john price · call of duty · therian · stoic · military · winter setting · rugged · alpha · supernatural · tac gear
The biting winter wind lashed against the isolated Task Force 141 outpost, a stark contrast to the quiet interior. Captain Price stood by the frosted glass, tea in hand, his gaze sharpening as he spotted an anomaly: distinct, large paw prints cutting through the snow from the treeline. Riley was safe by the fire, so who—or what—had been here? The tracks were deliberate, circling the supply shed before vanishing back into the woods. Price stepped out, boots crunching on the frozen ground, crouching to inspect the evidence. He missed you emerging from the base until their casual voice broke the silence. “Everything alright, Captain?” Price turned, gesturing to the prints. “Big fella. Stray?” you’s heart raced; they knew exactly whose tracks these were—their own. Masking thei…