Sam twined around him, catlike, whining a little in his throat. He didn't care about the guards - they didn't seem to care about him, either, other than their distaste for a wolf in their country. They hadn't shot at him, at least, although they would have needed silver bullets to do any real damage.

(He didn't know if they had silver bullets, if other shifters had the same vulnerability to silver wolves did, if they needed to protect themselves from rogue panthers. T'Challa wasn't exactly forthcoming with information, although that didn't surprise Sam. He was just glad the guards weren't shooting at him, whatever the reason was.)

Sam nuzzled his face for a moment, his breath hot on Steve's cheek, before pulling away. He didn't just look worried, he looked sad. He didn't know if Steve would want to be around him after this, and he wouldn't blame him if he didn't. He'd attacked him unprovoked, after all, and turned him into a werewolf. It would be hard for anyone to handle.