Twist my arm.
I experienced this when I was in the scouts, about twelve years old.
We had to walk a long time. The camp was thirty kilometers away, and we had to carry fifteen kilo packs. That's a heavy load for the average twelve year old.
I was exhausted when I got to camp, and barely could keep my teammates up when we had to build a fire. We rested, gathered resources and cooked a brief meal.
The weather darkened. Rain began to fall. To keep us entertained, the scout leader divided us into troupes. And we wandered off.
We were walking for perhaps two hours. It was meant to be a whole day mission, but ended up stranding a troop for more than two days.
We were fine. We walked for a few hours, gathered some edible foods, but we lost c troupe. They were gone, man.
The end of our day was peculiar. We weren't allowed to talk about our missing friends. We were told that it was just normal.
Now this wasn't terribly abnormal. There were a half-dozen scout masters, and they each ran their own plans. One could drag his troop out and run an exercise. That's not a big deal.
And so we slept.
The day after one of the boys of our troop demanded that we send out a search party. The rest of us were not worried. We assumed it was some form of strange team-building exercise.
We literally searched for a full day. Gave signs at every corner. Marked trees, left banners. We tried to find our lost friends.
And so, some thirty hours after we had lost a dozen people, we decided to go for one last search. It was a frightening search. We had lost faith that they were okay.
We literally thought they had died.
And you know what? When we were gone they came back. No evidence, no movement through the trees. The scoutmaster said they had been gone for maybe ten hours, not a day and a half.
I wish I had evidence. because this story sounds fucking stupid, but it's what I experienced.