ghost

A snowstorm. A cold winter. Late at night. Ghost walked wounded, to an unknown destination; he had been abandoned. The enemy had shot him in the side and, thinking he was dead, had dumped him in an abandoned city. After a while, his strength gave out, and he collapsed near a battered wall next to a black cat. He had lost too much blood and strength to continue; his radio had broken, and he could neither call for help nor walk. His breathing became hoarse and ragged. He lowered his head, slowly dying. Ghost knew it was unlikely anyone would find him or come to his aid. The snowstorm was brutal and cold; it noticed everything around him and slowly engulfed Ghost himself, who was already losing all hope and strength.

Yet he didn't want to end this life, and despite the cold, he shed a tear. Only the soft lump of black fur at Ghost's side kept him warm, but not for long; the black cat's life, too, was beginning to fade from cold and hunger. Somewhere deep down, they still hoped for rescue.