a287c11ec110edecb4be9bad5fed77b4863b29ac
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http://www.imsdb.com/scripts/Revenant%2C-The.html
THE REVENANT Written
. THE END
 The film focuses on Second Lieutenant Bart Gregory (David Anders) who has been killed under mysterious circumstances in Iraq. After his friends and girlfriend Janet (Louise Griffiths) attend his funeral, Bart awakens in his grave. Enlisting the help of his best friend, Joey Leubner (Chris Wylde), Bart begins to understand and learn how to deal with his new undead state; mainly, the fact that Bart needs blood to hold back decomposition and that he returns to a state of in-animation during daylight hours. Joey does research online to find out what Bart is and seems to be stuck between a Zombie and Vampire, finally stating that Bart is a Revenant.
While buying beer from a small store in Koreatown, Bart and Joey become vigilantes when Bart both kills and feeds off of a gangster who is holding up the store. They enjoy the media coverage of the incident, and Joey asks Bart to bestow him with the "dark gift". Bart refuses to do so and laughs the idea off. However, after a subsequent attempt at vigilantism goes wrong and Joey is fatally wounded, Bart is forced to drink Joey's blood in order to save him.
The two continue their vigilante killing spree for a while, until Mathilda (Jacy King), a friend of Janet who dislikes both Bart and Joey, follows them and threatens to reveal their activities to the world, especially Janet. Joey shoots Mathilda through the chest, but before she dies, she is able to send the information to Janet.
Fearing they will be caught, Joey tells Bart to meet him back at the apartment with a packed bag in half an hour, then drives away mysteriously. Bart meets a teary Janet at the apartment, who forces him to explain the fact that he requires blood to stay stable. She then begs him to feed off of her instead, so that he will no longer need to kill. Bart loses control and drains her until she dies.
Joey returns to the apartment with a "pimped out" hearse for the two to use, and suggests that they go to Las Vegas to continue their reign. However, after Bart shows him Janet's corpse, the two begin to fight, and proceed to shoot each other repeatedly, although this is insufficient to kill either of them. Joey storms out and states that he will continue on to Vegas alone. Bart decapitates Janet in order to ensure her death, then drops her remains over the bridge where he and Joey usually disposed of their corpses. Bart is captured by SWAT teams and taken to jail, where, come dawn, he collapses in his cell. Upon nightfall, Bart reawakens in the morgue and escapes, returning to the apartment. Inside is a package containing Joey's severed head.
Since he was decapitated at night, Joey is still "alive", and Bart uses a vibrating dildo to enable Joey's head to talk. Joey warns Bart that a gangbanger who was their first kill is after him for revenge, and then requests that Bart kill him for good. Bart crushes Joey's head underneath a bulldozer, and then tries to find a way to kill himself.
Against normal convention, a bullet through the brain does not have the desired effect, and neither does hanging himself with Christmas lights. He even throws himself in front of the subway train, but only succeeds in severing his arm. Bart then boards a train, where he finds and reads a letter that Janet left in his uniform's pocket at his funeral. He breaks down and attacks the only other passenger. He is caught and flees into the station where more SWAT teams attempt to catch him.
He finally escapes to a hilltop and at dawn collapses once more, while he is being surrounded by men in hazmat suits.
The film then cuts to a tour of sorts, where various military personnel are being shown revenants in glass containers, including Bart. A General asks Bart if he was a soldier, and then states that this fact may give him an advantage.
Bart is then shown in a large canister being airdropped into Khﾅｫzestﾄ］ Province, Iran, along with the other revenants, where the canister opens upon landing, releasing him on the country.
The film focuses on Second Lieutenant Bart Gregory ( David Anders ) who has been killed under mysterious circumstances in Iraq . After his friends and girlfriend Janet ( Louise Griffiths ) attend his funeral , Bart awakens in his grave . Enlisting the help of his best friend , Joey Leubner ( Chris Wylde ) , Bart begins to understand and learn how to deal with his new undead state ; mainly , the fact that Bart needs blood to hold back decomposition and that he returns to a state of in-animation during daylight hours . Joey does research online to find out what Bart is and seems to be stuck between a Zombie and Vampire , finally stating that Bart is a Revenant . While buying beer from a small store in Koreatown , Bart and Joey become vigilantes when Bart both kills and feeds off of a gangster who is holding up the store . They enjoy the media coverage of the incident , and Joey asks Bart to bestow him with the dark gift . Bart refuses to do so and laughs the idea off . However , after a subsequent attempt at vigilantism goes wrong and Joey is fatally wounded , Bart is forced to drink Joey s blood in order to save him . The two continue their vigilante killing spree for a while , until Mathilda ( Jacy King ) , a friend of Janet who dislikes both Bart and Joey , follows them and threatens to reveal their activities to the world , especially Janet . Joey shoots Mathilda through the chest , but before she dies , she is able to send the information to Janet . Fearing they will be caught , Joey tells Bart to meet him back at the apartment with a packed bag in half an hour , then drives away mysteriously . Bart meets a teary Janet at the apartment , who forces him to explain the fact that he requires blood to stay stable . She then begs him to feed off of her instead , so that he will no longer need to kill . Bart loses control and drains her until she dies . Joey returns to the apartment with a pimped out hearse for the two to use , and suggests that they go to Las Vegas to continue their reign . However , after Bart shows him Janet s corpse , the two begin to fight , and proceed to shoot each other repeatedly , although this is insufficient to kill either of them . Joey storms out and states that he will continue on to Vegas alone . Bart decapitates Janet in order to ensure her death , then drops her remains over the bridge where he and Joey usually disposed of their corpses . Bart is captured by SWAT teams and taken to jail , where , come dawn , he collapses in his cell . Upon nightfall , Bart reawakens in the morgue and escapes , returning to the apartment . Inside is a package containing Joey s severed head . Since he was decapitated at night , Joey is still alive , and Bart uses a vibrating dildo to enable Joey s head to talk . Joey warns Bart that a gangbanger who was their first kill is after him for revenge , and then requests that Bart kill him for good . Bart crushes Joey s head underneath a bulldozer , and then tries to find a way to kill himself . Against normal convention , a bullet through the brain does not have the desired effect , and neither does hanging himself with Christmas lights . He even throws himself in front of the subway train , but only succeeds in severing his arm . Bart then boards a train , where he finds and reads a letter that Janet left in his uniform s pocket at his funeral . He breaks down and attacks the only other passenger . He is caught and flees into the station where more SWAT teams attempt to catch him . He finally escapes to a hilltop and at dawn collapses once more , while he is being surrounded by men in hazmat suits . The film then cuts to a tour of sorts , where various military personnel are being shown revenants in glass containers , including Bart . A General asks Bart if he was a soldier , and then states that this fact may give him an advantage . Bart is then shown in a large canister being airdropped into Khﾅｫzestﾄ］ Province , Iran , along with the other revenants , where the canister opens upon landing , releasing him on the country .
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Revenant_(2009_film)
The Revenant (2009 film)
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<b>                                 THE REVENANT
</b>

                         

                                  Written by
                         
                                 Mark L Smith
                         
                         
                         
                         
          Based on the novel by
                         
<b>                          MICHAEL PUNKE
</b>                         
                         
                         
                         
                                                    September 26, 2007


          Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.

                         
           - Samuel Johnson
                         
                         
                         
                         
           Based on a true story



                         
<b>                         FADE IN:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. UPPER MISSOURI RIVER/1820'S - EVENING
</b>                         
          ANGLE ON A SINGLE COTTONWOOD LEAF... brown and crisp...
          clinging to its empty branch... the solitary sign of life on
          an otherwise barren tree.
                         
          A gust of wind... the leaf breaks free... flutters down,
          landing in the slow current of the Missouri. The last leaf
          of the fall, taking its final journey south.
                         
          As it floats along the surface, rising and falling with the
          current, all we can hear is the river's gentle movement...
          the trickle of water... the splash of timid rapids... until
          DISTANT VOICES invade this world... soft at first, but
          growing louder... LAUGHTER... SINGING.
                         
          And then our leaf CRASHES INTO A WOODEN BOARD... the BOW OF A
          BOAT. We hear the VOICES EVEN CLEARER... MEN'S VOICES, as we
          rise up the bow... see it's a FLATBOAT BEACHED ON A SANDBAR
          at the center of the river.
                         
          Beyond the flatboat are the voices... TWENTY MEN of the Rocky
          Mountain Fur Company, making camp along the shore... hauling
          wood, building campfires, pitching squares of canvas for
          makeshift rooftops. And this camp is full of life because
          these are some of the first men to ever see this untouched
          wilderness... men with a whole new world just waiting for
          them to claim their share.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - EVENING
</b>                         
          CAPTAIN ANDREW HENRY, (late 20's), dressed in a buckskin
          jacket with long fringe... thick belt pulled tightly around
          his waist with two pistols and a knife hanging from it. He
          stands out among the others... like an imposter pretending to
          be a member of some exclusive club. He pulls off one of his
          gloves... examines the BLOOD-FILLED BLISTERS lining his palm.
                         
          From across the camp, JOHN FITZGERALD, (40's), solid and
          thick... dark eyes of a killer, watches Henry. He nudges
          MACE BOONE, (40's), a thief in a previous life.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Likely got a splinter. Can't
           figure what to do without Mama here
           to pull it out for him.
                         
          Boone chuckles... spits in Henry's direction.
<b>           2.
</b>                         
<b>                          BOONE
</b>           Need a doc, Captain?
                         
          Henry looks up... sees Fitzgerald and Boone grinning at him.
          He slides his glove back on.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Gather more wood.
                         
          Fitzgerald waits for Henry to turn, then gives his back an
          exaggerated salute.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           (under his breath)
           Shame my Pap was a broken down
           drunk. Else he could've bought me
           a Captain's job too.
                         
          Boone snickers. Fitzgerald stomps his boot onto a branch,
          easily snaps it into two easy-to-carry pieces.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           We got a plan for these fires,
           Captain, or are we roastin' berries
           all the way up to Fort Union?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Glass and the others will be back
           with some game, Fitzgerald. Just
           make sure you have the fires ready.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           My supper's in the hands of a
           hermit nigger, a kid and a dummy.
           Hell, my belly feels full already.
                         
          Fitzgerald's boot CRACKS another branch... and when it does,
          we hear the EXPLOSION OF A GUNSHOT.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - EVENING
</b>                         
          And a CLOUD OF SMOKE surrounding the LONG BARREL OF AN
<b>          ANSTADT RIFLE.
</b>                         
          The smoke fades, and at the other end of the rifle we see the
          face of HUGH GLASS, (40's), African-American, one eye still
          closed, as the other calmly stares down that barrel.
                         
<b>           VOICE (O.S.)
</b>           Shit fire, you got him, Mr. Glass!
<b>           3.
</b>                         
          Glass lowers the rifle, as PIG GILMORE, (30's), fat and
          filthy, races past.
                         
<b>                          PIG (CONT'D)
</b>           Square as a barn door.
                         
          JIM BRIDGER, (17), young eyes that have already seen a lot,
          nods to Glass as he follows Pig.
                         
          Glass watches Pig and Bridger trot through the trees to a
          fallen ELK. Glass walks calmly after them, graceful in this
          world... his rifle so comfortable in his hand it's like he
          was born with it there. Pig crouches over the dead elk...
          grins up at Glass.
                         
<b>                          PIG (CONT'D)
</b>           Right where you said he'd be.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           But bigger than we figured. Gonna
           be a load to haul back to camp.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Have to split it up I reckon.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Yep. Bridger'll take the tail, and
           Pig you haul the rest.
                         
          And Fitzgerald was right about Pig being a little slow,
          because he just nods... pulls out his knife to cut the tail
          off for Bridger.
                         
          Bridger and Glass exchange a smile... until Glass notices
          something... steps over the elk, his eyes locked on the
          ground beside it. He runs a finger over the dirt... touches
          a broken twig.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Another one close by?
                         
          Glass doesn't answer... studies the track... feels the nearby
          brush... inhales the scent from his hand. Bridger and Pig
          watch him... exchange a confused glance. And then in a flash
          of movement, Glass is on his feet, racing away.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Hugh?
                         
          Glass just keeps running. Pig and Bridger chase after him.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b><b>           4.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - EVENING
</b>                         
          The men building fires... laughing... enjoying themselves.
          Boone on the outskirts, gathering branches.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - TEARING THROUGH THE WOODS...
</b>                         
          ...dodging trees... leaping over fallen logs... loading his
          Anstadt as he runs.
                         
                         
<b>          BRIDGER AND PIG - CHASING AFTER GLASS...
</b>                         
          ...but not as gracefully. Pig trips... slams to the
          ground... scrambles back to his feet to continue on.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          BOONE - CARRYING AN ARMLOAD OF WOOD INTO CAMP...
</b>                         
          ...seeing other men playing cards. He stops along the edge
          of camp, drops the wood to the ground.
                         
<b>                          BOONE
</b>           No rule says I'm the only one
           that's gotta gather this shit.
                         
          The other men don't even notice. Then an ARROW WHIZZES
          THROUGH THE AIR from behind Boone... THWACK... it hits him in
          the back of the neck... erupts out the front of his throat.
                         
          Boone stands frozen... confused... reaches up and grabs the
          bloody arrow... finally drops to his knees. And that's when
          a TRAPPER looks up... sees Boone on his knees, holding that
          arrow, his mouth open like a dying fish.
                         
<b>          AND BEYOND BOONE ARE FORTY ARIKARA WARRIORS CHARGING THROUGH
</b><b>          THE TREES... FEATHERS RISING FROM THE MOHAWKS SPLITTING THEIR
</b><b>          SHAVED HEADS... FACES PAINTED FOR BATTLE.
</b>                         
<b>                          TRAPPER
</b><b>           `REE!
</b>                         
          WHOOSH... AN ARROW SAILS INTO THE TRAPPER'S CHEST, sending
          him flying backward. The camp explodes into chaos... men
          YELLING... grabbing for weapons... stumbling over each other
          as they duck behind trees.
<b>           5.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          HENRY - PULLING THE PISTOLS FROM HIS BELT...
</b>                         
          ...taking aim at the attacking figures.
                         
          The Arikara pour into camp, arrows flying... knives and
          hatchets swinging. And this is a massacre... the Arikara
          wading through the trappers... stabbing... clubbing...
          scalping. This once peaceful world is filled with a sickening
          mix of war cries and screams of death.
                         
          Fitzgerald rises up from behind a log... aims his rifle...
          BOOM... takes down one of the warriors. He starts reloading
          as ANOTHER WARRIOR charges him... draws back his knife.
          Fitzgerald pours the powder, but knows he isn't going to make
          it in time... the warrior leaps toward him...
                         
          ...BOOM... it's like the warrior hits an invisible wall...
          flies back to the ground, very dead. Fitzgerald spins...
          sees Glass and his Anstadt right behind him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b><b>           GET TO THE BOAT!
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald takes off... flips his rifle around, swings it
          like a club across a warrior's head... WHACK!
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b><b>                          (TO HENRY)
</b><b>           THE BOAT, CAPTAIN!
</b>                         
          Henry shoves a TRAPPER toward the water. An arrow drives
          into the trapper's leg... he goes down. Henry lifts the man
          to pull him into the river, but several more arrows bury in
          the man's back... he falls limp. Henry FIRES HIS PISTOLS,
          dropping the WARRIOR.
                         
          Bridger and Pig join Glass... splash into the river, SHOOTING
          back at the attacking Arikara. The water deepens, and they
          start swimming toward the flatboat.
                         
          ARROWS HISS into the water all around them.
                         
          Glass is still in the shallows... aims his pistol... BAM...
          shoots an oncoming warrior... spins after the other men...
          joins them as they near the flatboat.
                         
          A final TRAPPER charges down the shore behind them. SEVERAL
          WARRIORS pursue him.
                         
<b>                          TRAPPER
</b><b>           WAIT!
</b><b>           6.
</b>                         
          He aims his pistol over his shoulder as he runs... pulls the
          trigger... CLICK... pulls it again... CLICK. But he's too
          scared to stop his finger... CLICK... CLICK... CLICK...
          THUD... as a hatchet buries in his back. He crashes face
          first into the shallows.
                         
          The Arikara leader, (ELK'S TONGUE), animal bones braided into
          his mohawk, a NECKLACE OF HUMAN EARS around his neck,
          straddles the dying man. Elk's Tongue grabs the Trapper by
          the hair, and CUTS OFF HIS LEFT EAR, then holds it up to
          Glass and the others, as he SCREAMS HIS WAR CRY.
                         
          Glass and the men shove the flatboat off the sandbar... start
          scrambling aboard, as arrows dart past them... drive into the
          wooden boat.
                         
          Suddenly a WARRIOR EXPLODES FROM THE WATER... tackles Bridger
          as he climbs up the side of the flatboat... jerks him back
          into the river. Bridger flails in the water... watches the
          warrior raise his hatchet high to slam down... just as Glass
          SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS ANSTADT into the back of the Warrior's
          head.
                         
          The Warrior collapses under the surface. Glass grabs
          Bridger's hand... drags him up onto the deck.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Thank you.
                         
          But Glass is already gone... FIRING BACK AT THE ARIKARA, as
          the current carries them away.
                         
<b>           VOICE (O.S.)
</b><b>           HEY!
</b>                         
          Pig looks over the side... sees a frantic WILLIAM ANDERSON
          gripped to the edge. Pig pulls him onto the boat.
                         
          Fitzgerald and Glass grab LONGPOLES... shove them against the
          river's bottom to pick up speed.
                         
          Henry stands on deck, watching as Elk's Tongue yanks a DYING
          TRAPPER's head back by his hair to peel away his scalp.
                         
