Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 78 - Acceptance

"Stupid, prickly bushes," you grumble, stepping over another patch of thickets camouflaged on the dark forest floor. You wince as they scrape against your leg braces. It doesn't hurt, per se, but the magnetic vibration in your brain that registers the touch isn't necessarily pleasant. 

You're certain the exposed skin of your ankles must be cut to bits. 

Watching the shadows of your feet, you're careful not to get your sneakers too muddy as you follow the edge of the river on your left. 

"Ugh," you seethe, narrowly missing a hidden dip in the earth and wobbling clumsily on your cybernetic legs. "Fucking hazards everywhere."

You wonder if you should have let Steve come along. After all, trudging through the forest in the middle of the night isn't exactly easy, despite the cold moonlight filtering through the bare-limbed trees. But you dismiss the thought quickly. 

You need to find James on your own. 

You're not sure in what state of mind you'll find him. But considering that, according to Steve, he's been hiding out in the forest ever since the team determined the extent of your injuries, it's probably not going to be good.

"James?" you call out, keeping your voice low. "James, I know you're out here," you chide, winding through the darkened trees as the roar of water grows louder from the distance.

The waterfall.

You put one foot in front of the other, still intrigued by the braces. How they feel. Touch registers, but only on the metal brackets, not the skin itself. And it's duller than fingers on flesh. There's no warmth to it either. Ultimately, they'll take some getting used to. 

With a huff, you speed up, eager to get to the waterfall. To get to James. But you're stopped, unable to go further as you emerge from around a dense clump of trees and are confronted by a massive wall of rock covered in creeping vines. It's easily several times taller than your own height. 

Confused, you squint into the dark, searching for a way around. A way through. A way over. But the rockface runs as far as you can see to your right - a solid wall cutting off access to this part of the valley. 

You're stuck. No way to go forward.

Frustrated, you glance down at the river. Moonlight shines off the gentle current that tumbles over submerged rocks and logs. But it soon drops off, rushing beneath the cracks of the cliff as it falls to the other side. Somewhere beyond you can hear the waterfall. 

You're close. So close. 

Your only hope is to make it across the river, to somewhere the rock wall gets smaller. Or clime-able.

"Dammit, Steve," you grumble, bending down and rolling up the hems of your sweatpants up to your knee. "Couldn't bother to warn me about the fucking mountain in my way, huh?" you frown. "Can't one thing go my way? Just one?" you plead sarcastically, grimacing as you steel yourself and step into the ankle-deep water, expecting to feel the frigid cold that soaks through your sneakers and socks. 

But you don't. You don't feel anything. 

"Not what I meant," you grumble sourly, taking a few steps forward until you can stretch your arms out and your fingers brush against the rock face, ignoring just how wet and cold your feet must be - if you could feel them. 

Keeping your balance atop the slick rocks you shuffle forward until you can lay your palm flat against the wet, slimy stone. Using it for balance you move slowly, inching forward across the wide riverbed.

"Yep. Just follow the river, he said," you pout, taking one step at a time as you continue to grumble to yourself under your breath. "It'll be easy, he said. I swear to God, Steven Grant Rogers, if I die out here from mosquito bites and rabid raccoons, I'll-woah!"