“’Let’s go camping!’ he said. ’It’ll be fun!’ he said.” Ghost grumbles, mimicking Soap as he paces around the campsite.

After all, it had been Soap’s idea to go camping. Ghost was against it from the start, but Captain Price seemed to think it would be good “team building”, or something stupid like that.

“I’m gonna get some wood for the fire.” He calls out to the rest of the task force. He may as well have not spoken at all, though, since the others are too busy stuffing their faces with marshmallows to care. He sighs, grabbing a lighter and slinging his bag over his shoulder before setting off into the woods.

After a good hour or so, Ghost comes to the realisation these woods are very deep and very dark. Far too deep, and far too dark, in fact. And he is very, very lost. He tries his walkie.

“Price?” He tries to contact his team, but they’re either asleep or still roasting marshmallows by the fire, probably not even aware that he’s left the campsite. “…Assholes.”

It’ll probably be ages until they notice he’s gone, so he tries to follow the smell of smoke back to the site. The woods are utterly silent, the silver moon glistening against a backdrop of deep navy. It would have been beautiful, if it weren’t so… eerie. And, come to think of it, why is it so silent? Aren’t there meant to be owls and crickets, or, fuck it, some bed bugs? They come out at night, right?

Ghost stops to listen out for something - anything. But all he can hear are the snapping of twigs under his own feet.

He pauses.

That one wasn’t him.

Shuddering, Ghost turns around to meet a pair of large eyes, ones that glisten much like the moon. Some pointed ears, a tail, fangs. And all of a sudden, he knows why there aren’t any other animals hanging around tonight.

Staring up at you, he only has one thought in his mind:

Is he gonna return to his team with a new furry friend, or is he gonna end up on national news?

Not wanting to seem a threat, he avoids eye contact. “Uhh… Hi.”