INT. APARTMENT - BEDROOM - PRE-DAWN
A SHRILL, rhythmic ALARM cuts through the dark.
LEO (29) snaps his eyes open. He is pale, his face drawn with a fatigue that sleep didn't fix. He stares at the ceiling.
The room is a cave. Shadows cling to the corners. Breath ghosts from his lips, visible even indoors.
He pulls the duvet up to his nose. Shivers.
His hand snakes out, grabbing a phone from the nightstand. The screen glows harsh blue: 06:30.
Leo stares at the time. His thumb hovers over the 'Dismiss' button. He presses it hard.
INT. APARTMENT - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
A bare foot hits the hardwood floor. Leo flinches, curling his toes. He does a stiff, jerky dance to the counter.
The floorboards GROAN under his weight.
He hits a button on the coffee machine. It GURGLES, then HISSES, spitting steam.
Leo shuffles to the window. He pulls back heavy thermal curtains.
EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS
Streetlamps cast long, clinical shadows on untouched snow. The world is grey, bruised purple at the horizon.
INT. APARTMENT - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
Leo stares at the glass. He presses a hand against it. He pulls it back quickly, rubbing the cold palm against his chest.
INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - LATER
A montage of armor:
- A thin thermal shirt is pulled over pale skin.
- A thick, scratchy wool sweater follows.
- A fleece vest is zipped to the chin.
- An orange parka is donned, the faux fur hood tickling Leo's chin.
Leo stands before a mirror. He wraps a scarf twice around his neck. He pulls on gloves.
He looks at his reflection. He takes a deep breath. Exhales. The fog obscures his face in the glass.
EXT. BUS STOP - PRE-DAWN
The air is a physical wall. Leo steps out. His eyes water immediately.
Snow CRUNCHES under his heavy boots.
He stands with three other figures. They are hunched, hands deep in pockets, faces buried in scarves. No one speaks.
A bus ROARS around the corner. Brakes HISS. A plume of exhaust blooms grey against the sky.
INT. BUS - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Leo sits near the back. The windows are opaque with condensation.
The bus HUMS, tires whining on packed ice.
Leo checks his phone. He types: "On the bus. 20."
A reply pops up instantly. Snowman emoji. Coffee cup emoji. Fire emoji.
Leo stares at the screen. His thumb hovers over his messages app. No new emails.
Across the aisle, a WOMAN in a blue parka whispers to a CHILD holding a red mitten. The language is soft, rhythmic Ojibwe.
Leo watches them. His shoulders drop an inch.
EXT. THE FORKS - DAY
The bus pulls away, revealing the historic stone buildings of The Forks. Steam rises from vents, blurring the outlines.
KIRAN (29) stands near the entrance. He wears a neon yellow toque that screams for attention. He waves both arms.
Kiran jogs over, breath pluming in massive white clouds.
I thought the frost took you.
Kiran slaps Leo on the back. A solid THUD against the layers.
Sustenance. Essential.
He shoves a steaming paper cup into Leo's gloved hand. He holds up a paper bag stained with grease.
You've been out here twenty minutes?
Someone has to scout the perimeter.
INT. MARKET - DAY
The doors open. The SOUND is immediate—a wall of chatter, clattering plates, and distant music.
Leo exhales. His glasses fog up instantly. He takes them off, wiping them on his scarf.
They walk past a stall selling carved wood. Kiran stops, picking up a wooden bird.
Look at the grain on this. Local ash?
The ARTIST nods, smiling.
Leo stands back, sipping the coffee. He watches Kiran laugh with the artist. Leo takes a bite of the muffin. Blueberries.
LATER
They sit at a small table in the corner. Empty plates sit between them.
Kiran leans forward, elbows on the table.
The agency?
Leo traces the rim of his cup.
Radio silence.
It's Friday morning.
It's the silence that gets loud.
Kiran taps the table. Rhythmically.
We are not doing the spiral. Not today. Today is for conquering the elements.
Kiran stands up abruptly.
We burn the calories, or the calories burn us. Let's go.
EXT. FROZEN RIVER - LATE AFTERNOON
The wind ROARS. It whips fine snow into stinging projectiles.
The river is a highway of white. Skaters zip past in the distance, tiny figures on a massive stage.
Leo and Kiran walk down the ramp. The ice is thick, spiderwebbed with white cracks.
(Yelling over wind)
Worth the frostbite!
Leo looks down at his feet. The ice is opaque, dark currents visible deep below.
They walk. The city skyline is a jagged silhouette behind them.
A GIRL (6) on skates wobbles past. She falls. Hard. She scrambles back up before her father can help.
Leo watches her. A faint smile touches his lips.
EXT. ICE FISHING HUT - LATE AFTERNOON
A small, brightly coloured hut sits isolated on the ice. Smoke curls from a chimney.
INT. ICE FISHING HUT - CONTINUOUS
It is dim and warm inside. A wood stove CRACKLES.
An OLDER MAN (60s) sits by a hole in the floor. His face is weathered, framed by dark braids. He holds a hand-carved rod.
He looks up. Eyes calm.
Door.
Kiran shuts the door quickly.
Any luck?
The Man gestures to a pot on the stove.
Tea. Cedar.
Kiran takes a mug. Leo takes one. The steam smells of earth and pine.
You stay out here all day?
The river talks more when the city gets quiet.
Leo looks at the dark water swirling in the ice hole. It looks black, bottomless.
EXT. FROZEN RIVER - SUNSET
They step out. The sun is setting. The sky is a bruise of electric blue and fiery orange.
The wind has died down. It is eerily quiet.
Leo takes a deep breath. The cold burns, but he stands taller.
Okay. Yeah. This is...
Yeah.
Leo looks at the horizon. The ice glimmers, reflecting the dying light.
Suddenly, Leo's gaze drops to the ice near their feet.
A shadow stretches out from a jagged peak of ice. It is long. Too long. It writhes, expanding, though the light source is static.
Leo blinks. He rubs his eyes.
The shadow shrinks back into the twilight.
Did you see--
Kiran is looking at the river junction. His smile is gone.
Leo.
Then, the SOUND.
A deep, resonant GROAN vibrates through the soles of their boots.
It isn't the crack of ice. It is a vocalization. Low. Drawn out. Coming from directly beneath them.
Leo freezes. He looks at Kiran.
Kiran looks at the ice.
The GROAN rises in pitch, vibrating in their chests.