This is going to be a short chapter, I said. This is going to be finished soon, I said.

Between moving out, pre-period depression and sleep deprivation this chapter has taken more time than I planned. I also usually write them in order, every paragraph following the previous one but this one was a complete mess. I started snippets from the middle, others from the end. Then I had to figure out how to link them together. It's been quite the creative process.

Anyway, here it is.

CHAPTER 7 - The hunted

A few hours after having gone to sleep, Sniper woke up with a dry mouth and the imperious necessity to empty his bladder again. A little disoriented due to his sleepiness and the last remains of alcohol clouding his mind, he sluggishly struggled to get out of the sleeping bag. Once he managed to stand up, he stopped for a second to acknowledge where he was and realized of something.

Heavy wasn't breathing and his fingers were caressing the handle of his hunting knife. His eyes were closed and his body seemed relaxed, faking being asleep, but Sniper had the hunch that he wasn't. Heavy was on the alert, awaiting any sign of imminent attack.

"I need to pee again." Sniper clarified to his teammate and the Russian hummed some kind of drowsy agreement, pulling away his hand from the knife.

Or Heavy was an astonishing actor or he was sleepier than the Australian had originally assumed. If there was something he knew for sure was that this giant wasn't an exceptional liar so it had to be the later.

Not giving much of a thought to the other man's behaviour, Sniper did his necessities and quickly returned to the camp. The bonfire had slowly died off during the night and it was really noticeable the temperature difference between their handcraft shelter and the rest of the snowy forest. Fortunately, there was almost no wind. Sniper hated the icy breeze. Truth be told, he hated all types of winds. Having to compensate for any air current during a shot was a pain in the ass.

When Sniper snuggled back into his sleeping bag, Heavy shifted a little bit, subconsciously making space for him. An instant later, he seemed to fall asleep again and his breathing became calm and deep, feeling genuine this time. The sharpshooter drank some water and eagerly followed him into the sweet land of dreams.

Less than two hours later, Sniper was awakened by movement and noise behind his back. With his survival instincts kicking in, he tried to reach for his kukri and had to struggle against his sleeping bag to get his hands out. That hindrance was enough to remind him that he wasn't alone this night. He was sleeping outdoors with someone else, with... Heavy, yes! He came to a halt before he could pick up the weapon and accidentally attack him or give the wrong impression.

"Going to toilet." The Russian announced groggily. He had turned at the Australian and was watching him with a drowsy expression, yet more alert than he let on. His other arm was extended backward and his hand was crawling towards his own knife. However, from his position, Sniper could not see that.

Still tense but less alarmed the Australian retreated his arms into the warmth of his sleeping bag and Heavy decided against grabbing any of his weapons. He finished worming his way out of the sack and went to relieve himself in the nature.

In the meanwhile, Sniper didn't try to take a snooze. Instead, he pondered about how alike they had both reacted to being startled in their sleep. On this occasion, he felt more refreshed than before and could realize now that he would have expected a less vigilant attitude from a bloke as massive as Heavy. As a hired assassin, Sniper had killed more than one man in their slumber and had gotten to discover several patterns about how people slept. Bulky strong men tended to ignore the world around them, being incredibly self-confident that nothing could ever harm them, not even when they were in their most vulnerable. By what he had witnessed, the Russian clearly didn't belong to that category.

Heavy had reacted like a man who's very aware of the hundred faceless enemies that would very like him dead and the thousand dangers surrounding him that were impossible to predict. He had reacted like a mercenary who has always in mind that predator could easily become prey and that those two concepts weren't mutually exclusive.

Heavy had reacted just like him. He had reacted like a hunted hunter.

But who was after him and why?

No idea.

At least, the question of 'For how long?' wasn't an enigma like the others. Sniper could infer that for quite long already. A decade must have minimum passed if he had interiorized his reflexes so deeply that he could reach for his weapons while being more dozed off than conscious. The sharpshooter knew what he was talking about. He had lived through that same adaptation process.

A couple of minutes later, Heavy returned to his side and Sniper opted for resuming his rest. These weren't the ideal hours to be hatching theories about his teammate's past. It must have been very early in the morning and his eyelids still felt pretty heavy on him. Besides, he didn't really have anything to gain from guessing right or wrong. Only more bias. It wasn't worth losing sleep for it, not even a minute. However, in the middle of drifting off again, he wondered how the Russian could act so wholeheartedly under a similar hardship he had come to call his lifestyle.

