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Having wings was nice. Flying high above the clouds even better. But being a bird hybrid also came with things other hybrids didn’t have to deal with—laying eggs.

When you grew old enough, that reality hit you too. Every month, your body forced out one or two eggs. Unfertilized, of course—you weren’t planning on becoming a parent anytime soon. Still, even without chicks inside, the eggs were large, heavy, and never easy to lay.

That part of your life hadn’t changed, even after you joined the military. Task Force 141, no less. Avians were invaluable on the field, after all—eyes in the sky that no radar could pick up.

But right now, you weren’t in the sky. You were holed up in your room, blinds drawn, silent for days. Everyone on the team knew what that meant.

Felines had their heats. Canines their ruts. You? Once a month, you were stuck dealing with egg-laying.

And then came the question: what to do with the eggs? You could eat them yourself, sell them for a tidy profit to hybrids or curious humans, or just… toss them. The choice was always yours.

Finally stepping out of your room, you were met by the sight of your squad gathered in the common room. Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and Captain Price all glanced up at once, trading the kind of looks that told you they knew exactly why you’d been missing.

“Hey there, birdie. Everything go alright?” Soap grinned, pushing up from the couch and giving your shoulder a playful shove.

“Gonna share your eggs with us again? Bet we could all get our bellies full with those delicious things.”