          Henry drops his eyes... can't watch. The TRAPPER'S SCREAM
<b>          ECHOES OVER HIM.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - LATER
</b>                         
          Quiet and dark... the battle long over. The flatboat floats
          with the gentle current. The NINE SURVIVING TRAPPERS are
          scattered around the deck...
<b>           7.
</b>          Glass digging an arrow out of WALLACE MURPHY'S SHOULDER...
          Fitzgerald poling on one side with Anderson on the other...
          STUBBY BILL VANCE and Pig standing patrol with their
          rifles... Bridger doctoring a badly WOUNDED TRAPPER... and
          Henry standing at the front of the flatboat, staring off
          blankly.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           What's the plan, Captain?
                         
          Henry's still lost in those screams.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Captain! What the hell do we do
           now?
                         
          Henry snaps out of his stare... turns to the men... obviously
          doesn't have an answer.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           We're just floatin' farther from
           Fort Union.
                         
          Henry's eyes instinctively look to Glass.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           The Missouri's no good. Not if the
           `Ree's running it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           So we just float the hell down to
           Mexico or wherever else this river
           takes us?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           We get ourselves safe outta range,
           then track another course up.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Add weeks to the trip.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Better that than endin' up scalped
           on the side of the river.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           (shoving him away)
           Shut up, kid, you don't get no say
           in this.
                         
          Bridger starts to respond, but Fitzgerald's angry glare stops
          him.
<b>           8.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           (back to Henry)
           And in case you hadn't noticed,
           Captain, we're twelve men short of
           what we were.
           (off the badly wounded
<b>                          TRAPPER)
</b>           Thirteen before long.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I understand our situation, Mr.
           Fitzgerald. We do like Glass
           said... put some distance between
           us and the Arikara, then chart a
           course to Fort Union.
                         
          Fitzgerald MUMBLES UNDER HIS BREATH... rolls those dark eyes
          to Anderson. Glass gives Henry a nod.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MISSOURI RIVER/FLATBOAT - NIGHT
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON THE BADLY WOUNDED TRAPPER... NOW DEAD...
</b>                         
          ...as hands push the body over the side of the boat. It
          splashes into the water... floats downstream.
                         
          We PULL BACK... see that the flatboat is beached along the
          bank of the river. Glass and Pig watch the body drift away.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Reckon it's better `an lettin' the
           `Ree find him... take his ears...
           slice what's left all to shit.
                         
          Glass nods... steps down off the boat to Henry and the
          others. They're gathered around a map spread out on the
          ground. Henry runs his finger along a THIN BLUE LINE.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           So we hike west to the Grand, then
           follow it up to Fort Union.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           On foot? You got any idea how long
           that's gonna take? It'll be winter
           before we get there.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           Unless we come across a post...
           trade for some horses.
<b>           9.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           No posts that far out.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           So if we do this, we do every step
           with our own feet.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We make camp here for the night,
           then load supplies and head out for
           the Grand at first light.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           And gather extra blankets `cause
           there won't be any fires.
                         
          More GRUMBLING from Fitzgerald and Anderson, as they move
          toward the cover of trees. Bridger walks up beside Glass.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Thank you... for what you done back
           there.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You'd have done the same for me.
                         
          Bridger nods... he hopes so.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Pig on watch... sitting at the base of a tree, rifle across
          his lap, eyes wide, scanning the darkness. All clear. He
          peers back to camp... Fitzgerald, Anderson, Stubby Bill, and
          Murphy wrapped in blankets... passing a bottle of whiskey
          around. Bridger across from Fitzgerald, poking at the dirt
          with a stick. Henry is off to one side, still studying that
          map. Glass sits against a tree, cleaning his Anstadt rifle.
                         
          Fitzgerald watches Glass a beat, then...
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You treat that Anstadt sweeter than
           any woman, Glass.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Never seen a woman that could stop
           a `Ree from three hundred feet.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           I knew a particular big-breasted
           redhead in Boston that might come
           close.
<b>           10.
</b>                         
          The others manage a small laugh. Glass just keeps working on
          that rifle.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Bring it over here for me to have a
           look.
                         
          Glass doesn't look up... wipes a rag down the barrel.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Did you hear what I said, boy?
                         
          Still nothing from Glass. And Fitzgerald doesn't like
          that... the tension's growing.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b><b>                          (MUMBLING)
</b>           You seen it before.
                         
          Fitzgerald turns that mean, drunken glare on Bridger.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           What'd you say, kid?
                         
          Bridger hesitates a beat... until the other men's eyes force
          a response.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b><b>                          (SOFTLY)
</b>           I said you shoulda already got a
           look when he saved you with it
           earlier.
                         
          The camp falls still... nobody talks to Fitzgerald like
          that... especially when he's drunk. There isn't a sound
          except for Glass working methodically on his rifle...
                         
          ...until the SWISH OF BLADE OVER LEATHER, as Fitzgerald tears
          the blade from his belt... flings it into the dirt between
          Bridger's legs... AN INCH BELOW HIS CROTCH.
                         
          Fitzgerald stares at Bridger, daring him to react. But
          Bridger's too scared... doesn't, so Fitzgerald just smiles.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You're lucky you ain't a man yet.
           (off the blade)
           Else that mighta nicked somethin'.
                         
          A few NERVOUS CHUCKLES from the others, hoping this is over.
          And it is, because Fitzgerald reaches over and pulls the
          knife away... cleans the dirty blade on Bridger's leg.
<b>           11.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           And unlike you, I don't need savin'
           by him or nobody else. Remember
           that.
                         
          Fitzgerald stands... wobbles just a bit. He slides the knife
          back into his belt, then steadies his drunken gaze on Glass.
                         
          The others exchange nervous glances... uh-oh.
                         
          Fitzgerald walks to Glass... snaps his fingers for Glass'
          Anstadt.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Lemme see what's so special `bout
           that shooter of yours.
                         
          Nothing from Glass, so Fitzgerald grabs the barrel, but Glass
          holds firm.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Middle of workin' on it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Well you can stop workin' on it,
           and let me have a look like I said.
                         
          Fitzgerald gives another tug, but Glass' grip only grows
          tighter. His eyes roll up to Fitzgerald... make it clear he
          isn't giving up his rifle. And they hold that stare just as
          hard as they're holding Glass' rifle.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           You forget your place?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Best I can tell, my place is right
           where I want it... on the smart end
           of my rifle.
                         
          Fitzgerald realizes the barrel he's holding is aimed right at
          his stomach, while Glass' hand seems suddenly very close to
          the trigger. But Fitzgerald's pride and that whiskey won't
          let him lose this tug of war.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I'd be careful if I was you, boy.
                         
          And this thing's about to turn real ugly... until...
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           That's enough, Fitzgerald. Go
           sober up and get to sleep.
<b>                          (MORE)
</b><b>           12.
</b><b>                          HENRY(CONT'D)
</b>           If you're passed out when we break
           camp tomorrow, I leave you here.
                         
          Fitzgerald holds his glare on Glass, then releases the rifle,
          shoving it back at Glass. He glances to Henry, and throws
          back a big gulp from the bottle just for spite, before
          backing away from Glass.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           That's the trouble with this part
           of the world. No mirrors. Niggers
           forget what color they are.
                         
          Glass ignores Fitzgerald... goes back to his rifle.
          Fitzgerald tosses the bottle at Anderson, then jerks his
          blanket up... walks off to sleep by himself.
                         
          Glass glances up from his work... just long enough to give
          Bridger a nod.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - LATER
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald sleeping off that whiskey. The others snoring in
          a cluster at the center of the camp. Henry lies there
          awake... looks across to Glass, still sitting against the
          tree, a HANDRAWN MAP in his lap, as his eyes pierce the
          darkness. Henry eases over to Glass.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Can't sleep either?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Never like closin' my eyes when I'm
           not sure who'll be standin' over me
           when I open `em.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I keep thinking about Boone and the
           others... how maybe I should've had
           us make camp further up river.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           The tracks I saw... those `Ree had
           been tailin' us for a while. They'd
           have gone as far north as it took.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           You're a good man, Captain. Soon
           as you realize that, these others
           will too.
                         
          Henry likes hearing that... still isn't sure it's true.
<b>           13.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Your years trappin' and guidin' out
           here... have you had much
           experience with the Arikara?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Enough to try and stay outta their
           way.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           (motions to Glass' map)
           But you know this country well
           enough to get us past them... up to
           Fort Union?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I been here a long while. Whether
           that gets us to Union or not...
                         
          Henry waits for more... doesn't get it. So he just nods and
          starts back to his blanket.... stops.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           What Fitzgerald said earlier... he
           doesn't speak for the rest.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           He wasn't wrong. Truth is that's
           what I prefer about this country...
           it's got no eye for the color of a
           man's skin.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           Try to get some sleep, Hugh.
                         
          Henry climbs back under his blanket. Glass just sits there
          looking at the map.
                         
<b>          ANGLE ON GLASS' MAP...
</b>                         
          ...primitive at best. Sketched mountains... winding blue
          lines for rivers... small dots are scattered about with names
          beside them... "Brazeau", "Talbot", "Union". And DOZENS OF
          TRIANGLE PINE TREES have been drawn, representing the endless
          wilderness.
                         
          We TIGHTEN ON THOSE TRIANGLES until we're lost in them.
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>           14.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Thick with trees. Henry leads the men single file through
          the woods. They each have a canvas sack of supplies over one
          shoulder, and their rifle in their hands.
                         
          The only sound is their feet crunching the dried leaves, and
          even that seems too loud as their eyes dart about, searching
          for any sign of attack.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Shouldn't we have hit the Grand by
           now?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We'll reach it soon enough. Glass
           said to keep this course.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Glass said. Too bad I don't see
           him.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           That's on account he's up ahead
           makin' sure it's clear, and you get
           to keep your ears.
                         
          Fitzgerald throws Pig an angry glance.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Or he's run off and left us.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           He wouldn't do that.
                         
          Fitzgerald GRUNTS... doesn't believe that.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           My bet, that nigger's used to
           runnin'.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass moves slowly through the brush, almost gliding...
          subtle twists and turns to avoid branches and leaves...
          careful not to leave his scent behind. And his eyes cut
          through the trees as he moves... digging for any sign of
          movement.
                         
          He spots something at his feet... crouches down, running his
          finger over the SMALL ANIMAL TRACK in the dirt.
<b>           15.
</b>                         
          O.S. RUSTLING snaps his head up... to the TREMBLING OF
          BUSHES... growing harder... whatever's in there is coming
          toward Glass. He calmly raises his rifle... presses the
          stock firmly against his shoulder... closes one eye as he
          takes steady aim down the long barrel...
                         
          ...to the shapes rumbling out of the brush... TWO BEAR CUBS
          playfully wrestling.
                         
          Glass lowers the Anstadt... looks past the cubs for something
          else... but the woods are empty. A SUDDEN FEAR FILLS GLASS'
<b>          EYES...
</b>                         
          ...he spins... right into the GIANT GRIZZLY SWINGING ITS PAW
          AT HIM... hitting him across the side of the neck. The
          animal's razor claws tear into Glass' throat, as the force
          sends him flying through the air.
                         
          Glass sails into a thick tree... the CRACK OF HIS LEG
          SNAPPING against the trunk. The rifle falls from his hand.
          The Grizzly lets out a massive ROAR... charges Glass. Glass
          crawls to the Anstadt... grabs it... has just enough time to
          tilt the rifle toward the bear... BOOM.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          HENRY - HEARING THE BLAST.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>           UP AHEAD!
</b>                         
          Henry takes off at full sprint. The other men follow.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - AS THE BEAR LEAPS ON TOP OF HIM...
</b>                         
          ...tosses Glass aside with a powerful swing. Glass hits the
          ground with a PAINFUL THUD. He starts CRAWLING AWAY, pulling
          the KNIFE from his belt as the bear rises up like a giant
          behind him... swings... tears its claws across Glass's back,
          shredding deep into his flesh.
                         
          Glass is fighting for his life now... flailing with the
          knife... slicing it across the bear's paw as it whips past
          him. The wound slows the bear enough for Glass to start
          crawling again.
                         
          But the Grizzly doesn't give Glass the chance... ROARS... is
          on him in a flash, a BLUR OF CLAWS AND FANGS... tearing
          across Glass' head... ripping into his face... his chest.
<b>           16.
</b>                         
          Glass drives his knife into the bear again... deep... trying
          to tear through the layers of flesh to something more vital.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          HENRY - LEADING THE CHARGE THROUGH THE FOREST.
</b>                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS AND THE GRIZZLY - FIGHTING THIS EPIC BATTLE...
</b>                         
          ...locked in a death grip... tumbling along the ground...
          trading violent blows... Glass' blade versus the Grizzly's
          claws and fangs... snapping small trees as they roll over
          them... toward the edge of a steep embankment...
                         
          ... and ROLL DOWN... spinning over and over... each ROARING
          AT THE OTHER... Glass pounding the knife into the bear again
          and again as they fall... neither willing to surrender as
          they careen down the slope at a dizzying pace, then SLAM TO
          THE BOTTOM WITH A CRUNCH. And the forest falls still...
          Glass hidden somewhere beneath the massive animal... both
          deathly motionless.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - DAY
</b>                         
          Bridger's the first to reach the battleground... sees the TWO
          FRIGHTENED BEAR CUBS SCURRY AWAY. He follows the bloody
          ground and crushed underbrush to the top of the slope...
          looks down to the mass of flesh at the bottom.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Christ Almighty.
                         
          Henry, Pig, and the others reach the edge.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Glass!
                         
          No answer. And all they can see is the bear, so they scan
          the trees.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b><b>           HUGH!
</b>                         
          Still nothing. So Bridger takes off down the slope... losing
          his balance but rolling back to his feet. He reaches the
          bear... sees GLASS' MANGLED ARM STICKING OUT FROM BENEATH IT.
<b>           17.
</b>                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           He's down here!
                         
          Bridger uses all his strength to push the bear off, as the
          other men scramble down. But Bridger can't budge the massive
          carcass... not until Stubby Bill and Pig join in... shove the
          animal over, revealing the bloody mass that is Hugh Glass...
                         
          ...his throat is torn wide open... scalp peeled back from
          just above his eyebrows, hanging off the skull... stomach and
          chest a gruesome design of gashes and cuts. His right leg
          is snapped, the jagged bone jutting out through the skin.
                         
          Bridger's legs give out... he drops to a knee and vomits.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           Oh, Jesus.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           He's tore to pieces.
                         
          The men stare down at Glass' corpse.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           Least he took that Grizz down with
           him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Wished he'da done it without firing
           his rifle. If there wasn't no `Ree
           around before, there will be now.
                         
          And that's all Pig can stand... he TACKLES FITZGERALD... they
          roll to the ground. And in a flash Fitzgerald is on top,
          raining punches down on Pig... turning his face into a bloody
          mess.
                         
          Henry and Anderson grab Fitzgerald... drag him off.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>           THAT'S ENOUGH!
</b>                         
          Then somehow, GLASS GASPS... this horrible, GUTTURAL MOAN.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Holy Christ, he's alive.
                         
          Henry and Bridger fall to their knees beside Glass. Glass
          looks up at the men, tries to focus through the blood and
          pain. His breathing is just a GURGLING WHEEZE... bubbles
          forming along the deep gashes in his throat with each gasp.
<b>           18.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Get me some water.
                         
          Stubby Bill tosses Henry his canteen. Henry empties it over
          Glass' throat... his face and scalp. The water hits the
          wounds and immediately transforms to blood.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Oh, Jesus... Jesus.
                         
          Glass lifts a trembling hand to his throat... feels the
          gaping wound. His eyes widen in horror. He COUGHS... the
          air splashes blood up from the open wounds in his throat.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           It's okay, Hugh.
           (pushing Glass' hand away)
           You're going to be fine.
                         
          Henry spins his head away from Glass.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b><b>                          (WHISPERS)
</b>           I need some rags before he bleeds
           out.
                         
          Pig whips a shirt from his bag... shreds it.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           And your whiskey.
                         
          Pig tosses a bottle to Henry. Henry pours it over the
          gashes. The BURNING PAIN arches Glass... he CRIES OUT in
          that same horrific moan.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           Hold him down, Bridger, goddammit.
                         
          Bridger throws his weight against Glass' shoulders.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           The rest of you spread out... scout
           a circle around us. Fitzgerald,
           you and Anderson take west and
           north. Murphy and Mike south and
           east. Watch for anyone that
           might've heard that shot.
                         
          And for the first time, Henry seems like a leader of men...
          firm... in complete control... just as Glass said he would
          be. So the men hurry off to their positions.
<b>           19.
</b>                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           What about me, Cap?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Get down here and help me tie off
           these wounds best we can.
                         
          Pig shakily joins Henry in wrapping the wounds. The blood
          keeps seeping out, soaking the rags.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           It won't stop bleedin'.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Shut up, Pig.
<b>                          (TO GLASS)
</b>           We're fixing you up, Hugh.
                         
          Glass is like a shredded rag doll... dazed eyes staring up at
          them as they work on his wounds... wrapping the rags around
          his throat... laying his scalp back over his skull, and tying
          another rag around it and under his jaw to hold it in place.
                         
          Bridger wipes the blood from Glass' face.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           It's gonna be fine, Mr. Glass.
                         
          Henry glances down to the PUDDLE OF BLOOD spilling out over
          his knees... oozing out from beneath Glass.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Roll him over... easy.
                         
          They gently push Glass onto one side, revealing DEEP, JAGGED,
          GASHES running across the width of Glass' back. Henry stares
          at the open flesh, ready to panic again... but he doesn't.
          Instead he looks to Pig.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           Get me the kit. We need to stitch
           his back up.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What about the rest of him?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           He's losing more blood back here.
           (off the throat)
           And I don't know what to do with
           that yet.
<b>           20.
</b>                         
          Pig digs out a thick needle and spool of black thread...
          hands it to Henry. Henry grabs the whiskey bottle.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           I'm sorry for how this is about to
           burn, Hugh.
                         
