There was something pulsing against her right cheek... her shoulder... her whole body, she realized, as she fought to clear the fog from her mind. Natasha tried to open her eyes but slammed them shut again instantly, the world was swimming around dangerously and she clamped down a desperate urge to be sick. Blood... her mouth was full of it, making her stomach heave again as she willed the ground beneath her to be still. She could feel consciousness slipping away again. It was pulling her down with cold, heavy hands, it seemed like it would be so easy to surrender herself back into the blissful blackness. She struggled weakly, trying to pull together a coherent though, and would have given up if not for the rhythmic thumping under her body. It was so out of place, it wiggled in her mind like a tadpole, she felt like a small child trying clumsily to trap it. She smiled without realizing she had done so, amused at the floating image of a little girl with red braids hopping about a frog-filled creek. And just like that, the image was gone, leaving her grinning stupidly with her face pressed into the snow, the blood having gushed down her cheek.

Snow? Natasha seized that realization and tried again to focus. She was lying on snow, she could feel the cold suddenly now along the expanse of her whole body. дерьмо, why was it so hard to think? She tried to pull herself up off the ground and was unable to move, but the failure did bring with it some new information: she was lying on her stomach, her hands and feet were tightly bound and the strange thumping continued. Was that her heart? She could feel it pounding forcefully in her chest. Her attempted movement had also caused electric shocks of pain to shoot up and down her entire frame, and an undeniable wave of nausea followed them like the tide. She choked on the blood this time, spitting it up into the snow with a wet, tearing sound. As her ears identified the sound of her own coughs, she realized that there were other noises too... yelling and crackling and the familiar timbre of chaos. And... what was that? The thumping sensation was audible as well, staccato beats in a strange pattern that seemed elusive yet familiar. The fog in her mind grudgingly began to give way to her burning curiosity, and her eyes slowly opened again.

There was smoke, smoke everywhere, curling in slow-moving plumes that reminded her of frost on a window. Shadowy figures were moving around inside the smoke, back and forth without any sense she could discern. The world continued to spin as she brought her focus closer, noticing the contrast of bright scarlet on the snow around her. It was beautiful, she thought dizzily, the pools and round splatters of crimson on white. So absolutely perfect and beautiful.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMP

Natasha blinked several times and her vision cleared a bit more, and she noticed the large demonic shadow moving purposefully within the smoke. It was impossibly tall and fast and she knew she should fear it if she could just get a grasp on consciousness. Her detachment amused her and she tried harder to decipher the scene. The thumping seemed to be coming from the demon; the rhythm under her body pulsed in synch with the large shadow as it slid through the clouds.

Her thoughts finally started to congeal once she fully processed that she was seeing the world on its side. They had drugged her, she realized with some relief, they must have. She couldn't parse any other reason for her current predicament, couldn't explain how she ended up bound and bleeding in the snow. The shouting grew louder and she coughed again as the smoke began to fill her lungs. The thumping devil moved back and forth, chasing down and felling the other shadows, and her heart pounded. "Ahhh," she thought as the pieces fell into place. Ketamine. She had been tranq'ed with ketamine and her blood pressure had gone up.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMP

Damn, the pattern was ringing a dim bell in the hazy recesses of her mind, and it slowly came to her. Hoofbeats. A memory idly floated into her awareness, the story of a hoofed demon she'd heard somewhere along the Adriatic. Псоглави, a psoglav, a demon with one eye, the legs of a horse, the head of a hound and the torso of a man, who feasted on human flesh. It made perfect sense to her now, watching the demon move through the smoke. It was there for her. She was dying in the snow as the psoglav cut its way to her side, it was coming to take her to Hell. Or would it just devour her? She couldn't quite recall the legend, but she had always know she was damned. There were too many sins on her hands for redemption, too much red on her ledger. Her chest spasmed in pain and she choked out a fresh fountain of blood. She watched the psoglav makes its way closer, pleading silently for it to hurry up and just take her, already. If she could have opened her arms in welcome, she would have. She was ready to embrace the demon.

The psoglav reared with a deafening bellow, and she let out a sob of relief. It was close enough now that the smoke was parting around it. She managed to lift her cheek off the snow, just slightly, hoping to meet the psoglav's terrifying single eye as he brought her death. It was all that she deserved.

She stared in confusion as the psoglav raised its bow and ended another panicked shadow. Her brow furrowed. A... bow? The demon reared again, loosing a final arrow, bringing the sounds of screaming to an end. Laughter bubbled out of her along with more blood while the psoglav spun around and was instantly in front of her.

"You look ridiculous," she gurgled at it.

"And you look so much better right now," the psoglav growled back.

Natasha closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with pain. The demon spat out a curse and put away its bow. A slight smile ghosted across her lips as she whispered, "Clint."

