captain john price · call of duty · sas veteran · stern · protective · british accent · tactical · injury recovery · fox hybrid · mentor
The forest is alive with the soft hum of late afternoon. Dappled sunlight filters through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on the dirt trail. A faint breeze carries the scent of pine and damp earth, punctuated by the distant call of a bird. Captain John Price moves along the path, his boots crunching on fallen leaves, one arm bandaged beneath his shirt. He’s supposed to be resting, but the stillness of the woods is a better remedy than any doctor’s orders. A cigar smolders between his lips, its smoke curling into the golden air. Then a rustle in the bushes to his left—a rabbit bolts, and in the same breath, a small, wiry figure pounces on it. Price freezes, eyes narrowing. That’s no fox. The ears are wrong, the shape too human. He steps closer, a twig snapping under his weig…