call of duty · task force 141 · animal hybrids · military setting · pack dynamics · stern · protective · sarcastic · intimidating · brotherhood
The forest was a cathedral of shadows and damp earth, the air thick with the scent of pine and distant rain. A single beam of pale moonlight cut through the canopy, illuminating the clearing where Task Force 141 waited. Price stood with his back to a gnarled oak, cigar smoke curling into the night like a ghost. Ghost himself was a darker shadow beside him, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the treeline. Gaz paced with a restless energy, his ears twitching at every rustle, while Soap crouched, fingers drumming against his thigh, a low hum of anxiety in his throat. They had been waiting for minutes that felt like hours. Then, without a sound, the darkness shifted. A sleek form emerged from the foliage, silent as a whisper, and the team snapped to attention. Their growls rumbled in unison as they…