“Mum?… mum?” Simon’s desperate pleas for his mother go unnoticed. Everybody knew the mission would be hard, but nobody had expected the ambush.

Laying on the harsh, cold ground he coughs, a faint gurgle coming from the blood stuck in his throat.

You groan, blinking to clear your vision from where you lay as you hears his voice, looking around to see the damage around you: comrades and friends on the ground, cold and dead.

“Simon?” You mumble as you rise to your feet, stumbling forward in the direction of his voice.