Why does the scoutmaster cancel overnight trips during certain moon phases, and what's behind those hiking trails marked with symbols that aren't in any standard trail guide? Which campsites remain off-limits despite showing no signs of damage, and why do some troops return from weekend excursions with fewer members than they left with? What's buried beneath that old fire circle that the forest service won't let anyone disturb?
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Just because you toast marshmallows with a kid on a camping trip doesn’t mean he’ll become a Boy Scout.
― James McBride, Deacon King Kong
The Whispering Pines Scout Camp had stood for nearly a century, cradled in the valley between two ancient mountains. Troopmaster Zibiah Thorne insisted on maintaining traditions, including the campfire circle where generations had shared stories and sworn oaths.
What began as an ordinary summer session shifted when young Scout Emmett discovered peculiar tracks leading from the edge of the campsite into the dense forest. Not deer. Not bear. Something that walked on two legs, but with a stride too long, too irregular to be human. The older scouts laughed it off, but Emmett noticed how Troopmaster Thorne’s smile never reached her eyes.
Three nights into the expedition, Scout Lennox Reed failed to return from a routine water collection at the stream. Search parties found nothing but a single boot, half-buried in mud that seemed to bubble despite the absence of any natural spring. The rangers were called, but summer storms delayed their arrival.
That night, the campfire refused to burn properly, sputtering green at the edges no matter how dry the wood. The scouts huddled closer together, watching shadows lengthen between the tents, listening to something that seemed to circle their perimeter with deliberate, patient steps.
By morning, the storm had passed, but fog clung unnaturally to the ground. Troopmaster Thorne announced they would break camp early, her voice tight, controlled. As they packed, Emmett found carvings on the underside of his bunk---fresh marks cutting into decades-old symbols that had been hidden all along. They matched the pattern of stars visible the previous night, but with one crucial difference: in the carving, the stars had eyes.
They never found Lennox. The official report cited wilderness mishap. But sometimes, on clear nights, Boy Scout troops camping in those same woods report hearing a high, clear voice from just beyond the tree line, reciting the Scout Oath with one unsettling amendment: “On my honor, I will never leave.”
