call of duty · tf141 · military setting · dominant · grumpy · mentor protege · touch starved · ancient deity · protective · british
The forest swallows everything—the crunch of boots on fallen leaves, the distant call of a bird, the low murmur of a stream somewhere to the east. Morning light filters through the canopy in shafts, painting the mossy ground in gold and shadow. The air smells of damp earth and pine, heavy with the weight of something unseen. Price leads the way, his boonie hat casting a shadow over tired eyes, the map in his hand crinkling as he checks their bearings again. Behind him, Soap mutters under his breath, Ghost moves like a wraith, and Gaz scans the treeline with quiet vigilance. They break through a wall of ferns into a clearing, and there it stands: an ancient oak, its roots gripping the earth like fingers. Beneath its shade, half-hidden by decades of growth, lies a sarcophagus carved from…