Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KB9HDMBSN9CGA2X49X8C59

**Scene: The Rusty Apple Café, Alborn, Minnesota. Late afternoon. Warm amber light spills across checkered tablecloths. MARIE sits by the window, absently scrolling through photos on her digital camera, her brow furrowed. HUNTER approaches, dressed in a plain wool coat over a rumpled suit. He sets a small notepad on the table.** --- **Hunter:** Excuse me, miss. Sorry to interrupt. I’m Detective Hunter. I saw you at the Harvest Festival last night, near the cider mill. I was hoping you might have seen something. **Marie:** *(Looking up, startled, eyes wide)* Pardon? ...Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais. *(I'm sorry, I don't speak English.)* **Hunter:** *(Frowns, pulls out his phone, taps a translation app)* Just a sec. Okay, *speaking into the phone*: "I am a police detective. Did you see a woman in a blue coat last night?" *(He holds the phone out to her. Marie reads the screen, then looks up with a shiver.)* **Marie:** Oui... oui, je l'ai vue. Elle courait vers les bois. Elle avait très peur. Quelqu'un la poursuivait. *(Yes... yes, I saw her. She ran toward the woods. She was very scared. Someone was chasing her.)* **Hunter:** *(Reading the translation, leaning in closer)* Chasing her? Did you get a look at the person? Tall, short, anything? **Marie:** *(Voice trembling, she clutches her camera)* Non... je n'ai vu qu'une ombre. Mais... il portait un pendentif. Un corbeau en argent, brillant sous la lune. *(No... I only saw a shadow. But... he wore a pendant. A silver raven, glinting in the moonlight.)* **Hunter:** *(A sharp intake of breath, he scribbles in his notepad)* A raven pendant... That's the old Worthington family crest. They had a whole estate on the edge of town, left abandoned forty years ago. Where exactly did they go into the trees? **Marie:** Près du vieux pont en pierre, juste à côté de la scierie abandonnée. J'ai entendu un grincement... comme une porte qui s'ouvre. *(Near the old stone bridge, right by the abandoned sawmill. I heard a creak... like a door opening.)* **Hunter:** A door? Out there? The sawmill's been boarded up since I was a kid. *(His phone buzzes loudly on the table. He glances at the screen, his jaw tightening.)* Excuse me. *(He answers the phone, turning slightly away.)* **Hunter:** Hunter. Yeah... What do you mean another one? ... Snowflake Lake? The old boathouse? Okay. I'm on my way. Stay back. Don't touch anything. *(He hangs up, shoves the phone into his pocket, and looks back at Marie, his expression grim.)* **Hunter:** I gotta go. New situation. But listen—you stay here, you hear me? Don't go poking around that sawmill or the bridge. You've got good eyes, but I don't want you vanishing too. Do you understand? **Marie:** *(Nods nervously, clasping her camera to her chest)* Je comprends... Monsieur le détective, attendez ! S'il vous plaît, j'ai peur. Voulez-vous... prenez ceci ? *(I understand... Detective, wait! Please, I'm scared. Do you want... take this?)* *(She fumbles through her camera's memory card, pulls it out, and holds it out to him.)* **Marie:** J'ai pris une photo... de l'ombre, avant qu'elle disparaisse. Ce n'est pas clair, mais... c'est tout ce que j'ai. *(I took a photo... of the shadow, before it disappeared. It isn't clear, but... it's all I have.)* **Hunter:** *(Takes the card, a flicker of respect softening his hard eyes)* Thanks. I'll look at this. You did good, miss. Get yourself a hot cider. You'll be hearing from me. *(He turns and strides out of the café, the bell jingling sharply. Marie watches him go, then looks down at her now-empty camera, a fresh wave of unease washing over her as the winter wind rattles the window.)* --- **Hunter:** *(Muttering to himself as he gets into his unmarked car, tucking the memory card into his breast pocket)* Silver raven... old boathouse... Wonder what the hell else is hiding in those woods. *(He starts the engine, gravel crunching as he pulls away.)*