METRO 1497 - SOME TIME LATER-

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SOME TIME LATER-

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The wind howls like a living thing as the four riders push deeper into the white‑buried mountain pass.

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Paul rides at the front on Stone, the massive white stallion whose hooves punch deep into the drifts. Metro follows close with Sally, her black coat dusted with ice, breath steaming like smoke.

Gregory rides Crook, the cream‑colored horse with white speckles scattered like stars across his hide. Sam brings up the rear on Curly, a dark brown mare with a black mane whipping in the wind.

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Only Paul and Metro carry lanterns — two trembling circles of gold fighting against the swallowing blue of dusk.

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The sun is sinking fast.

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PAUL:

(shouting into the void)

“KYLE!”

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METRO:

“KYYYLLEE!”

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SAM:

“Kyle!”

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Their voices vanish into the storm.

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They push uphill, hooves crunching through ice. Then—A faint sound.

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A mumble or shape of a voice carried by the wind. Gregory jerks upright, goggles shifting.

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GREGORY:

“Wait… did you hear that?”

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Everyone freezes.

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Nothing but the blistering wind screaming between the rocks.

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Gregory adjusts his goggles again, squinting into the swirling white.

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GREGORY:

“Should we split the search? It’s getting late…”

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Paul doesn’t even turn around.

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PAUL:

“No. It’s safer if we’re together.”

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Gregory nods as Sam pulls Curly closer, shoulders tight.

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The horses groan and complain, their breaths puffing out in thick clouds of frozen smoke.

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SAM:

“I don’t think we — or the horses — can stay out here much longer…”

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Metro glances back at the fading trail, then forward into the storm. He pulls a black cloth over his nose again, tightening it against the cold.

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PAUL:

“Strawhat’s wife is gonna turn into a widow if we don’t find that man…”

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Sam shivers, voice low.

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SAM:

“We can always come back at first light… There’s gonna be real monsters out here…”

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Metro’s eyes harden.

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METRO:

“Kyle will be dead by morning if we don’t find him now.’

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(beat)

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‘Maybe we should split Paul…”

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Paul snaps his hand through the air, refusing to look back, Stone still pushing forward.

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PAUL:

“No! We stick to the plan.”

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He raises his lantern high.

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PAUL:

“KYLE!”

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METRO:

“KYYLLE!”

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Their voices echo, overridden by the storm.

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And somewhere — faint, broken, almost lost —

a voice answers.

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Moments later—Night has fully swallowed the mountain.

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All four men wear brown cloaks on their horses, faces wrapped in cloth, only their eyes visible. The wind has become a monster — louder, sharper, colder — like a freezing hell clawing at their bones.

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Paul leads, lantern held high, Stone trudging through knee‑deep snow.

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Gregory’s voice cracks through the storm.

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GREGORY:

“Maybe we should turn back!”

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Paul doesn’t answer. He just keeps moving.

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Sam grunts behind him with Metro squinting against the wind, face tightening.

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METRO:

“Paul!!”

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Paul stops abruptly.

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PAUL:

“Give me a second, would ya?!”

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The group halts. The wind screams around them.

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Paul lifts his lantern, but the light barely reaches a few feet. The darkness eats it whole.

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Then— A distant howl.

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Long.

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Deep and hungry.

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Another joins it.

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Then another.

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From the cliffs coyotes are heard… or wolves.

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Big ones.

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SAM:(voice cracking)

C’mon, man!!

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PAUL:(snaps)

“Shut up!”

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Paul dismounts, lantern raised, snow swallowing his legs up to the knees.

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Metro dismounts too, tossing his lantern to Gregory. Both men step forward.

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SAM:(voice trembling)

It's wolves …

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METRO:(snaps, voice tight)

Quiet!

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SAM:

“—we’re about to be dog food. LETS SCRAM!”

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Gregory studies Paul’s posture — a stone‑cold rock on top of a frozen mountain. Paul presses forward without hesitation. Gregory follows, giving them space but keeping the lantern light behind them.

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The howls multiply.

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The men freeze in instinctual paralyse of fear. The unknown pressing in from every direction.

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The barking grows louder.

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Closer.

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Paul suddenly tosses Metro the lantern.

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PAUL:(snaps harshly)

Back to back!!

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The men snap into formation, shoulders touching, lanterns trembling.

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