The attack had been as swift as it was precise.
The moment he turned around to detect the source of the broken twig, something collided with the side of his head, hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground.
Thankfully, it wasn't hard enough to rob him of his consciousness.
Bears and mountain lions weren't known to attack in that fashion and as such, Steve wasn't surprised when he felt a set of fingers appear on his back, working their way into his beige over coat.
Torn between considering this an attempted robbery or assault, he tried to get his bearings, stop the stars in front of his inner eye from moving, but managed only a faint groan.
Surprisingly, it was enough to make the hands on his body stop fidgeting, staying perfectly still to see if he would keep moving.
Intrigued by the strange reaction that didn't fit the MO of a robber, Steve fell quiet, pretending unconsciousness until he had a better chance to evaluate the situation and tackle whoever had struck him.
The fingers began to move again, one hand travelling to the back of his neck to hold him down that way, the other one searching through his dress coat, brushing past his .38 briefly but never grabbing it.
The hand on his neck felt warm and sticky, he could even sense the other person shake slightly.
An unmistakable smell of human dirt filled the air surrounding the attacker, strong enough to presume he'd been out here for quite a while.
Steve wanted to open his eyes a slit but held off when he sensed the person move, putting one knee right next to his face.
The trained fingers continued to search his pockets until they reached his badge, then carefully pulled it out. He heard the leather case being opened as the attacker studied his credentials painstakingly slow.
And that's when things got really weird.
In the most gingerly fashion, Steve felt the badge being returned to his coat pocket. At the same time, the hand on the back of his neck shifted to the side of his face, caressing the bruise on his cheek apologetically.
Deciding that it was time to cut the act of playing dead; he carefully peeked his eyes open, struggling to clear his vision between the challenging lighting of the woods and the stars still infringing his sight on the edges.
As it was, his reaction had been a second too late when the attacker got back up and took several large steps away from his position, his gait quickly turning into a fast run as he disappeared deeper into the forest.
Steve glanced up, trying to make out who he was dealing with but saw nothing but a figure just shy of six feet, wearing dark clothes, running through the woods and skipping over fallen logs with the elegance of a deer.
Shaking off the last of the dizziness, he got back up on his hands and knees and brushed the pine needles and dirt off his clothes, before staggering to his feet.
At a somewhat slower pace, Steve began walking, ready to return to town, and ever so eager to share his latest encounter with Mike.