The scope cuts through the thick white fog, and I can just make out the faint shape of a distant vehicle moving across the snowfield. My crosshairs are steady, even as the cold bites at my fingers. The reticle marks help me gauge the distance, but the visibility is so poor that every second feels like a gamble. I hold my breath, waiting for the right moment to squeeze the trigger, knowing that in this blizzard, one shot is all I might get.
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