verb.
To come or go back to a place or person.
noun.
The firing of a weapon to counter a shooter's shot.
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They recoiled from their pasts, and in doing so found each other.
But the universe isn't kind enough to let a moment of peace last.
It took se...
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The grass beneath Kat's bare feet was soft, soft enough to coax her down to sit upon the sun-warmed earth as she looked out over the lazily flowing river, basked in the glow of late afternoon light. Smiling to herself, she curled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs as she watched the small commotion that disturbed the peace of the river, some handful of yards from where she sat.
It was a commotion which had broken through the quiet routine that had become the norm over the last few months. The deliberate crossing of paths between herself and Bucky as they moved through the small chores that had come to fall on their shoulders as they lived out their lives here, as an adoptive part of the River Tribe. Her meandering repairs to farm machinery and carts and his quietly purposeful tending to of the various livestock that roamed the sprawling property. Kat honestly wasn't sure how herding goats came so naturally to a city boy from pre-war Brooklyn, or even a highly trained former assassin for that matter, but it did. Whilst she didn't quite have the nerve to stare down and direct the more stubborn creatures that inhabited the farm, Bucky never balked at the task. He also never failed to laugh when Kat found herself cornered by one of the more aggressive chickens, unable to pass the damn thing until he or one of the children came and moved it along, seemingly only further amused by her mutterings about how utterly weird birds were.
Still, somewhere between those duties and mishaps, they always seemed to find one another. A gentle bump of shoulders, a touch of hands, a shared smile and perhaps a swift kiss if they had a moment longer. Kat internally thrilled at each tiny gesture of affection, of love. Not simply because she was completely crazy for the man who made her grin like an idiot each time she caught sight of him, but because of how easy it was to express that love now. How utterly fearless they could be in their expressions.
It was one such expression that had been interrupted that afternoon. A stolen moment over a few bales of hay that Bucky was hauling one by one onto a cart which Kat had recently swapped out a wheel on. It was an excuse to let herself be scooped up against his chest, barely recalling now how it had felt to be enclosed within two arms, she was so used to how he held her now. That quiet embrace, however, was broken by hurried shouting from the direction of the riverbank.
"Ingcuka emhlope!"
White Wolf. The nickname Nobomi's sons had bestowed upon Bucky had rung out around the still farmyard, raising a pair of smiles that broke the contact of lips they had been enjoying until they were made aware of the fact that they weren't alone.
"Seems like you're needed, White Wolf." Kat whispered with a small laugh, her nose bumping against his before he straightened his posture, his own expression settling into that awkward fondness she had come to see surface in these moments. The moments when he barely dared to allow himself to feel accepted in this place, by the people who had welcomed them into their family. People who saw the strength and bravery he was so reluctant to recognise in himself. The children who called him White Wolf, not Winter Solider.
