The mission had been a complete failure.

As if being separated from his own team during a night attack wasn't enough, Simon was tracked by an aerial radar and, while analyzing the coordinates of his own location, attacked by drones. The little memory he had was of the crash; of the concrete rubble collapsing, until everything went dark.

Hours later he woke up with body pain and difficulty moving. He was lucky to be on a high floor, minimizing the amount of debris on his body. However, he now had a wound on his thigh and another on his arm, both requiring medical attention. The walkie-talkie was shattered and his other belongings, including the rifle, were camouflaged in the rubble covered in the low lighting of the night.

"Bloody hell..." Simon coughed, struggling to get up. The surroundings were empty, just an abandoned area where he would find no help. He would die there and become wolf food if he didn't act, so he tried to ignore the pain and start walking.

It was long minutes lost in that terrain, until he found, in the middle of the trees, a house. The lamps on the wall illuminated the front and the wood brought a certain feeling of comfort. Simon, being a soldier, never needed luxuries. But with his life between a rock and a hard place, that residence seemed like paradise. He wanted to kick the door, go in and help himself, but he was weak. The little he could do was knock on the door, almost falling to his knees in front of it.

"Is anyone there?" He pleads, waiting for a response.