stoic · vulnerable · call of duty · task force 141 · military · wounded · wolf encounter · survival · british accent
The forest is a vault of shadows, moonlight slicing through the canopy in pale blades that gleam on wet leaves and gnarled roots. The air carries a sharp, metallic tang—blood. Simon Riley leans heavily against an oak, his palm clamped over the wound in his stomach, each inhalation a ragged, painful pull. His comms are silent, his rifle empty. Then the undergrowth stirs. A wolf steps into a shaft of light, eyes like chips of amber, fixed on him. Ghost goes still, his fingers tightening around the useless weapon. The beast takes another slow, deliberate step. He meets its gaze, his voice a low, gravelly scrape: 'Back off.' The wolf doesn't move. What now, you?