Now I have a chapter called Crisis and one called Catastrophe! Translation: This trip is not going well.
Thanks for all the reviews! :)
"Wow, I'm getting really hungry," Natasha said nearly an hour later.
Steve agreed with her. Neither of them had eaten since lunch the day before; and while he'd been trying to ignore it for a while now, the pain in his stomach was starting to become unbearable.
"Hey, don't look at me," said Steve. "If I had any food, I'd give it to you."
"If you gave it to me, I'd eat it," Natasha said wistfully. "There's probably nothing edible out here, though."
"Yeah, probably just poisonous plants," Steve agreed. "And we should probably try to avoid those."
"Probably," Natasha agreed. "Still, if you happen to see any, let me know."
Steve laughed.
"I could really go for a cheeseburger right now," Natasha went on.
"Stop it," Steve groaned.
"Or a pizza," Natasha said reminiscently. "Heck, even escargots à la bourguignonne sounds good right now."
"I'll tell Tony you said so," Steve said, grinning.
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Please don't. He'll never shut up about it for the rest of his life."
"He never shuts up anyway," Steve pointed out.
"Don't tell him!" Natasha said forcefully.
Steve pretended to think about it. "Maybe if you stop talking about food, I'll—" he broke off as Natasha suddenly gripped his arm, halting him.
"Natasha, what—"
Natasha silenced him by raising her hand to his lips. Her many years as a spy had sharpened her senses and she was sure she'd caught something that Steve couldn't – a slight disturbance in the air; a soft intake of breath; a silent shifting from behind them and a little to their left. She could feel a pair of watchful eyes boring into their backs. Her hand moved instinctively to her gun.
Normally, she would have reacted swiftly; but this time, her intuition told her to turn very slowly. Steve copied her movement.
On a rocky outcrop that jutted from the side of a steep rock wall, a pair of round, unblinking eyes glowed at them from under the shadow of a small group of trees. The hairs on the back of Natasha's neck stood on end. A wildcat.
A morbidly comical thought flashed unbidden through Natasha's mind: All that time while we were discussing dinner, we were about to become dinner.
The wildcat jumped off the rock, and Natasha drew her gun and aimed between its eyes. It took one slow, calculated step in their direction; tail twitching slightly. Natasha pulled the trigger.
Click. Nothing happened.
Click. Click. Click.
Adrenaline shot through Natasha and she gasped. Before she had managed to stay calm, thinking herself in control of the situation. Now she felt herself beginning to panic.
"Steve," she hissed, continuing to squeeze the useless trigger in desperation.
"Empty?" he asked her quietly.
"Yes." She glanced up at his face. His eyes were darting in all directions, sizing up their situation. Her thoughts were racing as well as she tried to conjure up a way out of their predicament.
The wildcat took another step towards them, its eyes fixed on Natasha. It was now less than ten feet away. It tensed up, preparing to pounce.
Suddenly, a jarring force collided with Natasha's shoulder and she was thrown several yards to the right. She landed hard on the ground facedown, the wind knocked out of her. As she lay there for a moment, gasping for air, she heard a bloodcurdling scream from behind her. She turned to look, just in time to see the wildcat bury its claws in Steve's shoulders and knock him to the ground. She found herself screaming Steve's name.
The wildcat opened its mouth wide and went for Steve's throat. His arm shot up and grasped the animal by the neck, stopping it from getting any closer. It yowled and tried to fight his superhuman grip, digging its claws into his chest. An ordinary man would have been killed within seconds. But Steve was not an ordinary man.
Still, he wasn't invincible. There wasn't much time. Natasha's hands scrambled through her pockets, searching vainly for ammunition. She realized with irritation that she had left it all in her pack, which Loki now had. Her hand closed over a knife in her pocket, and a new thought came to her. It was dangerous, but it was her only chance.
Natasha raised the knife in her right hand and positioned it carefully. She knew she would have to be very precise, as any miscalculation on her part could do great harm to Steve. She exhaled and tried to focus.
The wildcat's razor-sharp claws flashed towards Steve's face. The enormous paw was intercepted in midair and Steve applied intense pressure to it, forcing it backwards. The creature howled in pain and anger and reared its head to take a bite out of Steve. Seeing her chance, Natasha reacted instantly. She hurled the knife straight towards the animal's head. It whistled through the air and imbedded itself in the cat's skull with a loud crunch. Immediately, the wildcat collapsed onto Steve, dead.
"Steve!" Natasha ran to him and knelt down beside him, shoving the animal carcass off of him. "Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?"
"I think so," he said. He was out of breath, and sweat poured down his face. On his right cheek were four long, parallel cuts made by the monster's claws; and his shirt, too, was striped with blood. He started to get up, but Natasha pushed on his chest, forcing him to lie down again.
"Whoa, whoa, take it easy," she said nervously. "Do you think you broke anything?"
Steve carefully tested his arms and legs. "Don't think so," he said. "It's just my shoulder," he added wincing.
His right shoulder was soaked in blood.
Carefully, Natasha pulled the material of his shirt away from his shoulder to examine the wound. Several deep gashes, clearly made from the wildcat's teeth, were bleeding heavily.
"Where else does it hurt?" Natasha asked.
"Well, he scratched up my chest pretty bad, but other than that I think I'm good," said Steve.
Relief flooded through Natasha, replaced quickly by anger. She berated herself for not having thought more quickly and causing Steve to make a sacrifice for her safety.
"What the hell were you thinking, Rogers; stepping right into the line of fire like that? You practically signed your own death certificate!"
Steve closed his eyes. "Look, Nat," he said. "I didn't have a choice."
"Yes you did, you just chose to push me out of the way and get attacked yourself! I was armed, I could have dealt with it on my own!"
"There wasn't enough time," Steve said wearily. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."
"Well, look what happened to you!" Natasha snapped. They were both silent for a moment.
Some of her anger had vanished, however, when he stated his intention of keeping her safe. His actions seemed stupid and self-destructive on the surface, but once she examined his motives, she was forced to admit to herself that she would have behaved the same way had the wildcat targeted Steve. She sighed.
"Well, I guess you're one up on me, Rogers," she said. "I owe you."
After a moment, she added, "You wanna try getting up again?"
With Natasha's assistance, Steve got heavily to his feet. As Natasha brushed some mud off his clothing, he said, "Well, Nat, looks like you got your wish. My shirt is now red enough to use as a signal flag.
Natasha pressed her palm into her forehead. "Wow, Steve. Do me a favor and work on your timing." She went to the dead cat and pulled the knife out of its head. It was Clint's. She wiped it on the grass before returning it to her pocket. Then she went back to Steve and checked his shoulder wound again. "We're gonna have to step it up. That bite looks pretty gnarly, and we don't have anything to stop the blood flow. Those scratches could get infected, too. We need to get you to a hospital."
"Good idea. Tell me if you see one," Steve joked.
Natasha laughed and took his arm as they started off towards the lake again.
"One question for you, Steve. After you pushed me out of the way, I heard this really high-pitched scream. Just please tell me it was the cat and not you."
Steve groaned above her laughter as they continued walking forward into the unknown.