At the end of the first week she was exhausted. She trained with Claude every morning, to build up necessary skills to handle weapons and different fighting techniques. Nights she spent with Logan, learning how to use skills Claude taught her and making love until she wasn’t sure which way was up and which down. She had started eating herbs that prevented her to become pregnant. Logan hadn’t said anything, just asked if they made her ill, and when she had told him no, he had discarded the topic unimportant.
They didn’t make her ill, but they made her even more tired. That was maybe the biggest reason she finally one morning snapped, and fell down crying when she couldn’t put together a revolver she was supposed to assembly from parts Claude had scattered in front of her on the table.
“This is so stupid and I’m sick and tired of it!” She wailed when Claude tried to console her, putting his arm around her shoulder little awkwardly.
“You’re doing great. Better than I imagined when I first saw you. You’re much stronger than I gave you credit for,” he said.
“Sure doesn’t feel like it… I’m one big bruise, and I have done this at least hundreds of times already and still keep getting it wrong!”
“Everybody makes mistakes. It doesn’t matter. What matters is to get it right when it counts.”
“Spare her from that bullshit, De Santos…” Logan growled walking in. Marie flinched. She had gotten used to a certain routine already. Mornings were her time with Claude. Logan usually kept away until her lessons were over and it was time for lunch.
“It’s not bullshit.”
“Yes, it is, and you know it, Claude. She has to learn it. She has to learn to know that weapon, all of her weapons so well she could put them together and use them even if she were blind, because that might one day save her life. I’m not training her to be a decent fighter. I’m training her to become a hunter.”
“Hunter? Look at her! She can barely keep her eyes open! She’s so tired that it’s a wonder she hasn’t keeled over already!”
“Have you already forgotten our training days, Claude?”
“I haven’t. But you clearly have…”
“Stop! Both of you! I’m not in the mood of listening your petty squabbling!” Marie screamed, silencing both men efficiently. For a moment they just stared at her. Then Logan grabbed her from her arm and pulled her along with him outside.
“What’s the matter with you?” He asked with a harsh tone.
“What’s the matter? Oh, nothing! Absolutely nothing! I guess it’s just normal to sleep only two hours per night and spend rest of the time learning how to kill vampires and other creatures that lurk in the night!”
“You’re tired?” Logan asked.
“That’s putting it mildly! I’m exhausted, and fed up with all of this!”
“Come here…” Logan pulled her against him, wrapping his coat around them both.
“You should have told me. I can’t… I don’t know if you’re tired or hurt if you don’t talk to me about it. I’m no mind reader.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Marie asked.
“No. Wolf in me… It gives me more energy. I feel great. I probably wouldn’t even have to sleep almost at all. I’m sorry. I should have realized it doesn’t work like that with you.”
“Is it fair to say you’re starting to like Wolverine a bit?” Marie asked smiling.
“It certainly has its perks… But hey, no more lessons today. What would you like to do?”
“Can we go to town? I would like to see other people for a change.”
Short ride to the town through the forest was uneventful, and she enjoyed every second of it. Logan had lifted her sitting in front of him on the saddle, and she could lean on him and watch the scenery. They had no hurry. Horse was walking, practically wandering at its own pace, stopping to graze from time to time.
“It’s getting warmer already…” Logan noted. At this part of the country snow in winter was a rarity, but weather was noticeable colder than in summers.
“Yes. Oh, and I should gather some herbs. Some of them are good only this time of year.”
“Now?” Logan asked.
“No, silly… But soon. Whitecloak, bloodleaves, springweed. In a month they will turn poisonous if not picked up and dried.”
“What are they good for?” Logan asked. Marie giggled.
“Interested about witchcraft? What has happened to our big bad hunter who eats little witches like me for breakfast?”
“For supper…”
“What?”
“I ate you for supper,” Logan whispered and licked her earlobe, reminding her about things he had introduced her last night. Marie blushed, giggle turning to breathy moan when Logan’s hands let go from the reigns, one ending to knead her breasts and other sliding lower between her thighs.
“Logan! What if someone sees us…”
“There are exactly two squirrels up in that tree. And what they are doing is much more indecent that this. We at least have some clothes on…” Logan murmured nibbling her throat lightly and sliding a finger inside of her shirt, trailing the curve of her breast and making her shiver and arch against him.
She could feel through their clothes how hard it was making him. At the same time she could feel now familiar moisture starting to gather between her legs, and she pulled her thighs together, trapping his hand between them, preventing him from moving his fingers.
“As good as this feels, I’m going to town. We can continue this back at home…” She whispered.
“Or we could finish what we started and go to town after…” Logan muttered, tugging the buttons of her shirt impatiently.
“I would like people to see me as a gorgeous woman with equally gorgeous man, instead of little hariot with wet patch on the crotch of her pants, thank you…” Logan frowned.
“Damn. You’re right. We better wait…”
Darkwater wasn’t the biggest possible settlement, but it was much bigger than Marie’s home village. She found it hard to contain her enthusiasm when Logan left the horse to the skilled hands of the stablemaster.
“What do we do now?” She asked, bubbling from excitement.
“What ever you want to do. I have no plans.”
“Could we… Could we go to the marketplace?” Marie asked.
“Of course,” Logan nodded, fully understanding her eagerness. Nobody knew her around here. It would be completely new experience for her. Way she was dressed spoke about wealth and money, merchants would be toppling over each other in their haste to get her as a customer instead of shooing her off like the ones at her home village.
Much later they were sitting in a tavern having ale, and Marie was sorting out her purchases. Several beautiful scarves made out of silk, bracelets and pendants made of silver and numerous pouches of all kinds of dried herbs and instructions how to use them. Her mind was in turmoil. Never had she been treated so. Merchants had been bending backwards to serve all her possible needs.
“You have good taste in jewelry…” Logan mused, reaching a finger and sliding it over one of the bracelets adorning her wrists. Small muscle on his cheek ticked a bit, and he pulled his finger away.
“Just don’t wear those in bed, okay?”
“No! Of course not! But Claude recommended…”
“I would buy you a full body armor made of silver if they made those. Claude’s right. More silver you carry on you, better you stay safe. Just don’t wear them around me, okay?” Logan whispered.
“I want to be able to touch you,” he explained when she took off the jewels and tucked them to the backpack she had bought along her other purchases.
“I understand. But isn’t it time for us to go back home?” Marie asked, noting how low sun had crept on the sky.
“Yes.”
It was already dark when they rode in to forest, both deeply immersed to their thoughts. Sudden noise from somewhere behind them, loud bang, alerted Marie that something was wrong. She heard Logan cursing silently. One hand around her waist tightened almost painfully, other grasped better hold from reigns and his powerful thighs urged the horse to speed up. Dark scenery around them flashed by, and soon she saw light blinking from between the trees. Claude’s cabin. At the front door horse hesitated, then stopped. Logan’s hand around her waist loosened its hold, and suddenly he fell from the saddle.
“Logan!”
She hopped down and kneeled next to him. He was conscious, but pale, almost ashen, and every breath he released brought bloodied froth to his lips. She turned him carefully to his side.
“Goddess…” There was a small, round hole just under his right shoulderblade. He had been shot.
“Silver… It’s silver… Burns…”
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