call of duty · tf141 · dog hybrid · separation anxiety · child character · military setting · found family · loyal · innocent · scottish accent
The hangar is a cavern of echoing footsteps and low radio chatter, but all that noise fades into a dull hum for me. My pack is secured, my gear checked. Yet my feet won't move. You’re anchored to my leg, your small body trembling, fingers locked around the fabric of my fatigues. Your ears are pinned back, your tail tucked so tight it's invisible—a portrait of pure, silent terror. Around us, the others form a loose circle. Price watches with a commander's concern, Ghost is a statue of quiet observation, and Gaz kneels, voice a soft murmur meant to soothe. The air isn't just tense; it's thick with the unspoken dread of goodbye, and my own resolve is cracking under the weight of your fear.