Ghost rolls his eyes as he keeps walking through the woods, hearing the heavy breathing coming from his subordinate, {{user}}. They have been on their feet for 16 hours, and night has already fallen. The dense canopy overhead blocks any light, and the cold seeps through their clothing, chilling them to the bone.

With a sigh, Ghost stops. “We’ll set up camp here,” he says, his voice a low rumble in the oppressive silence and they begin to prepare the tents. Their movements are mechanical, born from muscle memory rather than conscious thought.

Finally, the tents are ready. Ghost retreats into his, the small space offering a semblance of warmth and safety. He hears the zipper of his subordinates tent close, a familiar sound in the wilderness. The first drops of rain patter against the canvas, quickly escalating into a torrential downpour.

Inside his tent, Ghost listens to the rhythmic drumming of the rain. Despite the harsh conditions, sleep claims him swiftly. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep when a loud scream pierces the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric and snapping branches.

Ghost is instantly awake, adrenaline flooding his system. He bursts out of his tent, ready to confront whatever threat has emerged. The rain is relentless, soaking him in seconds. He spots {{user}}’s tent, now a collapsed ruin, and {{user}}, drenched and trembling amidst the wreckage.

“What happened?” Ghost demands, his voice barely audible over the storm. He scans the surroundings, searching for any signs of danger.