I know, I know. It's been for-bloody-ever since I posted and I am sincerely sorry for that. I place all the blame for this squarely on the shoulders of the writers block I have been wrestling with and am still wrestling with. For those of you who actually care, I'm not at all happy with the way this part of the story has wound itself, but I haven't a single clue how to go about fixing it. The beginning is fine, it's the parts pertaining to Kayla Silverfox that are irritating me. So if any of you have any ideas how I can make those portions make sense, I would really appreciate it if you dropped me a line, cause my muse is realy starting to annoy me.

Sincerely,

CC

A chill wind caressed his hair, bringing with it a myriad of scents to be deciphered. Logan stilled his movements, breathing deep, reveling in the silent mark left behind by his prey and the stillness of the snowy forest surrounding him. He could feel Wolverine quivering with anticipation, for it had been many years since Logan had allowed himself to surrender to his baser instincts, to the animal within him. Most days, Logan took the road Jean and the professor had all but insisted he take, that being where he separated himself from his animal and kept a firm leash on it at all times. 'How long has it been?' he wondered, even as he moved through the underbrush, his feet silent and sure. 'Since I just let go and enjoyed the hunt, the kill?' As Logan continued walking, he found he couldn't remember.

Even as he considered it, Logan shuddered. People weren't supposed to enjoy death, weren't supposed to revel in the barbaric seduction of a good kill. But then, he supposed, was he truly a person? The Wolverine made up half of his consciousness, that creature of base desires and instincts. The animal that bathed in the blood of a fresh kill, that saw things in black and white and made Logan the exceptional fighter he was. He remembered it, remembered the faint traces he would feel when he finished with a particularly violent Danger Room simulation or from when he would fight in the cages back in the day. He remembered feeling good, so good, and then the regret. Chuck and Jean kept telling him to control himself, to master his inner beast, but was that even possible? Was it possible to control a creature that was so ingrained within him?

Before he could continue down this winding path of higher thought, Wolverine pulled him up short and threw Logan down into a crouch, wrenching the man from his slightly depressing philosophical thoughts. Before his eyes lay an idyllic clearing surrounded by ancient evergreens and crisp white snow. The sunlight lanced down through the branches of the trees, like spears flung on an ancient battlefield, striking the snow below, causing the crystals to glitter like so many diamonds. He watched these spears and their accompanying shadows as they played across the tawny hides of the herd before him. Elk, a rather large herd of Rocky Mountain elk grazed before him. Logan was glad for a moment, for Wolverine, for he was certain that if he had been without the dark animal within him Logan would have never found these creatures, or at least that he would have scared them off long ago with his distracted wanderings. Logan took another moment to breathe; to take in the scents that swirled within his nose before he slowly (and not without just a hint of reluctance) turned the control over to Wolverine.

It was an old feeling, purposefully releasing control. He had done it by accident before in his life, having gotten so angry he had simply lost it, lost all control and at last joined forces with the animal. And then there were the times where he had allowed Wolverine out farther than the norm, when circumstances called for violence. But this was relatively new, this feeling of just sitting back in his own body and allowing his darker side to take over. He wouldn't say that his senses sharpened, per say. After all, how much sharper could they possibly get? More, they came further into focus and elicited a different response. Where once scent was used in casual observance or as a defence mechanism, now it served him as a tool. The herd of elk just continue to graze on what little forage could be found before him, Wolverine having instinctively arrived downwind of them. For now he watched, his senses picking them apart, searching for the perfect target. None of the pregnant ones, he didn't feel like skinning two bodies tonight, not to mention that even at his darkest and most deranged moments, Logan despised the idea of harming the young. They were meant to continue on, meant to ensure that the herd remained for future hunts.

And so he waited and watched. It didn't take him long to focus in on one cow in particular. She was old, well past her prime and obviously no longer mating. While Wolverine might have perhaps preferred the challenge of taking on the alpha cow, but understood that come future mating seasons, she would be needed to fill out the ranks with her young. The herd couldn't do without her, but this one... she wouldn't be missed.