          Henry pours the whiskey over Glass' back. And the pain must
          be excruciating, because Glass lets out a HORRIBLE WAIL.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald and Anderson standing watch together in the trees.
          Glass' scream erupts through the trees, and they both
          immediately crouch down to a knee... out of sight to anyone
          out there that might have heard that.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           They're torturin' the poor bastard.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           And riskin' gettin' us killed in
           the process. Proper thing would be
           to end it for him quick.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           `Less he could pull through.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You seen what that grizz did to
           him. Shit, Glass'll be dead inside
           a hour. We all will be if he keeps
           screamin' like that.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - LATER
</b>                         
<b>          SERIES OF SHOTS
</b>                         
          HENRY, BRIDGER AND PIG WORKING OVER GLASS... Bridger and Pig
          pressing Glass' scalp down, as Henry slides the needle and
          thread through the skin, suturing the wound.
                         
<b>          HENRY CLEANING GLASS' SHREDDED THROAT.
</b>                         
<b>          BRIDGER AND PIG HOLDING THE SCREAMING GLASS DOWN AS HENRY
</b><b>          SNAPS GLASS' LEG BACK IN PLACE.
</b><b>           21.
</b>                         
          FITZGERALD PEERING BACK THROUGH THE TREES... to Henry
          doctoring Glass. Fitzgerald shakes his head in anger...
          turns back to the darkening forest.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass rests unconscious on the ground. Two branches act as a
          splint on his leg. A blanket covers his body... his face is
          like a swollen, disfigured, Frankenstein's monster...
          stitches of black thread holding it in place.
                         
          Henry crouches a short distance away from him, rinsing his
          hands under a canteen. Bridger and Pig stand beside him.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What now?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We wait. Does he have any kin you
           know of?
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           He keeps to hisself. Never
           mentioned none.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Go get the others. Tell `em we're
           making camp here for the night.
                         
          Pig starts hustling away.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           And gather some wood, but make sure
           it's dry. We don't want much smoke
           when we cook that grizzly.
                         
                         
<b>          ANGLE ON THE MASSIVE BEAR...
</b>                         
          ...lying dead on the ground, its claws and fangs soaked with
          blood... Glass' blood.
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WOODS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          And what's left of the grizzly... its fur cut away... slabs
          of flesh butchered from its skeleton.
                         
          A fire burns at the center of camp... a chunk of meat roasts
          above the flame. The men sit around the fire...
<b>           22.
</b>          Murphy reaches up... tears a strip of meat from the roast,
          tossing it in his mouth. The men are silent... the pall of
          Glass' attack still hanging over them.
                         
          Bridger rises... walks to the Grizzly... crouches down over
          it, grabbing the animal's enormous paw. It dwarfs his own
          hand, as he examines the claws. Bridger pulls out his
          knife... stretches the claw out to its full length, and CUTS
<b>          IT OFF AT ITS BASE.
</b>                         
<b>           FITZGERALD (O.S.)
</b>           What makes you think you earned a
           claw?
                         
          Bridger turns with a start... sees Fitzgerald standing over
          him, meat in his hand... his lips shiny with the grease.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           You didn't take that grizz down.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           It ain't for me.
                         
          Bridger stands... walks over to the sleeping Glass. Pig's
          already crouched beside him. Bridger lifts Glass' small
          leather POSSIBLES BAG from beside the Anstadt rifle... drops
          the claw inside... throws a look back to Fitzgerald.
                         
          Pig holds his palm out just above Glass' mouth.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           I can feel some air outta his
           mouth. Maybe Captain sealed up his
           throat proper, huh?
           (off Bridger's silence)
           Whatta you figure his odds are,
           Jim?
                         
          Bridger stares down at what's left of Glass.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Long.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
</b>                         
          The sun peeks over the horizon, sending an orange glow across
          the treetops.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - MORNING
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON GLASS...
</b><b>           23.
</b>                         
          ...unconscious but alive... his raspy breaths are weak and
          staggered. The SHADOWS OF MEN hover over him...
                         
          ...because Henry and the others surround Glass, staring down
          at him.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           What that bear did to him... I
           didn't expect he'd last this long.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           I seen a fella go a week once after
           a lion jumped him. Fever finally
           finished him off.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Whatta we do, Cap?
                         
          A long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We give him his chance.
                         
          Henry turns and walks away.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          The fire has burned down to nothing. The men sleep scattered
          about. Murphy stands just outside of camp, rifle ready,
          keeping watch.
                         
          Glass lies there awake... eyes wide open... a living corpse.
          And his breathing is just as labored as before... raspy,
          blood-soaked strains.
                         
          Fitzgerald tosses and turns, listening to Glass' gurgling.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You ain't doin' him or us no
           favors, Captain, lettin' him suffer
           that way.
                         
          Henry's awake, but doesn't answer. He's holding his pistol
          in his hand, as he stares at Glass... thinking the same thing
          Fitzgerald just said. But he doesn't move... not yet.
                         
          Fitzgerald angrily wraps a blanket around his head, muffling
          the sound. Bridger sits beyond him... smiles at Fitzgerald's
          misery, as he attaches the BEAR CLAW TO A THIN LEATHER
          STRAP... a necklace.
<b>           24.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - MORNING
</b>                         
          Bridger kneels over a SHIVERING GLASS, holding wet rags on
          his head. Pig and Henry stand over them, watching.
                         
          Fitzgerald, Anderson, Murphy and Stubby Bill sit huddled
          across camp.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           Fever's hit. Won't be long now.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I seen a bad one drag on days.
                         
<b>          ANGLE ON GLASS...
</b>                         
          ...eyes open... he can hear every word.
                         
           FITZGERALD (O.S.) (cont'd)
           Insides shut down... flesh starts
           to spoil and turn. Ain't no way
           for...
                         
<b>           HENRY (O.S.)
</b>           Quiet, Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>          FITZGERALD...
</b>                         
          ...points a stick at Glass.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b><b>                          (TO HENRY)
</b>           We keep sittin' here watchin' him
           die, only gives the `Ree more
           chance to find us.
                         
          Henry doesn't answer... just keeps staring down at Glass.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           He's burnin', Cap. Water turns to
           boil as soon as it touches him.
                         
          Henry considers this, then...
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Pig, take Anderson and scout ahead.
           Grand should be just west of here.
           Find us the best route.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Tryin' to buy Glass time don't make
           sense for the rest of us, Captain.
<b>           25.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>                          (TO PIG)
</b>           Get movin'.
                         
          Pig nods... grabs his gear. He and Anderson take off out of
          camp. Henry turns... walks over to Fitzgerald and Stubby
          Bill.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b><b>                          (WHISPERS)
</b>           You two can start digging a grave.
                         
          Fitzgerald tosses the stick away.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Least it's a step in the right
           direction.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - LATER
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald is covered in dirt and sweat, standing knee deep
          in Glass' grave. Stubby Bill stands over him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Any coyote digs that deep deserves
           the meal.
                         
          He takes Stubby Bill's hand... pulls himself out.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Glass won't know the difference no
           ways.
                         
          Pig and Anderson walk back into camp.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Found it, Cap. Right where Glass
           had us headed.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           No more than a mile or so out.
                         
          Henry looks to Bridger, still doctoring Glass.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We could build a litter. Haul him
           with us.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           It's rocky and steep goin'.
                         
          Henry looks to Pig for an honest answer.
<b>           26.
</b>                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Marshy and thick on the other side.
           We could try it, but...
                         
          Pig shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I signed on as a trapper, not a
           goddamn mule.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b><b>                          (TO HENRY)
</b>           Shape he's in... I don't see no way
           he'd make bein' drug.
                         
          Henry nods, his mind racing for a solution. And before long,
          his hand is back on that pistol. He pulls it from his belt.
                         
          The other men all drop their heads... except for
          Fitzgerald... he's ready to see this end.
                         
          Henry stares down at Glass.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Lay that rag over his eyes, Mr.
           Bridger.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           But, Captain.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Do it.
                         
          Bridger hesitates, then reaches to fold the wet rag down over
          Glass' wide open eyes. And Glass must know what's happening,
          because his eyes roll up to Bridger's... his lips try to form
          a word... his hand digs its fingers into the dirt beside him.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - ON BRIDGER...
</b>                         
          ...the boy looking away as he pulls the rag over our eyes...
          everything goes black.
                         
<b>           HENRY (O.S.)
</b>           Step clear, Mr. Bridger.
                         
          A LONG BEAT in the dark, waiting for that gunshot, then...
                         
<b>          BACK TO SCENE
</b><b>           27.
</b>                         
          Henry standing over Glass... pistol aimed down. His hand
          trembles slightly.
                         
          Pig turns away... presses his hands over his ears.
                         
          Bridger takes a few steps back... stares at Henry.
                         
          Henry struggles to steady his aim, until finally it calms...
          because he's thought of something else.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           There's a seventy dollar bonus from
           the Rocky Mountain Fur Company to
           the two men that stay with Glass...
           see this through. Then give him a
           proper burial.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I'll stay with him... money or not.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           Same here.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I can't let you stay back, Pig.
           Without Glass, I'll need you to
           scout.
                         
          Henry looks to the others... they all drop their eyes... not
          interested.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           Just need one more.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Two won't stand much chance against
           a party of `Ree, Captain, and
           seventy dollars won't buy me a new
           setta ears.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           A hundred then.
                         
          Still nothing from the others.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           They can have my share too. I owe
           Glass that at least.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           That case I'll hang back with the
           kid. I don't mind fallin' a day or
           so behind for two hundred.
<b>           28.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           But Glass is to be cared for until.
           Understood?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           (motions to Bridger)
           I'll let the young doctor do his
           job.
                         
          Henry hesitates... doesn't like this, but knows it's the best
          option left.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           The rest gather your gear.
                         
          Bridger reaches down... lifts the rag from Glass' face.
          Their eyes meet... Bridger gives Glass a nod.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - LATER
</b>                         
          Henry and the others are loaded and ready to leave. Pig
          bends down over Glass.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           I'll see ya at Fort Union, Hugh.
                         
          Glass's glazed eyes focus on Pig. He moves the only thing he
          can... BLINKS a "yes" back at him.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           (to Fitzgerald and
<b>                          BRIDGER)
</b>           As long as necessary.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I'll look after him.
                         
          Henry turns... leads the men into the trees... toward the
          Grand... toward Fort Union.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          What's left of a small fire is nothing but smoldering ash.
          Bridger crouches beside Glass, pouring a thin stream of broth
          between his lips. Fitzgerald reaches in... grabs Glass'
          Anstadt leaning against the tree.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I'll take first watch.
<b>           29.
</b>                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Not with his rifle.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Trust me, kid, he ain't gonna be
           needin' it tonight.
                         
          Fitzgerald disappears into the trees.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Pig stands on a ridge, scouting a course. He waves back to
          Henry and the others. They start toward him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass conscious on the ground... that same labored breathing.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - ON FITZGERALD...
</b>                         
          ...smiling down at Glass as he grabs the Anstadt, holds it...
          runs his hand down the barrel, as comfortable as if it were
          his own.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You were right to protect this.
                         
          Then he disappears... and we're left alone, staring up at the
          branches above us... the evening sky... accompanied by Glass'
          deathly breaths.
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CREEK - DAY
</b>                         
          Bridger kneels beside the stream, filling canteens.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - DAY
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald sits bored against a tree, twisting a knife in his
          hands... flipping it point first into the dirt... grabbing...
          repeating... twist... flip... thwack. And as he does, his
          eyes are locked on Glass.
<b>           30.
</b>                         
          Finally, Fitzgerald snaps the knife from the dirt, stands,
          and walks over to Glass. Glass is asleep. Fitzgerald
          crouches down over him... eyes his red, infected wounds.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b><b>                          (WHISPERS)
</b>           When are you gonna die, boy?
                         
          Fitzgerald reaches out with the blade... gently touches one
          of the threads holding Glass' throat together. And when he
          does, GLASS' EYES FLY OPEN... focus on Fitzgerald.
                         
          Fitzgerald doesn't even flinch... just holds that knife tip
          there against Glass' throat.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           I'm nearly a week behind Henry's
           bunch on accounta havin' to tend to
           you. Be easier on us all if you'd
           take that last breath.
                         
          The two men hold a stare... until Fitzgerald pulls back the
          knife... grabs a bloodstained rag from beside them... balls
          it up in his fist.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           I could help ya with that if you'd
           like. Muzzle ya right now... end
           all this sufferin' quick and easy.
           Nobody'd ever know you give up.
                         
          Fitzgerald moves the rag over Glass' nose and mouth... holds
          it there, just inches above.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           You just gimme a blink if you want
           me to do it.
                         
          Glass locks his eyes on Fitzgerald's... both men unblinking.
                         
          A DROP OF BLOOD hangs from the rag... finally falls... lands
          on Glass' lips.
                         
          Fitzgerald almost smiles, waiting for the inevitable... as
          Glass stares back, fighting the urge to blink.
                         
          Suddenly Bridger's hand clamps down on Fitzgerald's shoulder.
          Fitzgerald spins... startled.
                         
<b>           BRIDGER (O.S.)
</b>           What's goin' on?
<b>           31.
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald jumps with a start, sees it's Bridger, and is
          pissed that Bridger scared him... and interrupted his
          business. He rises quickly, planting his meaty hand in
          Bridger's chest, and SLAMMING HIM BACK AGAINST A TREE.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Don't you ever question me, you
           little piss-ant.
                         
          Bridger tries to fight back, but Fitzgerald's too strong...
          holds him pressed against the tree... slams a heavy elbow
          into Bridger's mouth, splitting his lip.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           I'd just as soon leave both you and
           your nigger here to rot. `Cept
           killin' you ain't worth givin' up
           your share.
<b>                          (LEANS CLOSER)
</b>           But that don't mean I can't be
           coaxed into changin' my mind.
                         
          Fitzgerald shoves him away... Bridger stumbles and falls.
          Fitzgerald tosses the bloody rag at him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           And I was just doin' your job...
           cleanin' him up.
                         
          Fitzgerald grabs Glass' Anstadt, almost daring Bridger to say
          something. Of course Bridger doesn't. Fitzgerald walks
          toward the trees.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Why don't ya pour some more broth
           down his throat... keep him alive
           another week so we can fall farther
           back. End up walkin' all the way
           to Fort Union on our own. `Ree
           would love to poach on just two.
           (turns to Bridger)
           I promise ya, you'll look a helluva
           lot worse than Glass when they're
           done with you.
                         
          Bridger watches him disappear into the trees... wipes the
          blood from his lip with a trembling hand.
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>           32.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          From high above the trees. The world is silent... peaceful...
          until SEVERAL STARTLED CROWS shoot up from the treetops.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          BLACK...
</b>                         
          ...the sound of FRENZIED BREATHING.
                         
<b>           FITZGERALD (V.O.)
</b><b>                          (PANICKED WHISPER)
</b>           Bridger! Get your ass up!
                         
          Dim light fills the frame... then FITZGERALD'S FACE right in
          front of us.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           `Ree.
                         
                         
<b>          BRIDGER - SCRAMBLES UP FROM UNDER HIS BLANKET, WIPING THE
</b><b>          SLEEP FROM HIS FRIGHTENED EYES.
</b>                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Keep quiet. I was down at the
           creek... there's twenty of `em at
           least, comin' this way.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Oh, shit. Whatta we do?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           We run. Now.
                         
          And Fitzgerald's just whispering, but it's with such power
          that Bridger has no response... watches as Fitzgerald gathers
          his bag, starts throwing in food and supplies. Bridger is
          scared out of his mind... does the same... grabs for his
          rifle, resting near Glass.
                         
          Bridger freezes... in his panic, he'd forgotten all about
          Glass. And now the wounded man's eyes stare up at him...
          understanding perfectly what's happening around him.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What about Glass?
<b>           33.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           He's on his own, same as us.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I can't leave him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Then I'm talkin' to a dead man.
                         
          Glass gives Bridger the slightest of nods... go. But
          Bridger's frozen... doesn't know what to do... until
          Fitzgerald shoves him back to life.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Move.
                         
          Glass reaches out a weak hand out for his Anstadt... clawing
          for his weapon. Bridger starts to hand it to Glass, but
          Fitzgerald grabs it first.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What're you doin'? He needs that.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           He couldn't hold it if you tarred
           it to his hands.
                         
          Glass strains to hold out his trembling hand for his gun.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           It's his goddamn rifle! That's all
           he's got!
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           And more than he'll need.
                         
          Fitzgerald scoops up Glass' knife as well.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           We can't leave him with nothin'.
                         
          But Fitzgerald is already sprinting away... disappearing into
          the trees. Glass stares after him, his once-calm eyes
          suddenly filled with a rage. And Bridger's frozen again,
          lost between duty and fear... until finally, he just shakes
          his head and takes off into the trees.
                         
          Glass's empty hand falls back to the ground... he tries to
          yell out in anger, but his throat EXPLODES IN PAIN. His hand
          digs into the dirt... pulls him over onto his side. He flops
          over to his stomach... GASPS IN PAIN...
<b>           34.
</b>          then using his one good arm, drags himself over the dirt, his
          healthy leg pushing weakly at the ground, trying to propel
          him forward... a futile chase after Fitzgerald and Bridger...
                         
          ...inch by inch... farther than he's been in days. But it's
          still only a few yards, and now he lies in the open... a
          clear target for the Arikara.
                         
          Then he spots that hole... the grave Fitzgerald dug for him.
          He grunts into action... grabs SEVERAL, THIN BROKEN BRANCHES
          from the ground, then claws forward, each movement
          excruciating... until finally, he reaches the hole, and ROLLS
          INTO IT... lands with a PAINFUL CRUNCH.
                         
