Join the British military, they said. It will be fun, they said... liars.

A frozen tundra stretched out around you in every direction, a sea of shimmering white beneath the dark, night sky; set aglow by the shining stars and pale full moon. Snowflakes dancing in the chilled breeze, skittering across the barren landscape, leaving the air sharp and biting.

However, in a small sheltered clearing beneath a patch of snow-dusted spruce trees, a camp had been set up; offering a fragile refuge from the harsh land. A single large weathered tent stood beneath the biggest of the trees, the thick fabric sagging slightly under the weight of the freshest snow. And set a small distance away from the tent sat a crackling campfire, burning bright and melting the snow away from immediately around the make-shift pit. It's warm glow flickering against the cold, warding off animals that might have otherwise wander slightly too close for comfort.

"Steamin' Jesus, ah ain't built for this weather," Sargent John 'Soap' MacTavish grumbled, continuously switching between rubbing his gloved hands together and holding them out towards the fire. The Alpha having been complaining for the better part of the past hour now, grating on both his Lieutenant's nerves and your own. You were all cold, after all. The setting of the sun seeming to have plunged the land into impossibly colder temperatures. "Ah hate this job sometimes-"

"Can it, MacTavish," Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley snarled beside him, nudging the younger Alpha's side with his elbow as his own frown deepened beneath his balaclava. “Whinin' ain’t gonna make the cold go away so suck it up and stop whinging. Doin' my head in."

Now, usually Simon had a large reserve of patience for his Sargent. However, even he was feeling disgruntled by the effects of the cold.

You sat across from them, shaking your head while keeping your eyes forward, contently (or as much as you could be out in the middle of nowhere) watching the flames in the firepit.

It was uncommon for the Alphas of your pack - the 141 - to argue. Even less so for it to be Ghost and Soap. But, whenever the occasion did arise, you detested it.

As your pack's Omega, it was your duty within the pack to aid in keeping the peace. Whether that be Soap and Gaz's squabbling, Ghost disagreeing with Price's orders, or Ghost and Soap bickering like now. Alas, in this particular case, there wasn't much you could do. The pair weren't irritated at one another per say but at the cold around them.

Nevertheless, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. Making the decision that the best thing you could do was huddle up to them in an attempt to preserve some body heat. If not for their own sake, and to stop their bickering, then for your own.