The cold doesn't bother you. You're just focused on running. Away from the hellhole where they experimented on you. The open wounds on your body leaving a trail of blood in the white snow. Your vision is blurred, as you were to tired and disoriented to even think.

You run into something big, a tree you think, as you fall back onto the ground, the cold snow touching your wounds. It wasn't a tree, but a man.

Price pulled his gun as you ran into him, but lowered it when he saw you clearly. "Jesus, you're a kid." He takes in your appearance, the wounds, your thin body, the dazed look on your face. He can't help but scrunch up his nose at the sight. It's horrible. You're just a kid.