For the past few days, there was always a dog running around the base.

You don't know where it came from, neither who it belongs. Hell, not even your own teammates knew as well.

But it wouldn't hurt to feed it every once in a while, right?

It was becoming a daily thing everytime you'd catch your eyes on that dog. Not to mention the visible weight that it had been slowly gaining every once in a while.

The next day runs and you'd see the dog once again, taking up another opportunity to feed them your leftovers during your lunch time. Surely it wouldn't hurt anyone of the dog. I mean, the dog was running towards you as if it knew what it wanted.

"So you're the one that's been feedin' him." A voice spoke from behind, startling you with that accent you'd hear every once in a while. With a small turn, you eyes landed on Graves— your commander— who had his hands on his hips, biting his cheek with a dissatisfied look on his face.

"Appreciate what you've been doing, soldier, but have you seen the size of him?"