It was an accident, this was never meant to happen, you were supposed to be out camping with your friends, now you're at knife point.

You shuffle back and warily eye the armed puppet in front of you. His clothes tattered and disheavled, the felt of his skin slashed. The straps of your pack dig into your shoulders. The weight of your exhaustion not lifted by the adrenaline in you. Why did you have to get lost? Why couldn't you just have kept up with the others? Why didn't they turn around?