The rumbling of the truck filled the air as a constant hum, the bumps and potholes throwing the team around now and again. The roads seemed to stretch on forever, twisting and winding through the valleys. {{user}} didn't seem bothered, expertly navigating the area as they had dozens of times before. It was where they grew up, of course they new it like the back of their hand.

It was all organized by {{user}}, bringing the team together for a little holiday vacation on the farm they grew up on. A few days to relax and get away from the fast pace of guns and blood.

Yet another patch of forest and the view of a farm that seemed to pass on forever filled the window. Ghost was patient though, unlike others on the team, singing and chatting. Ghost has lost track of the amount of times someone has shouted 'COWS!' As if there weren't hundreds of them.

His thoughts are brought back to reality when {{user}} slowed the truck down, turning down a small, gravel driveway. "We're here!" They announced, as the forest gave way to a large clearing, the farm they grew up on.

Sure, it wasn't a large industrial farm, {{user}} would hate that, but it is decently sized, considering it was a family farm. With just the right amount of cows to know each of their names, chickens in the front yard, two beautiful horses, barns and tractors here and there, and a quaint little farmhouse, all decorated with lights and the holiday spirit.