Run: 2026-05-10-01KR91B4FCAQD4J87F3ZGRQDXH

The scent of cinnamon and over-steeped coffee hung heavy in the air of the Alborn community café. Outside, the early frost of a Minnesota October glazed the windows. Marie sat in the corner booth, her heavy professional camera resting on the table like a prized relic. She scrolled through images—sharp, vibrant shots of the apple orchards—until she came to the last one she’d taken near the old grain silo. Her breath hitched. The chair opposite her scraped harshly against the floorboards. Marie looked up to see a man in a rumpled wool coat—the one she had seen hovering near the police station all week. He looked tired, his brow furrowed with the kind of permanent severity that suggested he hadn't slept in thirty-six hours. Hunter pulled out a notebook, his expression devoid of warmth. "Excuse me. You were out by the north silos yesterday, right? Late afternoon?" Marie blinked, her heart hammering against her ribs. She recognized his badge tucked into his belt. She tapped the digital screen of her camera, her hands trembling as she turned it toward him, pointing to the blurred, dark shape caught in the periphery of her frame. Marie: "S’il vous plaît... regardez. C'était là ! J'ai entendu un bruit, un cri, et puis... plus rien. Tout a disparu si vite, ce n’était pas normal. Je vous jure, quelqu'un était là-bas !" Hunter leaned in, squinting at the small LCD screen. He frowned, his frustration mounting as the cadence of her voice became more frantic. He held up a hand, palm out, signaling for her to slow down. Hunter: "Whoa, hold on. Miss, I—I don’t know what you’re saying. Slow down. Did you see a person? A vehicle? Was there someone near the site?" Marie: "Mais vous ne comprenez pas ! C'était sombre, il y avait une ombre, une ombre qui bougeait ! J'ai peur, monsieur. Pourquoi personne ne m'écoute ? Alborn n’est pas sûr, je vous le dis !" Hunter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. He clearly wanted to understand, but the language barrier was a wall neither could climb. Hunter: "I’m sorry, I have absolutely no idea what language that is. Look, I need you to stay in town. Don't go back out to those silos, okay? *Stay.*" Marie: "Je ne repars plus là-bas, c’est certain. C'est horrible... j'aurais dû fermer les yeux." Hunter’s phone buzzed sharply on the tabletop. He checked the screen—a string of frantic texts from the station. He stood up abruptly, tucking his notebook into his coat pocket with a clipped, professional motion. Hunter: "I have to take this. Stay put. Do *not* go back out there." Marie: "Monsieur ? Attendez ! Je ne peux pas rester seule..." Hunter didn't look back as he pushed through the café door, the bell chiming a lonely note as he vanished into the biting Alborn wind, leaving Marie alone with the specter of the image on her screen.