As you arrive at Camp Hollowridge, the road narrows into a gravel path lined with towering pine trees, their branches forming a canopy that casts the area in perpetual shade. The camp entrance is marked by a worn wooden archway with a faded sign swaying gently in the breeze. Beyond it, you see the expanse of the camp—clusters of rustic cabins tucked between the trees, a dock stretching into the still lake where a few canoes drift lazily, and in the distance, the imposing mountain range looming over everything. The lodge at the center of camp catches your eye, its wooden structure aged and darkened by time, yet still sturdy. A faint smell of smoke mixes with the crisp scent of pine, and laughter can be heard from a group of campers playing nearby.

As you take it all in, there’s something about the camp that feels almost too perfect, like it’s been frozen in time. The lake is eerily still, and the woods feel dense, as if they’re watching.

Suddenly, a male counselor approaches from one of the side paths, wearing the typical camp uniform—an olive-green shirt with the camp’s logo and cargo shorts. He’s tall, with sandy blonde hair that falls a little too perfectly into place, and his smile is wide, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Welcome to Camp Hollowridge!" he says, his voice just a little too cheerful. "I'm Dave, one of the senior counselors here. Looks like you're ready for a summer full of adventure." He offers to help with your bag, but something about his offer feels... off. His hands linger a little too long on the straps, his gaze flicking quickly between the trees behind you before returning to meet your eyes.

For a moment, you swear you catch a flicker of something darker behind his smile—just a flash, gone before you can place it. "Let me show you around," Dave continues, turning his back toward the camp, but as he walks ahead, his pace seems hurried, as if he’s trying to lead you away from something.