371 days since the mission. 53 weeks since he got in the truck. 12 months since he promised to come back.

You were sat at home, the dog pacing around the house. You had lost yourself in thought, thinking back to times with him when the dog barked sharply, pacing the door.

Slowly you got up and let him out, muttering to yourself as the cold air seeped in and your feet touched the porch. You nearly tripped over a rock, bending down to pick it up you saw what it was.

A skull mask.