It doesn't take Logan very long to get an idea of how things work in Milton, at least when it comes to the little community that's sprung up around the empty town. In his experience, these things tend to go one of two ways: either everyone bands together for the good of their group, usually under some charismatic leader; or it becomes an all out war with every man for himself. Methuselah seems to be doing a pretty good job of keeping things together for now, but Logan doesn't doubt things could slide pretty easily, especially with supplies getting scarce. So he stays wary, watchful, a wolf on the edge of the pack.

But that doesn't mean he's beyond making a few mistakes. Pain, boredom and too much hard liquor is never a good combination. He wakes up in the days after the brawl with bruises stamped on his body that shouldn't be there, black smudges under his eyes and a boot print across his ribs, bones aching with a cold that can't be driven back no matter how close he sits to the wood stove in the little cabin he's claimed. But he keeps himself going, keeps his head down and goes about his business.

At least he can help. In the early days of the month he spends most of his time hunting for game outside the town. Under the bed in his new home he finds a rifle, the stock inscribed with unfamiliar initials, that just needs a little cleaning. It saves him using his claws on deer and larger game, which is useful, since his hands hurt enough without any more new cuts. The cabin also furnishes him with some cold weather clothing -- another unfamiliar need.

More than once he makes the short hike up to the hot springs, looking for something to ease the aches that come from hauling around his metal skeleton, not to mention the various injuries he's picking up. He's pretty shameless when it comes to stripping off, not caring if someone else is already in the springs before he starts shedding his clothes and sliding into the steaming water with a grateful noise.

When he's not out of town, Logan can be found in the Community Hall or out among the unused cabins, a cigar stuck between his teeth, investigating anything he might be able to fix or reclaim with the attitude of an experienced scavenger.