Knowing he needed space or he would explode, Bucky had left his home territory behind him, splashed through the bitterly cold water as the snowflakes drifted peacefully down around him, and set off running. Not his usual run, which a clearly practiced affair borne of his dedication to keeping fit, moderated and evenly paced.
This was a wild, reckless run along the riverbank, not even slowing when he cut a paw paw open on an errant rock and left blood-smudged pawprints in his wake. And he kept running all afternoon, pushing and pushing and pushing until finally his body quit on him and he drew to a still-reluctant halt, chest heaving, head hanging low. His teeth were clenched, every harshly exhaled breath through his nose misting the cold evening air in front of his face.
Anger had been the last emotion he’d felt as he walked away from Kaete, and it had lingered the longest. She really thought he was some monster. It hadn’t been a joke or a misunderstanding or any other excuse she would doubtless concoct. She genuinely thought he’d be an asshole to kids of hers. Months he’d gone through, of believing the best in her. Not anymore.
Kaete didn’t really think Bucky was her friend. He understood that now. He would guard his heart better in the future. Against wolves like her.
He was still so angry. His coat bristled with it like sparks could actually be set off his fur, and he wished for an impossible second Elliot wasn’t dead or the rapist from the desert would just appear magically in front of him just so he could get rid of his anger by ripping somebody who deserved it apart.
He propped his aching paw against the trunk of one of the dead winter trees, and when the pressure inside his head mounted to an unbearable level he found himself letting out a deafening bellow of rage.
Jul 11, 2018 04:42 AM
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