Her partner slid off of his horse smoothly, and crouched down at her side. "Fuck, Tasha, you're really a mess. Gimme a moment, they used about a million zip ties on you." He pulled a short knife front his belt and started cutting her restraints.

She swore as the circulation returned to her hands and feet. She struggled to right herself, so he gently pulled at her shoulders until she was sitting. She coughed again, splattering blood across the hooves in front of her.

"A... horse? Really?"

"I was sort of in a hurry, you know" Clint answered wryly, brushing the snow off her back. "I stumbled across a stable and got lucky. I think she's one of those Kuninkuusravit horses. Can you walk?"

She quickly ran an appraisal. "No," she replied honestly. "They doped me. Ketamine."

"Ahhh," he nodded curtly, scooping her into his arms and standing easily. "I was wondering how they got the drop on you. They did a number on you, too, half your blood is on the snow. Let's get out of here before more of Yumashev's goons show up, and I'll push some naloxone and saline into you." Silently, he was very glad their first aid packs were well-equipped. He paused with his broken partner in his arms. "Can you ride without a saddle?"

She grunted. "Well enough. I'm not a centaur like you, obviously, but I'll make it."

He snorted, swinging her onto the horse's back. She hissed in pain and wobbled briefly, but was able to clutch at a handful of the mare's mane and steady herself without falling against Clint's outstretched arms. He vaulted up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Jesus, Nat. You're frozen solid. We'd better hustle."

She nodded once as he pressed his thighs into the horse's side and the animal lunged forward. There was nothing Natasha could do stop each jolt of pain as the horse lurched into a gallop, and she ground her teeth against it. Her partner pulled her tightly against him, offering any stability his broad chest could offer. She felt his heat through her ruined jacket, a twinge of guilt hitting her as her body greedily sucked his warmth from him.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured into her ear, and it didn't phase her for a moment that he had read her mind. "You're hypothermic and bleeding, and I'm not letting you freeze to death any more than I would chop off my right arm and throw it in a snowbank."

"Hard to pull a bowstring with your teeth, I guess," she replied with a wince.

"I've done it before," he smiled, nudging the horse towards a distant tree-line.

"Why am I not surprised?" she commented wryly. "And mounted archery? Really? Show-off."

He chuckled, pressing his lips down on the top of her head. "Circus boy from Iowa and you think there might be anything I haven't done on horseback?"

"That sounds like a challenge."

"Don't even go there, girl," his lips twitched against her. "You're in no shape to talk smack. I'll be lucky to get you to the jet before you go into shock."

"Where are we anyway?" Natasha asked.

"Bit north of Oulu. There's a frozen lake behind those trees, I've already called for emergency extraction."

"Finland? What the hell?"

"Tell me about it, you were a bitch to track. Yumashev put you on a truck yesterday in Novgorod." He squeezed her slightly, causing sparks of pain to erupts from her ribcage, but strangely she didn't mind. "Like I said, the horse was a lucky find."

"You're gonna miss your horse," she teased.

"Like hell," Clint declared. "This horse is coming with me. I stole her fair and square. This horse and I have bonded, she's going on the quinjet."

Natasha twisted between her partner's thighs, ignoring her stiffening muscles, to meet his eyes. "Clint...," she said huskily, "... what did you name it?"

He bristled, setting his jaw and looking away from her face. "I don't know what you're on about."

"Clint..." her voice took on a singsong quality. "Clint... I know you. You gave this horse a name and you fed and watered it before taking care of yourself and..."

He interrupted her with an explosive breath. "Fine. Her name is Arrow." His eyes narrowed. "If you laugh, Natalia Alianova, if you so much as crack a smile, I'm dumping you back into the snow..."

"...and riding off into the sunset on your horse," she finished, trying her very best to keep her face straight. He was pouting now, looking so much like the little boy that she knew he still was inside. Her lips quavered. "Arrow. стрелка," she said softly.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her an appraising look. "Streylka?" She nodded, and he huffed. He leaned them both forward, and patted the horse's neck. "Streylka. That's... that's pretty."

"I thought you'd like it," she smirked. She was quiet for a moment, and started to feel very lightheaded. The bucking horizon began to fade. "Clint... I'm gonna pass out, okay? Don't drop me."

"Never," he replied fiercely, tightening his grip. "Nat, I have to ask... did you get the data from Yumashev?"

"Mmmhmmm," she mumbled, trying to stay awake. "SD card, in my arm. Pull it out before it goes septic on me."

"Good job, Tasha." he whispered at her ear. "I can't wait to hear how you pulled this one off."

"It was easy," she sighed as she faded. "Демон я обнимаю. I embraced the demon."