          He rests there a moment, trying to regain any ounce of
          strength. Finally he fights through the pain... shoves the
          branches back up... spreading them across the hole as
          camouflage... a thin veil, but all that Glass has.
                         
          He lies there defenseless... INSIDE HIS OWN GRAVE. Hiding...
          listening for the Arikara's arrival... waiting to die.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - OUT OF THE GRAVE... TIGHT AND CLAUSTROPHOBIC...
</b><b>          JUST THE NIGHT SKY THROUGH THOSE BRANCHES... AND THE SOUND OF
</b><b>          HIS PAINFUL BREATHS.
</b>                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
</b>                         
          Cold and grey. Fitzgerald crouches beside a small fire,
          warming his hands. WHISPS OF SMOKE rise into the sky.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           We ran the better part of six
           hours. Had to gain some ground on
           Henry and them others.
                         
          Bridger sits at the base of a tree, not listening...
          staring... his mind replaying the desertion of Glass over and
          over. He notices the smoke.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Best douse that smoke before them
           `Ree spot it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           We put enough distance between us
           and them. And it's too damn cold
           to go without one.
<b>           35.
</b>                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           All we know, they hoofed it through
           the night same as us.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           (shakes his head)
           A dozen `Ree can't make the time us
           two did.
                         
          Bridger looks back to the trees... then considers something,
          stares at Fitzgerald a beat, before...
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           It was twenty earlier.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           What?
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           When you woke me... you said you'd
           spotted twenty `Ree.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           A dozen... twenty. I wasn't in a
           mood to count feathers. Hell, one
           `Ree woulda been too many.
                         
          Fitzgerald empties his canteen over the fire, killing the
          flames. Bridger stares at the water pouring out.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           What was you even doin' down at the
           creak in the middle of the night?
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           I'd already brought plenty a water.
                         
          Fitzgerald doesn't answer. Bridger tightens his grip on his
          rifle... slowly rises.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER (CONT'D)
</b>           Answer me.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Don't start questionin' me on
           accounta you feelin' guilty `bout
           leavin' your nigger buddy behind.
                         
          Bridger musters up all the courage he can... aims his rifle
          at Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b><b>           ANSWER ME OR I BLOW YOUR DAMN HEAD
</b><b>           OFF!
</b><b>           36.
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald stares back at Bridger and his rifle... eyes
          taking in everything... a snake sizing up its prey. Then
          Fitzgerald stands... takes a step toward the boy.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           What're you askin'? Why it was you
           turned your back on Glass? Why you
           let him die to save your own sorry
           skin?
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           `Cause you was scared shitless,
           that's why.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           The `Ree... did you see `em?
           (off Fitzgerald's silence)
<b>           DID YOU SEE `EM?
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b><b>                          (MOVING CLOSER)
</b>           Not a one.
                         
          Bridger CRIES OUT... starts to pull the trigger, when
          Fitzgerald's hand flashes out, grabbing the barrel, and
          shoving the butt back into Bridger's face... THWACK.
                         
          The force of the blow knocks Bridger back to the ground, but
          Fitzgerald holds his grip on the rifle barrel... flips it
          around to aim it at the boy. Blood drips down Bridger's head
          as he stares up at his rifle pointed down.
                         
          Fitzgerald's finger tightens on the trigger.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           So that there is the answer to your
           question.
                         
          And Fitzgerald PULLS THE TRIGGER... AND BRIDGER SQUEEZES HIS
          EYES SHUT IN FEAR... THEN CLICK. Bridger opens his eyes...
          sees Fitzgerald sneering down at him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           And the next time you aim to kill
           somebody, kid, best remember your
           gun won't fire without a flint.
                         
          Fitzgerald tosses the rifle back at Bridger, and turns away.
          Bridger's face flushes with rage and humiliation... he
          charges Fitzgerald from behind... tackles him to the
          ground... starts pounding Fitzgerald with punches.
                         
          A few of them land, but it's only a moment before Fitzgerald
          is back in control... HEAD-BUTTING Bridger off of him...
<b>           37.
</b>          tossing him away, then KICKING BRIDGER IN THE STOMACH...
          AGAIN. He grabs his knife... is ready to finish Bridger
          off...
                         
          ...but Fitzgerald is smart enough to know that out here, two
          are safer than one... even when one is just a kid. He starts
          walking away.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I'm goin' back for him.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Far as we ran all night, you
           couldn't find Glass with dogs and a
           map. And I don't believe you
           really want to. `Cause after
           leavin' him to die the first time,
           I doubt he'd be too happy to see
           you now.
                         
          Fitzgerald digs at the dirt with the knife... covers the
          fire's remains.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           And just so we're clear. If you
           try to backtrack without me
           knowin', or ever get so guilty you
           feel the need to tell somebody.
                         
          Fitzgerald looks at Bridger... hard... evil.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           I'll have no choice but to gut you
           from nuts to nose.
                         
          Fitzgerald stares his point home, then shoves the blade into
          his belt, and stands.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Now let's go.
                         
          Bridger wipes the blood from his face, then throws one last
          glance behind him before following Fitzgerald.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - MORNING
</b>                         
          Empty and quiet... no sign of life... until GLASS' HAND RISES
          BETWEEN THE BRANCHES. His fingers dig into the earth,
          pulling himself up from the hole... a dead man climbing out
          of his own grave.
                         
          He rolls out to the ground... arches in pain when his back
          hits the cold, hard surface.
<b>           38.
</b>          Glass lies there shivering, regaining what little strength he
          has, then rolls over... starts dragging himself again with
          that one good arm. He makes it to the blanket... wraps it
          around him.
                         
          Glass rests there in the center of camp... unable to move...
          his eyes scanning the surroundings... no food... no water...
          and he's wide open in this clearing... an easy target for any
          predator. So he grabs his Possibles bag and GUNPOWDER HORN,
          and drags himself toward the cover of brush.
                         
          And every movement takes all the will Glass has... a push
          with his good leg followed by a pull with his healthy arm...
          inch by inch... foot by foot... sweat pouring down his face
          as he finally reaches the cover of the trees... continues
          on... dragging himself across the forest floor in a
          desperate, hopeless crawl for survival.
                         
          But finally it's too much for Glass... the fever and pain
          overwhelm him. He collapses... falls unconscious.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass lies in the dirt, weak... dehydrated... starving. He
          looks at his hands... scratched and bloody from clawing his
          weight.
                         
          He unwraps his small, leather Possibles bag... dumps it to
          the ground, revealing it contents... flints, a straight
          razor, his map, and a LEATHER NECKLACE WITH THE SIX-INCH BEAR
          CLAW attached. Glass grabs the razor... cuts SEVERAL THIN
          STRIPS FROM THE BLANKET, and wraps them around his hands.
                         
          He shoves the rest back in the bag, and does the only thing
          he can do... start crawling again... push with his healthy
          leg... pull with his good arm.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER
</b>                         
          Glass dragging himself up a steep slope... over rocks... the
          jagged edges catching the wounds... tearing the primitive
          stitching. The gashes rip wider... blood oozes down, leaving
          a crimson trail dripping down the rock behind him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          The wind is howling through the trees. Glass lies beneath a
          cluster of brush... shivering... bleeding. Every aching
          breath creates a puff of smoke in the cold, night air.
<b>           39.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MARSH - DAY
</b>                         
          Thick with a sea of four-foot high Cattails... like miniature
          cornstalks. Looking down from above the marsh we see a two-
          foot wide path of crushed plants that reaches the center of
          the marsh, and stops.
                         
          We tighten on the end of the path, until we see Glass lying
          among the Cattails. He's sawing off one of the stalks with
          the straight razor... peeling away the husk, and eating the
          tender flesh beneath.
                         
          Mosquitoes move in clouds around him... over his face...
          arms. But Glass' injured body only allows him one action at
          a time, so the mosquitoes have their fill of him, as he gnaws
          on the Cattail.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass pulling himself along the ground... stopping to tear a
          FEW BERRIES from a plant, and shove them in his mouth. He
          flinches as he swallows. He starts to move again, but
          freezes... listens... RUSHING WATER.
                         
          Glass digs his fingers into the ground with new energy...
          pulls himself toward the sound... up over a ridge... and
          there it is at the bottom of the ridge...
                         
          ...THE GRAND RIVER... WATER. Glass crawls down toward it.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass drags himself to the river's edge, cupping handfuls of
          water and rubbing it over his parched lips... withstanding
          the pain to gulp it down.
                         
          As he does, Glass notices a FISH hovering in the shallows
          beside him. He makes a desperate grab for the fish, but it
          darts easily away.
                         
          Glass cups more water to his mouth, but with each drink, he
          feels the water leak from a hole in his throat... run down
          his neck. He leans out over the surface to check his
          reflection... barely recognizes the swollen, stitched-
          together, disfigured face staring back at him. He fights off
          the urge to vomit... pulls the razor from the leather bag,
          and cuts more strips of blanket, soaking them in the river,
          then cleaning his wounds.
<b>           40.
</b>                         
          He runs a finger up to his shredded throat... around the
          open, wet hole. He cups another handful of water to his
          mouth... strains to swallow, then feels the liquid GURGLE OUT
<b>          OF THE HOLE.
</b>                         
          Glass shoves the cloth against the wound... tries to press
          the flesh together... no good. He dumps out his Possibles
          bag... stares at the meager contents. He picks up one of the
          flints... looks to the powderhorn.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON A SMALL CLUMP OF DRIED GRASS...
</b>                         
          ...as Glass SPARKS one of the flints... ignites the grass.
          As the fire grows, Glass pours a handful of GUNPOWDER from
          the horn, and RUBS IT ALL OVER THE HOLE IN HIS THROAT.
                         
          He lifts several small blades of burning grass... a miniature
          torch. And only then do we realize what he's about to do...
          because he stares at the flame a beat, then raises it toward
          his gunpowder-covered throat.
                         
          The flame nears the black powder, and LEAPS OFF THE GRASS,
          igniting the powder, and SETTING GLASS'S NECK ON FIRE.
                         
          Glass falls back to the ground in agony... TRIES TO SCREAM,
          but his burning, shredded vocal chords won't allow him.
                         
          The gunpowder sizzles and burns... the flame spreads...
          Glass' flesh sears... melts. And the pain is too much for
          Glass... he passes out.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          ANGLE ON GLASS... looking dead beside the river, but we know
          he's alive because we can hear those same painful, raspy
          breaths.
                         
          And then we hear something else... an O.S. RATTLING, growing
          LOUDER... FASTER... BUZZING... until Glass' eyes flash open.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - ON A RATTLESNAKE COILED INCHES FROM HIS FACE.
</b>                         
          Glass stares back in horror... has time to throw up his arm
          in protection as the snake STRIKES... SINKS ITS FANGS INTO
<b>          HIS FOREARM.
</b><b>           41.
</b>          He shakes it free, but can't escape the snake's next
          strike... locking its jaws onto Glass' burned throat. Glass
          opens his mouth to scream.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          And Glass' eyes flying open in the glaring sun, as he awakens
          from his nightmare... looks to his arm... no snake. His hand
          instinctively jumps to his melted throat. No bites.
                         
          But that's when he hears it... we all do... that same
          RATTLING FROM HIS DREAM. Glass slowly turns his head toward
          the sound...
                         
          ...and there's a RATTLESNAKE COILED just a few feet away.
          Only it isn't poised to attack Glass. It's facing the other
          way, its target a FIELD MOUSE, trapped against a rock.
                         
          The snake attacks, sinking its fangs into the mouse. The
          field mouse tumbles over... quivers as the poison runs
          through its body, then dies.
                         
          As Glass watches the snake begin to make a meal of the mouse,
          his hand grips a rock. He drags himself toward the occupied
          snake... raises the rock high, then SMASHES IT DOWN ON THE
<b>          SNAKE'S HEAD.
</b>                         
          Glass immediately pulls the razor from his bag, and slices
          off the rattlesnake's head, the field mouse still lodged
          halfway inside. Glass then drags the razor down the length
          of the snake... digs his fingers under the fresh seam, then
          peels the outer layer down off the rattler.
                         
          With the skin still hanging off the round tube of flesh,
          Glass BITES INTO THE SNAKE, tearing off a chunk of meat. He
          gobbles it down, slowing only to painfully swallow the food
          past his injured throat.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - LATER
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON THE REMAINS OF THE SNAKE...
</b>                         
          ...the head, skin, and not much else.
                         
          GLASS - at the water's edge, drinking... touching his
          charred, melted throat... no leaks. He opens his Possibles
          bag... pulls out the GRIZZLY CLAW NECKLACE... stares at it a
          beat, then slips it over his head.
<b>           42.
</b>                         
          He drags out the map... spreads it on the ground, then throws
          a glance around him... fingers the point on the blue line...
          a rough guess of his location.
                         
<b>          ANGLE ON THE MAP...
</b>                         
          ...Fort Union at the top... hundreds of miles north. Fort
          Brazeau south... but not nearly as far away.
                         
          Glass gazes north up the Grand, as if he can see Fitzgerald
          and Bridger just ahead of him. Then he looks back down to
          his reflection in the water... battered and scarred. He
          looks to his leg... all but worthless for now... his one good
          arm. It's clear he's not ready to take revenge on anyone.
                         
          So Glass shoves the map back into the bag... ties it around
          his arm with the powderhorn and blanket, then grabs a THICK,
          FALLEN LOG, and rolls it into the river. Glass crawls in
          behind it... deeper, until the current grows strong enough to
          carry the weight of his mangled body downstream.
                         
          Glass drapes his healthy arm over the log, and starts
          floating... letting the river do the work. He watches the
          land move past him faster than it has in days... and without
          all the agony of every move.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Winding through the open prairie. Glass hangs onto the
          log... floats with the gentle current.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - EVENING
</b>                         
          The sinking sun casts an orange glow over the water. Glass
          floats downstream... past a HERD OF ELK grazing along the
          riverbank. The animals don't even notice him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Dark... the moon hidden behind clouds. A heavy mist hangs
          over the river. Glass is draped across the log, eyes
          closed... letting the slow current carry him south. But then
          his eyes open... because he hears something... a LOW RUMBLE.
                         
          Glass looks to the river banks... too foggy to see anything
          clearly. The RUMBLE GROWS LOUDER. He peers ahead... too
          dark to see much... just ANOTHER SPLINTERED LOG floating in
          front of him, its one jagged branch rising up in the air.
<b>           43.
</b>                         
          But then THE LOG VANISHES. Glass squints through the fog,
          scanning the surface. But it's gone... the water's empty...
          that LOW RUMBLE GROWS EVEN LOUDER.
                         
          Glass looks to the water beside him... a BRANCH GLIDES PAST
          AT A HIGHER SPEED. And now Glass knows what's coming, but
          it's too late... because the world suddenly turns upside
          down, as Glass tumbles over the edge of a TWENTY FOOT
<b>          WATERFALL.
</b>                         
          He spirals downward... crashes into the rushing current.
          He's washed forward with the suddenly violent rapids. They
          pull him under the surface, then toss him GASPING back out.
                         
          The river carries him blindly through the mist... tossing...
          turning... SLAMMING HIM INTO A HUGE BOULDER... CRACK... he
          spins off, swept away headfirst... the foaming water sucking
          him down the rocky gauntlet.
                         
          He tumbles over more boulders... his Possibles bag snaps
          loose... Glass makes a grab for it, but is suddenly flipped
          down another set of falls.
                         
          The Possibles Bag is lost in the raging river.
                         
          Glass sinks beneath the surface, then floats back up, as the
          rapids calm... spit Glass to the gentle shallows. His body
          drifts face-down toward shore.
                         
          And just when we're sure Glass has to finally be dead, his
          arm reaches up from the water... he digs his fingers into the
          muddy bank, and drags himself out of the river.
                         
          Glass collapses unconscious to the ground, his body shrouded
          in that mist.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          TIGHT ON THE LEFT SIDE OF GLASS' FACE... the right still
          pressed into the muddy bank. The sun beats down... then
          SHADOWS APPEAR... BOUNCE ACROSS HIM... something is standing
          over Glass.
                         
          And then a VULTURE'S HEAD DROPS INTO FRAME...
                         
          ...latches its beak onto Glass' cheek... tugs at it...
          stretches it. Glass' eyes pop open... we PULL BACK to see
          THREE VULTURES surrounding Glass' body, pecking and clawing
          at his battered wounds.
<b>           44.
</b>                         
          Glass swings his good arm, knocking one of the vultures away.
          He tries to cry out, but only that PRIMITIVE HISS ERUPTS from
          his throat.
                         
          The vultures dance away from his flailing... aren't willing
          to give up their meal so easily... dart in for quick attacks
          on his flesh.
                         
          Glass grasps a branch... swings at the birds, beating them
          back. The vultures give up the battle... fly away.
                         
          Glass crumbles back to the ground... squints up into the
          sun... the SILHOUETTES OF THE VULTURES CIRCLING ABOVE HIM...
          waiting for him to die.
                         
          Glass looks down to his wounds, again oozing blood. He
          glances around... sees a ridge just a few hundred yards away.
                         
          At the base of the ridge, a GIANT BOULDER has broken free,
          creating a partial cave. Glass starts crawling toward it.
          And if it's possible, he looks even closer to death now than
          when he started this journey.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAVE - DAY
</b>                         
          No more than ten feet deep, but enough to hide from
          predators. Glass drags himself as far back in the recess as
          he can... collapses against the rock wall.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. CAVE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass gathers loose sticks and grass into a small pile...
          begins sparking rocks together to build a fire.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. CAVE - LATER
</b>                         
          The fire burns beside Glass, as he TEARS A SINGLE THREAD of
          cloth from the tattered blanket, then feeds it through a tiny
          hole in a JAGGED, NEEDLE-SIZED SLIVER OF SHARPENED ROCK... a
          man-made needle and thread.
                         
