Scene: "Ciri — Cottage Predicament" Ciri wiped dew from the window and squinted at the ridge of pines beyond the lane. Dawn’s light hit the thatch in a way that made each straw glitter, almost painfully bright — a 4K clarity that left nothing soft or forgiving. She could see the footprints in the mud: three sets, one deeper than the others. The cottage felt too small to hold the problem now pressing at the edges of her thoughts. The harvest chest was half-packed; the herbs she’d counted on were missing. At the back of the house, something had chewed the binding from the ledger where she’d kept names and debts. Whoever "fatcat17" was — the mark left on the ledger like an inked paw print — had taken more than grain. They’d taken the map.