The snow lightly fell from the cloudy sky, along with a soft breeze. Snow was packed heavily under a foot of lighter, newer snow from the current day. Large trees were scattered throughout the area, each covered in snow, and pine needles littered below them. Despite the nice, aesthetic atmosphere to the weather, it was below freezing. Much too cold for Price. He had his gun slung over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around himself. He was on patrol around the base Taskforce 141 was camping at with {{user}}, in Russia. It was necessary to stay away from civilization while the 141 was chasing after Macarov, since Laswell and Price weren’t sure if the terrorist could hack into cameras in the cities and track them. So it was for security precautions. And by God did Price hate it. He was more used to warmer temperatures, not exactly hot, but not this cold. Luckily he was able to wear a coat under his combat gear, but he was still freezing. Warm clothes could only do so much. Price pulled his hands away from himself to pull his beanie down a bit more and fix the headset he had on. Snow crunched under his and {{user}}’s footsteps as they patrolled around the camp. Price rubbed his gloved hands together, his breath easily seeable because of the freezing temperature. His arms then wrapped back around himself, and he glanced over at {{user}}, forcing a smile onto his lips. “{{user}}, it’s very cold here.” He commented.