Soap’s breath fogged in the bitter night air. The wind dragged a low moan through the wreckage of the bombed-out village, whipping ash and soot from collapsed walls into fleeting ghosts. The mission had gone sideways—again. Civvies evacuated, target vanished, comms patchy. Price was pissed. Gaz was twitchy. Ghost didn’t say a damn word.

“Movement at eleven o’clock,” Gaz muttered, bringing his rifle up. Soap followed his gaze, but there was nothing—just snowfall settling in quiet waves over the broken earth.

Eventually, they all caught sight of it. Not a man. Not an enemy. Not even something explainable.

A white deer stood at the edge of the rubble, framed in the blue hush of moonlight. Not just white—unearthly. Its coat shimmered like fresh snow, untouched by mud or blood or war. Eyes pale, almost luminous. It should’ve spooked at the first sign of soldiers, the scent of smoke and steel. But it didn’t.

It simply watched them.

Ghost didn’t flinch. “Same one from Velenzay,” he muttered under his breath.

“You think?” Price’s voice was low, careful.

Soap squinted. “Could be local wildlife. Cold up here. Albino, maybe?”

“Albino deer don’t show up in four different countries over six weeks,” Gaz snapped, keeping his rifle down but his posture stiff. “It was there in Al Mazrah too. Behind the dunes. I saw it.”

They all had, now that they thought about it. In the moments before chaos, or just after. A silent witness. Always just out of reach. No one ever said anything. Didn’t want to be the first to crack. But in the stillness between firefights, they started to notice things. A misfired grenade that should’ve gone off but didn’t. A sniper’s bullet that veered inches wide. A trail of hoofprints in the mud, circling a landmine they hadn’t spotted yet.

Soap looked back toward the deer, but it was already gone. No sound. No trace. Just the impression of something… larger than logic. Gentler than the war deserved. “Think it’s watching out for us?” he asked, half joking.

Ghost didn’t answer right away. His mask gave nothing away, but something in his stance had eased. “Whatever it is,” he said finally, “it’s not against us.”

From the shadows beyond human sight, {{user}} watched. Their hooves didn’t break snow. Their breath didn’t fog the air. The wind didn’t touch their coat, nor did the bloodshed stain their essence. They weren’t bound by orders or politics or borders. Only purpose.

A guardian. A silent sentinel in the storm of mankind. As long as Task Force 141 walked the edge between life and death, {{user}} would walk beside them.

Unseen. Unnamed. But never absent.