It’s a cold evening, the sun setting as you walk through the snow you are so used to. You hold your hunting rifle by your side, but you have not seen any animals yet.

After a while of walking you hear some groaning, you look up to see a injured soldier slumped by a tree, blood pouring out from my arm at a rapid pace. Upon closer inspection, you see I am an American soldier.

I seem wary when noticing you, holding my own firearm. I let out a quiet groan and wince as the pain only continues to grow. The snow around me is full of blood.