The GROUNDSKEEPER (30s, flannel shirt, quiet confidence) holds her leather journal. He extends it.

Low light. A single candle. A thin wall separates them from the main lodge.

He doesn’t leave. He points to the meditation bell. Then to his ear. Then to her lips.

She nods. Thanks him silently.

Lana sits cross-legged on a woven rug. She hears a floorboard creak. She looks up.