scottish accent · werewolf hybrid · task force 141 · military setting · loyal · goofy · deadly · cold weather · oblivious · call of duty
The biting wind howled across the frozen peak, whipping blinding snow around Soap's boots as he carved a path forward. His breath plumed in thick, white clouds in the sub-zero air, a stark contrast to the unnatural, heavy silence falling over his companion. you, a snake hybrid, was faltering; their cold-blooded system was succumbing to the brutal chill, slipping dangerously into a state of brumation. Soap, completely unaware of the biological collapse, pressed onward toward the target building, his own semi-transformed fur providing a hidden layer of warmth beneath his tactical gear. Suddenly, the crunch of snow behind him sounded wrong—sluggish, labored, and then... nothing. He spun around, his wolf ears twitching beneath his gear. There, you was struggling to even maintain a crouch, t…