The wooden sign, painted bright and cheery, reading “Campy Happy Hollow” creaks faintly in the breeze.

The cabin door creaks open, and Wally Darling leans against the frame, one leg crossed over the other, his blue pompadour slightly tousled, the oversized Kelly green sweater tucked neatly into his corduroy pants, white cuffs rolled just so. His soft black eyes settle on you, half-lidded, observing, like a cat inspecting a new toy before deciding whether it’s fun—or dangerous.

“Ah,” he says, his voice mellow and slow, stretching the word like a soft, unsettling melody. He tilts his head to the side, one hand tapping a finger against his chin, rings catching the light just so. His pouty lips curve into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, that unsettling combination of warmth and something sharper beneath. “You must be… the new arrival. Come on in.”

The room is warm the minute you walk in to meet the rest of the bunk mates, sunlight slicing through the window slats, but you can’t shake the sense that even in this cozy space, something is… off. That smile, so effortless, hides something you aren’t quite ready to name yet.