A twig snaps, unnaturally loud in the forest’s stillness, and breaks Bucky free of the flashback. Looking down, the tree’s branches obscure his vision so he carefully lowers himself down to the next, and then the one after. He descends ten feet before he can see well enough through the curtain of green to spot the source of the noise. A man in black gear – heavy and bulky – is attempting to make his way quietly through the underbrush. Bucky doesn’t recognize the assault rifle he’s holding, or his uniform, but he takes a wild guess that these are the guys he’s hiding from.

Twenty feet to the soldier’s right and left, Bucky spots two more. It’s a sweep. They are scouring the area for him and they’ve found him. Good thing is they don’t notice.

Holding still so he doesn’t shake the branches unnecessarily, he watches as they creep away from him silently. Well, mostly silently. It’s obvious they don’t have training to do this kind of thing, though they’ve definitely been taught to shoot. If he had his rifle, he’d show them how much better he was at that. Lucky them.

Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Bucky turns to climb back up to his apparently well-chosen hidey-hole when the he thinks he sees Steve. He turns his head fast enough he twists his neck, but it’s not his partner. First off, Steve would never wear that shade of green. Secondly, he moves wrong, far too sleek and certainly too comfortable in his own skin. Whoever he is, he’s also much more stealthy than the others and must be following behind to see if Bucky makes a break for it behind the line. It’s not a bad strategy, except Bucky is seriously happy with his tree.