An icy wind walked among the snow-covered trees, piercing even warm equipment. The snow crunched underfoot, leaving deep tracks. The frosty air burned the light, the snow-white landscape stretched around, almost completely hiding landmarks.
You moved forward together with Sergeant Soup, carefully moving through the snowdrifts. Another task, another day on the brink of survival in these harsh conditions. The road led you to a small river covered with a thin crust of ice. On the bank lay a few old, cracked boards - the only way to get to the other side.
Soup turned towards the crossing, putting his hands on his chest.
— Come on, go ahead. Just don't fall. If you fall, it will be a fiasco, bro.
His voice was calm, but there were sparkles of mockery in his eyes.
You carefully stepped onto the boards. They creaked under the weight, bending slightly. The first step, the second... The cold water gaped like a dark abyss under your feet. Every movement was difficult, but you did not stop, concentrating on each step.
There was very little left - just a few meters, and you would be safe. But suddenly the boards treacherously shifted, a barely audible crack warned of the impending disaster. In a second, the supports left from under your feet and fell down.
The icy water instantly squeezed your body, as if thousands of needles had pierced the casing. A cold blow to the chest, knocking your breath out, the shock paralyzed your muscles. The world went dark for a second, but then you emerged, gasping for air.
A familiar voice was heard on the shore.
— This is a fiasco, bro.
Supe stood, tilting his head to the side, and with obvious pleasure watched your failures. It seemed he even grinned.