claws in the soft soil in reply, her cubs mewling beneath her. Protect. No-kill wait.
It would not do to have the lioness rend the noisy cubs beneath his swiftly moving form, and he emphasized that, in the flicker-awareness that he sent.
The first drop of rain flicked against his cheek then.
Logan smiled.