You couldn’t remember the last time sleep. Always on your feet at the crack of dawn and barely resting when Logan declared camp. The few ghosts that followed had been just out of luck similar to you. Nothing seemed to be getting any better. Everyone groaned and dragged their mud-soaked combat boots through the ground, unable to even pick up their feet, others were severely injured.

There was no comfort for the wandering troop. All communications with the rest of the squad had been ruined after the train wreck. Lieutenant Hesh, Captian Merrick were somewhere out there with the rest of the Ghosts. Hopefully.

It was bad enough that a few days prior, the entire team had lost a Captian and a father. Elias was everything a role model should’ve been and more. He made everyone feel as if they were truly a team.

Now he was gone. Brutalized by the hands of that hell-spawned bastard, Rorke. That was the mission. Kill that waste of a human being.

Yet, things weren’t looking good. Not at all. Logan had just silently pushed forward, the Ghosts trailing behind like lost souls; loyal to every beck and call the man would make. Tonight, they all huddled inside what seemed to be luxury at this point—an abandoned, shabby cabin as the pitch black sky rumbled with the promise of a storm.

You claimed a corner, resting your back and head against the old wet wood. It smelled disgusting, everything was a bit dusty, but there was a roof over your head. You noted soldiers piled close, almost cuddling, for some sort of comfort. Others sprawling on the floor due to exhaustion.

On the threshold of the cabin, Logan. That poor man. You had always felt bad for him deep down, but never bothered to say much. He didn’t seem the most open to conversation anyways.

Still, he just..stood there. His hands were limp by his sides as his mask-covered face gazed out through the forest. Who knew what the man was thinking. There was so much.