The sun was high and bright and the light shone in and fell over the sketches Steve was working on. He looked up when there was a knock on his front door. In one corner of the room, not too far from his desk, Bucky's rifle, along with his own shield leaned against the wall. He only glanced at them once before getting up from his seat and crossing the room.

Peggy stood on the mat outside his house. There was a worried frown on her face, only barely visible but Steve had known her for so long he couldn't miss it. She smiled softly, carefully, when she saw him.

"Hello Peggy, how can I help you?" He asked, maybe slightly colder than he would have done in the past.
She bowed her head in acceptance of his tone, but didn't back down. He hadn't expected anything differently. He was glad that she didn't. He was glad that she didn't leave him alone after all that happened.

"Have you heard about the old mansion in the woods?" She inquired, visibly unwilling to just come out with the request that would undoubtedly follow. The two of them didn't talk as much these days. They weren't as close as they used to be, but Steve could still read her and knew that she could read him as well.

"Yes. It's abandoned as far as I know." He responded, leaning against the frame of his door, crossing his arms. Once upon a time he would have asked her to come inside.

"Rumors have it that it isn't." Peggy said.

Steve lifted a brow in question and Peggy explained. "There have been strange noises coming from the mansion and animals have been found dead near it. Farmers complain about cattle going missing. No one bothered to investigate before, because... because of the war." She hesitated at that last part. "Now people want to know if there is a dangerous creature roaming these woods and living in the old house." Peggy finished.

"And people want me to take a look?" Steve clarified.

Peggy looked away for a moment and absently smoothed a hand over her stomach. "I would go, but..." she shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

Steve tilted his head in understanding to what she hadn't said. A sad smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He wondered if, had the last years gone differently, this would be his child growing inside of her.
Their little village was nearly cut off from the rest of the world by its position in this deep valley. Only rarely did people beyond the wandering traders come across the ragged mountains. Two years ago there had been refugees seeking shelter here but they had left after the war had ended, returning to their own homes.

Many villagers had left before that to fight in hopes of keeping the foreign soldiers at bay and away from
the valley, so it may stay a peaceful place. Peggy and Steve had been one of the only ones to return, so far. Steve re-focused his gaze on Peggy from where he had drifted off, caught in the memory. He avoided her worried eyes as he answered. "I will take a look into it." He promised.

"Thank you." She said and nodded her head in farewell before turning on her heels and walking away. Steve watched her go, then stepped back into his house and closed the door.

Steve took his pistol, a knife, and his shield with him when he went to the mansion later the same day. The forest was dangerous and he liked to be prepared.

He left his cottage and walked over the dusty cobbled street to approach the woods surrounding the village. A few craftsmen followed him with their eyes as he went past before the undergrowth swallowed him from sight.

The mansion had belonged to the Stark family before they had disappeared in the chaos of the war. Now the house stood empty, or so it was said, although not many had gone there except for the occasional child or teenager because of a dare or to prove their courage to their friends.

All of them had returned unharmed, but rumors had started about strange noises and even stranger footsteps that had started surrounding the house. The steps were big and clawed like a giant wolf but there were only ever two, as if the being that made them walked on two legs like a human.

Steve hadn't, so far, wasted any thoughts on these rumors. People liked to talk. People in small villages liked to talk even more, or so it seemed. They also talked about him, to be sure, and he liked to think that the rumors about the mansion were meant to keep overcurious individuals away, so that they would not hurt themselves. A house that stood empty this long must be ramshackle already with an unstable structure. He would be surprised if parts of it hadn't collapsed already.

Steve kept his eyes open as he walked through the forest. Once he saw a blue feathered bird, a kind he had never seen here before but the light was dim and it was hard to tell for sure. From the distance its strange but beautiful song reached his ears.

For the most part the woods were safe except for the occasional wolf and bear. Although, as if by a mutual accord, they kept away from the village and the villagers didn't actively hunt them. It was almost like magic.

The sun was already starting to set when Steve entered the clearing on which the manor stood.
It looked cold and uninviting from afar and that impression did not ease as he approached. A fence surrounded the estate with a gate located not too far from Steve's current position. He ignored the gate and searched for a spot of the metal fence that was a bit off to the side and half covered with trees. It was better to be safe than sorry, should there really be something intelligent and sinister in there. From his current position he could see that the lawn was well kept. There were no weeds to be seen anywhere and the grass was a palm's breadth high. It was peculiar. He wondered why that was not part of the rumors. A moment later he found a suitable spot and with practiced ease he climbed over the structure.

He kneeled down on the other side to draw a hand over the grass. It prickled his hands, unyielding under his palm and surprising evenly cut. Doubts about the real state of the manor stirred in him but he stood and kept walking until he finally entered the house through one of the windows.

Steve touched down on the floors of the mansion's library. The room was huge and with volumes upon volumes of books stacked into shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. He looked around and slowly crept forward. Some of the wooden bookracks were broken, only a skeleton of it standing in its place but any splinters and waste seemed to have been cleaned away. In some places the cracked shelves had been crudely fixed with scraps of wood. There was only a little dust here and there.

It made Steve nervous. He didn't like to know that he probably broke into an occupied house right now. Maybe bandits had made the manor their lair, but he doubted that they would keep the place so clean.
His boots made barely a sound on the marble floor. The room was washed in twilight and there were no motions in the deeper shadows.

Steve reached a door leading out of the room. Carefully he opened it just a crack and stepped out into a corridor. He left the big door open behind him to have an escape route.

With soft steps he turned right and moved deeper into the manor. Occasionally he saw half dead plants, as well as chests of drawers on either side of the corridor. Paintings of landscapes and portraits of people in rich looking clothes lined the walls and there were doors leading into big and small rooms. Sometimes there was a blank spot the size of a canvas, or a mirror.

Steve reached another door at the end and placed a hand on the handle.

Everything around him was silent.

Then a growl emitted from behind the ex-soldier. Steve spun around and came face to face with a set of big and sharp-looking teeth. Instinctively he raised his shield to block the claws swiping at his head. The blow threw him to the side and he hit the wall with a smack. For a moment he was disoriented. His head hurt. The next second his attacker grabbed him and threw him across the corridor. He came to lie on his stomach with his shield trapped under him and his arm twisted at a painful angle.

A claw caught a hold of his shoulder, drawing blood and turned him violently onto his back. The beast was terrifying. There was nothing else to call it. It was crouched over him, its paws held Steve pressed against the unforgiving ground as the tips of one claw started slicing through the fabric of his shirt and nicked his skin. The beast's snout was close to Steve's face; its fangs bared and a low growl omitting from its throat. The narrowed eyes of his attacker were looking right into his own.

Steve had never been easily scared in his life. The only times he had been was before his mother died and when his best friend had been mortally wounded in battle. Now he was scared again like he had not been for a long time.

Memories of a battle in which the enemy had let werewolves fight against them flashed in front of his eyes. His mind filled with the blood and shrieks of the dying long past; it all led to the memory of his best friend's pale face and empty eyes.

Unseeing he stared up at the beast's face in horror and inexplicably the beast slowly drew away. It kept its gaze fixed on Steve as it slowly withdrew and left the corridor, leaving the ex-soldier lying on the floor.

Steve couldn't move. His body was shaking all over. A few moments passed where he heard no sound of the monster before he was able to take a few calming breaths to slow down his racing heart. Trembling he got to his feet. He picked up his shield and without looking around he stumbled back the way that he had come.