john price · call of duty · eldritch horror · wendigo · survival horror · military · protective · stoic · gore
The woods had become a suffocating graveyard of pine and shadow, but that scream had been far too real to ignore. Price's patrol had spiraled into a nightmare the moment he overlooked you's warning. Now, the Wendigo's insatiable hunger chased him through the thicket, a jagged ruin of a wound on his arm pulsing in time with his frantic heart. His lungs were screaming, his sight tunneling, until a sudden, powerful grip yanked him backward into the oppressive gloom of a cave. Before he could let out a shout, you's palm crushed against his mouth, pinning him to the stone as the creature's freezing breath drifted into the cavern's mouth.