          Glass goes to work on the open wounds of his chest...
          piercing his skin with the rock... wincing with pain as he
          tugs the thread through the fresh hole in his skin... pierces
          the other side of the wound, then pulls the flesh tightly
          together... before repeating the excruciating process all
          over again... pierce... pull... pierce... tighten.
<b>           45.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          The moon's glow reflects off the water.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. CAVE - NIGHT
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON GLASS' HAND...
</b>                         
          ...holding a small sharp stone, and SCRATCHING LETTERS INTO
<b>          THE CAVE'S ROCK WALL.
</b>                         
          WE PAN DOWN TO THE GROUND... still listening to the
          SCRATCHING OF THE ROCK as we glide across the dirt... reach
          the fire... its flame warm and strong. We TIGHTEN ON THE
          FIRE, until WE'RE INSIDE IT... and then WE PULL BACK...
                         
          ...and we see the fire has long died away... just black ash.
          The O.S. SCRATCHING has silenced. We glide back across the
          cave floor... to Glass unconscious on the ground. And above
          him on the wall, we see what he had been scratching...
                         
          "Robbed and left to die by Fitzgerald and Bridger. If find
          eether kill for Hugh Glass"
                         
          We hold on those words a beat, then...
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          DROPS OF RAIN dot the surface. THUNDER RUMBLES... the rain
          grows heavier.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAVE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Rain pouring... gullies of water run down the ridge, spewing
          over the mouth of the cave. But inside, Glass doesn't
          stir... lying there just as we last saw him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Rain coming down in buckets. The river's raging.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Clouds drift across the moon... the storm has ended.
<b>           46.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAVE - DAY
</b>                         
          Sunny and clear. A rabbit hops along... stops for a moment
          outside the cave. Beyond it, Glass is still sprawled on the
          cave floor... he must be dead. The rabbit continues on past.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. CAVE - DAY
</b>                         
          TIGHT ON GLASS' FACE... as his eyes flutter open. He stares
          straight ahead, unmoving.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAVE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass crawls out of the crevice... shields his eyes from the
          sun, as he takes in the scene.
                         
          The river has sunk back to normal, leaving the banks battered
          and muddy. The water is thick and brown with all the flooded
          earth it pulled up.
                         
          Glass uses all his strength to rise up to his knees, then
          higher... onto his healthy leg. He braces himself against a
          tree. He's still crooked and hunched over, but for the first
          time since the Grizzly attack, he looks more like a man than
          an animal. He bends down... picks up a BROKEN TREE BRANCH.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass limps along the bank... beside the brown water stirred
          up from the flood. He moves along the washed-out area,
          searching for food... grabs some plants... tears them from
          the ground to chew on the roots.
                         
          He continues on... spots a DEAD SNAPPING TURTLE drowned in
          the flood, frozen on its back. Glass kneels down to pick up
          the turtle... sniffs it. As he does, he spots something
          across the river... a DEER, staring back at him.
                         
          Glass slowly raises his IMAGINARY RIFLE... takes careful aim
          at the deer... pulls the trigger. If only he had his Anstadt.
                         
          But then the deer's head snaps... to something beyond Glass.
          Glass follows the animal's eyes... turns to the ridge... and
          the FIVE ARIKARA WARRIORS STANDING AT GLASS' CAVE.
                         
          Glass drops flat to the ground behind a tree uprooted in the
          flood. He looks back across the river... THE DEER IS LONG
<b>          GONE.
</b><b>           47.
</b>                         
          Glass inches his head up over the tree... to the warriors now
          crouched outside the cave... studying the tracks.
                         
          Glass' eyes jump to the soft dirt along the river... HIS
          FOOTPRINTS CLEAR... an obvious trail leading right to him.
          He throws a glance around... nowhere to run even if he could.
          So he starts backing into the river on his stomach... feet-
          first... dragging a small branch over the tracks around him,
          wiping them away as he moves. And his eyes are locked on the
          Arikara... watching to see if they spot him.
                         
          But they haven't yet, and Glass keeps sliding backward...
          five feet off shore... only three feet deep in the murky
          water and sludge. But if he goes any further, the current
          will catch him... pull him into the next set of violent
          rapids... and make him a clear target.
                         
          The Arikara follow the tracks down from the cave.
                         
          Glass sinks neck-deep into the water... the Arikara keep
          coming... near the river. So Glass drops beneath the surface.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
<b>                         UNDERWATER -
</b>                         
          And Glass' eyes spread wide... searching the muddy water. He
          grabs a LARGE ROCK... rolls onto his back, and places the
          rock on his stomach, its weight holding him firmly to the
          river bottom.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          ANGLE ON THE ARIKARA WARRIORS... following Glass' tracks to
          the edge of the river... looking out over the brown river.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>                         UNDERWATER -
</b>                         
          Glass pressing his head back against the bottom... staring up
          through the cloudy water... to the FIVE SHADOWS STANDING ONLY
<b>          A FEW FEET AWAY.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. GRAND RIVER - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          The Arikara... unknowingly standing just above Glass...
          looking back to the tracks... scanning the water. But the
          surface is empty, and the river's too thick with mud to see
          anything below.
<b>           48.
</b>                         
          But they keep looking... and we're waiting for Glass to
          explode from the river, gasping for air. But he doesn't...
          and they keep scanning for what seems an eternity, until
          finally, the warriors turn... start walking back up the path.
                         
          Behind them, Glass' face inches to the surface... pulls in
          some oxygen... watches as they fade into the trees.
                         
          Then Glass rolls the rock away... starts moving deeper into
          the river... fighting the current to grab rocks and
          boulders... pulling himself to the other side.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass limps through the trees, still dripping with the muddy
          water of the Grand.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - LATER
</b>                         
          Glass is on his knees, desperately grabbing for a TINY FIELD
          MOUSE. The rodent escapes into a hole. Glass claws at the
          ground after it. He's starving to death.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          The rain beating down through the trees. Glass huddles in a
          cluster of bushes, trying to stay dry... shivering in the
          cold. He reaches out from the cover, grabbing his moccasin
          boot standing in the rain. He pulls it in... slurps back the
          rainfall that it's caught.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. PRAIRIE - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass limps slowly across the rolling prairie. He's weak...
          starving... isn't going to make it much further. He drops to
          his hands and knees.
                         
          And then he feels something... the ground almost trembling
          under his hands. He watches his hands quiver with vibration.
          A RUMBLE BUILDS. Glass strains to hear... looks to the crest
          of a hill... labors up the gentle slope toward the sound.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. PRAIRIE/HILL - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass reaches the crest... looks over the other side to a
<b>          HERD OF BUFFALO THUNDERING ACROSS THE PRAIRIE.
</b><b>           49.
</b>                         
          An incredible site... hundreds of massive creatures... their
          hooves tearing up the earth, leaving a cloud of dust behind
          them.
                         
          Behind the herd, a PACK OF WOLVES FIGHT OVER A FALLEN
<b>          BUFFALO.
</b>                         
          Glass lies in the high grass, watching the wolves SNARL AND
          SNAP over the remains. And he eyes that buffalo... the
          closest he's been to food in days.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. PLAINS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          The five wolves rest around the downed buffalo, their snouts
          bloody from the meal. Suddenly, one of the wolves' heads
          snaps up... bares its teeth... SNARLS.
                         
          And then we see what the wolf is growling at... Glass...
          limping out of the shadows toward the animals, holding a
          BURNING SAGE BUSH IN EACH HAND... like giant FLAMING HANDS
          clawing in the night.
                         
          The wolves jump to their feet, unsure of what's approaching.
          They growl at Glass. But Glass keeps coming... doing his
          best to YELL... more like GROWL back at the wolves. He
          swings the flaming brush, tossing glowing sparks through the
          air.
                         
          The wolves spread out, instinctively surrounding Glass. But
          Glass singles out each one... charges, waving the flames...
          driving each wolf back.
                         
          Four of the wolves back away, but the leader holds its
          ground... even moves toward Glass... only a few feet away...
          SNARLING... bloody jaws ready to attack, but still not sure
          what its up against.
                         
          Glass shakes the flames at the wolf... it SNAPS AT GLASS'
          ARM. Glass swings the other... slams the fiery plant across
          the wolf's head.
                         
          The wolf YELPS... leaps back... starts to run away, but turns
          back... makes another charge at Glass. But Glass is ready...
          throws the flaming ball of sage at the wolf, then clubs it
          with the other. The animal's fur begins to burn.
                         
          The frightened wolf has had enough... rolls on the ground,
          then spins to join the rest of its pack. They run a safe
          distance, then stop... keeping a watch on Glass.
<b>           50.
</b>                         
          Glass drags the burning sage bushes along the ground,
          igniting the grass and brush... creating a foot-high flaming
          wall between him and the wolves.
                         
          He stretches the flame into a circle, a fiery ring surrounds
          the fallen buffalo.
                         
          The wolves have seen enough... turn... race away from the
          flames.
                         
          As the grass around him burns, Glass drops the sage plants...
          attacks the buffalo remains, tearing away bloody chunks of
          flesh from the carcass, and shoving them into his mouth... a
          starving animal that's finally found food.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. PRAIRIE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          From high above the prairie... Glass and the buffalo at the
          center of that glowing ring of fire.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY
</b>                         
          The wind's gusting... bending the high golden grass over on
          its side. Glass moves slowly across, pulling his collar up
          to shield his face from the cold winds. He spots something
          in the distant sky ahead... a THIN LINE OF BLACK SMOKE.
          Glass picks up his pace... hope spurring him on.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY
</b>                         
          The charred, skeletal remains of a tribe's village... just
          black posts where tee-pees once stood... a half-burned log
          lodge still smokes, sending that black line into the sky.
                         
          Glass limps through the graveyard of structures... all signs
          of life in this village long gone. He searches a basket...
          pulls out a BLANKET... wraps it around his shoulders.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. LODGE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass steps into the smoky warmth of the lodge... black and
          empty. He slides down to the floor... unwraps strips of
          roasted buffalo from what's left of his blanket. He starts to
          take a bite, when SOMETHING DARTS PAST THE DOORWAY TO THE
          BACK ROOM. The O.S. SHUFFLING OF FEET.
                         
          Glass freezes... he isn't alone. He rises... grabs a
          splintered post like a spear... eases toward the doorway...
          raises the post to swing...
<b>           51.
</b>                         
          ...and sees the SMALL PUPPY standing in the back room. The
          dog takes off around a crumbled wall. Glass follows it.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          Glass limps across the room... turns the corner of the
          crumbled wall... and sees the dog slide to a stop beside an
          ANCIENT ARIKARA SQUAW, huddled in the corner, her bony arms
          outstretched in front of her in weak defense. And her eyes
          are SOLID WHITE... the old woman is blind. She CRIES OUT A
          CHANT over and over... her death chant, as she waits for this
          stranger to kill her.
                         
          Glass stands frozen... confused. He tries to speak, but his
          throat still won't let him. He crouches down in front of the
          old woman... reaches for her hand, but she flails him away.
          He grabs her again... gently... just holds it until she
          calms... studying the woman... her hollow face all skin and
          bones... she's obviously dying.
                         
          He pulls the strip of buffalo meat from his pocket... pushes
          it into the squaw's hand. She immediately jerks it to her
          mouth... and that's when Glass sees the WOMAN HAS NO TEETH...
          she can't eat.
                         
          Glass turns to an old pot tipped over on the floor.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass carries the pot toward a nearby stream. The dog
          scurries out behind him... follows Glass to the water.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. LODGE/BACK ROOM - DAY
</b>                         
          The pot boils over burning logs. Glass dips a cup in,
          pulling out a warm broth. He carries it to the squaw, still
          sitting in the corner... takes her hand, placing the cup in
          it for her. She gulps the liquid back.
                         
          Glass goes back to refill the cup. The old woman MUMBLES
          SOMETHING we can't understand... over and over, as Glass
          brings the cup back to her. He tries to ease it into her
          hand, but the woman pushes it away... slides her hand up
          Glass' arm to his face... patting it... MUMBLING THOSE SAME
          WORDS... thanking Glass.
<b>           52.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass carries several blankets toward the lodge. The puppy
          trails behind him, biting at one of the corners... hanging on
          as Glass pulls him across the dirt.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. LODGE - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass enters the back room with the blankets... stops when he
          sees the old woman slumped over to the floor, her white eyes
          frozen open in a lifeless stare.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass has stacked several burned posts into a crude pyre at
          the edge of the village. The squaw lies atop the pyre,
          covered in the blankets he gathered for her. Glass stands
          beside the pyre, a FLAMING TORCH in his hand. The puppy
          rests at his feet.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. DISTANT RIDGE - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          THREE INDIANS sit on horseback, watching Glass light the
          pyre... the flames rise into the night.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. BURNED ARIKARA VILLAGE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass crouches... pets the dog, as he watches the flames
          spread... engulf the woman.
                         
<b>          ANGLE ON THE GLOWING EMBERS...
</b>                         
          ...floating into the night. Beyond the sparks, we see
          something else... THOSE THREE INDIANS GALLOPING TOWARD THE
<b>          VILLAGE... FAST.
</b>                         
          And now Glass sees them too... knows it's too late to run, so
          he just stands there. But the dog's seen enough... darts
          away.
                         
          Glass watches the Indians ride into the village... their
          braided hair and dress is different than the Arikara we've
          seen earlier, because these are SIOUX WARRIORS, and Glass
          knows it.
                         
          The Sioux surround Glass on horseback... stare down at Glass.
          The lead warrior (SPOTTED HORSE), (30's), poised and strong,
          points to the flaming pyre... says something to Glass.
<b>           53.
</b>                         
          Glass tries to answer... can't... touches his scarred throat.
          Spotted Horse slides gracefully off his horse. The other two
          warriors, (THREE FEATHERS and RUNNING FOX) do the same...
          close in on Glass.
                         
          Glass stands firm. Spotted Horse says something else to him.
          Again, Glass touches his throat... holds his jacket out from
          his sides... no weapons. Spotted Horse studies Glass hard...
          reaches out, wiping his finger down Glass' cheek, almost
          testing to see if the color comes off.
                         
          One of the other warriors pats Glass' hair... smiles... says
          something to the others. Spotted Horse and the other warrior
          join him, each touching Glass' hair.
                         
          Then Spotted Horse spots Glass' necklace... the grizzly claw
          hanging from it. He examines the enormous claw, then nods to
          Glass' stitching and scars.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Griz-lee.
                         
          Glass hears the familiar word... nods. Three Feathers pulls
          a WHITE SPECK from the back of Glass' neck... holds it up to
          Spotted Horse.
                         
          Spotted Horse jerks out his knife. Glass is confused...
          holds up his hand, as he takes a step back. But Three
          Feathers and Running Fox grab Glass... secure him... pull his
          jacket down off his shoulders, exposing his shirt, as Spotted
          Horse walks around behind Glass... raises the knife... Glass
          GROWLS A PLEA... but Spotted Horse slices the knife down
          Glass' back... just cutting open his shirt... and revealing a
<b>          MASS OF WHITE WORMS... MAGGOTS... COVERING THE DEEP GASHES ON
</b><b>          GLASS' BACK.
</b>                         
          The three warriors exchange glances... they've obviously
          never seen anything like this. Glass sees their reaction...
          throws a nervous glance... what?
                         
          Three Feathers runs his hand across Glass' back, dragging a
          HANDFUL OF WORMS for Glass to see. As Glass' eyes widen in
          panic, Spotted Horse SLAMS THE BUTT OF HIS KNIFE against
          Glass' head.
                         
          Glass drops to his knees... makes a dazed grab for Spotted
          Horse... misses... and Spotted Horse HITS GLASS AGAIN. Glass
          tumbles unconscious to the dirt.
                         
          Spotted Horse says something to the others... they grab
          Glass' limp arms... drag him toward the horses.
<b>           54.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Dozens of glowing campfires dot the prairie, along with a sea
          of tee-pees, their willow poles fanning against the night
          sky. Animal hides and painted designs decorate the various
          tee-pees and lodges. SIOUX CHILDREN laugh and play about the
          village... freeze when they hear Spotted Horse and the other
          riders splash across the stream.
                         
          The warriors ride into the village, Glass' body tossed over
          the back of Three Feather's horse. The children race to them.
                         
          ANGLE ON GLASS... regaining consciousness... eyes blinking...
          trying to focus.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - FROM THE BACK OF THE HORSE...
</b>                         
          ...to the children's eager faces swarming around him...
          studying this strange face.
                         
          Spotted Horse - YELLING SOMETHING at the children... they
          back away from Glass... fall into line behind the riders.
                         
          Sioux MEN and WOMEN watch as the procession moves past... to
          a tee-pee set away from the rest... its hide walls decorated
          with wild lightning bolts and buffalo and vaguely human
          figures circling the sun.
                         
          An OLD MEDICINE MAN, gnarled and leathery, a DEAD RAVEN tied
          in his long hair, his naked chest painted with red and black
          stripes, steps out of the tee-pee. He eyes Glass, as Three
          Feathers and Running Fox carry him inside.
                         
          Suddenly, the Medicine Man begins CHANTING.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          A FLURRY OF IMAGES ACCOMPANIED BY THE MEDICINE MAN'S V.O.
</b><b>          CHANTING...
</b>                         
<b>          LEATHER STRAPS SNAPPING AROUND GLASS' WRISTS AND ANKLES...
</b>          stretched tight.
                         
          Glass, naked, on his stomach at the center of the tee-pee,
          his arms and legs outstretched, secured to wooden stakes in
          the ground. The white worms cover his back.
<b>           55.
</b>                         
          The Medicine Man... CHANTING... waving burning sticks in the
          air.
                         
          A THICK LIQUID BOILING IN A POT... the Medicine Man's twisted
          hand reaching a gourd container in... filling it with the
          steaming mixture.
                         
