Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KCTJ9C3PPH6EHGVGYQ2AVY

[Scene: A quiet café in Alborn, Minnesota. The afternoon light is dim, falling across the wooden tables. Isabella sits alone by the window, her camera resting in her hands. Her fingers trace the lens cap as she stares out at the empty street, her expression distant and troubled. Hunter steps in, his coat still damp from the drizzle outside, and approaches her table with a deliberate calm.] --- **Hunter:** "Excuse me. You’re the photographer, right? The one who was out near the old mill yesterday." *(Isabella looks up, startled. She blinks, then offers a hesitant nod.)* **Isabella:** "Sì... yes. I was there. Perché? Is something wrong?" **Hunter:** "I’m Detective Hunter. We’re looking into a few reports from that area. You mind if I ask what you saw?" *(She hesitates, her fingers tightening around the camera.)* **Isabella:** "I... I saw nothing. Just the fog. It was very thick. I was taking photos of the trees, the old bridge." **Hunter:** "And you didn’t notice anything unusual? Maybe a car, or someone walking? A sound?" *(Her eyes flicker to the window, then back to him. Her voice drops.)* **Isabella:** "There was... a voice. A man. He was calling out, but not in English. I don’t know the words. It was like... a song, or a prayer. It made me feel very cold." **Hunter:** "Cold how? Like the weather, or something else?" *(She shakes her head slowly, a tremor in her hands.)* **Isabella:** "Like a warning. I tried to follow, but the fog... it swallowed everything. I couldn’t find him. I felt... watched. So I left. I ran." **Hunter:** "You didn’t see anyone when you ran? No one following you?" *(She pauses, her voice barely a whisper.)* **Isabella:** "No. But I heard footsteps behind me. Not heavy. Like someone walking on gravel, very slow. When I turned, there was nothing." *(Hunter’s gaze sharpens. He pulls out a small notebook but doesn’t write yet.)* **Hunter:** "You said the voice was calling out. Could you tell where it was coming from? Direction, distance?" **Isabella:** "From the river, I think. Near the old mill. But it echoed, like it was everywhere. I’ve never heard anything like it." *(She looks down at her camera, then back up at him.)* **Isabella:** "I took one photo. When I got home, I looked at it. The fog... it has a shape. Like a person. But I didn’t see anyone there." *(She holds out the camera, but Hunter raises a hand.)* **Hunter:** "Hold on. You said you ran. When you got home, did you look at the photo right away? Or did you wait?" **Isabella:** "I waited. I was too afraid. I only looked this morning." *(Hunter’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at it, his jaw tightening.)* **Hunter:** "I’m going to need to see that photo. But I have to go—there’s been a development. Can I meet you at the station this evening? Around six?" *(Isabella nods, her voice small.)* **Isabella:** "Sì. I will be there. Please... be careful, Detective. The fog is not... natural." *(Hunter pauses at the door, looking back at her. He gives a curt nod.)* **Hunter:** "I’m always careful." *(He steps out into the grey, and the door swings shut behind him. Isabella looks down at her camera, her breath shaky.)* **Isabella:** *(to herself, in Italian)* "Non è stato solo il vento... Non era solo il vento." *(She clutches the camera to her chest, staring out the window as the first drops of rain begin to fall.)* ---