William bolted through the trees, his focus set on the grey Toyota he had left behind.

The thing was, he couldn't leave it behind. He knew they would sniff it out, knew they would find the context, the bloody box.

He heard them, trying to keep up with him but more than once they had to take a detour. The path Will chose was often only possible to get through on foot. Even though they could not keep up with him, their motorcycles did.

He knew if it wasn't for the choper circling him from the sky, they would have lost him long ago.

He slid himself over a long tree trump, snapping a long, thick and dried twig as he did so. He saw a long rock ahead of him, he sped up.

He jumped on a birch tree, hearing it groan under the pressure as he parkoured on another tree, leaving behind long gashes with his feet. With a strong push, William jumped on the tall rock and from there,no towards the sky so not to lose the power he had built up with parkouring.

He gripped the self-made spear, twirled in the air and allowed it to fly right towards the chopter that was merely a few feet from him.

As much as it gave him the perfect shot of the chopter and the agents within it, it also made him vulnerable. His red eyes were sharp as he started falling back towards the ground, smirking internally as he watched it pierce the chest of one of the agents and get stuck on the other side of the chopter. The sky vehicle tilted to the side heavily.

William fell on the rock with a loud thud, making it break into half. Immediately he have a strong push with his back legs and dashed towards right, knowing this was his only chance to get rid of the agents.

He breathed heavily, the wilderness merely a blur around him as he started seeing the grey Toyota in the distance. He sped up, trying to calm down his pulse so he would be able to shift back. It was often tranquillizers that HYDRA used to use on him. It made things easier.

He felt himself shrinking slightly, his ears growing smaller as he neared the car.

He had long lost his shoes, but that didn't stop him from coming to a sliding stop as he heard it.

The high pitched sound of an incoming bomb.

He threw himself down, covering his head as the bomb hit the car, making it fly into the air slightly as he hood of it burst into angry flames.

Tread pierced through the furious adrenaline. He had lost them, had lost the memories and the pictures.

The air was thick with smoke as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears and the dust in his eyes. Complete focus, he was focusing in everything now.

The swarm of agents, the smell of gunpowder and oil— oil. He pushed himself up on his arms, his long claws sinking into the soil as he darted back into the forest, almost slamming into a nearby tree, making him growl in annoyance and anger.

He stumbled down a steep hill, using his clawed hands to try and stop the speed. He tore up roots and plants, leaving behind ruined ground. He heard the yells and running, as if it was stampede near the road.

He jumped over a low running river, knowing he had to get as far away from it as possible since it was too easy to follow him from the sky.

He ignored the blood that coated his right arm, running down his furred shoulder and dropping on the muddy ground.

Despite the whirring sound above him, he knew the deeper into the forest he ran, the harder it was for them to chase him.

All he knew was that he needed to keep on running.

The roads were parked with bulletproof cars and heavily armoured agents who were sweeping the forest, as well as the house filled with hysterical doctors.

Natasha neared the old Toyota that had most definitely seen better days. She watched as Clint pulled open the back door. It smelled heavily of dust and fire extinguisher. She was glad they had managed to save the car, or at least half of it. She knew there had to be something that would help them lead the case.

A group of agents ran past her along with trained dogs who all kept barking and whimpering as they seemed to be hesitant to follow the trail of their runaway.

And judging by what Natasha had witnessed before, she completely understood their hesitation.

“How's Hill?” Clint pulled himself out of the half burned car, holding quite a few empty water bottles in his hands as he dumped them into a large plastic bag someone was holding out for him. A perfect place to get some handprints.

“In a pretty shitty condition. She was rushed off, but considering there was a tree pushed through her chest, I don't think she's doing as good as you'd think." He confessed, and despite the fact that Clint seemed unbothered by it, Natasha knew better.

Clint was worried for her, he was anxious for sure. But years of training and experience had allows him to create hundreds of facades and a good thick skin. Because if the love of an agent, more or less an assassin was anything, it was unpredictable.

“She'll be fine, with the new tech that keeps on appearing, it'll probably feel like a splinter.” she tried to lighten his mood as Clint dove into the car with a scoff.

“Our runaway is either shedding all the time or has taken a pet, by the looks if it, a dog.” Clint's muffled voice carried over to Natasha as he once again popped out of the car, holding a handful of black and white coloured fur. He tossed it into one of the bags someone was holding out for him before moving back towards the trunk.