          The liquid POURING OVER GLASS' BACK.
                         
          GLASS' FACE... arched to the sky... twisted in horrible pain.
          He SCREAMS THAT HORRIBLE GROWLING CRY.
                         
          MORE IMAGES... even faster... the CHANTING more frantic...
                         
          A SIOUX WOMAN,(WAKI), staring down.
                         
          HANDS wiping a GREEN SLUDGE over Glass' neck... chest.
                         
          The Medicine Man dancing... chanting... shaking sticks lined
          with RATTLESNAKE TAILS.
                         
          The moonlight shining through the tee-pee, illuminating the
          images of the buffalo and dancing shapes.
                         
          Waki gently pouring fluid into Glass' mouth.
                         
          The Medicine Man holding the SEVERED HEAD OF A SNAKE...
          lightly sinking the fangs around the wounds on Glass' throat.
                         
          GLASS' EYES... wide open... rolling up white into his head.
                         
          AND THE CHANTING STOPS... the world goes dark.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. YELLOWSTONE RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Cutting through the open prairie. Snow-covered peaks touch
          the sky in the distance.
                         
          Fitzgerald and Bridger trudge their way across the prairie,
          dressed in furs. They rise up a steep slope... reach the
          top, and spot the cluster of log buildings inside a massive
          thirty-foot tall wooden fence. Fort Union.
                         
          Bridger smiles... relieved.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           `Bout goddamn time.
                         
          They start down the slope. Fitzgerald grabs Bridger's arm...
          firmly.
<b>           56.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           And we're understood on
           everything... Glass' dyin' in his
           sleep... us buryin' him like was
           agreed.
                         
          Bridger doesn't respond. Fitzgerald doesn't like that.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           You're as guilty as me in leavin'
           him. Don't you forget that. You
           got a future up here. No sense
           tossin' it away when he was as good
           as dead already. Shit, all we did
           was skip the funeral.
                         
          Bridger pulls his arm free... continues on.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           I won't take to givin' up that two-
           hundred on accounta you gettin'
           weak-kneed.
                         
          Bridger keeps walking. Fitzgerald follows behind.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. FORT UNION - DAY
</b>                         
          Like a small town surrounded by a log wall. The main TRADING
          POST BUILDING is busy... TRAPPERS, SIOUX, all with things to
          trade. But most of the life is in the FORT UNION SALOON next
          door... crowded with customers downstairs, and just as busy
          in the whores' rooms upstairs.
                         
          A small village of tents rests off to the side of the
          buildings, holding the overflow of traffic.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. SALOON - DAY
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald and Bridger enter the crowded room... squeeze
          their way to the bar.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Twice the folks here than when we
           left.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           We should go see Captain Henry.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Far as we hiked... we got time for
           a drink on the company's tab.
<b>           57.
</b>                         
<b>           PIG (O.S.)
</b>           Jim!
                         
          They spin... see Pig, Murphy and Stubby Bill sitting at a
          table. Pig scrambles up... rushes to Bridger, locking him in
          a big bear hug.
                         
<b>                          PIG (CONT'D)
</b>           You made it! I was scared the `Ree
           mighta caught up to ya.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           If your fat ass could get through,
           we didn't have no worries.
                         
          Pig glares at Fitzgerald... watches him walk to the table,
          joining the others.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           (off Fitzgerald, to
<b>                          BRIDGER)
</b>           Had to be a helluva long walk for
           you.
                         
          Bridger nods... Pig has no idea.
                         
<b>                          PIG (CONT'D)
</b>           Hugh?
                         
          Bridger hesitates a beat, then just shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          PIG (CONT'D)
</b>           Guess we all knowed how it would
           turn out. Did he suffer much more?
                         
          Another long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I hope not.
                         
          A PROSTITUTE walks down the stairs... stops on the landing,
          waiting for her next customer. Fitzgerald spots her...
          grins.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b><b>                          (TO BRIDGER)
</b>           Maybe we best go see Henry, kid. I
           just got a itch to spend the first
           of my two-hundred.
                         
          The other men laugh. Not Bridger.
<b>           58.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - DAY
</b>                         
          Henry sits at his desk. Fitzgerald and Bridger stand across
          from him. The others... Pig, Anderson, Murphy, and Stubby
          Bill crowd the room behind them.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I won't pretend to been his friend,
           but I respect any man that fights
           the way he done.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           And the grave?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           We had those extra days so we went
           deeper... covered it in rocks. To
           keep the scavengers off him.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Any sign of hostiles?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Not a one.
                         
          The words are like a punch in the gut to Bridger. He can't
          take the pain... opens his mouth to speak, but Fitzgerald
          beats him to it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           Truth is, I was worried `bout `Ree,
           and ready to get movin', but
           Bridger here argued to stay and
           make a cross for the grave.
                         
          Bridger's head snaps to Fitzgerald... don't make this worse.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           So that's what we did.
                         
          Pig reaches up... gives Bridger a pat on the back. But to
          Bridger, it feels like a red-hot blade.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Glad to hear you pulled your
           weight, Mr. Bridger. I knew you
           would.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           More than his share, Captain.
<b>           59.
</b>                         
          And now Fitzgerald has snared Bridger into his lie. Bridger
          drops his eyes to his feet.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Speaking of shares.
                         
          Henry turns to a SAFE resting against the wall. Fitzgerald
          watches as Henry spins the dial... locks in the combination,
          then pulls the latch. The safe door swings open...
                         
          ...revealing STACKS OF CASH.
                         
          Fitzgerald's eyes lock on all that money. Henry pulls out a
          handful... starts counting them out onto the desk.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           Am I to assume the agreed
           arrangement didn't change?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Fortunate for me, it did not.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Well thank you both for your
           courage and honor. You have done
           yourselves proud.
                         
          Fitzgerald swipes up his pile of bills. Henry drops a couple
          bills in front of Bridger.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           You're owed something for what you
           did.
                         
          Bridger stares down at the bills a beat, then snatches
          them... pushes his way out of the office before he might have
          to look someone in the eye.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           He's beat hisself up most of the
           trip... wishin' he'da done more.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We all saw the shape Glass was in.
           There was no more to be done.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           That's what I been tellin' him.
<b>           60.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. BUNKHOUSE - DAY
</b>                         
          Empty, except for Bridger curled up on his cot, squeezing
          those crumpled bills in his hand, crying.
                         
<b>                          DISSOLVE TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. TEE-PEE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass sleeps under a buffalo robe. His eyes flicker open.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS' POV - ON THE BUFFALO AND DANCING FIGURE DESIGNS
</b><b>          SHADOWED THROUGH THE TEE-PEE.
</b>                         
          GLASS - His hand reaching up to his throat. It looks much
          better than we last saw. And the stitches are gone from his
          face, now just long, pink scars. He stiffly raises himself
          up... remembers his back... struggles to reach behind him...
          scarred but clean... no maggots.
                         
          He looks beside him... sees BUCKSKIN PANTS AND SHIRT resting
          on the ground... waiting for him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. TEE-PEE - DAY
</b>                         
          ANGLE ON GLASS... dressed... pushing his way out through the
          flap of the tee-pee... limping out into the midday sun, and
          shielding his eyes. He looks like a man that hasn't seen the
          light of day for weeks.
                         
          Glass adjusts to the brightness... stares in wonder at the
          scene.
                         
          And then we see what Glass is looking at, and understand his
          reaction... the entire village is blanketed in snow. The
          Sioux VILLAGERS move about, wearing heavy skins and furs.
                         
          A WOMEN'S O.S. VOICE turns Glass...
                         
          ...to WAKI, the woman from the images, walking toward him,
          bundled in fur. She says something else we can't
          understand... points to Glass' feet. Glass looks down... to
          his BARE FEET BURIED DEEP IN THE SNOW. He hadn't noticed.
                         
          And then Waki smiles... a sweet, pretty smile. She takes his
          hand... leads him back into the tee-pee.
<b>           61.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. TEE-PEE - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          Glass and Waki enter. She pulls a pair of moccasins from a
          basket... hands them to Glass.
                         
          He slips them on, then presses his fingers against his
          throat... almost trying to hold it all inside to make it
          work, then...
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (scratching and rough)
           Thank you.
                         
          Waki doesn't understand... just raises a cup of liquid...
          says something, then touches his throat... motions for him to
          drink. Glass sips the drink... grimaces... shakes his head,
          trying to give the cup back, but Waki refuses... points at
          his throat, and motions for him to drink. Glass stares in
          the cup a beat, then gulps it back... shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Bad medicine.
                         
          Waki smiles... hands him his BEAR CLAW NECKLACE. Glass nods
          in thanks, then achingly lifts his arms up to slip it over
          his head.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           How long have I been here?
                         
          Waki just stares back... no idea what Glass said.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           You're Sioux. I only know a bit a
           Pawnee.
                         
          Glass stumbles through a sentence of Pawnee. Waki shakes her
          head... throws a jumble of Sioux back at him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           The snow... my healin'.
           (points to himself)
           Me.
           (points to the ground)
           Here. How long?
                         
          Waki shakes her head again. Glass leads her outside.
<b>           62.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          Glass points to the sun overhead, then raises both hands,
          fingers outstretched.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           How many suns? Ten?
                         
          Waki studies Glass... the sun... begins to understand. She
          nods... SAYS A WORD... holds up all ten of her fingers.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Ten suns?
                         
          Then Waki closes her hands into fists... opens them again...
          closes them again... SAYS A DIFFERENT WORD.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Christ.
                         
          Glass glances around... for the first time, notices Sioux MEN
          and WOMEN staring at him. Children freeze in the middle of
          their play... all eyes locked on Glass. TWO SMALL BOYS, (NEW
          MOON and LITTLE ONE), repeat the same TWO WORDS to each
          other...
                         
<b>                          BOYS
</b>           Tatanka Wicasa.
                         
          ...over and over.
                         
          Glass stares back, unsure. Then...
                         
<b>           SPOTTED HORSE (O.S.)
</b>           Buff-A-lo Man.
                         
          Glass turns... sees Yellow Horse stepping out of a tee-pee.
                         
           Spotted Horse (cont'd)
           (very broken english)
           What they call you.
           (points to Glass' hair)
           Fur of Buff-A-lo.
                         
          Glass touches his hair... nods... smiles. The children smile
          and laugh now too... repeat the words LOUDER.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You speak English.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Need words when trade with whites.
<b>           63.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Well I'm grateful for you bringing
           me here... havin' them care for me.
           (off Spotted Horse's nod)
           Now if you could point me which way
           it is you do your tradin'... with
           the whites.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b><b>                          (POINTS)
</b>           Whites. Bra-zo.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Fort Brazeau? That's where I'm
           tryin' to get. Is it far from here?
                         
          Spotted Horse doesn't understand. Glass motions into the
          distance.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Far? Long way?
                         
          Spotted Horse points to a horse, then holds up three fingers.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Three days on horse?
                         
          Spotted Horse nods... looks Glass over, and shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Not walk. Hides soon.
                         
          Glass doesn't understand... until Spotted Horse points to a
          ROW OF BUFFALO HIDES hanging from a line.
                         
           Spotted Horse (cont'd)
           We trade Bra-zo.
                         
          Glass stares at the tanning hides, then down at his leg.
          Finally, he nods. Spotted Horse starts walking... waves for
          Glass to follow.
                         
           Spotted Horse (cont'd)
           Come. Eat.
                         
          Glass follows after him. The children sneak in behind,
          giggling as they tail Glass across camp.
                         
          Glass glances back... New Moon and Little One duck behind a
          tee-pee... wait for him to continue before they scoot back
          out after him.
<b>           64.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. CHIEF'S LODGE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass, Spotted Horse, Three Feathers, Running Fox and OTHER
          WARRIORS sit around a fire, eating with CHIEF RED HAWK, the
          Medicine Man, and several other TRIBAL ELDERS.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           The men stole my rifle.
                         
          The Sioux don't understand. Glass reaches over, taking
          Spotted Horse's plate.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           They took. They took...
                         
          Glass aims an imaginary rifle.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           ...my rifle. My gear.
                         
          Now Spotted Horse understands... translates for the others.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           They left me to die. So I mean to
           find `em both. Get my rifle back.
                         
          Spotted Horse translates again. Red Hawk nods, studying
          Glass.
                         
          Red Hawk SAYS SOMETHING to Glass... motions to the BEAR CLAW
          NECKLACE. Glass looks to Spotted Horse.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Red Hawk ask who kill griz-lee.
                         
          Glass touches his chest. Red Hawk nods, impressed. Glass
          points to the JAGGED SCARS running up Red Hawk's neck to a
<b>          MISSING RIGHT EAR.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Grizzly?
                         
          Red Hawk smiles... shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          RED HAWK
</b>           Arikara.
                         
          That word, Glass understands. Red Hawk rambles a long
          sentence in Sioux. The other members LAUGH.
<b>           65.
</b>                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           He say Arikara take right ear of
           Sioux. Left ear of whites. Not
           know what they take from you.
                         
          Glass smiles along with the others. They continue their meal.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY
</b>                         
          Snow falls over Glass, as he stands outside the tee-pee,
          flexing his injured leg... putting more weight on it...
          testing its recovered strength.
                         
          Suddenly, a SPEAR PLANTS INTO THE GROUND BETWEEN HIS FEET.
          Glass turns, startled... sees Spotted Horse, Three Feathers,
          Running Fox, and several OTHER WARRIORS staring at him.
                         
          Glass' eyes jump from the spear to the warriors, unsure.
                         
          Spotted Horse strides to Glass... grabs the spear, then spins
          it sideways... stares at Glass, until a smile spreads across
          Spotted Horse's face... he holds the spear out to Glass.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Buff-A-lo Man hunt with Sioux?
                         
          Glass relaxes... nods... takes the spear from Spotted Horse.
          Three Feathers hands a BUFFALO HIDE to Glass... motions for
          Glass to put it on.
                         
<b>                          THREE FEATHERS
</b>           Tatanka Wicasa.
                         
          Glass wraps the hide around him. The Warriors smile and nod.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - DAY
</b>                         
          A world of silent white... like we're inside a giant snow-
          globe. The sky is emptying all the snow it has over us...
          pouring down... the only sound comes from the flakes hitting
          the already fallen snow. The pale trunks of Cottonwoods rise
          up from the white ground.
                         
          Then out of the white... a SHAPE APPEARS... a GIANT WOLF
          WALKING ON ITS HIND LEGS. But as the wolf comes closer, we
          see it's not a wolf at all... it's THREE FEATHERS, wearing
          his WOLF SKIN. He CRIES OUT... HOWLING WILDLY.
                         
          A few yards beside him, another WARRIOR is doing the same...
          CHANTING... beating his spear against the Cottonwoods as he
          walks.
<b>           66.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - WEARING THE BUFFALO HIDE...
</b>                         
          ...walking slowly through the trees, carrying the spear.
          Yellow Bear is beside him... motions for Glass to spread out.
                         
                         
<b>          FROM ABOVE THE TREES...
</b>                         
          ...we see the fur-covered warriors are formed into a wide
          circle... and slowly converging... YELLING... pounding their
          spears... making as much noise as possible, as they tighten
          their ring.
                         
                         
<b>          POV FROM THE BRUSH...
</b>                         
          ...watching DISTANT CHANTING WARRIORS pushing through the
          trees. V.O. SNORTING... our POV darts sideways... charges
          through the brush... slides to a stop when we see Running Fox
          moving toward us... spins back another direction.
                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - MOVING THROUGH THE FOREST...
</b>                         
          ...the falling snow clinging to his face... covering the
          buffalo hide.
                         
          And then a MASSIVE SHAPE BLASTS through the trees ahead of
          him. Glass freezes, his grip tightening on the spear. He
          looks to Spotted Horse, who nods... YELLS OUT, beating his
          spear against the trees, and motioning for Glass to do the
          same.
                         
          Glass is apprehensive at first... just lightly tapping his
          spear. But as the other warriors' chants grow, Glass gets
          caught up in the hunt... begins beating the trees... YELLING
          as loud as his throat will allow.
                         
                         
<b>          THE WARRIORS - EYES PIERCING THROUGH THE SNOW... CHANTING...
</b><b>          BEATING THE BUSHES.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          OUR LOW POV AGAIN - RACING CHAOTICALLY THROUGH THE BRUSH...
</b>                         
          ...to Spotted Horse waving his spear... back over the snow...
          to Three Feathers SCREAMING... we spin again... crash through
          bushes, then suddenly TUMBLE... DROP THROUGH THE SNOW.
<b>           67.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - HEARING THE ANIMAL'S WAIL...
</b>                         
          ...seeing Spotted Horse pick up his pace... start trotting
          forward. Glass does the same... all the hunters converging
          around a LARGE BLACK HOLE IN THE SNOW...
                         
          ...and the ELK trapped at the bottom.
                         
          The warriors cry out victoriously... begin DRIVING THEIR
          SPEARS INTO THE TRAP, killing the animal.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - EVENING
</b>                         
          The elk roasts over a fire at the center of the village.
          Glass sits alone outside the tee-pee, using the sharp tip of
          the spear to carve into a small chunk of wood.
                         
          As he carves, New Moon and Little One sneak around the tee-
          pee behind him... watch Glass work. Glass hears them
          GIGGLING... doesn't react... just keeps carving... tilts the
          long handle of the spear as he works, tapping the side of the
          tee-pee, and SHAKING LOOSE A CLUMP OF SNOW DOWN ONTO THE
<b>          BOYS.
</b>                         
          The shocked boys freeze in the cold... wipe the snow from
          their faces to see Glass grinning at them. The little boys
          charge Glass, leaping onto him... wrestling him to the
          ground, as they squeeze his hair.
                         
<b>                          BOYS
</b>           Tatanka Wicasa! Tatanka Wicasa!
                         
