"Laura, what do you want to do today?"

The quiet girl looked at her father with curious eyes. A thousand requests ran through her head though none never really managed exit her mind and form words in her mouth. So instead the leaned into her father, hearing his steady heart beat - the life flowing through him. He no longer smelled like death, in fact he smelled quite pleasant. A pleasantly earthy smell that reminded her of the forests of northern america, there was of course the occasional whiff of whisky and that nostalgic scent that always eased her. She couldn't find words to describe what it was. But if she had to give it a name it would be: fatherly.

"Nada."

"Nada, huh." Logan brushed his daughter's hair gently, "I could do nada."

The air all around them was peaceful and lush. They didn't have to look at their surroundings to know that the nature around them would stay like that for the better part of the year. The peace they had found there was incomparable to anything that they've ever experienced in their life.

It was simply too peaceful, too pleasant. And they could do with that. There they were just a father and daughter in the middle of the forest making a living out of hunting and wood cutting.

Ever since his brush with death in the America-Canada border the father and daughter have become truly inseparable, their relationship far from being the package-delivery man dynamic that they once had. She had gone so far from being a package in Logan's mind that he couldn't even imagine treating her in the same way ever. He was nothing but angry at himself for the way he treated her before. But now he was trying to be a better man, to be a better father.

It didn't take too much effort to make their home - not really. Cutting wood was easy for them despite the thick trunks and heavy weight of trees that they were cutting down to create their house with. Adamantium claws sharp enough to treat the hardest steel like butter came real handy. Carrying large pieces of wood around wasn't all that hard either. Logan had it handled and Laura, for as small her stature is, surprised him with the strength she carried in her body.

Then there was the effort of making a bath, a toilet, furniture, bedding and many other common amenities in their home. Again another small feat considering doing all the shopping - sometimes stealing, too - with his daughter was one of the best times he had ever had in his life time. His daughter proving not only to be a capable companion but the best company his had in years.

Effort was not a problem. What the two felt though was the time it took create there home. Most of the time they would be living like animals beside an unfinished home, seeking what little shelter there was while surviving with one another. It was something that was really good for them. They could enjoy each other's warmth and familiarize with the scent of one another.

It was very animal-like of them, he was the wolverine and she was his daughter.

Hours passed with them staying like that, close to each other and enjoying each other's presence. Sometimes they would talk about something trivial, like the weather or how to track animals through the forest. The kinds of conversations only the father and daughter could have.

"Laura, honey, what do you say we go out and hunt? We're going to need something to eat pretty soon."

"Okay, daddy."

The two stood up from the hug they were engulfed in on their couch. The two only grabbed a coat from the hanger they'd set up beside the door, an adorable little wood working project that Laura made with his help, and a pair of their best boots. Soon they found themselves standing in the great outdoors, both taking in the scent of the forest around them.

"What do you smell Laura?"

"Two foxes, north. Squirrels, south. A bear to the north west."

"Good girl," Logan patted his daughter's hair, "Let's get going, baby girl."

She beamed a bright smile at her father. "Alright daddy!"


Something small while it's about 4 a.m. where I live.

Have a good one y'all. I hope you enjoy

~FishChipzen