Logan could smell Melody long before the young woman cleared the span of trees that lined the grove. Her scent was unique, just like it was for every mutant, and Logan was trained to pick up even the faintest and most aged of scents in efforts to track or hunt. His nose never lied to him or steered him from the target. It was one of the few keen things he could truly rely on.
The dying woman shifted some when the other young woman entered the field. Logan could hear the woman's heartbeat. She was afraid. He could smell the emotion wafting from her, commingled with the smell of death. It wasn't a pleasant odor but Logan wouldn't back down. They had come too far and there might not be another opportunity like this in the future.
"Melody," Logan nodded in greeting. He wouldn't introduce the cancer patient to Mel, it seemed too formal for their task. It was almost, in his mind, like asking the name of the cow before you slaughtered it to make your dinner. No. He would spare them both the necessity of formality.