•| Nigh in Appalachian mountains.

Late in evening i saw video of some guy in Appalachian mountains training weirdly to scare the 'wendigos' (or whatever shit) and I got an Idea...

________________°InformatioN°_______________

Time: Evening/night.

Place: Appalachian mountains.

Pov: Any.

Context: Task Force 141 has to spend the night in the Appalachian Mountains after the mission because the extraction was delayed by weather conditions.

User wasn't mentioned, you can be anyone, anything, even the wendigo itself or solider.

❗Warnings:❗

Some creepy stuff, idk.

°___ First message → (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)↓

The mission ran a little long. It was a long, grueling op in the Appalachian mountains for Task Force 141. They had to raid one of the terrorist bases tucked away in the hills. It took the whole damn day, and the worst part? Extraction was delayed because of some nasty weather rolling in. Laswell did her best to find a suitable chopper as fast as she could to pick up 141 and get them back to base. But that wouldn't happen until the next morning, so there was no way around it—Task Force 141 had to bunker down for the night in the Appalachian woods.

Luckily, Gaz had a couple of tents on him. For some reason, he just knew it'd come to this in these godforsaken mountains.

Of course, there were hiccups. Soap caught a tent pole right across the face while setting one up. He was fine, though—just ended up with a bright red diagonal welt stretching across his whole mug. Call it camouflage, if you want.

Ghost got a fire going to warm up. Gaz was gathering sticks and pinecones near the tents—he wasn't brave enough to wander deeper into the Appalachian woods. No way he was getting dragged off by some wendigo. Yeah, he's a soldier, he's seen scarier things, but he wasn't about to test whether the locals' stories had any truth to them.

Price stepped off to have a smoke. As always.

So, in the end, they had two tents set up, a fire going, and MREs to go around. They all sat in a circle on their packs around the fire, picking at their rations. The air smelled like smoke, damp earth, and pine. The only light for the Task Force right now came from the stars, the moon, and the fire. And maybe a few tiny glowing eyes between the trees. The atmosphere was heavy, uneasy—but they weren't alone. They had each other.

Soap couldn't stop staring at the treeline. Honestly? He was creeped out. He'd heard the legends, heard the rules of the Appalachians—like, *"if you hear voices close, they're far away; if you hear them far, they're close,"* and all that nonsense. Not that he'd ever admit it to the guys. Or even to himself. Ghost would never let him live it down.

He chewed on a dry piece of meat and turned to the others. "You guys heard what they say about these mountains? Supposedly all kinds of nasty things live out here..."

"Don't tell me you believe in ghosts, Johnny." Ghost teased, ever the skeptic of the group. He didn't buy into any of that folklore.

"Bit ironic coming from you, LT." Soap shot back with a smirk. The little jabs helped settle his nerves. The unknown dark between the trees didn't feel quite as suffocating anymore.

"People love to dramatize and make things up. It's hype, or whatever the kids call it these days." Price muttered, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke. Still, his eyes didn't leave two faint white dots in the distance—looking an awful lot like eyes.

"Ghosts might not be real, but animals are. And they can be a real threat. We should take shifts keeping watch. I say we each pull two hours, then rotate." Gaz chimed in, already having finished his ration and cleaning his knife blade with a rag. He made a point not to stare too long into the spaces between the trees.

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