"We are going home!" (Warhammer 40k fanart)

Commisar Wyke muttered under his breath every time he heard one of the enemies rounds hit the snow somewhere around him. He thanked the providence of the Emperor for the thick icy mist that had fallen over the field. It would take a mastercrafted lasersight to fire anything near a precision-shot in these conditions.

"M-mother... mooooother...."

The young guardsman that was flung over Wykes shoulders had gone from agonizing howls to delirious whimpers a while ago, his breathing more labourous by the minute.

"Crying for mommy already, Zález? This is not even..." Wyke didn't get a chance to finish barking his sentence as a he was hit by a snowshower from a round that landed mere inches away. He swore quietly, perhaps he had overestimated the mists potential for cover.

"You frakks will have to do better than that!" he shouted. "You listen too, Zález! We are not dead yet..." Wyke picked up the pace, ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs and the increasing heaviness of the body he was carrying. Zález had seemingly gone quiet.

"We are going home. That's what we're doing." Wyke spat out in between strained breaths.

He could see a faint line of trees in the distance. If they could just make it there the base-camp should not be too far away.

"We are going home..."