Logan felt a cold smile cross his face, even as the voice of civilization in his head shivered at his obvious delight. Shoving aside the higher thinking expectations, Wolverine leapt forward with a snarl, scattering the herd and effectively steering his cow away from her allies. Her death was swift as Wolverine stretched his legs to their limit, nipping and slashing at her heels to try and sever that vulnerable tendon that enabled her to run from him. The animal growled in anger as he felt his cow's heels connect with his head, momentarily causing stars to pass before his eyes. He had to give her one thing; she didn't get to be this old without learning just a few tricks to avoid predators. In the back of his mind, Logan quietly wondered if perhaps she had been an alpha in her day.

But all things must come to an end, and today was her day. With a final, snarling lunge, Wolverine felt his claws slide out of his hands to slash at the back of her legs, managing to damn near slice through her left leg. Without waiting for her to score another hit, Wolverine slammed into her chest and ripped her throat out, ensuring that her death was swift if not just a little bloody.

Logan felt himself panting from his perch atop the cow's still form. He watched the blood seep in slow rivulets into the snowy ground, the red standing out starkly from the pristine white covering the ground, and felt his darker half shudder with pleasure. Retracting his claws, Logan stared down at his hands, now coated in the blood and gore of his prey. Before he could stop himself, Logan felt his tongue rake up the back of his hand, lapping up the swiftly cooling blood from his skin. Even as he cringed in disgust at the animal's savage nature, Logan couldn't deny the barbaric pleasure he took in such an act and wondered briefly if he would ever really be able to fit in with those more urbane beings than himself.

Breathing a sigh, Logan shook his head, taking control back from Wolverine. Strangely enough, the beast seemed happy to allow the man to take control, his desire to hunt sated. Using only a fraction of his considerable strength, Logan hoisted the carcass up over his shoulder and began making his way back towards the little village that had agreed to shelter him for the time being. Apparently he and his girlfriend at the time, a woman named Kayla Silverfox, had lived near here at the time and had often found themselves among the Blackfoot tribe here. It had taken two days to sift through all the information the tribal members had for him, the memories they dredged up were so intense he required several breaks to just run through the woods and not think about it or to sit somewhere silent to just process it. The feelings he'd had for Kayla and her ultimate betrayal (Something Kiera had grudgingly informed him of after a talk/session with Scott a few days after he'd arrived in the village)... feeling that again had just about killed him. The only equivalent he could possibly think of was if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice before wrenching it from his ribs and stomping it into the dust.

But not all the memories were bad. There had been moments of real love and true happiness which was, perhaps, what was causing him the most pain now. The time they had shared and the love he had felt for this woman had been real, that much he could recall with perfect certainty, and he was fairly sure she had loved him. But why had she betrayed him to his enemies, to Striker? "What did they have on you?" he muttered to the wind. "What did he offer you?"

Sighing, Logan watched the village come back into view. No one in the village could shed any light on that particular issue. It would have appeared that, in that particular instance, Kayla had played things very close to the vest. It was an issue that nagged at him. Maybe when he got back to the mansion he could ask Kiera...

'NO!' he thought, violently shaking himself from his thoughts. Even if he was at all willing to apologize, which he was still having a great deal of trouble admitting that he might be considering, Kiera wasn't a miracle worker. Even if he could remember what had happened to Kayla in the end, he doubted she would be willing to submit to Kiera sifting through her head. Besides, he highly doubted that Kiera was willing to forgive him at that particular moment. He would admit, he had not exactly been the nicest guy the last time the two of them talked and Kiera was a woman who could hold a grudge until about 50 years after the apocalypse if she wanted and he had no idea how to approach that.

"I am glad to see your hunt was successful Logan."

