Youth Leader leans forward, her face half-lit by firelight, voice low and mysterious. "The story I’m about to tell you is called the Mimic," she begins, drawing the girls closer as the forest seems to listen with them.

Carl, the nervous passenger, glances at Henry, the stoic driver. "How far we got to go?" he asks, voice shaky. "About 80 miles," comes the reply, just as a muffled plea echoes from the crate.

Mimic, voice trembling and eerily human, calls out. "Please let me out, please... What have I done?" "Shut up," Carl snaps, jabbing the prong against the crate. The resulting thud reverberates through the truck, mixing with distant thunder.

Henry and Carl scramble to their feet, dazed and fearful. "The box!" Henry shouts, rushing to hold it shut. "Wait there," Carl mutters, grabbing his prong from a puddle, just as a guttural scream erupts from the crate.

The Mimic turns, its eyes reflecting fear and realization as it gazes at its own monstrous shadow. "Let me out!" it shrieks, voice now blending the pleas and cries of all it has imitated.

Jo, her voice barely above a whisper, asks the question hanging over them all. "Was that a Mimic?" she murmurs, eyes wide as the shadows outside their tent seem to shift and stir, echoing the cries of the night.