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The climb down the uneven rocks had done nothing for his aching back and Steve welcomed the small clearing ahead, his exhausted body pleading for him to lie down in the lush grass and take a short break, his mind knowing better than to listen.
He'd taken the exact route Milan did, chasing after the athletic Fire Captain as best as he could across the meadow, down the rocks and toward the adjacent forest.
Surprisingly, Mahoney and Sawyer had deviated from that route and driven the Fairlane farther toward the road, expecting Milan to head south for some reason he couldn't quite grasp.
The saving grace was that it bought him time to find her first, then deal with the two remaining criminals as best as possible.
In his rush, he took a big step over an anthill, a sharp pain running down his leg as he did so. Gasping in surprise, Steve stumbled toward a dead tree ahead, its bark-stripped trunk a welcome crutch as he tried to catch his breath.
"Damnit…", he hissed between clenched teeth, feeling the pain in his leg subside but not disappear. If anything it began to morph into a burning pressure coming from the cuts on his lower back.
Swallowing the nausea forming in the back of his throat, Steve reached around, his hand carefully inspecting the blood-soaked area above his belt, each gentle touch sending waves of agony throughout his body.
He nearly lost his battle for consciousness when his fingers detected a piece of glass still stuck in one of the wounds, more than likely the source of the pressure and pain he was feeling.
Trying to take one last deep breath, Steve grasped the piece as best as possible without cutting himself further, and ripped it out with one powerful tug.
The scream of pain escaped his lungs the moment his legs gave out, sending him knees first to the ground, one hand holding on to the tree trunk with a death grip, as his outcry turned into moans, then faint whimpering once the initial pain subsided.
Steve had lost track of how long he'd been kneeling next to that tree, resting his sweat-covered temple against the barren wood, relishing its cool sensation against his hot skin, as he waited for the unbearable throbbing to disappear.
Finally, after an eternity of controlled, shallow breaths, he carefully drug himself back onto his shaking legs, immediately noticing that the pressure from earlier had all but disappeared now.
Knowing that his advantage over Mahoney and Sawyer was waning fast, he began to walk again, putting one foot in front of the other, before moving to a slight jog, hoping to reach Milan before they did.