As their bodies became close to achieving their essential quota of sleep, both mercenaries grew more sensitive to each other presence. Whenever one of the two would move a little or mumbled something, the teammate leaning against them would accidentally wake up. In return, the sudden reaction of the startled man would also alarm the unintentional culprit. To prevent any situation from escalating, they would exchange a couple of words to appease their paranoia and go back to sleep shortly after.

The two hunters repeated this cycle a half dozen times and as sunrise approached, they stopped diving for their weapons as their first instinct, trusting the killer behind their back.

Not very long after the first rays of sunlight bathed their faces, they silently decided to abandon their cosy cocoons and start their Sunday morning together. While they feasted on moose meat as the night before, no vodka this time, they mentally recapitulated about the curious facts they had learnt about each other during that night.

Against his initial misconception, Sniper had discovered that Heavy didn't snore. Contrarily, Heavy had found out that Sniper did snore but only when his chin rested pressed against his chest. To silent him, the Russian had poked his exposed neck and the lanky man had shrunk into his sleeping bag like a snail retreating into its shell. Quite comically, the Australian had woken up a second later at the noise of his own involuntary whine. The bigger man had had to contain a chuckle at that reaction. He hadn't been very successful at it but Sniper had been too drowsy to hold it against him or even understand what had happened.

If asked, the Australian wouldn't have been able to recall that event but he would have definitely mentioned another incident. At the edge of nodding off, Heavy's whole body regularly convulsed. The first time that Sniper had felt it, it had absolutely scared the crap out of him, almost making him jump to his feet. He had also been in the process of drifting off and in his foggy mind, such a temblor had resembled a goddamn earthquake. Fearing the aftershocks, he had gripped the fabric of his sack and grouchily implored to Mother Nature not to bloody unleash such cataclysm in the middle of this icy hell. That this place was already a nightmare as it was. After awaiting the tremors that had never come, Sniper's initial panic had faded out and he had managed to slip back into sleep.

As a matter of fact, Heavy had suffered other spasms during that night but after the first time, Sniper had simply throbbed in synchrony with him, undisturbed.

With only the slightest ounce of loitering, both men readied their backpacks with that interiorized habit that only comes with experience and began their hike back to the base.

It didn't take more than a couple of miles for Sniper to notice how the additional weight he was carrying was considerably slowing him down. Despite hauling the double than him, Heavy didn't seem affected at all. The sharpshooter presumed that daily dragging around a 300-pound minigun must have helped him develop a lot of endurance.

After a while, Sniper felt frustrated with himself due to his hindered pace. He appreciated that his teammate hadn't made any comment, not even his face displayed a trace of annoyance, but that same forbearance also infuriated him. He was an expert survivor back in Australia and here he felt like a rookie just by walking. This environment was completely foreign to him but that's why he was out in the woods, right? To challenge himself. He was one of the best bloody shots of his country, he was a remarkable tracker and a better hunter. Cold weather wasn't going to be his Achilles heel.

He Will Not Allow It!

With renewed determination, Sniper forced himself to speed up and the other man matched his pace without questioning. At this rate, he was going to sleep like a rock that night.

After an hour or so, Heavy requested him to deviate from their current path. He wanted to make a detour through an area near the river to check on several animal traps that he had placed there. He didn't voice it out but Sniper could sense his teammate's heedfulness about the matter. The gentle giant didn't want to leave any possible catch to starve to death or fell victim to the predators. Sniper wouldn't have liked it either.

It didn't take long to arrive at the spot Heavy had described. Already from some strides away, they spotted a rabbit hanging from a wire, futility squirming. The Russian eyed his teammate and without exchanging a single word, they agreed to free it. With the huge amount of meat that they were transporting and the more they had been forced to leave behind, killing the rodent would have been totally unnecessary and very disrespectful. The two hunters watched the rabbit ran with a slight limp back into the forest and Heavy proceeded to remove the rest of the traps that he had set up.

Sniper was quite impressed to discover the large number of squirrel traps the Russian had planted. He had dismantled more than twenty already and the sharpshooter couldn't but to wonder how long it had taken the other man to prepare them all. Squirrel traps required a considerately steady hand to assemble and if successful, they only provided a very small reward. In other words, they usually weren't worth the effort.

