The Soldier was unaware of how long he was unconscious for, but his healing factor was already staunching most of the flow of blood from his body by the time he became aware of someone calling to him. It was difficult to rouse himself, his limbs heavy and sluggish, his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton and his brain wanting nothing more than to sleep. For him, it didn't matter that he was sleeping in a pile of leaves and that most of them were covering him. It didn't matter that the stench of death was rising around his position, likely to draw the attention of carrion birds and thus people.

He twitched at the demand to wake up, his fingers curling for a moment before the effort became too much again, and he went limp again. His rib cage expanded with each breath that he took, but he was reluctant to wake with both the injuries that he had suffered but more the tranquilizers that his body was processing to remove from his system.

Yet, he was aware of his bond on some level of his mind as he shifted enough to momentarily reach for Tony. He didn't make it all the way, but the move was obvious as he took comfort in the fact that his bond was present. It brought with it a sense of warmth and safe, something that he felt around far too few people. If anything, it allowed him to settle down to work through the drugs even more, to filter it out of his blood even as his body made motions to staunch the gunshot wounds.