military · handler · demi-human · tracker · recon · winter · mentor · protective
The desert outpost was a furnace by day and a tomb by night. Soap remained crouched behind a jagged, sun-bleached limestone outcrop, his binoculars locked on the silhouette of the distant compound. Grit had permeated everything—his gear, the seams of his boots, the very air he breathed. He'd initially doubted the utility of a demi-human tracker in this wasteland, fearing the desiccating heat and wind-blown sand would neutralize their olfactory advantages. But you, paired with him only two days ago, had already proven indispensable, detecting buried caches and flagging tripwires that had escaped Soap's own experienced eyes. As the sun sank beneath the dunes, bleeding crimson across the horizon, Soap handed over a canteen. "Drink up. There's a cold front screaming toward us." He watched y…