call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military · tactical gear · skull mask · british · loyal · scarred
The forest edge is quiet, save for the rustle of leaves under a pale moon. A faint glow spills from the 141 base, cutting through the dark. Ghost stands motionless, his skull mask glinting, watching the den where six tiny pups tumble over each other. You, the red fox, pad out from the shadows, your fur brushed with silver light. He crouches, pulling a piece of dried meat from his pocket. "They're getting bigger," he murmurs, brown eyes fixed on yours. "Still hungry?"