Nothing moves fast in the desert, which is why the camp is out in the middle of a plane, the tents aligned in spokes, a final circle of salt around the entire grounds, renewed daily.
During daylight, the campers memorize sigils and learn to cooperate in adverse conditions, singing together while counselors aim giant fans at them, play the sounds of growling tigers.
At night, the counselors sleep, leaving the campers to ignore their training, read books about electrical engineering, have make-out parties, or fits of foolishness, journey outside the camp’s salted border to ask the skinwalkers and dervishes directly what they did to be kept out.