The sky was streaked with the deep reds, oranges, pinks, and blues of dusk when Logan finally roared through the ornate iron gates of The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Dismounting quickly, the feral took a moment to take in the sprawling red brick manor. Visually, very little had changed in the six months he had been away. The ivy had grown, the paint was a bit faded, but other than that nothing much had changed.

The scents had drastically changed, as Logan knew they would. Earthly scents left behind by the mutants who called this place home shifted on a daily basis. Thinking back, Logan remembered the day he left, sniffing the unique mix of freshly cut grass, the old wood of the manor, and baking bread drifting slowly from the kitchen. Now, the wind brought to him the scents of the new roses that were just about to burst into bloom, the exhaust from his Harley, and... something he couldn't place. Shaking his head, he started to move towards the great oak door, figuring it was some new student. He'd find out soon enough.

His feet moved mechanically, silently padding his way through the empty halls toward his quarters, as his mind ran over the bust that was his latest trip. He needed direction, needed at least a hint of what he should be looking for. Sometimes Logan hated Wheels and his righteous attitude towards his forgotten past. It would be so much easier to remember if he at least had some idea of where to start looking. Logan found himself snarling slightly in frustration as he threw open his door and chucked his bag inside. He'd deal with that later, right now, he really needed that beer.

Wandering down to the kitchen, Logan found himself wondering where everyone was. It was rare he found the mansion to be this quiet. With so many kids and teachers calling this place home, the place was never this quiet. It was disconcerting.

Slipping into the kitchen, he found his curiosity heightened. The kitchen was the heart of any home, and Xavier's school was no different. Kids would hang out while they were grabbing sodas and snacks before racing off somewhere. But tonight there wasn't a soul to be seen.

Frowning slightly, Logan strode forward, grabbing his beer, intent on going and finding Xavier and figuring out what on earth was going on. He was just about to close the fridge door when a sound stilled him. Breathing quietly, he listened as the unmistakably rhythmic sound of a horse's hooves drew ever closer. Whoever it was they were coming in fast. Wondering if it was one of the students, Logan moved to the window, hoping to spot whoever it was on their approach.

What he saw intrigued him. Whoever this rider was, she wasn't any student he had met before. Nor was she riding any of the horses Charles owned. This horse was too big, too fast, and pitch black, Logan would have remembered seeing this one around the stables before. By contrast, the woman perched on top was petite, but obviously strong enough to handle the beast beneath her. Her hair, a deep gold touched with red under the setting sun, streamed out behind her like a pennant. He watched her come to a halt in front of the manor, her pale skin seeming to almost shimmer as she turned to watch the sun sink below the horizon.

"Logan!" Logan turned and was almost shoved into the wall by the force of the hug he received. He chuckled and reached around to return Rouge's hug, happy to see his little (For she would always be little to him) red-headed protégé. "I didn't know you were back." She said, pulling back to talk to him.

"I just got in." Logan replied. "Didn't have a chance to make my rounds, especially since there doesn't seem to be anyone here." He slowly extricated himself from Rouge's arms, shooting a glance out the window, catching the mystery woman gently leading her horse back to the stable. ""Cept maybe you and her." He added, nodding outside.

Rouge followed his gaze and smiled. "Oh, right. Keira, I forgot that she was still here." Rouge moved to grab herself a soda before hopping up to the counter.

Logan followed suit, situating himself at the kitchen table facing her. "New student?"

"New teacher." Rouge replied. "She teaches kids to horseback ride and works in the stables."

"Where did ol' Chuck find her?"

Rouge shrugged. "I don't really know. The professor never really told us anything about her. I'm sure the other teachers know. It probably was just one of those things they didn't feel we kids needed to know."

Logan nodded and took a long pull of his beer, thinking over what Rouge had said. He didn't know why this woman interested him. Perhaps it was the fact that she was new, perhaps he was bored and liked the idea of figuring this woman out, who really knew. All he knew was, for some reason, he wanted to learn more.

