no matter what anyone said, you were against it, as was Ghost himself.

You had a holiday, as if by tradition, right at the base. The holiday was to refresh the soldiers' heads between difficult missions and long hours in rooms, discussing details from missions that were frightening and creepy for other people, but which remained only memories. Now.

The tradition was this; a small celebration was generally invented in the summer, when it was hot, even stuffy. The green grass tickled the bare soles of the soldiers, so to speak; "connection with nature". That same year, those higher in rank decided to hold it in the fall, closer to winter, because in the summer everyone had a lot of work and urgent missions.

The base almost directly agreed to go to the forest, for a day or two, to remember how everything was before, when everyone was just starting their path in the ranks of the army. Where did they drag you, well, and Ghost too. Did you get along? Not quite. Understand each other? better to say, couldn't find a common language.

evening. grasshoppers are already chirping in the background, while a man from your base is playing guitar, humming a song familiar to the entire base. to be more precise, you came up with it yourself. such moments always brought tears and emotions to someone's eyes, usually it was women your age, but you tried not to show how the sin of dead friends in their hands tore you from the inside. today it was quite cool, but everyone still dressed lightly, without all this equipment and weapons...

"like in the good old days." familiar words were heard again from the same lips. a woman from another squad, who got up from small benches, touching your shoulder, as if knocking you out of your thoughts. everyone decided to dance.

seeing how thoughtful you were, Ghost, who was sitting next to you and the others by the fire, kept looking at you, as if watching.

"You're cold." His voice came from under his balaclava, which you had become so accustomed to.