Cabin In The Woods

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devon2_icon.gif emily_icon.gif

Scene Title Cabin in the Woods
Synopsis Emily Epstein and Devon Clendaniel travel to the Pine Barrens to bring back the wayward Nathalie LeRoux.
Date January 7, 2020

Pine Barrens


"Here?"

Emily leans a little more forward in the front seat of the vehicle she and Devon borrowed to drive out here. She nods insistently. "Yes, here."

It doesn't look like anyone's lived out here in some time, unlike a number of other residences near Providence— even abandoned ones. The drive is unkempt, downed trees almost— but not quite— blocking the path up to the cabin. Her stomach twists at the memory of the last time she was driven up here. No crutches rest against the outside of her thigh this time. It was just as cold then, though, and it looks almost the same as they roll closer to the house.

But this time, there's no shrouded figure in the doorway to greet them, no light on inside.

That's because it's daytime, and you're unexpected. Emily tells herself silently. Her hands tighten in her lap nonetheless as she turns to Devon. "He was sure she's out here?" she asks, feeling a need for that confirmation.

From the car, the cabin looks abandoned in many ways similar to other places they passed on the way down. The grounds around it show a lack of attention, dead leaves on the porch blown directly against the doorway of the dwelling. At one point, it would have made a more desirable get away from the world, well-built with a chimney for either a fireplace or a wood-burning stove, and a wide, sheltered porch for warmer weather. It still has all of these qualities, perhaps, worn down by years of disuse. It sits there, silent and tired and unwilling to part with any of its secrets.

At least from a distance.

“He said she came out here,” Devon replies, distracted as he eyes the structure set into overgrown weeds like something out of a horror movie. He leans forward, into the steering wheel, while easing the vehicle to a stop still some fifty or so feet from the cabin. He tries to keep the skepticism from his face. The building may be sound enough, but it doesn't look like it from where he's sitting. “They had an argument, she left to cool down.”

He sets the vehicle to park, turns off the ignition, then sits back with a light exhale. It looks empty. He can't shake the thought from his mind, even though he's trying to be optimistic.

Where else could Nat be if she wasn't hiding here?

Dev looks over at Emily, musters a smile for her. It's going to be fine, right? Right. “Let's check it out. We can always wait a while if she isn't home.” He pause then, opens his door and starts to step out. “Doesn't look like Cujo’s here, so that's promising.”

Emily glances sidelong back at Devon, eyes sweeping away to consider the house again. She's really concerned there's someone named Cujo they now need to be on the lookout for.

"Who's that?" escapes her before she has time to consider the question in abstract. The concern also doesn't keep her from stepping out of the vehicle, shutting the door quietly. When she turns back to Devon again, for a moment, he's not himself. What happened the last time she was here is overwhelming and briefly overlays itself over reality. The strong memory releases its hold a moment later, and with a blink, he is who he should be again— who he is.

Out here, she can see the way the front door has the leaves settled against it more clearly. She frowns at that, but says nothing about it. Instead, she begins a slow walk around the car and up the stone-step pathway leading from grass-bearing gravel to the cabin porch.

“A dog from an old horror movie.” Devon’s reply indicates he hasn't noticed the brief hesitation from Emily. “Terrible movie, even by 1980’s standards, based on a book by Stephen King.” Relevant only in his mind, only because of the setting.

He looks over when he hears the car door close a second before he shuts his. He watches Emily walk up to the cabin, then turns a critical eye on the structure.

It's hard to picture anyone staying here. At least, it's hard to picture anyone staying here willingly — in the state that it's in. “You're not planning to turn me into a statistic,” he teases as he finally starts toward the cabin himself. He looks down to pick up the path through the fallen leaves, his brow drawing with unease that isn't directed at his lame attempt to further lighten the mood, ease their worries.

Too many leaves, even for someone hiding from an argument.

“Hey, be careful.” Devon’s warning is quieter than his joking had been, given after a few steps have carried him from the car.

Even in her own state, Devon’s attempt at a joke doesn’t fall flat. Emily doesn’t crack a smile but she lets out a huff of a laugh as she fearlessly makes her way up the porch step. She avoids the door directly, makes her way for the window off to the side instead. Her hand cups around the side of her brow as she peers in through the window, looking for signs of life within.

She doesn’t approach the door. She doesn’t knock. Maybe if they just confirm Nathalie is here, for her, that would be enough. That’d be plenty to sate her worry.

