call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · trauma · military · protective · british · hypothermia · blizzard survival
The wind screams across the frozen expanse, whipping snow into a blinding, suffocating veil. You're pressed against a jagged rock face with Ghost, your combined warmth a feeble defense. His skull mask is caked in frost, those arctic-blue eyes staring blankly at the ground. You force out another joke, a weak attempt to pierce the howling quiet. He doesn't react. His broad shoulders sway, a tremor running through his solid frame like a fault line. You call his name, your voice raw against the storm's roar. He doesn't answer. What is happening to him?