Against his better judgment, Steve had taken another break, leaning shoulder first against a tree trunk for a few precious seconds, hoping to get his heart rate back to a normal level, and along with it the overbearing nausea and dizziness that was following him along with every step he took deeper into the woods.
There'd been no signs of Sarah so far, and definitely no signs of Mahoney or Sawyer.
Although he considered his sense of orientation fairly well developed, Steve couldn't help but wonder if he was headed in the wrong direction altogether, slowly getting lost in the maze of trees that clouded out the sun, distracted by the stress of trying to find their witness before the bad guys would.
Closing his eyes and wiping the sweat off his face for a brief second, the young Inspector exhaled slowly, feeling a shiver run down his back as a cool breeze moved through the forest.
With his hands caked in dried blood, the smell of iron following him everywhere, he slowly pushed himself away from the trunk, feeling the sweat-soaked dress shirt stick to the skin on his chest and back.
Steve waited until the world stopped spinning, drawing in a breath of the brisk air to clear his senses, before surveying the presumed southwest corridor of the ravine, grateful that much of the steep decline was behind him and the area now sloped gently toward the valley.
Keeping a close eye on his surroundings and his ears cued to any noise, he reached for his lower back once again, grateful that most of the bleeding had slowed down judging by his expensive leather belt that no longer felt damp and sticky.
Clenching his teeth, he dared to reach higher up, letting his fingertips trace the deep wound where the glass shard had been lodged in his back, wincing in pain as he got close to the cut, then finding another one near his spine, and a third one close to his left kidney. Blood was still seeping through his shirt, thankfully not nearly as much as it did in the beginning.
When he brought his hand back around, Steve stared at his shaking fingers for many long moments, his exhausted mind wandering away from this godforsaken forest for many long moments, until he was able to rein his thoughts back in.
Clenching his fist in frustration and feeling the moist remnants of blood growing sticky in the breeze, he let his eyes drift down to the .38 secured in his belt holster, a somber reminder that he only had three bullets left to protect himself, and hopefully Sarah.
Three shots against two guys potentially carrying long guns and revolvers felt like fighting an army of angry savages with nothing but a butcher's knife.
Patting his tree trunk goodbye as he prepared to continue on, ignoring the crimson fingerprints he left on the bark, Steve sighed quietly, hoping that by now backup was on its way.
Dearly missing Mike by his side but knowing that they had had no other choice but to split up given the time constraint; Steve headed farther downhill, hoping he hadn't picked up any followers yet.