Chapter Text
You were eating cold beans from a rusted old can when you first heard the thunderous sound of his gait through the forest. You’d lit a tiny fire, which in retrospect was a colossally stupid idea despite its meagre size, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Cursing, you dropped your food – there was a silver of regret, it had taken you ages to pilfer such a hearty meal – and you crouched in the shadows at the edge of your camp.
Your tail twitched nervously as your mutation reached out to protect you; small, invisible hairs all over your body standing on end to blur you into the background of the forest. It was a useful mutation, yet not as useful as becoming completely invisible. You’d met someone who could do that once. She’d been a happy-go-lucky blonde bimbo who you’d immediately despised. A pity, as she could have been useful to you.
You had only just managed to camouflage yourself when a beast of a man careened into your little hideout. He was huge. Easily over 6 foot tall, he towered over your spark of a fire, glaring at its light with a furrowed brow. His chest, covered in a dirty, white tank top, heaved like he was trying to catch his breath, and his bare shoulders shone with sweat. The man searched around the perimeter with narrowed eyes, and thankfully, they passed right over you.
You jumped when the man spoke out into the night. “Come out. I know you’re there. I can smell ya.” You sunk lower into your crouch, hoping he wouldn’t look too closely in your direction and realise the slight anomaly in his depth perception, or notice your shadow, stuck all too obediently at your feet.
The man’s nostril’s flared again, and you realised exactly what he was doing. He was smelling for you. And by God, wasn’t that just creepy. He must be a mutant, you thought, because there is no way, despite having not showered in over a week, a human could sniff a person out like a sniffer dog. Although, you mused a little hysterically – to be expected as you never dealt with pressure especially well – there were certainly a few male, teenage mutants back at the compound whose feet could definitely be smelt way into the next state.
The mutant slowly turned in a circle, crouching into an offensive crouch which could have mirrored yours, and his nostrils flared some more, before he froze. Dread curled cold fingers in your stomach as the man turned to stare directly at you. He squinted in your direction and sniffed again, you could practically see the man’s pupils struggling to focus on your hidden form.
“Come out.” He repeated, holding out a meaty hand, you eyed it warily, “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You smell young.” He said, as if this clarified exactly why he had his hand thrust in your direction.
You bristled a little, you are not young. You haven’t been young since you were prised, kicking and screaming, from your murdered father’s grasp twelve years ago. Your tail lashed threateningly, but you relaxed your camouflage, not caring that this strange man was seeing you completely naked.
Years ago, it may have made you self-conscious to have a stranger look upon your bare form, but you’d learned quickly after escaping the compound that you needed to be prepared to hide yourself at a moment’s notice. You couldn’t do that in clothes.
The man’s gaze didn’t even waver from your face as you appeared, which surprised you a little. The man took no stock in your uncovered groin or any other aspect of your body that people before him had found pleasing, or shocking. The tail being one of them, which was still held high in front of your chest, the razor-sharp edges of its tip ready to strike, should the need arise.
“What’s your name, kid?” You growl, you are not a kid.
“Blur,” you did not give him your real name. For one, it would have been foolish. You knew nothing of this man who had offered his hand to the darkness so easily. For all you knew, he could be the bait of some elaborate trap. It wouldn’t of surprised you if he had; the scientists at the compound had stooped to lower levels to get escaped subjects back before. And Two – you’d forsaken your old name long ago.
“Blur, huh?” He chuckled, dropping his hand when he realised you were not going to take it. “I’m Logan.”
You said nothing.
“Chatty one, aren’t ya?” He laughed again. The sound was just a rumble in his chest, and the smile that accompanied it only a small curl of amusement in the corner of his mouth; but you found that the sound warmed you from the inside. You shut the feeling down immediately, replacing it with a long entrenched mistrust that you had nurtured all your life. “You alone?”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with you.” Your tone was sharp, and had an undercurrent of as if I’d tell you. The smirk came back as the muscle-bound man dropped himself into the space by the fire you had occupied minutes earlier.
“Oh, a smart ass too, lucky me,” he spoke with derision, and it made your hackles rise – the stranger in your space for too long made you edgy, and you found yourself looking for tricks and traps out of your peripheral vision; absolutely refusing to let the man out of your direct line of sight.
“What do you want?” You hiss, getting impatient. You were waiting for the catch, for the man to just do something. But he staunchly refused to do anything, the bastard.
“Well, I was just travelling, and I saw a light. Came to investigate. Found you. End of story.” He gingerly picked up your dropped can of beans, scraping out the layer of food which had come in contact with the dirt, then inspecting it for any rogue pieces of the forest floor.
“I find that unlikely,” you say, frustration evident. He snorted lightly, at some unknown joke, before deciding that the half empty can was to his satisfaction. Though instead of eating it himself, which you fully expected him to do, he hands it out for you to take.
You glare at him, irritated that you cannot seem to anticipate what he will do, yet you take your food anyway. You knew you shouldn’t, as who fucking knows what he could have done to the can, but your hungry body betrays your mind, and so you do so against your better judgement.
You don’t eat it. Instead, you stare at him.
Logan smiled at you and pushes up from the ground, dusting off his pants with one hand. You refuse to watch the way it pulls the material tight against his thigh attractively. “I’ll be off then, seein’ as you’re so okay on your own.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but nod warily, watching him saunter towards the edge of your camp and marvelling at how stupid he is to turn his back to you. You consider taking him out, you had the perfect opportunity, but you don’t. You stay your hand, though you can’t figure out why.
“Bye, Blur,” Logan – and since when had he become Logan? You do not get on first name terms with potential enemies for crying out loud – yelled over his shoulder, holding up a hand in a departing wave before breaking into a sprint.
You hold your breath and wait, your grip tight on the tin can in your hand. You wait for Logan to come back, or a trap to spring, but nothing happens.
In fact, you stand up long into the night, ears straining to hear any sound which may alert you to the approach of a foe, but only the silence of the forest greet you.
You do not see Logan again for a very long time.