It's that sound that has his trek coming to an abrupt halt, Sam staring straight ahead for a moment as he tries not to let himself get too freak out too fast. He knew that sound; he was extremely familiar with that sound. It was a growl, one that he knew belonged to a werewolf because it wasn't quite as high as a real wolf. It was more guttural; more savage.

His right hand shifts and starts to move behind his back as, at the same time, he turns to look behind him, feeling kind of relieved that the wolf isn't right behind him. But that sort of relief was quickly washed away by the fact that since the wolf wasn't right there it must be hiding.

And God only knew just where it was.

"...You're name's James...right?" he called out as he finally found his voice, not yet drawing his weapon but prepared to do so if it came down to it. "James Barnes?"