"Thank you Wayra." Logan replied, turning to face the leathery face of his host, Wayra Grayclaw. The man had been generous enough to open up his home to Logan when he had come knocking a week ago. In fact, now that Logan considered it, Wayra had been invaluable in helping his lodger find information and introducing him to those people who would help him as best they could. It made him feel more than a little anxious. All the elders of the tribe seemed to recognize him or remember him but he could no more place their faces than he could pull a unicorn from his ass.

"Would you like help skinning that?" Wayra asked, quickly falling into step alongside the feral.

"Don't you have a tribal meeting soon?"

"Not for a few hours yet." The elder (Though in appearance only) replied. "And one of the benefits of being as old as I am is that I can generally come and go as I please."

"Yeah, but you also have to deal with the younger generation not listening to you." Logan replied, well aware of the issues faced by the elder generations. In the rush for independence and progress, many younger people would be quick to dismiss the wisdom of the past as irrelevant and outdated without taking the time to actually listen to the advice, which eventually caused history to repeat itself again and again and again.

Wayra just laughed. "That is true." He replied, his barking laugh echoing across his backyard. "I keep forgetting that you are actually part of my ancestor's generation. You know first-hand what it's like to deal with those young bucks."

Setting the cow down to begin skinning her, Logan considered what Wayra had just said. The elder had been making such comments over the last week and Logan still had yet to ask him to elaborate. He wasn't certain what kept him from asking, but until now he had simply let himself wonder. Sighing, Logan grabbed some knives and passed one to Wayra before getting to work. "You know," Logan said as he started in on the cow. "You've been saying things like that a lot lately. Did we know each other well when I was here last?"

Wayra smiled quietly. "I was wondering when you would get around to asking me that." He said, his tone laughing slightly.

Glancing up, Logan paused a moment. "So we did know each other."

"Not well, but we knew of each other and we did have a few conversations." Wayra looked as though he were gathering his thoughts, considering all the moments of his youth, all those years ago. "I was just a young man then, perhaps no more than fifteen years old when you first arrived. My father was a member of tribal council back then and I remember he was more than a little pleased at how respectful you were of our traditions." The elder met Logan's gaze without pausing in his work. "Though I also recall more than a few arguments the two of you would have over certain issues. You were both about as rigid as an old growth oak."

"Why would we be arguing? I'm not native, why would I be involved in tribal affairs." Logan asked, swiftly returning to his skinning.

"You worked for a local logging company." Wayra replied. "And they decided, wisely in my opinion, that because you already had dealings with the tribe that you should be the one to negotiate any issues that might occur between the tribe and the company." A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though that, perhaps, was not the wisest of choices given your lack of diplomatic skills. You and my father were both the type of men who could dig your heels on a problem when either of you felt as though yours was the only option. There was more than a few times that my mother and Miss Silverfox had to be called in to mediate the issue at hand." The man chuckled quietly. "Though the two of you did always come to an agreement in the end, such matters were always entertaining."

"Glad to see we could amuse you." Logan replied dryly.

"What do you want, I was fifteen. It was funny as hell to watch two grown men bickering like a pair of ten year olds." Wayra replied, making no attempt to keep the laughter from his tone.

Logan just rolled his eyes but it was nice to hear Wayra speak of him in such ways. After the night he had been through before he had come here, it was nice to know that his life hadn't been complete shit. Such knowledge always seemed to surprise him, knowing that he hadn't been fighting something or living through hell every moment of his life. "Why did I leave?" he asked, curious as to why he would leave such a happy place.

Wayra's smile faded fast and Logan's heart clenched in dread. "Your heart was broken." He answered, unwilling to meet Logan's questioning gaze. "Miss Silverfox... Kayla was killed, violently so, and it seemed as though someone had wrenched your heart out of your chest and shredded it." Logan watched Wayra work, his mind running over everything he had been informed of and remembered on his own. Kiera hadn't told him that Kayla had faked her death, he wasn't sure why. That had come to him in a nightmare one night a few days ago. But the ghost of the pain, that hollow feeling, was something he was certain would never really go away. "After that, there was no chance you could find peace here. But you seemed to know where you needed to be and you left a few days after it happened."