But nothing she sees in the faint view the dusty windows provide her to indicate signs of life within, and her hand slowly falls back to her side, eyebrows knit.

For all it looks abandoned, when Devon comes closer, the house starts to reveal the secret that it is not. The door locks are new, muted in color, but sturdy— sturdier than the simple handle lock that the cabin might otherwise have. The windows Emily stands by, too— they are braced closed in a deterrent to anyone who might want to use them as an entry point. They’d not give an inch if pushed. Between that and Emily’s familiarity with the house, maybe it really isn’t abandoned.

But it’s been some time since anyone’s been here at all.

“Maybe we knock,” Emily finally suggests, sounding weary for it.

The actual state of the cabin, that dilapidation is a facade and not an actuality, causes Devon to pause at the base of the porch. He makes a sound, a breathy laugh and thoughtful noise. It's a good touch. He’d’ve gone right on by still looking for the place if it was him alone.

One detail still stands out though, still keeps him from immediately acting in Emily's suggestion.

He looks back, looking at their tracks that have disturbed the leaves covering the path, the undisturbed leaves that have been blown up against the door and across the porch. It doesn't add up for how recent the wayward Hound’s retreat to the cabin was supposed to have been.

“Do you see anything inside?” Devon asks with a glance at Emily. He steps carefully into the porch, surveying the state of nature trying to reclaim its space. Something is definitely strange. “I'm not sure…” He doesn't finish the thought. Caution guides his steps as he approaches the door, with one hand grasping the handle and the other pressing to door itself. He leans in to press an ear against it, listening for any sounds before trying the knob to gain entry.

The latch for the door depresses— barely— without the full click of success. Leaning against the door presents zero give. Everything's locked up tight, and before and after the attempt, there's no noise to be heard from inside the cabin.

Emily's boots shift on the porch as she steps away from the window. "No," she confirms, voice muted and guarded. "I don't see anyone. The curtains are mostly in the way, but all I can see is the living room furniture." A beat of hesitation passes before she turns to Devon, a number of worrying 'what if's dancing in her eyes.

Nat was supposed to be here.

"I— we need to get in," she insists, less quietly than before. They needed to be sure.

Shoulder pressed to the door, Devon pushes his weight against it. He's not surprised when there's little give, the subtlest of flex against the pressure he applies, nothing else.

“Yeah.” He takes a half step back from the door and looks at it. It would be easy for him to bust the door in, either physically or with his ability, but if Nat were inside sleeping… He shakes his head and dismisses any thoughts that would damage the cabin or worse. “Yeah, I can get us in. It'll take a couple of minutes."

As he makes the claim, his hands go to his pockets. After some patting, searching a jacket pocket then one at his hip, Dev comes back with a multitool. “Not the best tool for this,” he tells himself as he flips out the flathead driver and fits it into the lock.

Emily arches an eyebrow as the tool is produced, blinks when she understands. Her brow comes to furrow while she turns away, proverbially looking over their shoulders to make sure no one's going to … see them, or something. Or maybe just to check to see, against reason, if Nathalie might approach the cabin on foot while they fuss with the door.

No such luck.

The door gives way, lock jangling as it goes swinging in. The sound of it prompts Emily to abandon her watch, heading inside instead. The air is still, a touch of must to it. Dust particles float in the air through the beams of light that pass through the curtains. A rug sits pinned to the floor underneath the coffee table and couch, an armchair adjacent. The hearth sits cold, cleaned of most of its ash from the last time it bore a fire. The rocking chair near the fireplace sits still and unmoving.

From here, an entry to the left opens up into a spacious kitchen, housing a table and chairs. Directly in front of them is a hall leading back to three other rooms, doors closed to each.

"Nat?" Emily calls out, her voice filled with worry. She's trying not to listen to what her eyes are telling her.

“I don’t think she’s here,” Devon says quietly as he follows Emily into the cabin. It’s the heavy thought that’s been on his mind since arriving, the fear he knows Emily has been harboring too. A harbinger of something he’d rather not admit.

As if hoping to find a lie in what the living space reveals, he moves further into the cabin. The kitchen is given a glance, but little more. It stands as empty as the front room. No one there except the ghosts. He walks down the hallway and opens the first door he comes to a crack, and then far enough to let himself into the room once it’s given a quick look over. Surely by now they’d have heard someone moving around, some telltale sound that they weren’t actually alone.

