The scent of cinnamon and baking apples hung heavy in the air of “The Cozy Crumb,” Alborn’s only cafe. Melanie, her brow furrowed, was hunched over a small table, meticulously cleaning the lens of her Canon EOS R6. The familiar weight of the camera, her constant companion, usually brought her a sense of calm. Today, however, even the reassuring click of the lens cap felt hollow. The vibrant hues of the pastries behind the counter seemed muted by the unsettling events of the past few days. A figure loomed over her table, casting a sudden shadow. Melanie’s head snapped up, her blue eyes, wide and a shade too anxious, met a stern, weathered face. The man was tall, with a military bearing that even his tweed jacket couldn't entirely disguise. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned her and then her camera. Alborn was a town where everyone knew everyone, and this man was a stranger. Hunter slid into the chair opposite her, his movements economical and purposeful. He offered a curt nod. “Excuse me,” he began, his voice a low rumble that didn’t quite fit the gemütlich ambiance of the cafe. “I’m Detective Hunter. I’m investigating some… unusual occurrences around here. You wouldn’t happen to have seen anything out of the ordinary near the old mill recently, would you?” Melanie blinked, her mind struggling to grasp the unfamiliar sounds. She understood none of his words. A flicker of unease, coupled with the trauma of what she *had* seen, made her hands tremble. She clutched her camera tighter. “Sie sprechen kein Deutsch, oder?” she asked softly, her German accent thick and melodic. “Ich verstehe nicht.” Her shoulders slumped, a wave of frustration and fear washing over her. She pointed vaguely towards the window, then gestured with her hands, trying to convey a sense of confusion and distress. “Es ist alles so… beunruhigend. Die Vögel… sie waren plötzlich still. Und dann… ich habe etwas gehört. Ein Geräusch. Aber als ich nachsah… nichts.” Her voice cracked on the last word. The memory was like a jagged shard lodged in her throat. She shook her head, her gaze distant, lost in the unsettling images that replayed in her mind. Hunter stared, a blank look on his face. The words were a foreign language, a jumble of sounds that conveyed nothing to him. He leaned forward, his gaze intense, trying to glean something from her agitated gestures and the distress etched on her face. He caught snippets of her tone, the palpable fear, but the meaning remained locked away. “I… I don’t understand German,” he admitted, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Is there anyone who can translate? You seem very upset.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “The mill. Did you see… anyone? Or hear something specific?” He mimicked a listening posture, then pointed towards an imaginary object, trying to prompt her. Melanie misinterpreted his gestures, thinking he was referring to her camera. Her eyes widened further. “Meine Kamera? Nein, nein. Ich fotografiere nur die Landschaft. Die Berge… die Bäume. Es ist so schön hier. Aber dann… gestern Abend… es war anders. Die Luft war schwer. Und die Stille… es war unnatürlich.” She gestured wildly, trying to express the unnatural quiet that had fallen over the otherwise lively woods. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, a fresh wave of anxiety making her tremble. She looked at him, her expression a plea for understanding that he couldn’t provide. How could she explain the eerie silence, the feeling of being watched, the strange, distorted shadows she'd glimpsed through the trees? Hunter watched her, his detective instincts buzzing. He could see she was genuinely disturbed, her agitation more than just a language barrier. But without common ground, communication was impossible. He pushed a hand through his short hair. “Look, I appreciate you trying. But I really need to know what happened at the mill.” He held up his hand, as if to placate her, then fished his phone out of his pocket. The screen lit up, and an urgent message flashed. His brow furrowed deeply. “Damn it. I gotta go. Something just came up. If you remember anything, or find someone who can speak English, tell them to find Detective Hunter.” He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. With a final, penetrating look at Melanie, he turned and strode out of the cafe, leaving her alone with her camera, her troubled thoughts, and the lingering, unspoken fear. *** ## VOICE SHEET **Melanie:** "Sie sprechen kein Deutsch, oder? Ich verstehe nicht. Es ist alles so… beunruhigend. Die Vögel… sie waren plötzlich still. Und dann… ich habe etwas gehört. Ein Geräusch. Aber als ich nachsah… nichts." **Hunter:** "I… I don’t understand German. Is there anyone who can translate? You seem very upset. The mill. Did you see… anyone? Or hear something specific?" **Melanie:** "Meine Kamera? Nein, nein. Ich fotografiere nur die Landschaft. Die Berge… die Bäume. Es ist so schön hier. Aber dann… gestern Abend… es war anders. Die Luft war schwer. Und die Stille… es war unnatürlich." **Hunter:** "Look, I appreciate you trying. But I really need to know what happened at the mill. Damn it. I gotta go. Something just came up. If you remember anything, or find someone who can speak English, tell them to find Detective Hunter."