"I suppose it isn't the worst thing I could be doing with my time."

"That's the spirit. What's your name, by the way, I don't think you said?"

"Serafin."

"That's lovely."

"Thank you," he says, a little dryly.

He opens his mouth--

"Charles, don't babble at him about the etymology of his name."

"Which one of us is a telepath again?"

"I don't need to be. You're far too predictable."

He giggles.

"Fine, I'll skip it." He glances at Serafin. "So will you come with us?"

"Hm," he says. "No, I don't think so. But I don't mind if you visit again."

Sigh. "Perhaps later. We're going to be very busy for the foreseeable future. Do you mind if I show you where to go if you change your mind?"

Shrug. "No, I don't mind."

--And a map unfolds in his mind. They are here, in the northwestern United States; the meeting place is there, in Virginia.

"Interesting trick."

"It's not the most complicated thing I've ever done."

"I imagine not. How did you find me?"

"We have a machine that amplifies my telepathy, allowing me to locate mutants--people with powers--all over the country."

"Clever. Good luck."

"Thank you."

They leave.

They're very cute but he's glad they left; it was getting hard to make the words come out right. Maybe he's been out of the world a little too long.

A few days later someone else comes through the forest. This one doesn't seek him out, and appears to be a perfectly normal hiker, albeit one unusually oblivious to the dangers of the area. She's very interested in the local wildlife, though, stopping periodically to sketch this or that plant.

And does she notice the distant shadow following her? Most people don't.

No, she is very much absorbed in her sketching.