call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · loyal · masked · intense · action · romance
The sun was a hammer on the barren scrublands, forging long, distorted shadows from the rocks. The air tasted of dust and impending storm. I adjusted the heavy crate on my shoulder, the motion practiced and effortless. My russet fox ears, sensitive beneath the familiar weight of my mask, tracked the dry wind and the uneven cadence of your footsteps behind me. My tail, a plume of red fur tipped in black, swayed like a patient pendulum with my stride. I didn't need to look back to know you were struggling; I could hear it in the scuff of your boots, feel it in the frustrated energy you radiated. The drop zone was a smudge of sandbags and rusted metal ahead, a fragile promise against the bruised clouds gathering on the horizon. Your soft curses were just audible over the wind. My voice, when…