MARCUS (40s, gaunt, with the thousand-yard stare of the long-hunted) crouches behind a moss-eaten log. His knuckles are white around a crudely sharpened spear.
No transponder.
Marcus raises the spear. His breath slows. He remembers a trick from an old hunting guide: Wait for the exhale. - THE HUNT - Piggy Hunt Script
The sky is a bruised purple. Rain hasn't fallen yet, but the air tastes of metal and ozone. MARCUS (40s, gaunt, with the thousand-yard stare of