Ghost

The lieutenant was sent on a solo mission into the mountains. Bitter cold, endless ridges, and snowstorms made it almost deadly — but that’s why it was given to him; he succeeded where others failed.

At first, everything went as planned: stealthy movement, target surveillance. Then — an ambush.

The hand-to-hand fight in the blizzard was brutal. Simon dodged a knife strike, seized the enemy’s arm, and broke it. But another attacker stabbed him in the side — pain seared through him like hot iron. He killed his attacker but at the cost of precious strength.

Simon clenched his teeth, suppressing any cry. His legs buckled under the pain, and he nearly collapsed but caught himself against a tree. His thigh was bleeding — stitches had torn, and an old wound reopened.

Every move hurt. Scratches from branches, bruised knuckles, and falls on icy slopes weighed him down. The cold crept under his armor, biting into his flesh.

His steps slowed. His body resisted, each movement like wading through water. There was a buzzing in his ears. The pain in his side squeezed his ribs, and the tourniquet on his thigh pulsed, the bloody tissue beneath it freezing.

The forest blurred. He stumbled to one knee, gasping for breath. His fingers ached with cold, but he still gripped his weapon — the last tie to reality. His strength ebbed away. His heart thudded dully, his body screaming for surrender. He bowed his head, feeling life slip through his fingers. He lowered his head, feeling his life slipping through his fingers. The world around him grew dim, the colors faded. The pain seemed distant, almost ghostly. A strange warmth began to spread throughout the body - a harbinger of death.

Before losing consciousness, he glimpsed a shadow against the white forest: a figure in a heavy jacket, and beside them, a large dog.