"Did I say where I was going?"

Wayra shook his head. "Not that I'm aware. You might have said something to my father; you did speak privately with him before you left. But beyond that, you played things pretty close to the vest."

Logan sighed. Of course he did, it was a habit that appeared to be consistent through the whole of his life and it was one he was not particularly pleased with now. It only ever made it that much more difficult to find the answers he craved. Now it appeared the only way he could get those answers was through Xavier, Jean, or Kiera. Of the three, the only one willing to talk was Kiera and even then she only gave him the barest amount so that he could find the rest out himself. And while he may have appreciated that on any other day, not he was just getting tired and frustrated. He had lived for so many years and done so many things in that time, it was starting to seem like such an impossible task, even in the face of his dogged determination.

"You look pensive Logan, something on your mind?"

"Just... frustrated I guess." Logan said, setting the skin aside to tan later before starting work on butchering the carcass before him. "Not being able to remember parts of my own life, to know what's going on in my own head. It gets annoying."

"But you've been getting help with that, yes?" Wayra asked, looking up at Logan. "I mean, you couldn't remember anyone in the village when you got here which makes me fairly certain you couldn't remember the village itself. So you must have had help finding us."

Logan shrugged. "A friend... at the school I work at was able to track my movements here. She told me about it, thinking I might be able to find some answers here." It seemed a rather paltry way to describe the complexity of his relationship with Kiera, but anything else would have taken far too long to explain and ended up being far too complicated, particularly since Logan himself couldn't understand it at times.

"Sounds like a good friend." Wayra said, getting back to work. Logan glanced up at him wondering, briefly, what Wayra was talking about. Yeah, Kiera was a good friend, but something in Wayra's tone seemed to imply something.

"Yeah... she is." Logan muttered, unwilling to discuss the matter with Wayra, though he wasn't sure why since he'd been able to talk about everything else with the man. But then again, he never had been able to discuss women and his issues pertaining to them with anybody. For some obscure reason, as badly as he might muck it up, Logan always preferred to handle his women issues on his own.

But Wayra was nothing, if not crafty. "Is she now? You don't sound too sure of that. There any particular reason why?" The silence was long and tense and Logan could just feel Wayra's wheels turning. "Well, no matter. I'm just glad you're working to figure out who you were." Wayra's smile was bright with memory. "You were a good man Logan, and from what I can tell, you still are."

"Maybe."

There was another pause, perhaps as Wayra tried to see if Logan would elaborate. When it became obvious that wasn't about to happen, he just smiled that enigmatic smile of his and proceeded to check his watch. "Well, I suppose I ought to go and get cleaned up. I don' think they'll appreciate me showing up to a meeting in bloodstained clothes. The youngsters might just get it into their heads that I helped you kill someone."

That brought a smirk to Logan's face. "Well you would know all the best places to hide a body." The dull ache brought on by such black humour came almost as an afterthought. Kayla had died here, in these woods. It had killed him, back then. Her death had absolutely destroyed him and despite what she had done to him, Logan still cared for Kayla in some way. Sighing, he bowed his head, not even acknowledging when Wayra gave his hunched shoulder a comforting squeeze before he walked off to get ready for his meeting, something for which Logan was infinitely grateful. Anything more would have made him exceedingly uncomfortable and would have ended in Logan saying something he would have regretted.

Growling softly, Logan started butchering the cow again, trying to make the work last as long as he could so he wouldn't have to think, to remember. Even now the argument he'd had with Kiera still managed to make him hot under the collar. He was willing to admit that he had been a bit of an ass, but that didn't mean that Kiera had been in the right, damn it! And as much as he may need her help, Logan couldn't be sure their partnership would work.

As he finished slicing up the carcass, Logan sighed, absently wiping his bloody hands off on his jeans. What in the hell was he going to do?