“Imagine a wolf-man walking a border collie, Stark would have a field day.” Clint barked a laugh, sliding his gloved fingers above the number sign before the trunk clicked open.

“He wouldn't be the only one. Parker would probably want to adopt them both then. Talking about Stark, didn't he take a dog? Saw something in some files-” Clint halted, his eyes suddenly shining with some sort of victory.

Natasha noticed it immediately and walked over. She smiled menacingly, unnerving the young agent who was supposed to collect evidences from Clint.

She pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes as she looked up at Clint. The eye contact was like telepathic conversation. It was almost euphoric, the feeling when you find one lost piece of 1000 piece puzzle. One win, but they both knew there was a dozen other lost pieces.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't be happy for this one little win.

Will groaned as he slumped against the door, half of his clothes torn, dirty or lost. Like his shoes for example. Gone in the first five strides he had taken, probably shredded in the swamp or something.

He almost dozed off against the door if it wasn't for a heavy blow against it and a sound of frantic sniffing. He groaned, hazy eyes looking down at his blood coated clothes. It dripped on the wooden portch, turning it red drop by drop. His insides churned unpleasantly as the smell of his own blood drifted to his senses, he wasn't stranger to blood or wounds. And he knew despite the pain and heavy blood loss, he was going to be fine in a day or two. It was a curse, in a way.

But he knew he didn't have a day or two to heal himself. If the present events proved him anything, it was that no matter what, William could not rest.

By the end of this, only one man will be standing. Make sure it's you.

He gritted his teeth and placed his hands against the door, pushing himself up through the discomfort and the flaring pain. He glared at the ground, resting his forehead against the door as he went to grip the handle. He pulled it open with a quiet click, being welcomed by a furry body, her loud whining and tail wagging. He pulled the door open, leaving bloody handprints on the other side of it. The dog tried to push herself up but ended up falling back on the floor.

"Dog, stay." He hissed as he dragged himself over to a creaky chair, sinking into it with heaviness that wanted to lull him to sleep. Oh how he yearned to sleep. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, lolling his head back.

He knew he did not have much time, he needed to keep on moving. Always keep on moving. He didn't know what these people were capable of, but what he could say about them, is that they had a lot of tech, and he was convinced it wouldn't be hard to track him. He had tried jump on rocks or wade through the river, but was it enough?

Probably not. Most definitely not.

He glanced down at the wound, it hadn't closed up yet. Numbly, he pushed himself up slightly, gritting his teeth as he reached out for the backpack that he had left behind. At least he was somewhat lucky. He zipped it open, pulling out a fresh shirt that he had taken from a store. He ripped it to sherds, doing a terrible job at trying to tie it around his torso. He had pulled out the arrow immediately back in the forest, knowing fully well it was an awful decision.

He buffed out angrily, feeling his gums growing longer at the pure adrenaline that ran through his veins and dulled the pain. He grabbed the end of the shredded clothing with his teeth, pulling it tighter as he tried to out enough pressure on the wound. He pushed himself off the couch, knowing if he stayed there any longer he would doze off.

There was firewood near the fireplace, he took a log, ripping it easily in half and operating his actions until he git two halves of wood. He dragged himself over to the dog, ignoring her tail wagging and pulled out tongue as she demanded belly rubs. William knelt before her, gently taking her paw in his hands and placing the wooden cast around it before tying piece of clothing around it to prevent her from hurting it any further. She didn't seem to like it that much, but with a low growl from William, she stopped trying to nibble at the cast.

He slid his fingers through her fur before standing up again and taking his backpack. It wasn't much, but it was all he had left. He picked up the dog, ignoring the pain that rippled through his torso at the movement. The sun would set soon, but it wasn't the nature he was afraid of. But the people that wouldn't leave him alone.

He set out into the wilderness, ignoring the fatigue and the blood that still coated his shirt.

And something about that fatigue, smell of gunpowder and pain was familiar. That was the moment he knew that no matter what age, year, or time it was, war never ended.

And like a hundred years ago, William would fight through this one as well.

Write this at 4AM, excuse the grammar errors, in going to sleep.

Edit* I woke up and reread the authors note. I'm cackling. A bro tip: don't write when you're asleep.

Lava you x