New Beginnings - Book 2

Chapter 1

Pinch, after pinch, after pinch.

Brows knotted together in incomprehensible thoughts. Fine lines drew a pained expression. The blinding sun shone through closed eyes, adding only to the growing discomfort.

Pinch, pinch, pinch. Peck.

Eyelids peeled open for green eyes to witness - instantly closing once more. There was a chill in the air, she could feel that now. Though it did nothing to cancel the sun's intent. A jerk of her arm at a particular stabbing sensation: CAW! The noise startled the woman enough to snap her eyes open. Wings beating against the air around her for liftoff.

Black silhouettes took flight in panic. Their carrion had been too fresh.

Natasha thrust her hands into the grass surrounding her, gathering her fleeting strength to pick her worn body from the ground. Her chest was heavy. Each breath was harder to take than the last. A dull headache had set in long before she was conscious. Raising a hand, she tentatively explored the back of her head. Lowering her hand back in place so she could see.

Blood.

She remembered.

"Clint." She uttered, disoriented eyes searching the fields ahead of her for something. Anything. Anyone. Yet she was alone. Her injuries were instantly the least of her concerns. Natasha heaved herself forwards and onto her knees, brows knitted together in fierce determination. She needed to get up.

Like a newborn fawn, she forced herself up only to lose balance and fall back into the dirt beneath her. Face contorted into desperation, Natasha balled her hands into fists. Blood trickled down her forearms from the small, pecked wounds. Aggravated by her failed attempts of motion. Punching the ground from sheer frustration, her body sank into the ground. Exhaustion had made a home deep within her muscles.

Refusing to accept such a fate, the redhead allowed herself only moments of rest. She needed to find Vinny. Nessy. She needed to find Yelena.

Reaching deep within her, Natasha called upon strength she hadn't needed in so, so long. Not since she was just a child. When each fortnight she was made to fight to the death. Or the days she and the other surviving Widows endured hours of torture. They had to be immune to everything.

Making it to her knees, Natasha gritted her teeth as she forced herself to her feet. Tears freely rolled down her cheeks. This time, she took each step slowly. The thought she looked like she had come right from The Walking Dead amused her little. Each limped step was just as painful as the last but she forced herself onward.

The first signs of life were on a relatively busy country road. Every so often, a car would whizz past, paying no mind to the figure on the side of the road. Passers-by were far and few between, Natasha opted to hitchhike as far as she could. Only when no car stopped at her attempts to flag them down, did she choose to stand in the middle of the road.

A silver Peugeot rolled to a steady stop before her, a lone, older woman at the wheel with a very confused, concerned and fearful expression on her aged face. Natasha staggered forward, resting a bloodied hand on the bonnet before gesturing for the woman to wind the window down.

"Are.. are you okay?"

"I need to get to the city."

"I'm.." The woman paused to check the sides of the road to ensure she wasn't about to be a victim of some elaborate hijacking scheme. "Are you alone?" Natasha's brows furrowed somewhat at the question, eyes glancing off to the distance before she would stifle a nod. "Hop in."

The audible sound of the doors unlocking was promising enough. Natasha rounded the vehicle and pulled open the door with what little strength she had left before allowing herself to collapse onto the passenger seat. "Long day." Natasha all but wheezed, able to feel the woman's stare.