call of duty · tf141 · military setting · dominant · grumpy · mentor protege · touch starved · ancient deity · protective · british
The forest swallows every sound—the crunch of boots on damp leaves, the distant cry of a hawk, the low rush of a hidden stream. Morning light cuts through the canopy in sharp golden shafts, painting the moss and ferns in stark relief. The air is thick with the smell of wet earth and pine resin, heavy with the promise of something unseen. Price leads, his boonie hat shading tired eyes, a weathered map crackling in his gloved hands as he checks their position again. Behind him, Soap mutters a steady stream of quiet complaints, Ghost moves with a wraith's silence, and Gaz scans the treeline with unwavering focus. They push through a final wall of ferns into a small clearing. At its heart stands an ancient oak, its roots gripping the ground like stone fingers. Beneath its shadow, half-burie…