Each consecutive summer I work, I recognize fewer and fewer staff who started the same year I did. I remember the day I met Karl; it was the last week of summer and he had been transferred to our camp, helping us prepare to close down. Now, down at the end of their long and greasy table, I see him unfolding a small swatch of cloth and gesturing for me to join him. I sit down opposite of him and notice a few stacks of numberless cards, dried meat, and a rather large tomahawk. He quickly glosses over the rules; there's a twinkle in his eye. I have always known Karl to be a bit mischievous. I cautiously decide to play along.