Chapter Text
The Forest is a dangerous place to be on your own, particularly during a full moon night, and especially in human form. Bucky knew it all, but it didn’t stop him from doing exactly just that.
At least he outwit what was left of the clan. He did it a couple of kilometers away, but precaution was never a bad thing. Even more so when dealing with the best trackers out there.
With a heavy grunt, he sat down against a sturdy rock in the middle of a clearing and couldn’t help the throaty sound of pain that left his lips as his left arm jolted in pain. Oh hell , he examined it, grimacing. The damage was worse than he expected. That Brock wolfshifter didn’t go easy on him. Bucky could still feel his teeth clawing inside in his arm, nearly grazing his bone.
The good part was that he had been in his wolf form when he attacked, so out of the two of them, he at least got out alive. The world won’t be missing someone like Brock. But even winning, his rapid healing might not be able to salvage it.
His breath was still coming on heavy from the run, and his senses were acutely aware of every crick and flap from the nocturnal animals around him, yet the heat from the fire and the screams from the now dead clan still followed him like a calming lullaby.
As he lay there, in the stillness of the night, some of his immediate panic began to subside, but not enough to allow him to fall asleep --he definitely wasn’t sleeping anytime soon, not in the pitch darkness of the night-- but enough to sit back and breathe. His heart pulsating within his ears, but he trusted his eyes enough to catch any movement. No wonder Hydra called him the ‘sniper’ of the clan.
Every time Bucky caught himself trying to doze off, he would pinch his legs or slap his face. He couldn’t sleep, he had to stay alert. Good thing he was half nocturnal, especially on full moons.
It wasn’t until the first rays of light came shining through the treetops, giving them a golden crown, that he relaxed enough to let himself fall asleep, knowing he was safe, at least for now. He needed to get those few hours of sleep before they scented him. Bucky couldn’t stay in the same place for more than a couple of hours without his scent being captured by one of the trackers.
So now that he’d got a great head start, he used it wisely.
The sun was had risen above the treetops and was now shining brightly on his face, forcing him to wake up with a disgruntled groan, sweat beads forming on his forehead. He didn’t remember ever feeling so thirsty in his whole life.
Bucky tried to make himself more comfortable but a sharp pain that came from his wounded arm stopped him mid action and panic constricted around his throat. How was he going to continue his flight if even the slightest movement hurt?
A dark figure running on his right caught his eye. He froze, moving into a defensive stance but regretted it shortly after, for the throbbing pain began again, but he still managed to see what was approaching.
The cat had stopped running and was now looking dead straight into Bucky’s eyes, unblinking. If he didn’t see it moving before, Bucky would have sworn it was a statue.
Fuck , he thought, biting the inside of his lips. In his experience, black cats never meant anything good.
He kept an eye on it, looking for any sign that the cat would be moving anytime soon, but lost his patience after an hour or so. He reclined against the rock again and decided to growl, hoping the cat would take the hint, like most normal animals would. But instead, it decided to approach, much to Bucky’s chagrin.
The cat walked elegantly, its short and silky fur shining against the three o’clock sun as it stopped just out of Bucky’s arm range. It lay down, resting one of his paws over the other and once again focused his inexpressive eyes on him.
Fuck me, Bucky thought.
At some point he probably passed out from blood loss or pain — even he had some limits—because when he woke up the sun had already set, only weak rays of sunlight illuminated the clearing, filtering it in a beautiful shade of blue. He stiffened, all thoughts of the cat from earlier coming back to mind.
He looked around, searching desperately for the cat until his eyes fell on his lap. The cat was tucked into a ball on his lap, sleeping peacefully.
His nostrils flared and his right hand shook as he fisted the grass under him until the roots gave out. Bucky did all he could to stop himself from grabbing the cat by the back of his neck and throwing it to the other side of the clearing.
He couldn’t fall back on bad patterns again. The thing inside him that told him to execute the innocent cat for coming this close wasn’t him. He took a trembling breath and closed his eyes, counting to twenty to get things under control. It wasn’t him.
That was all Hydra’s doing.
Thankfully, his arm had stopped throbbing, which eased most of the pain and got his focus back in order. It was now or never, Bucky needed to get out of there.
Had to run before they found him.
The cat stirred gently and purred, as if it was momentarily confused by his surroundings. It stared at him with those big beautiful crystal blue eyes —and seriously, he was getting tired of this— and meowed, his entire body contracting with it. Bucky hissed as the cat clawed at his tights before jumping off yet he didn’t do anything about it.
He frowned, watching the cat walk back from the path it came before it stopped, turned his head back and meowed at Bucky.
Did the cat want Bucky to follow?
It blinked once, waiting patiently as Bucky made up his mind. The cat hadn’t been hostile, not even when Bucky tried to warn it away.
He pondered for a second, watching its tail swaying lazily from one side to another. For some reason, he trusted this cat. So strange of him to trust anyone but himself, so he couldn’t let that feeling slip away.
Hydra didn’t thrive over soldiers bonding, no asset had friends inside. There were alliances, sure, but one could never be too careful. Bucky had been extra careful. No one dared to look at him the wrong way, they knew the consequences. That had been the only way he found to survive those five years.
Just as he made up his mind, a lone howling reached his ears from far away into the night, arriving with a chilling breeze. Bucky probably rose to his feet faster than was recommended in his condition. A sharp breath left his throat from the dizzying pain that came from his arm.
Hopefully he would have enough strength to follow the cat, he thought, looking back at the Forest’s crooked trees.
His stomach broke the silence, grumbling in protest for the lack of food. Maybe on the way, he should try to find some food as well.
Behind him, somewhere, the fire over the main Hydra base should be fading soon into ashes.