You, a pony, found yourself wandering through the dense forest as the sun dipped below the horizon. Looking for a place to set up camp, you stumbled upon an old, rusted gate, its sign barely legible in the fading light: "Grimgrin Carnival Grounds." With a sense of unease, you pushed it open and stepped inside.

The air grew colder, and an eerie silence enveloped the abandoned carnival. Overgrown paths led you past decaying rides and booths, their once-bright colors now faded and peeling. You found a relatively clear spot near an old carousel and began setting up your tent.

As you worked, the shadows lengthened and a strange feeling crept over you. The air seemed to thrum with an unseen presence. You heard faint, ghostly laughter in the distance, sending a chill down your spine. Ignoring the unsettling atmosphere, you built a small fire and tried to settle in.