The rain plummeted down from the heavens, hitting my jacket like bullets and melting into the vague remnants of my body warmth. I had been stumbling around all night; disorientated, exhausted, starving, and clothes and body saturated head to toe with a stinging chill. My phone had died two weeks ago and my purse was holding more water than money at the moment. I was an utter mess even without considering the fact that I had no idea where I currently was. It would be a whole lot easier if I could see, everything would have still been okay if I could see. But I couldn't. Just another plus to being a mutant.

I pushed the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth with my lips parted, and applied pressure, pulling my tongue down quickly resulting in a loud, echoing, click. This click bounded out into the resounding surroundings bouncing off any thing that may potentially block my way. I took a step to the right, closely missing the solid trunk of a large tree that had until recently, resided in front of me.

Echolocation.

Otherwise known as sonar or radar sense. It's the key element of my mutation that had kept me alive so far. Essentially its able to be described as seeing with sound, but its not anything like seeing at all. My mutation had kicked in when I was about 14 and 3 months. And by no coincidence, I had lost my sense of sight on the exact same night. Whenever I was feeling down about it my mum always said, "When one door closes, another opens." And I guess she was right except the door that had closed had been filled with soft amber days, icy jade waves, and my favourite of all; deep blue midnights with piercing caramel stars. It had been filled with utter bliss and absolute normality. The door that had opened had been dark. So dark I couldn't distinguish day from night. Life from death. Confusing, and abnormal. Mutant.

I clicked my tongue again as I dragged my soggy boots through the mud. I could sense something big up ahead. A large structure of some kind. Outreached, my hand grazed over another tree trunk, much smaller this time but still of a considerable size. Peaceful serenity. Another reminder of my mutations. The ability to sense the well-being and conditions of my immediate surroundings as long as they held a form of life. My friend Jethro had 'diagnosed' this ability by the name of Ecological Empathy, I preferred to refer to it as instinct.

A few more yards and my hand makes contact with the damp wooden boards of a large door. This must be the structure I detected then. I pointed my head upwards "Click." It was about two stories tall. To the right. "Click." To the left. "Click." About twenty metres wide. And the doors felt calm, pure. There was little life left in them, they were old and rough, but still they felt as pleased to be bolted to the structure as a child at the circus. Odd.

Either way I took this as a sign that it was safe to enter. I pushed the door and with a low creaked it edged open and I stepped inside. I was overcome by a heavy feeling of fullness. Of love and of forgiveness. I felt a tingling against my skin. The small gold cross that my mum had given hung loosely around my neck on its thin fragile chain against my chest. It was tickling my chest ever so slightly.

I smiled to myself as I realised what kind of building I was in. A church.

I clicked my tongue a few times. A very messy church at that, probably abandoned.

I had never been a big believer in all the religious stuff but having my mum as a mum I was never against it either. I made my way to the front of the church and then out to some of the back rooms (stumbling minimal times) until I found a small landing and some blankets. What I had anticipated to be one of my worst nights and turned out one of the best since I had taken to the streets. I shrugged off my tattered backpack and stripped down to an only slightly soggy singlet and some loose shorts. Then I submerged myself in the warmth of at least ten thin blankets.

I could feel a small smile work its way to my lips as I fell into sleep.

***

Professor Xavier watched as the mutant finally stopped moving, most likely to sleep. He had sensed such loneliness and confusion within it during the time he had been tracking it. He didn't pry further; it was late and his mind was tried and unusually unfocused. He'd confer about the mutant with Storm in the morning he thought as he removed the headgear connected to Cerebro and went to make sure his students were all peacefully asleep.