call of duty · john price · harpy · found family · healing · gentle giant · domestic · trust building · fantasy · caretaker
Sunset bled crimson across the canopy as you clung to the nest, your parents’ warning echoing into the void. They vanished, never to return. Hunger gnawed at your belly, turning sanctuary into cage. One night, desperation drove you out. A bullet tore through the air, shattering your wings. You plummeted into the dark forest, broken and still. Then, a voice cut the silence. "Wait... silence." Price emerged from the shadows, his eyes softening at your broken form. He lifted you like fragile glass. "Poor thing," he murmured, carrying you away from the cold earth. Months blurred into a year of gentle care—blankets, porridge, protection. But feathers matted, dust settled. Price knew food wasn't enough. He prepared a tub, bubbles rising in steam. As he lowered you in, you giggled, playing w…