[ Alan frowns, clearly not liking the idea of being forced to do certain things: forced by a story, no less. He's always liked making his own decisions and not having things decided for him, which might seem like it puts him at odds with being a well-known author, but he still likes to think that being recognized hasn't changed who he is as a person. Whether people who know him agree with that or not remains to be seen. ]

Isn't theoretically writing a way out for you changing it? But I guess that I don't know just how much I can change about a story that's already written. Something tells me this isn't going to be as simple as editing one of my books.

[ Suddenly, Alan feels like he's staring up at a mountain that's much bigger than him. Can he climb it? He doubts that he can. He's only a writer, only a man who came here to get away and found more than he bargained for. ]

If they show up here, I guess I'd run. Maybe they wouldn't catch me.

[ Except he doubts that he could run and hide from them forever. He's recognizable, and he's not sure how discreet he could actually be.

Maybe I'll have to find out.

But then he registers what Jesse's said, and he just stares at her. ]

No cabin? [ His expression turns confused. ] But I- I saw it. I saw the trail leading to it. I got the keys to it and everything.