::X-Men:: In The Claws Of An Angel ::Wolverine::

Chapter Eight.

The walk back to camp through the woods was just as peaceful and serene as the walk out.

The sun was higher in the sky now, casting light straight down on the trees. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, speckling the forrest floor in glowing ribbons.

Logan tromped a few paces in front of me, leading the way down the narrow, beaten path between the trees.

Every so often, he would point out a specific bird or flower, telling me its name and a few fun facts about them.

"Yellowhammer." Logan said as he once more pointed up into the branches of a tall tree. "Emberiza Citrinella, if you wanna get fancy. Alabama's state bird."

As Logan fed me this slightly random information, I stared up into the lush green leaves above us where he had pointed. Perched on one of the lowest branches was a small, brightly colored bird.

Its head was neon yellow, and the feathers on its wings were a sandy brown color, edged in white. Near its tail was a smudge of fuzzy, fire engine red feathers. I smiled a little as the Yellowhammer's cheerful, chirpy tune filled my eardrums, mixing with the buzz of the locusts.

"How do you know all this stuff?" I asked Logan as we started walking again.

"I've been around a while." He replied to me while glancing over his shoulder.

It was quiet for a second as we walked, the sound of twigs snapping under our feet taking the place of our voices until I decided to speak up again.

"How old are you, Logan?" I asked curiously.

When he said he'd been around a while, it had made me realize that I didn't know his exact age, and he didn't know mine.

"Is that your personal question of the day?" Logan replied back in a question, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Umm." I hummed thoughtfully before shrugging my shoulders, "Sure."

"Well, I've lost track of a few birthdays, but I'm somewhere close to 42." He said to me, which utterly confused me.

I remembered the night before at Denny's when Logan told me he thought he was from Canada... How does a person not know where they're from, or their own age?

"How 'bout you, Ana?"

Logan's question caught me off guard. I'd gotten lost in my thoughts for a second, totally losing the conversation.

"Hm?" I said, signaling him to clarify what he meant.

"How old are you?"

"Is that your personal question of the day?" I repeated Logan's tone from earlier, hearing him chuckle.

"Why not." He said, "We've got plenty more days for other questions."

I smiled at the thought of staying with Logan... surfing the highways, camping... It wasn't a life for everyone, but it suited me just fine. It was a hell of a lot better than being alone, like I was before.

"I'm almost 27. My birthday's in three months..." I informed Logan, "Wait, we're in June, right?"

He nodded his head of dark hair, yanking the leather strap that held the bundle of wood to his back to get a better grip.

"My guess was about right, then." Logan said as he stepped over a fallen tree trunk in the path.

He turned around and watched as I repeated his actions, making sure I didn't trip. When I was safely on the other side of the trunk, Logan turned around and started walking again. I followed behind him.