Somehow reading Sniper's thoughts through his pensive expression, Heavy justified himself with a shrug.

"I like very much squirrels."

It took the sharpshooter a second to reply back.

"At least, they're better than rats." He commented half-serious half-joking.

"Da. But sauce makes big difference. Try rats with honey. Everything good with honey." He recommended as if they were discussing regular recipes for regular men. "Except goat. Goat cheese with honey, delicious. Goat with honey, not delicious."

"How so?" He cocked an eyebrow and gave him a little lopsided smile at the peculiar remark. Was this another episode of the goat trauma compilation?

"Goats not good. Not alive, not dead, not for dinner. Especially not for dinner."

Sniper restrained a chuckle. It looked like Heavy really despised goats. Perhaps, he should have inquired about the origins of his hatred yesterday night when they were drunk and more talkative. Well... Too late. It didn't feel like the appropriate moment to ask right now. Better not to accidentally anger the passionate mercenary holding a knife. Just in case.

When the Russian finally turned around, Sniper allowed himself to smile fully. It looked like he'll have to live with another odd mystery about this mountain of a man.

They didn't take a break to have lunch. They just ate their sandwiches as they walked. Despite his muscles asking for some rest, Sniper chose not to grant them the whim. He knew that if he broke the rhythm, even only for a couple of minutes, it would be almost impossible to regain it. The workout was uplifting his mood and didn't want to disappoint himself by being self-indulgent. Besides, they were in a tied schedule. If they wanted to arrive at the base before sunset, they couldn't afford to stop.

Both mercenaries hardly spoke to each other during the whole day but on this occasion, it didn't feel uncomfortable like the night before. They were partners in this hike back home and there was no necessity to force a meaningless conversation that would break the peaceful silence. Time to time, they would look at each other and with a simple facial expression, they would communicate everything they needed to say.

For most of the evening, they occupied their minds with unrelated thoughts or sometimes, nothing at all, letting the calm nature embraced them. At some point, Sniper started whistling. Every now and then, he would falter. Coordinating his breathing under mild exercise wasn't as easy as it seemed but Heavy enjoyed his sprightly melodies from another hemisphere. He would have whistled along but he was terrible at it. The Australian didn't notice but the gentle giant observed him with great attention for a long while.

During that weekend, Heavy had been proved wrong. Sniper wasn't an apathetic person. For many months, the Russian had believed that his teammate was an aloof dull man. The Australian had generally been so quiet in their battle planning meetings. At being addressed, he had always been polite but his replies had been collected, brief and rational. His body language had stated at all times that he was here to do his job and getting to personally know his team wasn't part of the requirements. Being so far away from his teammates during combat and living by his own in his van hadn't helped either. Heavy hadn't been sure that the Australian even had a personality until the Sandwich War but yesterday night, the man had opened up to him.

The Russian could see now that maybe Sniper wasn't the type of person who would seek other people's company but given the right conditions, he could display his full palette of emotions. He could be funny and loud. He could be passionate and emphatic. He could be proud of his achievements but without being excessively arrogant about it. He could show the wisdom and sharp-wittedness that thrived from overcoming adversity and spending a lot of time alone. Sniper was a complex man with many layers to be explored and Heavy liked this new teammate way more than the husk of the old one.

The big guy still didn't have the most remote idea of what caused Sniper to freeze the night before but he settled for not to overthink it. There were still many months to learn to understand this solitary man. The mercenaries of RED died and killed for each other every day. The least Heavy could do was to get to know the teammate that, with his extraordinary skill, kept them safe from the far distance. Right?

As Sniper had shared earlier with Heavy, they also planned their route to pass through the forest clearing where the Australian had set up his own traps the day before. He hadn't placed as many as Heavy so it was way quicker to disable them all. Despite using less of them, Sniper had been more 'fortunate'. He had caught two rabbits. They released one of them but they were forced to keep the other. It was already dead. This second one hadn't been so 'lucky' at triggering the trap. The wire had wrapped around his neck, hanging it instantly.

Sniper examined for a couple of seconds his only hunting piece of the weekend and stashed the rodent afterward. It was a strange feeling. The day before, he had been quite eager to kill anything to prove himself that this excursion hadn't been a waste of his time and now, during these last hours, he had wished for his traps to fail. One rabbit less in this forest wasn't going to make a difference but with the change of circumstances, the corpse of this animal had become an annoyance to take care of.

