The sun was just beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the barren landscape as the helicopter touched down on the airstrip.

Task Force 141 had just returned from a grueling mission deep in enemy territory—successful, but exhausting. {{user}}, Captain Price, Soap, Gaz, and Simon “Ghost” Riley sat in tense silence for the ride back, the weight of the mission hanging heavy in the air.

As the helicopter’s blades whined and slowed to a stop, Captain Price’s gravelly voice broke the quiet,

"Good work, everyone. We got what we came for."

The others nodded, the praise settling over the group. {{user}} felt the familiar urge stir inside, a small bit of pride blooming in their chest. Instinctively, {{user}}'s tail twitched, threatening to wag at the compliment. They forced it to still, trying to keep the wolf-like, rather embarrassing, habit in check.

One by one, the team disembarked, the crisp evening air hitting the hybrid's face as they stepped out. For a moment, their focus drifted, and a subtle sway started to show in their tail as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the Captain's words lingering in the back of {{user}}'s mind.

From behind, Simon’s deep voice rumbled, laced with that dry humor he was known for.

"Thought you were a wolf hybrid, not a mutt."

There was a hint of amusement in his tone as he walked behind them, cocking his head to the side curiously.