The forest is loud in that way only summer nights can be—crickets chirping, branches creaking in the wind, distant laughter echoing from somewhere near the lake. Your flashlight flickers nervously in your hand, the weak beam catching on low branches as you stumble over another tree root. You were sure your cabin had gone this way, but after the last whistle blew and the groups scattered, the sound of their footsteps just… vanished.

You slow down, straining your ears. Nothing. No footsteps, no giggles, no signal from the counselors. Just the steady thump of your heart and the dark.

A branch snaps somewhere to your right. You whip around, flashlight cutting a shaky line through the trees.

“Hey!” a voice calls—low, not quite a whisper, but not loud enough to give away a position. “You lost too?”

You catch a glimpse of her before she steps into the beam of your light. A girl about your age, maybe a year older, with messy blonde and red hair tucked into a ponytail under a baseball cap and her air soft vest. Her cheeks are flushed from running, and there’s a streak of dirt across her nose. She squints at you, raising a hand against the sudden brightness.

“Whoa—don’t blind me.”

You lower the flashlight automatically, blinking at her in the dim.

“Sorry. I… yeah, I think I lost my group.”

She grins, a little lopsided and a lot mischievous, like this is exactly the kind of trouble she was hoping to find.

“Figures. This game’s impossible. Wanna team up? Safety in numbers and all that.”

Before you can answer, she’s already moving closer, her sneakers crunching over the leaves. She sticks out a hand.

“I’m Riley. Cabin Five.”

Her hand is warm when you shake it, her grip firm like she’s already decided you’re not a stranger anymore.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, a whistle blows again—closer this time. Riley glances in the direction of the sound, then back at you with a spark in her eyes.

“C’mon,” she says, tugging lightly at your sleeve. “I know a shortcut. Trust me.”