It was a frustrating few days before Logan was able to meet Kiera. Every time he tried to head down to the stables he would be interrupted. Someone, usually Jean oddly enough, always seemed to want to speak to him. The rest of the time, he tried following her scent about the manor, an intoxicating mix of horses and the forest after a rain. Every time he caught even a whiff of it, the scent reminded him of racing on his bike through the evergreen forests of Canada and the freedom that came with it. It called to him.

In the meantime, he managed to uncover bits and pieces of information about his enigma. She was a psychic, almost as powerful as Charles, formerly out of Texas. It was in this heart of anti-mutant feeling that she had run a ranch similar to Charles's school and been responsible for the creation of a mutant Underground Railroad, ferrying those kids in need of greater aid than she could offer up to Westchester, to safety.

But such things were not to last. In speaking to Charles one day, Logan was finally given the end of the horse master's tale. "One cannot transport children across state lines legally without leaving a trail. And while Kiera tried valiantly to ensure no truly discernable pattern existed, there came a change within her government and the young lady found herself placed beneath a microscope." Charles sighed, a sad smile gracing his face. "Kiera is a woman of remarkable strength and cunning, cunning born from years of trusting the instincts instilled in all of us. Somehow those instincts told her a storm was coming and she reacted."

"Reacted how?" Logan asked.

"Those students who were old enough were immediately sent here. They were given assistance in completing their education and continuing on to university. Those still considered minors by the state were sent back down the line to various safe houses and hideouts to wait until their 18th birthday, at which point they would fly up to us using the open ended airline tickets purchased in their name."

Logan shivered slightly as he stepped out into the chilly open air of the yard. Zipping up his jacket, he continued to walk alongside the professor, hearing the grass whisper beneath his boots. "Kiera refused to leave until the last of 'her kids' were safe. It was one worry she caused me and I know it was the cause of a great deal of tension between herself and Jean as Kiera counts her horses among her children. She refused to leave until she had arranged for their care. In the end, she tells me she barely escaped with her life. She was out exercising Samael when someone set her whole ranch ablaze, clearly with the intent of killing her in the fire. She started for New Orleans that night." Charles smiled wryly. "Over the border and into Louisiana. What happened after that, I don't know. She refuses to speak of it and has placed some very impressive mental barriers around her mind."

"She and Jean don't really like each other do they?"

"Not particularly, though I can't really understand why."

The now familiar sound of hoof-beats echoed in the crisp spring air. Looking up, Logan smiled at the approaching figure, watching Kiera move with her horse. The two were mesmerizing, so much so, Logan didn't even hear Charles roll away. Logan traced her form, watching her fingers seem to melt into her mount's powerful neck, guiding him with movements so subtle; she simply appeared to be an extension of his body and he, hers. It was...impressive.

He watched her run through the familiar dance, though, this time, his eyes noticed some of the minute movements. Her fingers flexed, gently tightening the reins, smoothly slipping her body back to perch on her saddle, her hands loosing Samael's mane and beginning what was an almost sensual slide down his neck. Logan felt a shiver run up his spine. He was a man after all.

As she halted her horse alongside him, Logan watched her smile widen ever so slightly. As it did, the thought occurred to him. Perhaps while he had been watching her, she had been returning the favour. His eyes followed her hand as she reached down towards him. "Kiera Connolly."

"Logan." He replied, feeling his hand nearly engulf hers. "No last name that I know of."

"Well, Logan Sans-Surname," Logan could hear the tremor of a giggle slip into her voice and felt a corner of his mouth twitch, almost smiling. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"You as well. The professor has told me a great deal about you."

A soft laugh burst from her lips as she dismounted. "Well that puts me at a distinct disadvantage as I know very little about you." Logan's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sight of the very flirtatious smile on her lips. "Perhaps you would be willing to walk Sam and me to the stables? Rectify the situation a little?"

Logan shrugged and fell into step with Kiera. "I can try." He replied, somewhat bitterly, recalling the giant holes in his memories.

Kiera smiled up at him. "That's all anyone can do. Isn't it?"

Nestled in the warmth of the Manor, Charles Xavier watched the two figures disappear around a corner, smiling quietly to himself. So it began. Now the only question remaining now was, how would it end?