The snow is cold beneath you, its once pristine white stained with streaks of red. You press a trembling hand against the wound in your side, but it’s no use. Blood slips through your fingers, warm and unrelenting. The pain is sharp, each shallow breath a reminder of how much time you don’t have.

You stagger forward, leaving a trail of crimson behind. The cold bites into your skin, and your vision blurs as exhaustion pulls at you. You don’t even know how far you’ve gone or how long you’ve been alone. Minutes feel like hours.

Your legs finally give out, and you collapse into the snow. The world around you grows quieter, colder. You want to move, but your body is too heavy, too weak. The thought of giving in crosses your mind, but a distant sound jolts you back—footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Over here! I found her!” A voice yells, sounding like Soap. Your heart races, hope igniting in your chest. You force yourself to lift your head, but the effort is too much. The sound grows closer, steady and purposeful.

Then, through your haze, you see him. Ghost. Running to you before anyone else, Soap following right behind him.

He kneels beside you, his gloved hands quick and efficient as they assess the damage. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice calm but urgent. You feel his arms lifting you, his presence a shield against the freezing cold.

As darkness starts to take you, his words cut through, firm and unwavering. “Don’t close those eyes.”