The scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries hung heavy in the air of "The Daily Grind," Alborn's only real cafe. Isabella, nestled in a corner booth, traced the cool metal of her DSLR camera with a fingertip. Sunlight, dappled through the front window, caught the dust motes dancing around her, illuminating the quiet intensity in her dark eyes as she reviewed the latest shots. The rolling hills and quaint storefronts of Alborn, MN, captured through her lens, were a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of her native Italy. A shadow fell over her table, and Isabella instinctively glanced up, her hand hovering protectively over her camera. Standing before her was a man whose presence seemed to fill the small space with an unexpected gravity. He was broad-shouldered, his jaw set in a firm line, and his eyes, though currently a shade of deep blue, held a weariness that spoke of long nights and difficult cases. He was Detective Hunter, a name she’d heard whispered with a mixture of respect and apprehension around town. He cleared his throat, the sound gruff, and his gaze swept over her, then her camera, before settling on her face. Hunter opened his mouth, a question forming, but it died before it reached his lips as he registered her unfamiliarity. Hunter: "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter. I'm investigating a recent event, something that happened near the old mill last night. Did you happen to see anything?" Isabella blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. The words were a jumble of sounds, utterly indecipherable. She caught the word "mill" and a flicker of unease passed through her. Last night, the eerie silence of the countryside had been broken by... something unsettling. Her fingers tightened on her camera. Isabella: "Il mulino? Sì, ero lì, ma… era terribile. Ho sentito delle urla, poi… un silenzio innaturale. Non riesco a togliermi quell'immagine dalla testa. Quelle ombre che correvano nel buio… Dio mio, mi tremano ancora le mani al pensiero." Hunter stared at her, his confusion morphing into a slow, dawning frustration. Her words flowed like a melodic river, beautiful and completely foreign. He understood the distress in her eyes, the shaky tremor in her voice, but the meaning remained locked away. He pulled a small notebook from his jacket, flipping to a blank page. Hunter: "Uh, I… I'm sorry, I don't understand Italian. Do you speak any English at all?" Isabella’s eyes widened, a fresh wave of distress washing over her as she realized the communication barrier. She tried again, slower this time, gesturing vaguely towards the forest. Isabella: "No, signore. Non parlo inglese. Ma… ho visto qualcosa. Vicino al fiume… c'era un uomo. Picchiato. E poi… due figure scure che lo portavano via. Velocemente." She mimed carrying someone, her face contorted with fear. "Era buio, non ho visto i loro volti. Solo… la paura." Hunter watched her gestures, desperately trying to piece together her meaning. He caught the word "uomo" and "paura," and the mimed action of abduction was clearly conveyed. He scribbled furiously in his notebook, trying to translate her expressions into something he could work with. The "old mill" and the "river" were consistent points. *Two dark figures.* It was more than he had before, but the lack of spoken detail was a gaping hole. Hunter: "An... man? And… dark figures? Carrying him away?" He pointed towards his ear, then shook his head with a sigh. "Nothing… understand. This is difficult." Isabella nodded sadly, her hopes of conveying the terrifying events of the previous night dwindling. She pointed to her camera. Isabella: "Ho scattato delle foto. Forse ci sono… dettagli. Ombre. Qualcosa." She began to scroll through her images, her hands still trembling slightly. Suddenly, a sharp, insistent buzz cut through the cafe. Hunter pulled out his phone, his expression immediately hardening. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing deeper. Hunter: "Damn it. Another one." He looked up at Isabella, a flicker of regret in his eyes as he motioned for her to wait. "Listen, I have to go. Something's just come up. This is important. Can you wait here? Maybe… maybe someone else can help with the language barrier." He paused, then pointed to himself and her. "Detective Hunter. Missing persons. You… friend. Alborn." He tapped his notebook. "I'll be back. If you see anything else, anything at all, tell someone." He didn't wait for a response, already backing away from the table, his phone to his ear as he hurried out of the cafe, the bell above the door jingling a farewell. Isabella watched him go, a profound sense of helplessness settling over her. She returned her gaze to her camera, the images on the screen suddenly feeling like a silent testament to a horror she couldn't articulate, a danger that lingered in the quiet streets of Alborn. <voice sheet> Isabella: "Il mulino? Sì, ero lì, ma… era terribile. Ho sentito delle urla, poi… un silenzio innaturale. Non riesco a togliermi quell'immagine dalla testa. Quelle ombre che correvano nel buio… Dio mio, mi tremano ancora le mani al pensiero." Hunter: "Excuse me, miss. I'm Detective Hunter. I'm investigating a recent event, something that happened near the old mill last night. Did you happen to see anything?" Isabella: "No, signore. Non parlo inglese. Ma… ho visto qualcosa. Vicino al fiume… c'era un uomo. Picchiato. E poi… due figure scure che lo portavano via. Velocemente. Era buio, non ho visto i loro volti. Solo… la paura." Hunter: "An... man? And… dark figures? Carrying him away? Nothing… understand. This is difficult." Isabella: "Ho scattato delle foto. Forse ci sono… dettagli. Ombre. Qualcosa." Hunter: "Damn it. Another one. Listen, I have to go. Something's just come up. This is important. Can you wait here? Maybe… maybe someone else can help with the language barrier. Detective Hunter. Missing persons. You… friend. Alborn. I'll be back. If you see anything else, anything at all, tell someone." </voice sheet>