20174/The Deer Hunters

The Deer Hunters
Date of Scene:	03 March 2025
Location:	Grassy Field with Mysterious Burn Marks
Synopsis:	Backyard Barbecue, Wolverine Style
Cast of Characters:	Logan Howlett, Laura Kinney

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Logan Howlett has posed:
Twilight on the Xavier Estate is often magical, especially when the air is crisp with the chill of a winter that hasn't quite passed yet. Snow is still on the ground, though paths have been made through much of it, and the first signs of an oncoming spring are beginning to be seen by the students and faculty of the School for Gifted Youngsters. But to those who have lived in the wild, the signs are as much felt as seen, and those who are sensitive to nature are aware of the sense of imbalance that can occur here where civilization has encroached upon nature only partially.

Which might explain why the mutant known as Logan is moving silently through the brush on the edge of the field near the periphery of the Xavier Estate. Staying crouched and low to the ground, he carefully remains upwind of his quarry. It isn't hunting season in New York, but then Logan isn't exactly carrying a rifle. His style has always been more direct, and that remains the case now as the sun sets above the tree line, giving a last prosaic look at the neighboring estates with their farms and horse pastures.

Off in the distance, a deer can be seen, albeit one that looks a bit unusual. Though it is stripping the bark from one of the trees on the edge, it seems to be doing so with some difficulty.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura Kinney was training earlier, but now she's taking a break. Emerging from Xavier's property, she's wearing a tank top, sweats, and some athletic shoes. Eating from a bag of pretzels, she pauses. Sensing something.

Well there's Logan. And there's a deer. Something is going on.

She plots a course to join him without disrupting his hunting. So her movements get lighter, quicker. Stealthy now, as she approaches him from the side. Invisible to the game, but not to him. She'd rather not startle him, after all.

Logan Howlett has posed:
The deer is certainly struggling, which isn't completely unheard of this time of year. The last month before spring is typically the hardest on these animals, as food has become incredibly scarce. But as the pair of stealthy mutants gets closer, it becomes clear that this deer isn't just underfed from a lack of available feed, it's entire jaw looks deformed. Signs of an earlier bullet wound that failed to put the deer down, but have since made it extremely difficult for it to eat. There's something admirable in its tenacity, but it's obvious that all that awaits this deer are a few more weeks of painful struggle.

It's not hunting season in New York. But Logan isn't the sort of man to take trophies regardless.

As he is joined by his younger counterpart, he gives her no verbal recognition. Barely a look is exchanged. But then, they typically don't need words to communicate. Not with each other, and others of their ilk. Scent, body language, and intent can all be detected when words are stripped away. The somber expression on Logan's face as he gets steadily closer shows that he doesn't really relish this kill, though he moves forward with grim determination.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura Kinney is still eating, albeit quietly now, from her bag of honey mustard pretzels. When she notices what's WRONG with the poor animal though, she scrunches her face, and shakes her head.

For her part, she tracks where Logan is going, and circles around the opposite direction. Still eating mind you, but you know, she doesn't actually need two free hands to help the big guy out here. She's just backup in case he slips and scares the thing off.

Logan Howlett has posed:
The wind shifts, and the deer catches wind of something. Possibly honey mustard pretzels, but it's not likely that we'll ever know. For no sooner have its ears twitched, then it's over. A quick 'SNIKT', a puncture wound through the heart, and the deer barely has time to twitch before it's over. It certainly didn't have time to feel the pain from the wound, though it has clearly been in pain for quite some time.

As it lies on the ground, blood seeps onto the snow as it breathes its last shuddering breath, and there's a quick 'SNAKT!' of Logan's claws as he stands there grimly. Crouching down, he looks at the deer's head, and lifts its jaw up to inspect the wound. Sure enough, it was shot, and fairly recently. It's not completely unheard of for a hunter to miss his shot, or to fail to take down his prey. But this is a fairly recent wound, and it isn't hunting season in New York.

A deep inhalation, but Logan doesn't gain any further clues. This mystery will likely go unsolved, unless he devotes the time to figuring it out.

"Hey kiddo. Thanks for the assist. Didn't want to see the thing sufferin'..."

Looking over his shoulder at the young woman, one of his bushy eyebrows lifts up.

"Not really dressed for the cold..."

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura Kinney does have a bare midriff here, and she laughs. Now she can take a bite openly. She's remarkably calm about the scene of what just happened in front of her. She comes up, snacking as she stands right next to the deceased animal in fact.

"That's too bad. Hunting is natural, but if you're going to hunt, hunt."

The comment on her outfit makes her smile faintly. "Gonna scold me if my skirt's too short to?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Let's hope we don't find out..."

There's the beginnings of a smile, as Logan stands to his feet. The sun has nearly set, and the temperatures are below freezing. But Logan isn't really dressed any more warmly than his clone is. He's worn far less in far colder environments than Upstate New York, and though his breath is visible, and steam is rolling upward from the deer's fatal wound, he doesn't seem particularly uncomfortable. Surely he must know that she's as tough as he is, but there's still a note of concern in his voice nevertheless.

An hour later, a fire is roaring in the center of the mysteriously burned patch on the edge of the estate. It's impressive what a pair of Wolverines can do with some random branches and a couple pairs of claws. A field dressed deer has been cut into pieces, with cuts of meat hanging above the flames on a skewer constructed of sharpened limbs and a pair of wooden braces lashed together with twine. Sitting nearby on a log, Logan pulls back the tab on a can of Molson's beer, the rest of the six pack sitting in the snow near the fire.

Laura Kinney has posed:
Laura Kinney laughs, and pops antoehr pretzel before holding out the bag to Logan to offer him some.

Later, the fire is going. The pretzels are gone, and she's squatting in front of the fire. "You going to try to track down who did that?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
The smell of roasting meat mixes beautifully with the smell of a roaring campfire. As he sips his beer, Logan watches the glowing embers, his primitive face looking a bit like the caveman's must have many thousands of years ago. He's a man of simple pleasures, and sitting under the stars and drinking beer is one of the things closest to a 'hobby' that he enjoys. Looking over at the younger, female version of himself, the man of few words gives a short shrug before crumpling up his empty beer can in his hand.

"Don't expect I will. It's a fight that wouldn't do anybody any good, other than making me feel better. It's not enough reason to track someone down."

A pause.

"At least for now."

Reaching to his side, he grabs two beer cans this time. Before he pulls the tab back on his own, he tosses one to his protege.

"Here you go, kiddo. You're old enough."

It's a simple bit of acknowledgement, before he resorts once again to silence. The stars are out, the night is clear, and all is peaceful in this part of the world. While it lasts, it's best to enjoy it.