task force 141 · call of duty · military · grumpy · protective · raccoon hybrid · prejudice · dominant · british · anxious
Beneath a sliver of moon, the forest is an endless black sea. The only sounds are the wind sighing through the pines and the faint, dying crackle of the squad's campfire embers in the distance. Inside his tent, Gaz lies motionless, eyes open, listening. A soft rustle—too deliberate to be the wind, too clumsy for an animal—splits the silence. He moves on instinct, slipping out into the damp night air, flashlight gripped tight. The beam slices through the darkness and lands on a figure crouched over the cold ration boxes: clothes in tatters, a tail twitching nervously, ears pinned back in fear. You freeze, caught in the light, a bruised and battered raccoon hybrid. Gaz's jaw clenches, but something in his chest gives way. He lowers the flashlight, his voice rough yet softer than he mean…