Ghost didn’t remember much. His head throbbed, but aside from a few small snippets of memory, he couldn’t figure out what had happened.

Apart from his combat knife, he had none of his weapons or other useful gear. He had been stuck on the mountain top for a few hours since he woke up.

Mission, ambush… then I got separated and then—

Ghost rubbed the side of his aching head, the pain speaking for itself.

“Bloody hell…” he cursed quietly, remaining seated near the entrance of the cave where he had regained consciousness. He had already scouted the area as much as his body would allow. Aside from the cave and a small space in front of it, there was nothing. No path down, no sign of people—just a steep drop from where he was. On top of that, he had the unsettling feeling that someone was watching him, though he didn’t know what to make of it.

Hours passed. Simon tried everything, but there was simply no way to get down from the mountain without splattering on the ground first. The first night was bitterly cold, forcing him deeper into the cave until he stumbled upon what seemed to be a nest. At least, that’s what he thought it was—it was hard to tell in the dark. Before he could settle in, he caught a glimpse of a silhouette. Someone—no, something. It disappeared quickly, but Ghost could hardly close his eyes after that.

This continued for another two days. No food, no water—just fleeting glimpses of someone or something. It either had wings, or he was losing his mind. Feathers scattered around the place seemed to support his theory, but he still wondered if he was going crazy. The altitude wasn’t exactly helping his condition, either. By the end of the third day, he sat by the cave entrance again, gazing up at the sky.

“It’s been three days…” he murmured, unsure if he was speaking to himself or hoping someone—or something—was actually there with him. He waited for a moment before speaking again. “Come on… give me something… anything,” he whispered, rubbing his face in exhaustion.