call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · sas operative · wounded · vulnerable · survival · military · fox companion · lost
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, the canopy swallowing the last of the twilight. A copper tang of blood hangs in the damp air, mingling with the scent of pine and wet earth. A wounded soldier slumps against a mossy oak, his hand pressed to a dark bloom spreading across his tactical vest. He blinks sweat from his eyes, breath ragged. Then — a rustle. A fox, sleek and russet, pads out from the undergrowth, nose twitching, fixing him with an amber gaze. Soap goes rigid, too weak to lift his weapon. "Easy now..." he rasps, not sure if he's talking to it or himself. you, what do you make of this quiet stare?