          Spotted Horse stands across the village, watching Glass and
          the boys play in the snow.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass stands at the edge of the village, carving at the wood
          with the spear tip, and watching the Sioux from a distance.
          Yellow Bear sees him... approaches, carrying his SON on his
          shoulders. The little boy gnaws on a strip of meat.
                         
          Spotted Horse holds out a bowl of food to Glass.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Thank you.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Good hunt.
<b>           68.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Yes.
                         
          Glass smiles up at Spotted Horse's son.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           You. Fam-i-lee?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (shakes his head)
           No.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           No wom-an?
           (pointing to son)
           Wakayaja?
                         
          A long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           No. Not for a long time.
                         
          Glass continues eating... watches Spotted Horse bounce the
          giggling little boy on his shoulders.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass steps out of his tee-pee, whittling with the spear tip.
          He glances up... freezes because he sees several Sioux
          pulling the hides from the line... rolling them up to carry.
                         
           Spotted Horse (O.S.)
           Bra-zo.
                         
          Glass turns to Spotted Horse, pointing to the hides. Glass
          nods... looks back to the last of the hides being pulled
          down... doesn't seem as excited as he once might have been.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. SIOUX VILLAGE - LATER
</b>                         
          Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit atop their horses.
          Three Feathers holds the reins to another horse packed with
          hides. An empty horse stands beside them... waiting for
          Glass.
                         
          Glass is leaning over to New Moon and Little One... handing
          them the CRUDE BUFFALO CARVING he made from the wood.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (taps his chest)
           Tatanka Wicasa.
<b>           69.
</b>                         
          The little boys smile. Glass nods to Waki, then waves to Red
          Hawk and the Medicine Man. They return it... watch Glass
          climb onto his horse.
                         
          Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride out of the
          village.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass, Spotted Horse and Three Feathers ride along a high
          ridge, surrounded by empty snow-covered wilderness. They
          have the world to themselves.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass crouches over a shallow, five-foot long hole surrounded
          by deep snow. The hole is filled with small fires and rocks.
          And he's watching Spotted Horse and Three Feathers tossing
          rocks into their own matching holes, then dragging the dirt
          back into them. Spotted Horse throws a glance back to Glass,
          making sure he understands.
                         
          Glass nods... pulls the dirt back in, covering the flames.
          He watches Spotted Horse spread a blanket over the warm
          ground, then does the same. He sits on the mound of dirt...
          leans back against a tree... feels the warmth rise up from
          beneath him.
                         
          He nods to Spotted Horse, who is already resting under his
          blanket.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Nice.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b><b>                          (NODS)
</b>           Nice.
                         
          Glass pulls the buffalo hide around himself... keeping watch.
                         
           SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd)
           Sleep. No Arikara.
                         
          Glass nods... but still doesn't close his eyes. Spotted
          Horse tosses his knife over beside Glass. Glass takes it...
          nods to Spotted Horse.
                         
           SPOTTED HORSE (cont'd)
           Me sleep.
<b>           70.
</b>                         
          Spotted Horse rolls over, turning his back on Glass...
          trusting him with the knife. Three Feathers does the same.
                         
          Glass just stares out into the night.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. FORT UNION/BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Dark and quiet... except for the SNORING of a few men.
          Fitzgerald sleeps on his cot. A shadow glides across him...
          hovers over his face.
                         
          Fitzgerald's eyes blink open.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          FITZGERALD'S POV...
</b>                         
          ...on GLASS STANDING OVER HIM... his scarred face calm and
          deadly... raising a knife to drive down into Fitzgerald's
          chest.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           No... please.
                         
          But Glass swings the blade.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - MORNING
</b>                         
          And Spotted Horse shaking Glass awake from his dream. Glass'
          hand flies up, the knife gripped. But Spotted Horse grabs
          his arm... stops it in mid-swing... holds it until Glass
          realizes it was a dream... relaxes.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           We go.
                         
          Glass calms... nods.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - DAY
</b>                         
          Just a small cluster of log buildings sitting along the banks
          of the Missouri. Dozens of tee-pees and tents are set up
          outside the complex.
                         
          Glass follows Spotted Horse and Three Feathers into the camp.
          BEGGING INDIANS and DRUNK TRAPPERS paw at the men as they
          ride past, pleading for handouts.
<b>           71.
</b>                         
          One of the Indians grabs for the hides. Three Feathers
          plants his foot in the Indian's chest... shoves him back into
          the snow.
                         
          They continue on... climb off their horses outside the
          TRADING POST. Three Feathers stays to guard the hides, as
          Spotted Horse and Glass enter.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. TRADING POST - DAY
</b>                         
          A small, dingy room lined with shelves, all stacked high with
          pots, pans, dry goods, whiskey, blankets, weapons... anything
          that can be traded. KIOWA BRAZEAU, (60's), French-Canadian,
          stands behind the counter... looks up when the BELL over the
          door RINGS... sees Spotted Horse with Glass behind.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           (thick French accent)
           Bon jour, Spotted Horse. You come
           with many hides I hope.
           (off Spotted Horse's nod)
           We make good trades then.
                         
          Brazeau's eyes lock on Glass... stares at him, unsure.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
</b>           Monsieur Glass?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Good to see you again, Mr. Brazeau.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           Jesus Christ, what happened to your
           goddamned face?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Had a tussle with a grizzly.
                         
          Glass shakes Brazeau's hand. Brazeau studies his face...
          notices the Bear Claw Necklace... smiles.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           And now the grizzly, he don't look
           so good either, eh?
                         
          Glass shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
</b>           (off Spotted Horse)
           You run with the Sioux these days?
<b>           72.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           They looked after me for a spell.
           I'm on my way to catch back up with
           Captain Henry... at Fort Union.
           Needed to trade for some supplies
           on the Company's credit if I could.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           Oui, of course. Anything you like.
                         
          Glass pulls down a KENTUCKY LONG RIFLE.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           We can start with this.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. TRADING POST - LATER
</b>                         
          Glass is loaded with gear. He signs a ticket for Brazeau.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           You can pick up the horse at the
           livery in the morning.
           (off Glass' nod)
           I wish I could give you a room for
           the night, but...
                         
          Brazeau looks to SEVERAL TRAPPERS standing across the room,
          glaring at Glass.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU (CONT'D)
</b>           I cannot risk the trouble of
           letting a colored stay inside.
                         
          Glass glances to the trappers... one of them spits in Glass'
          direction... makes some MONKEY SOUNDS... daring Glass to
          respond. Glass just turns away.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Won't be the last night I sleep on
           the ground.
                         
          Glass nods to Brazeau, then walks out.
                         
<b>                          BRAZEAU
</b>           Take care of that face, Glass.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. TRADING POST - DAY
</b>                         
          Spotted Horse and Three Feathers sit on their horses. The
          other horses are now packed with new goods. Glass
          approaches.
<b>           73.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (points to the tents)
           You stay here tonight?
                         
          Spotted Horse shakes his head... motions back toward the
          wilderness. Then he points to the trading post... the
<b>          TRAPPERS.
</b>                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           Your people?
                         
          Glass looks back to all the white faces... trappers, drunks,
          prostitutes. He shakes his head.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           No.
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           You come then.
                         
          Spotted Horse taps his own chest... points back the way they
          came. Glass hesitates, almost like he's considering it...
          then he shakes his head again... points the opposite way.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Fort Union.
                         
          Spotted Horse stares at Glass a long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          SPOTTED HORSE
</b>           You spend your life hunting enemy.
           Enemy wins.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           It will be over soon.
                         
          Then Glass pulls the Bear Claw Necklace off... hands it to
          Spotted Horse. Spotted Horse holds it... then proudly slides
          it over his head.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b><b>                          (IN SIOUX)
</b>           Thank you.
                         
          Spotted Horse raises his hand in goodbye, then spins his
          horse and starts away. Three Feathers does the same. Glass
          returns it... watches them ride off.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT BRAZEAU - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass is in the trees beyond the tents and tee-pees...
          crouched on the ground...
<b>           74.
</b>          dragging the dirt back over the fire and rocks. He slides up
          onto the mound... feels the warmth, and smiles... just a
          little.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - MORNING
</b>                         
          Glass rides a PAINT MARE along a ridge overlooking the river.
          Fort Brazeau stands in the distance behind him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
</b>                         
          Snowy and cold. Glass leads the line of riders through the
          snow.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION - EVENING
</b>                         
          But you can't tell if it's day or night through the blizzard.
          Fitzgerald, Pig, Anderson, Bridger, Murphy and Stubby Joe
          trudge through the snow in their snowshoes... finally reach
          the bunkhouse.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. BUNKHOUSE - EVENING
</b>                         
          Anderson shoves the door closed against the wind... latches
          it. The men look worn and battered... wind-burnt faces,
          icicles in their beards.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I had enough of this cold as hell
           shit.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           What'd you figure when ya signed on
           outta that St. Louis whorehouse you
           was workin'? That you was headin'
           off to paradise?
                         
          Pig snorts a laugh at Fitzgerald's expense.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I tell ya what I figured, I figured
           I'd be somewhere the piss wouldn't
           freeze before I got it outta my
           pecker.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Figured wrong.
<b>           75.
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald throws Bridger a glare... wants to throw more, but
          Bridger's returning the stare... hard... so Fitzgerald
          decides he'd better not push it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Waste a time to check traps in this
           weather... while Henry sits warmin'
           his ass on the stove in his office.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Why don't you go tell him that,
           Fitz? Then start your hike back to
           St. Louie.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Shit, I walked up here, I got no
           problem walkin' back.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           Contracted for twelve months. We
           all did.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Henry can shove that contract up
           his toasty warm ass, or I'll do it
           for him.
                         
          The others laugh at Fitzgerald's rambling.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           You don't think I will?
                         
          The men shake their heads. Fitzgerald grabs his gloves...
          starts strapping his snowshoes back on.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           Just give that fat little whore
           you're so sweet on a couple extra
           bits... she'll have you thinkin'
           it's Spring already.
                         
          The men laugh as Fitzgerald walks out... leaves the door wide
          open for the cold wind to pour over the others. Pig scurries
          over, shoving it closed.
                         
          As the other men gather around a table to play cards, Bridger
          pulls a JOURNAL from under his cot... falls onto the cot, and
          starts writing.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - EVENING
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald enters... looks around the empty office.
<b>           76.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Hello? Captain?
                         
          The place is empty. Fitzgerald eyes Henry's desk... then
          past his desk... to the SAFE... its door CRACKED OPEN...
          STACKS OF MONEY visible inside.
                         
          Fitzgerald glances around... looks back to that safe.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Dark and quiet. The snow has stopped.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald eases up from his cot... looks around at the
          sleeping men.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald slips out of the bunkhouse door... across the
          compound... toward the front gate.
                         
<b>           MURPHY (O.S.)
</b>           Where're you headed?
                         
          Fitzgerald looks up... sees Murphy in the Blockhouse on
          sentry duty.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           To the river, Murphy.
                         
          Murphy squints down into the shadows.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           That you, Fitzgerald?
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Left my rifle down there... don't
           want it out all night.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           That weren't too smart.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Just don't take a shot at me when I
           come back in.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           We'll see.
<b>           77.
</b>                         
          Murphy waves Fitzgerald out.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Not that you'd hit me if you tried.
                         
          Murphy fakes a laugh... raises his rifle down at Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          POV DOWN MURPHY'S RIFLE...
</b>                         
          ...on Fitzgerald moving toward the river... disappearing into
          the darkness.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Out of sight from the fort. Fitzgerald slides the ANSTADT
          FROM UNDER HIS COAT... hurries down the bank... searches
          under the brush and snow... pulls out an OVERTURNED CANOE.
                         
          He drags it to the icy edge... slides it across the ice
          toward the middle of the river, where the water still hasn't
          frozen over. The ice CRACKS UNDER HIS FEET. Fitzgerald
          climbs in the canoe... pounds the ice with the oar, breaking
          it loose.
                         
          The current seeps through the cracks... catches the canoe,
          pulling it to the center of the wide river... sends
          Fitzgerald shooting south. He throws a glance back at the
          shadow of Fort Union in the distance... growing smaller.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - DAY
</b>                         
          Clear blue sky. The sun glistening off the snow-covered
          ground. Glass is bundled under furs, as he rides through the
          snowy trees.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Tucked under the rooftop of trees. A small fire burns.
          Glass sits on his fire-bed, looking over a map.
                         
          An O.S. SNORT from the Paint Mare, tied to a tree. Glass
          looks over in time to see the horse's ears perk up.
                         
          With his eyes searching the darkness, Glass slowly reaches
          over... grabs his rifle. Then he drops to his stomach...
          slides backward into the brush.
<b>           78.
</b>                         
          Glass peers through the brush... the woods seem empty...
          until SEVERAL DARK SHAPES APPEAR... moving through the
          distant trees... coming straight toward Glass' camp.
                         
          Then an O.S. SNAP BEHIND GLASS... he glances back in time to
          see an ARIKARA WARRIOR SWINGING A HATCHET.
                         
          Glass spins his rifle... shoves it into the stomach of the
          Warrior as he swings... BOOM... the Warrior flies back.
                         
          The dark woods suddenly ERUPT IN WAR CRIES... Arikara appear
          from all sides... charge toward the camp.
                         
          Glass scrambles up... races toward the Paint Mare as ARROWS
<b>          AND GUNSHOTS FLASH THROUGH THE AIR ALL AROUND HIM.
</b>                         
          Glass swings up onto the Paint Mare... spots ELK'S TONGUE
          leading the charge... the necklace of ears hanging around his
          neck. And Elk's Tongue's eyes are locked on Glass... almost
          like he remembers him.
                         
          Glass takes off through the forest.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass hanging onto the paint mare, as she gallops through the
          trees... the animal's nostrils spread wide, pulling in all
          the oxygen it can.
                         
          Glass glances back... sees SHAPES BEHIND HIM... HORSES...
          ridden by Elk's Tongue and eight other warriors.
                         
          Glass digs his heels into the horse, squeezing every ounce of
          speed from her legs... pushing her toward the clearing up
          ahead... throwing another glance back... then looking in
          front of him, and realizing it isn't a clearing at all...
                         
          ...it's the edge of the world.
                         
          The paint mare explodes from the trees, then runs out of
          ground... because she's just galloped off the side of a
          cliff.
                         
          The horse sails downward toward a thick forest of trees, its
          legs flailing for something to stand on.
                         
          Glass drops the rifle to grip the horse's mane, hanging on
          for what seems an endless fall.
<b>           79.
</b>                         
          The mare SLAMS LEG-FIRST INTO THE TREE-TOPS with Glass still
          on her back. The Paint Mare SQUEALS as she drops into the
          snow-covered trees, carrying Glass with her.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - CONTINUOUS
</b>                         
          And the horse comes crashing through the branches... the
          massive limbs slowing her fall... snapping off as her body
          hits and twists... tosses Glass away.
                         
          The Paint Mare continues her deadly descent, the trees
          tearing at her body... catching her head... SNAPPING her
          neck.
                         
          Glass slams off a branch... tumbles to the ground with a
          thud. The Paint Mare hits the snow beside him... very dead.
                         
          Glass struggles to breath... finally GASPS... sucks in the
          oxygen. He lays there a moment... stares up through the
          trees...
                         
          ...to Elk's Tongue and the others staring down from the top
          of the cliff... with no way to get to Glass.
                         
          Glass rises to his knees... glances around for his rifle...
          lost. He flinches with what must be broken ribs... drags
          himself up, and staggers to the horse... pulls his knife and
          cuts the snowshoes from the back of the saddle.
                         
          He throws the snowshoes over his shoulder... continues on,
          through the woods... alone... in the middle of nowhere...
          again.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
</b>                         
          From high above... the small shape of Glass making his way
          over the snowy ground... heading toward TWO DISTANT SHACKS.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
</b>                         
          A makeshift town on the banks of the Missouri. Two
          ramshackle structures... the General Store and a tattered
          livery stable filled with horses.
<b>           80.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          INT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY
</b>                         
          More like a saloon that sells a few supplies. A gang of
          TRAPPERS drink and play cards. A RUNTY MAN stands behind the
          counter, watching them...
                         
          ...until the door blows open, and in steps Glass. He pulls
          the fur hat away from his face, and what a sight he is...
          scarred face stiff from the cold... ice frozen in his beard.
                         
          The room falls silent... everyone staring at Glass. Until
          TRAPPER #1 snorts a laugh. Glass limps to the counter. All
          eyes follow him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (struggling to make his
           frozen lips move)
           I'm Hugh Glass of...
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           We don't serve niggers.
                         
          Glass stares at the Runty Man a beat, then...
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company
           on my way to Fort Union.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           I don't care if you was with Lewis
           and Clark headed for the new world.
           We don't serve niggers.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           All I need is a horse and enough
           supplies to...
                         
<b>                          TRAPPER
</b>           Ice musta froze up his ears, `cause
           he ain't listenin' to you, Cees.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           ...to get me to Fort Union. I can
           sign a draft made good by Captain
           Henry.
                         
          The Runty Man just stares at Glass... grins a TOOTHLESS GRIN.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           What the fuck happened to your
           face, boy? You try to slice all
           the black off?
<b>           81.
</b>                         
<b>                          TRAPPER #2
</b>           Maybe we oughta help him do it
           right.
                         
<b>                          FAT TRAPPER
</b>           Best get on your way, boy.
                         
          Glass stares back at the men for a long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I'm Hugh Glass of the Rocky
           Mountain Fur Company, and all I
           need is...
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           (to the trappers)
           Do you believe this shit?
                         
          Trapper #1 and Trapper #2 pull the SKINNING KNIVES from their
          belts... start toward Glass.
                         
<b>                          FAT TRAPPER
</b>           Hell, I warned ya.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           All I need...
                         
