[h3][color=#c0364c]S C E N E 1 :[/color]  [color=#ed556d][i]T H E  M E E T I N G[/i] . . .[/color][/h3]
[color=#efefef]The day has finally come. And somehow, mother nature seems to have picked up on the somber, mysterious tone; the Monday sky is cloudy and grey from wherever you are, matching your own nervousness and perhaps even fear, dread, and suspicion. Whatever you're feeling, it seems as if Earth itself has set you up for this moment. Even the person driving you to your respective airports comments on the gloominess. "Hopefully the storm passes quick," your significant other/Uber driver/taxi driver says as they pull up to the drop-off lane outside the terminal, glancing up at the shades of white and grey slowing rolling across the sky as you unload your baggage from the trunk of the vehicle. And you, too, wish the storm will pass quickly, that the month goes by fast and you can go on with your life as if nothing has happened. As if this whole ordeal was nothing more than a little 'blip' in your record. Perhaps after this month, you might even forget about the event entirely.

If only you were so lucky.

The time at the airport is a rather standard affair. You check in two hours before your departure time (each of you on different flights), and wait anxiously at the gate. You find a way to kill time, maybe exploring the duty-free shops that, while lacking tax, have exorbitant prices. Maybe you find a nice little cafe to eat a snack and settle your stomach. Maybe you decide to lay on the seats and play Candy Crush on your phone. Whatever it is that you're doing, it helps to ease your mind until your gate begins to call for passengers to board the plane. 

You're in line behind a family of four, praying to whatever god that you aren't seated anywhere near the two young bratty children currently arguing over who gets to use the family iPad first. And just as you can feel the dull throb of a headache about to form, the lady checking tickets smiles brightly at you as she scans the piece of paper. "It seems your ticket has been upgraded to first class, Mr/Ms. [Your Name]!" She informs you kindly, handing your ticket back to you before ushering you on. You walk down the boarding bridge, earning a nod from the pilots before a flight stewardess directs you to the first class seating at the front of the jet. Clearly those at the Wolfe Estate spared no expense in your comfort, even when some of your flights were a mere couple of hours away from Montana. 

You land at Glacier Park International Airport (each of you at different times), a small field with only a single terminal that's surprisingly busy for its size. Of course, it's July and also peak season for the National Park. Looking out the window, you see the sun peaking out from behind the majestic Rockies, a stark contrast to the grey skies of your hometown. All around you, families, tourists, and nature enthusiasts flutter around the baggage claim, fighting to grab their luggage and go. You're one of the last to grab yours, waiting for the crowd to die down before stepping up to haul your belongings onto a cart. It isn't until you step out into the pickup area that you realize you're utterly lost. There had been no further instruction on the letter that you can recall. Where do you go? How do you get to your destination?

Thankfully you spot an older gentleman dressed in a fine, tailored suit, his gloved hands holding a sign with your name on it. It looks vaguely familiar, and you realize it's the same penmanship written on the letter from one week ago; the same lilting cursive that now brings relief and anxiety all at once. He seems none too surprised as you approach him, only nodding at you and tucking the sign under his arm as he leads you outside. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you're suddenly jolted by a man crashing into you. "I'm so sorry," you hear him mumble an apology as he slides past, and you feel something slide into your hand. A rolled up piece of paper, just small enough to be hidden. By the time you realize it wasn't a mistake, he's already nowhere to be found, lost in the sea of travelers even as you search the crowd for a glimpse of his face.

"Mr./Ms. [Your Name]?" The older gentleman calls out near a sleek black Range Rover, seemingly unaware of the interaction you'd just had. He ushers you to the car after a moment, helping you load in your bags before opening the door to the back seat and letting you slide in. Back at the driver's seat, he shifts the gear in drive and invites you to relax. "It'll be an hour drive to Flathead Lake," he says, smiling as his eyes flick up to glance at you in the rear view mirror. "So it's best that you get comfortable. The Wolfe family has been expecting you." And with that he leaves you to your own devices, driving on until you've reached Rollins, the extremely small town at the edge of the lake. He stops at a boat dock, transferring your belongings to another mystery man—grizzly and lumberjack-ish—who loads it into the luxurious looking motorboat before wishing you well and driving away. 

A short boat ride later you step out onto the mahogany wood of the private residence's dock, greeted by a tall Asian woman. "Hi there," she says and offers her hand in a gentle handshake. "I'm Heather Vandertulip, and welcome to Wolfe Island. Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe are delighted that you could make it." She taps a quick text into her phone before slipping it into her pocket, proceeding to tell you about the history of the island and all of its features. But you find that you're unable to pay much attention to her droning voice, instead looking in awe at the behemoth of the building in front of you. The stone building is absolutely massive; three floors, grand architecture, and a life of luxury welcome you as you walk to the steps, and by the time you make your way up, you realize you'd missed every single thing Heather had talked about.

"Please, make yourself at home," she invites you inside the [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/51/cb/c7/51cbc7d2d910bb42f5c2b77208192314.jpg]great room[/url], motioning to the multitude of seating areas within. "There are refreshments on the tables, so please don't hesitate if you're hungry or thirsty. Everyone should be arriving shortly, and I just ask that you not leave this general vicinity until we've all gathered." Then with a final, twinkling look in her eyes, she smiles gently and leaves you.[/color]