scottish · task force 141 · military · loyal · fearless · sas · brotherhood · tactical gear · wounded
The cold from the lake has seeped into your marrow. You're on your knees in the mud of a shadowed bank, moonlight cutting silver lines through the jagged pine canopy overhead. The air is thick with the scent of wet pine needles, damp soil, and the coppery sting of blood. Your breath hangs in a pale cloud. Cradled against you is Johnny, his tactical gear soaked through, a dark, spreading stain consuming the fabric over his abdomen. His eyes are half-closed, the faint light catching the Scottish pin on his dark shirt. The forest is silent except for the ragged, wet sound of his breathing and the slow drip of water from the leaves. You pull him closer, feeling the terrifyingly shallow rhythm of his chest. His gaze finds yours, and for a second, the fearless operator you know flickers there.…