He already had enough meat to last for a couple of months and on top of that, he hadn't been the one to hunt any of it. He would have to decide if he wanted to keep the rabbit or sell it with some of the moose next weekend at the closest butcher. He obviously didn't need the money he might get from it. He would just be content knowing that these animals had been given a proper end at the stomach of some local.

At nightfall, the duo of hunters arrived at the base. They walked together up to Sniper's van and just when he was going to give Heavy his farewells, he read on the man an indecisive expression. The gentle giant seemed like he wanted to ask something prickly and was looking for the right words.

The sharpshooter frowned a little at the behaviour. Heavy had been quite straight-forward until now. What did he want to say? Not being able to think of anything else except one single issue, Sniper opted for saving him the trouble.

He must have gotten the wrong idea when the Russian had said 'That bag is for you.'. He had assumed that Heavy was giving away part of his hunt when the man must have actually meant that the bag was his to carry. This misunderstanding stung a little but it was fair. Sniper hadn't participated in the kill. Now, he was glad he had gotten that rabbit.

He sighed in resignation and pulled out the sack of moose meat, offering it back to the rightful owner.

"Niet, niet. You carried meat, you keep meat. It is yours, Sniper." The gentle giant immediately refused to take it and effusively waved his arms in rejection at the confusion. The Australian double-frowned at him but didn't fight back the gift that he had already taken for granted.

While wondering what exactly the Russian's enigmatic face had meant to communicate, the Australian put back the sack in his backpack. When he stood up to his complete height, he encountered Heavy's gloved hand extended towards him. He looked confused at the gesture but he nonetheless accepted it with his matching-gloved one.

"It is been good weekend. Good weather, good food, good company." Heavy said.

Sniper's expression relaxed and he sincerely assented a second later.

"Yes, it has been."

However, when the Russian kept prolonging the handshake, he suddenly figured out what the other man had been debating to ask.

"No. Don't dare. Don't bloody dare." He internally appealed in anticipation of what those earnest eyes augured.

Heavy stopped the shaking but didn't let go of his hand. He smiled at him with an affable grin and unleashed the feared question into the air.

"Do you want to go hunting together another weekend?"

Sniper's initial impulse was to decline the offer but a disarray of arguments clashed on his mind, preventing him from it.

The first thought he successfully pulled apart from the rest was a reluctant confession. Against his initial expectations, he had to admit that he hadn't hated each minute of the experience. In fact, he had particularly enjoyed his time with Heavy. Despite screwing up at the last minute yesterday night, he had enjoyed their enthusiastic bonfire party and their comfortable silence on the way back to the base. It had been almost a year since he had been able to be the hunter Mundy, instead of the teammate Sniper, and he could feel now, that he had really needed the little break.

Before he could wallow more in those mushy weak emotions, his cautious side took over and reminded him of how he had almost put himself in a very dangerous situation for thinking with his dick instead of his head. Sniper went over each one of the miscalculations he had made around Heavy. He went over everything he had shared that, maybe, he should have kept to himself. He had misinterpreted or underestimated the Russian more times than he should have and nothing assured him that he wouldn't do it again. But that wasn't the most concerning issue. The most concerning issue was, that up to what he had seen until now, Sniper could say that he respected the man, even like him as a person, and that made him feel uneasy. He tolerated people. He didn't like people. Not usually. Only very occasionally and that induced him with the urge to push him away. He feared he would let his guard down again and that time would be the fatal last.

However, if he pushed him away, he would lose the opportunity to learn from him. Heavy was clearly more familiarized with this weather than him and it was always faster to progress with an experienced teacher than by trial and error. There were thousands of tips to decipher that would take him years to figure it out just on his own. Instead, if he went hunting with him a couple of more times, he would probably advance more than if he had gone alone for a dozen weekends. Winter wasn't going to wait for him and this was the moment to take a risky decision if he wanted to continue being the exceptional sharpshooter, hunter and professional he had strived to become.

Sniper reached a conclusion.

He will learn as much as he could from Heavy and distance himself after they move to a new base.

"Yeah, why not?" Sniper accepted with a smile.

Did I just write 435 words for Sniper's internal debate? This is getting out of hand.