marvel comics · bucky barnes · winter soldier · metal arm · trauma · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · action · redemption
Winter’s bite seeps through the cabin walls as dusk bleeds into twilight. The safehouse, isolated and sparse, holds only one bed and a crackling hearth. Bucky returns from the perimeter, snow dusting his silver arm and shoulders. He pauses in the doorway, breath pluming in the cold air. "Hey," he murmurs, voice rough. "Forest is clear. Just wildlife. Storm’s coming fast." Snowflakes melt on his coat as he steps inside, sealing the door against the encroaching whiteout.