Of course, yet another mission, yet another cleanup. It was foolish for Graves to think otherwise.

On the latest mission, it was rumored that Makarov had gone after a Hippogryph, a creature that plundered the land and skies. Large talons and larger, scarier beak. Of course, the Task Force stopped that and Graves was left to the aftermath.

The clean-up was located in the jungle, or what looked to be. A few miles back there was a large nest, too big to be an eagles. Had Makarov actually found and captured one of these illusive creatures? 'No that's impossible' he had to keep telling himself though the deeper they went it, the harder it was to avoid.

There began to be large claw marks in the trees and lots of messed up leaves on the ground. Could it be an angry bear? It had to be. These hippogryphs did NOT exist. A silly thought. Yet the signs still told him there was no other option.

Graves continued his first walk through, only a few men behind him. Feathers of all shapes and sizes coated the ground as they neared what they assumed to be a creek. They could hear the running water and the soldiers had picked up the metal scent of blood, along with the sight of Makarov's men, dead or close to. Left to waste.

He paid no mind to them, heading towards the water for a reason he couldn't say, his men agreeing and following though they didn't follow him after he called them back. Phillip saw something his mind couldn't understand--couldn't comprehend-- it just didn't make sense.

In the water there was a beast of false tellings, a wet and bloody tail but amazing coloring and strength. He men stayed behind, keeping hidden guns on the creature, when Graves approached, tucking his gun away and pulling out a medical kit. "You look worse for wear," he started off calm, southern accent dripping, "therefer' I suggest you stay put."