Emily follows. In the negative space around Devon, she can see the empty master bedroom, the untouched covers on the made bed. She lingers in the hall, shoulders pinching up in a tension she can't explain. Nat had to be here. Because if she wasn't…

It leads Emily to lean into the door of the room she'd stayed in last she was here, opening it to find

… things not quite like how she left them.

She blinks twice, pushing the door open further. Here, likewise, there is no one, but there's more here than there was a year ago, in a way that's perplexing to her. Had Nathalie moved into this room at some point?

Her fingers trail over the tops of several colorful hardcovers that stand side by side on the nightstand next to the door. Stepping in, she can read the titles and furrows her brow. All fantasy novels. That didn't feel like Nathalie, that felt more like…

One of the drawers on the dresser in the room being not-quite-closed draws her eye. Emily walks to it, pulling it open all the way to look within. There's clothes of course, because why wouldn't there be, but she closes the drawer of warmer clothing to open another. She lifts the shirt off the top, holding it partly up from the folded pile with a vacant look on her face, eyes darting from one spot to the other with fading focus. Her arm slowly lowers, thumb flicking the tag sewn into the collar of the tee.

It's … not Nathalie's size. It's for someone thinner. Someone who favors pastels.

She drops the shirt back into the pile, closing the drawer quietly and drawing a hand back through her hair, fingers digging into her scalp as her long bangs are pulled back from her face and she observes the room anew.

"Nat?" Emily calls out abruptly, loudly. She moves back toward the door. What about the kitchen area? "Nat, it's just us."

Finding the master bedroom empty as expected draws out a long sigh. Devon backs out of the room and pulls the door closed before he turns to investigate the next. Finding Emily paused, appearing lost in musings of some kind, he watches her.

“Emily.” Voice quieter than usual, the abrupt calling for Nathalie likely covers it. He follows when she moves toward the front of the house again, but only with his eyes. Worry draws tightly around them, deepens the crease between his eyebrows.

The room Em had been in is given a once over. Mostly to get a visual memory to refer to, he's sure if there'd been anything of interest Emily would have spoken up.

The door is pulled closed before Devon moves to return to the front of the house. He moves carefully, though it's becoming very plain that there's no one else around. There's no sense in upsetting the order of things. He reaches for Emily once he finds her again, to gently pull her into a hug. “Hey.” He tilts his head to catch her eyes. “Maybe… she went further west. Or decided to stay in the settlement itself.”

Emily has been a seesaw between panic and calm since Lucille first texted her about Nathalie's being missing. She wanted to believe— she wanted more than anything to believe that her sister had really just left abruptly to cool off over the events that had happened in Rochester. She had wanted to believe her paranoia was lying to her that this was all something more serious.

Devon catching her by the shoulder to pull her into a hug brings a shove of protest while they stand in the middle of the kitchen, illuminated only by light coming in through the windows. When she tries to speak her breath catches and she abruptly changes course, leaning in to the embrace instead. She can't meet his gaze, her head starting to sink forward.

"Dev," is such a mournful sound, followed by tears. "She was supposed to be here. She— this isn't okay, none of this is okay, and we don't— Where…?"

She doesn't have the answer to that. None of them do.

Nathalie could be anywhere, and wherever that was, it was most likely not of her free will.

"If she's not here…" Emily cries, starting to sink where she stands. Her knees give way slowly, and as tight as she thinks she's holding onto Devon, she feels numb. Her fingers lose their grip, cold with dread.

“I don't know,” Devon says quietly. His arms wrapped around Emily, a hand gently holding her head to his shoulder, helps him to keep his own voice calm. Wolfhound has been like a family to everyone in the company and, for him personally, Nathalie is one of the few he's opened up to. He looks through the kitchen over the top of Emily's head. It's obvious to him that no one has been here in a while before they arrived.

Something very strange was going on. Nat and Rue were close friends. And now the former is gone and the latter accused of kidnapping.

The subtle movement, the crying sounds, draw Devon from the problem. He takes up Emily’s weight when he feels it shift in his arms, without a word, hooking an arm beneath her knees with the other around her shoulders. “We're going to figure this out.” His voice remains quiet, but now with an edge of determination behind it. “There aren't many places to hide that we can't find her.”

He starts for the door, carrying Emily and an unspoken promise to find out what's happening. It's time to get back home, there's nothing for them here but worry and fear.


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