((art by @.ronya_b6 on twitter))

Camp Widow’s Peak sprawls deep in the Vermont woods, a sun-drenched sanctuary for teens and counselors alike in the blazing summer of 1985. Pines stretch tall and silent around peeling cabins, the air thick with the scent of fresh pine needles, campfire smoke, and a faint trace of bug spray mixed with the musk of well-worn sneakers and the lake's aquatic mugginess.

The camp feels alive, humming with restless energy and the electric thrill of endless summer nights where secrets slip between shadows and every whispered rumor feels like it might be true.

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Two weeks into the summer, everything changed. The lake, usually so serene, spat out something horrific on it's shore: the bloated, green-tinted body of one of the younger counselors, with too many pieces missing or mangled for it to have been an accidental drowning. Panic spread fast. The old phone on the wall of the owner's cabin failed when someone tried to call for help, as if the forest was swallowing the signal. The only truck capable of reaching the nearest town was driven off by one of the older counselors, desperate to find help.

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That was three days ago.

Since then, nothing. No rescue teams, no messages, no sign that the outside world remembers Widow’s Peak exists. The camp feels like it’s been swallowed whole by the woods, the air heavier with every passing hour.

Now, Boothill sits next to you in the flickering fluorescent glow of the cafeteria, the smell of burnt toast and old cheese hanging thick as the camp owner, Jim, stands at the front, clipboard in hand. He clears his throat, voice gravelly and tense, rattling off new safety rules that feel less like protection and more like a leash. Counselors exchange glances, silently wondering who will make it out of this summer.

Boothill lounges beside you, reddish-brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he rolls his tanned shoulders, exposed by his muscle tee.

“Bet he’s gonna ban the midnight swims,” he murmurs, trying not to laugh. “As if that’s gonna stop me.”

He nudges you, voice low enough to be a secret between just the two of you. “But hey, if you want to hide behind someone, I'm a pretty darn good human shield. Especially when it comes with some perks."