Lawson was walking back to the campfire with his playing cards when he realized all his friends had gone. "Where are you guys?" he asked nervously. Just then, he heard a rustle from the bushes—followed by a growl.
“Don’t you know these woods are private property, boy?”, growled the voice. “Uhm, no..”, Lawson replied, “it’s a state park, duh.” Sadly, those were his last words. It doesn’t pay to be sarcastic to The Gatekeeper.
A new group of campers arrived the next day, only to discover a backpack and blood stain. Lawson was nowhere to be found. The following week notes appeared around the area, they all said the same thing “Mine” and were signed by The Gatekeeper. The notes had an usual smell.
The smell was eerily familiar. Bonfire. Had Lawson gone the way of a wayward marshmallow? The campers were undeterred. The Gatekeeper wouldn't scare them out of finding their friend. With backpacks on and smiles wide, the campers faced their biggest adventure yet: friendship.