          And that's when Trapper #1 grabs for Glass, but in a flash of
          movement that catches them all off-guard, Glass has is own
          knife pulled and JAMMED UNDER TRAPPER #1's CHIN.
                         
          Everyone freezes.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           ...is a horse and enough supplies
           to get me to Fort Union.
                         
          Then Glass slides Trapper #1's PISTOL from his belt... aims
          it at the other men.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           And this shooter here. All made
           good by Captain Henry and The Rocky
           Mountain Fur Company.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
</b>                         
          The snow pours down on the Runty Man and the trappers, as
          they stand outside, rifles aimed into the distance.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Shoot him, goddammit!
<b>           82.
</b>                         
<b>                          TRAPPER #2
</b>           I can't get a clear look.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Shoot `em both!
                         
          The Runty Man snatches one of the rifles... BOOM... fires a
          wild shot past the riders.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          GLASS - GALLOPING AWAY ON HORSEBACK...
</b>                         
          ...with Trapper #1 sitting backward on the horse behind him.
          Glass has the pistol jammed into his ribs, and keeps glancing
          back to the men growing smaller behind him.
                         
          Finally, Glass shoves the man off the back of the horse.
          Trapper #1 tumbles into the snow.
                         
          The RUMBLE OF DISTANT GUNSHOTS... too far away to reach
          Glass, who just keeps racing north.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          THE RUNTY MAN - WATCHING GLASS ESCAPE.
</b>                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Get after the son of a bitch!
                         
          The trappers exchange glances... don't move.
                         
<b>                          TRAPPER #2
</b>           It's cold as hell, Cees.
                         
<b>                          FAT TRAPPER
</b>           And he did say to put it all on the
           Rocky Mountain tab.
                         
          The Runty Man glares at the trappers.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - EVENING
</b>                         
          Glass riding the horse at a trot through the snow.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Thick with fog, and silent as death. The moon fights its way
          through the mist, sending an eerie glow over the fort.
<b>           83.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION/BLOCKHOUSE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Stubby Bill sits dozing in a chair, his rifle across his lap.
          O.S. CRUNCHING... getting louder... loud enough to nudge
          Stubby Bill awake. He sits up... peers over the wall, but
          can't see anything in the fog... just hears the CRUNCHING
<b>          MOVING CLOSER... FOOTSTEPS IN THE CRISP SNOW.
</b>                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          STUBBY BILL'S POV...
</b>                         
          ...on the blanket of fog hanging in the air... that same
          CRUNCHING, as a SHADOW APPEARS... growing clearer... a FIGURE
          walking... leading a horse behind him... appearing out of the
          mist like a ghost... GLASS.
                         
<b>          STUBBY BILL - STARES DOWN IN SHOCK...
</b>                         
          ...sure his eyes are betraying him. But then Glass looks
          straight up at Stubby Bill, and there's no doubt.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Jesus Christ.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. BUNKHOUSE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Dark and quiet... just Pig's snoring rattling the silence.
          Suddenly the door kicks open... SLAMS into the wall... and
          there's GLASS' SILHOUETTE FILLING THE DOORWAY.
                         
          GROANS from the awakened men... hands moving through the dark
          for oil lamps... turning them bright... until the room's
          fully lit... and they all see Glass standing there... eyes
          floating across the room, searching for a target.
                         
          The men just stare back at him, like they're all part of the
          same dream.
                         
          Except for Bridger, who's propped up in his cot like he's
          been waiting all night... waiting every night... for Glass to
          appear in that doorway.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I'm sorry.
                         
          Glass raises the stolen pistol... aims it at Bridger. And
          the young man doesn't flinch... almost as if he wants to make
          sure Glass doesn't miss.
<b>           84.
</b>                         
          The other men just watch in silence, not sure what the hell's
          going on.
                         
          Glass holds his aim on Bridger's face... a face that's
          haunted him... kept him alive.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You took everything I had... left
           me to die.
                         
          Glass walks toward Bridger, the gun still raised... each step
          of his feet on the wood floor is like the thud of an
          executioner's drum.
                         
          MUMBLING from the other men, as they watch this ghost reach
          Bridger... stand over him, the pistol aimed down.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Why?
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           I was scared of dyin'.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           But every day since, I've wished I
           had.
                         
          Glass' finger tightens on the trigger, ready to make
          Bridger's wish come true.
                         
          The rest of the bunkhouse watches this execution in wide-
          eyed, stone silence, afraid to move.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           There wasn't no `Ree that night,
           was there?
                         
          A long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           No.
                         
          Glass PISTOL WHIPS BRIDGER, knocking him to the floor. And
          before Bridger can crawl away, Glass in over him... those
          aching, frozen fists beating mercilessly down on Bridger.
                         
          And Bridger doesn't fight back... just does his best to cover
          up, but the blows keep coming, and Bridger's face is covered
          in blood...
                         
          ...just as Henry runs inside, half-dressed from where Stubby
          Bill awoke him. Henry grabs Glass... pulls him off.
                         
          Glass spins... jams his pistol right in Henry's face.
<b>           85.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Hugh. Wait.
                         
          Glass is crazy with rage... barely stops himself from pulling
          that trigger. But finally, he calms... his arm sinks,
          lowering his aim. He glances around the bunkhouse.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Where's Fitzgerald and my rifle?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Deserted two days ago. Along with
           about five hundred dollars of
           company money.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           Let's get some coffee to warm you
           up.
           (to Glass, but looking at
<b>                          BRIDGER)
</b>           I wanna hear what happened.
                         
          Glass looks back to Bridger... they hold a long stare, until
          Glass walks out.
                         
<b>                          BRIDGER
</b>           Wait. Please!
                         
          But Glass and Henry disappear, leaving Bridger alone with all
          those eyes burning into him. Bridger looks to Pig, but Pig
          just lowers his eyes... can't even look at the boy.
                         
          The men step into their boots and furs... file out after
          Glass and Henry... leaving Bridger alone in the bunkhouse.
                         
                         
<b>          INT. ROCKY MOUNTAIN FUR COMPANY OFFICE - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass sits by the warmth of the stove, sipping coffee.
          Henry's behind he desk, with the other men scattered around.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I cut the shoes loose of her, and
           hiked over to Fort Talbot.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           Christ almighty.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           And you may hear from the fella
           there about a stoled horse and
           supplies charged to you.
<b>           86.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           We'll take care of it. You should
           go settle in.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           There's a couple fair whores next
           door that'll ease the miles on ya,
           scars or not.
                         
          Stubby Bill gives Murphy an elbow.
                         
<b>                          ANDERSON
</b>           Jesus, Murph.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           I just meant I'd go roust one of
           `em for ya if you wanted.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           She can take the night off, but I
           wouldn't mind the use of her bed.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>                          (TO MURPHY)
</b>           Go clear out a room. The rest head
           on back to bunk.
                         
          Murphy hustles out. The others move toward the door, each
          stopping to shake Glass' hand, or give him a pat on the back.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           I told ya I'd see ya up here. You
           remember that, Hugh?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I do, Pig. You must have a little
           gypsy in ya.
                         
          Pig grins and nods.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           I'll see ya in the mornin'.
                         
          Pig exits, leaving just Glass and Henry, sitting in a beat of
          silence, until...
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Can I talk you outta what you're
           planning?
                         
          Glass doesn't answer... just stands, placing the coffee cup
          on the table.
<b>           87.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Thank you for what you done for
           me... stitchin' me back together...
           givin' me a chance.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I'm offerin' you another right
           now... to stay here... let this
           thing go.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b><b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           He thinks he let me die. But he
           don't know that he's the one that's
           kept me alive... for the chance of
           findin' him... makin' him pay for
           what he done.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           The law will make Fitzgerald pay.
                         
          Glass stares out the window... his SCARRED REFLECTION stares
          back at him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You told me once that other men
           didn't think like him.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           But the truth is, most do. I seen
           it my whole life... the looks folks
           give... the whisperin'. I watched
           my wife and son die from the fever
           on accounta no white doctor would
           care for `em. Wasn't no different
           to them than if their neighbor's
           dog was sick.
<b>                          (BEAT)
</b>           So I don't figure nobody's gonna
           care much that Fitzgerald took some
           dyin' nigger's rifle, and left him
           in the middle of nowhere.
           (turns to Henry)
           Do you, Captain?
                         
          Henry doesn't answer... because he knows Glass is right.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           I thank you for the coffee.
                         
          Glass walks out. Henry just sits there.
<b>           88.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT UNION - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass, Pig and Murphy stand by Glass' horse, as he ties off
          his supplies.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY
</b>           He said he was goin' to get his
           rifle...
                         
          And then Murphy catches himself... shrugs.
                         
<b>                          MURPHY (CONT'D)
</b>           Your rifle. But he never showed
           back up. The next day I figured
           him mighta fell in, but then Pig
           seen the canoe was missin'.
                         
<b>                          PIG
</b>           And the Captain found the money
           gone.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I'll make my way down river. See
           what turns up.
                         
          Glass pulls the cinch tight around the horse. Stubby Bill
          comes waddling toward them.
                         
<b>                          STUBBY BILL
</b>           The kid's gone... gear and all.
           Musta slipped out before light.
                         
          Stubby Bill waves Bridger's journal at them.
                         
           STUBBY BILL (cont'd)
           Just left this on his bunk.
                         
          Henry takes the journal... flips it open.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>                          (READING)
</b>           "Every day I think about what I
           done. I want to tell Pig and the
           others the truth but am afraid what
           they'll think of me. I look at
           Fitzgerald and want to kill him but
           am afraid to try. I am a coward
           and wish he hadn't been lyin about
           the Ree that night. I wish they
           had come and kilt us both."
                         
          Glass considers the words a beat, then swings onto his horse.
<b>           89.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           If I run across the boy, I'll send
           him back your way.
                         
          Glass sees Henry on horseback, trotting toward them.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Where're you headed?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Fitzgerald stole five hundred
           dollars. Rocky Mountain Fur
           Company wants him too.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I can do this on my own.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I know you can. But maybe you
           won't have to.
                         
          Glass stares at Henry a beat, then finally just pulls his
          horse around... heads for the river. Henry nods to Pig and
          Murphy as he follows after Glass.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. ROCK LEDGE - DAY
</b>                         
          From above Fort Union. Our POV on Glass and Henry riding
          south along the icy river.
                         
          And then we see our POV is Bridger's... standing along the
          ledge, loaded with all his gear. He watches the riders
          another moment, then turns... hikes the opposite direction...
          leaving Fort Union behind forever.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT TALBOT/GENERAL STORE - DAY
</b>                         
          The Runty Man behind the counter. A few of the same Trappers
          drinking... playing cards. Just another day at Fort Talbot.
                         
          The door swings open, and a FUR-COVERED FIGURE enters.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           We ain't got no food to spare,
           friend, if that's what you're
           lookin' for.
                         
          The figure pulls back his furs, and we see it's Fitzgerald...
          cold and miserable.
<b>           90.
</b>                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Then what the hell have ya got?
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Whiskey and blankets mostly.
           Weather's held back deliveries.
                         
          Fitzgerald throws a glance to the Trappers.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Gimme a couple bottles then.
           Goddamn ice shredded my boat. Been
           walkin' for two days.
                         
          The Runty Man hands Fitzgerald the bottles. Fitzgerald pops
          one... gulps some down.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD (CONT'D)
</b>           How much for one of them horses out
           there?
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Horses ain't cheap this time a
           year.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Whatever the price, Rocky Mountain
           Fur Company's good for it.
                         
          And those words stop everything. The Trappers all turn from
          their game. The Runty Man glares at Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           You're the second son of a bitch
           come in here makin' that claim.
           And the first one left a bad taste.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           That right? Well I don't know
           nothin' about that. Just that I
           need a horse.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           So did this other fella. So he
           stole one... along with Lange's
           pistola.
                         
          Trapper #1 nods to Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Fine then, I'll pay cash for the
           horse. How much?
<b>           91.
</b>                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           How `bout you pay for your friend's
           too.
                         
<b>                          TRAPPER #1
</b>           And my shooter.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Wasn't my friend.
                         
          Trapper #1 stands up.
                         
<b>                          TRAPPER #1
</b>           Then from where I stand, you don't
           got no friends at all.
                         
          The other Trappers glare at Fitzgerald. The Runty Man just
          grins that toothless smile of his. Fitzgerald's in a bind,
          and he knows it.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Yeah, okay. I'll collect from him.
           How much?
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           How `bout we say eighty...
           (sees Fitzgerald doesn't
<b>                          ARGUE)
</b>           ...five.
                         
          Fitzgerald starts digging into his pocket.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           You boys are leavin' me with
           nothin'. Better be a helluva
           horse.
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           Pick of the litter.
                         
          The Runty Man snatches the cash.
                         
           RUNTY MAN (cont'd)
           And when you see that scarred-up
           nigger, you tell him he'd best not
           show up here again.
                         
          Fitzgerald freezes... not sure he heard correctly.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           When I see who?
<b>           92.
</b>                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           The black son of a bitch that
           robbed me. You tell him that.
                         
          A long beat, then...
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Scarred up, you say... and headed
           up to Union?
                         
<b>                          RUNTY MAN
</b>           That's what he told us. Seemed
           real anxious to get there too.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b><b>                          (NODS)
</b>           I'll make sure to give him the
           message when I find him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FORT TALBOT - DAY
</b>                         
          Fitzgerald sits on the horse, staring back over the ground...
          his LINE OF TRACKS LEADING THROUGH THE SNOW. He turns...
          looks south, then back to the tracks.
                         
          Finally, Fitzgerald digs his heels into the horse. The
          animal takes off, right along Fitzgerald's tracks in the
          snow... right back toward Glass.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. MISSOURI RIVER - DAY
</b>                         
          Thick ice along the edges, tapering to a narrow stream of
          flowing water at the very center.
                         
          Glass and Henry ride along the snow-covered bank.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Hugh.
                         
          Henry points. Glass follows his finger along the river... to
          a CANOE resting on the bank ahead. They dismount... examine
          the canoe... the letters "RMFC" painted on the side.
                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           That's it.
                         
          Glass runs his mittened hand along the gashes in the wood.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Ice tore it up.
<b>           93.
</b>                         
          Glass looks to the FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW, leading deep into
          the trees. He glances up to the sky... clear and blue.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           If the snow holds off, we'll have a
           good trail to track.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           What's out that direction? Talbot?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           And the Missouri. Doubt he'd risk
           the river with the `Ree. Likely
           grab a horse, and cross over
           high... take his chances goin' east
           against the weather. When'd you
           say he skipped out?
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Three days ago now.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           We best pick up our pace.
                         
          They climb back onto their horses... trot into the trees.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. OPEN COUNTRY - DAY
</b>                         
          Glass and Henry gallop across, their path dead on
          Fitzgerald's tracks.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - DAY
</b>                         
          The snow is shallow here, the ground protected by the trees.
          There's a black spot where a fire once burned, and footprints
          all over the place. Glass is off his horse, crouched,
          studying the site... lifting the charred chunks of wood.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           This was Fitzgerald camped here?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Couple nights back. But these
           tracks aren't all his.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           He's travelin' with somebody?
<b>           94.
</b>                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           (shakes his head)
           Came in after. Prints are smooth.
           Mocassins.
                         
          Henry throws Glass a look... he knows what that means.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           Could be Sioux... Blackfoot even.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           But you figure they're `Ree.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I don't figure nothin', Captain.
           But whoever it is, they're a good
           day behind Fitzgerald.
                         
          Glass walks, leading his horse, as he follows the tracks away
          from camp. Henry rides after him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           And they're on his trail too, so we
           should keep it quiet... don't
           announce we're back here.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           You told me once you knew enough to
           keep away from the `Ree.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I do.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           You figure this is smart then?
                         
          Glass swings up onto his horse.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You're welcome to head back,
           Captain.
                         
          Glass trots off. Henry watches him a beat, then throws a
          glance into the trees... follows after Glass.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass kneels on the ground, building a fire-bed... dragging
          the dirt over the fire and rocks. Henry's under a blanket,
          watching him.
<b>           95.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           What if we find Fitzgerald... and I
           ask you not to do this?
                         
          Glass spreads a blanket over the ground.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Don't ask me.
                         
          Glass settles in on the warm earth. Henry just keeps
          watching him.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - LATER
</b>                         
<b>          ANGLE ON HENRY...
</b>                         
          ...asleep under the blanket. O.S. RUSTLING sends his eyes
          flashing open. He raises up... rifle ready.
                         
          He glances at Glass, who puts a finger over his lips.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b><b>                          (WHISPERS)
</b>           `Ree?
                         
          Glass doesn't answer... just keeps searching the brush.
                         
          Henry's groggy eyes dart around the night... spots MOVEMENT
<b>          IN THE BRUSH.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY (CONT'D)
</b>           There!
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Wait!
                         
          But it's too late... Henry fires... BOOM... the shot explodes
          through the night...
                         
          ...and the DEER leaps away.
                         
          Henry looks to Glass... shakes his head... sorry.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           So much for stayin' quiet.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b><b>           96.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          FITZGERALD - SQUATTING BESIDE A SMALL FIRE...
</b>                         
          ...staring out into the darkness, as the GUNSHOT ECHOES OVER
          HIM. Fitzgerald immediately throws dirt over the flames.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CAMP - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass and Henry are loaded up, back on their horses.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Guess you would've been better off
           on your own.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           We needed to pick up some time
           anyways.
                         
          The two riders disappear into the dark trees.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass and Henry riding across a meadow. Glass stops... tilts
          his head back to sniff the air.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           Whatta ya got?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Smoke.
                         
          Glass pulls some snow from his horse's mane... tosses it in
          the air, and watches it blow to the side.
                         
          Glass turns his horse toward the breeze... squints out into
          the night.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           No more than mile out that way.
           (pulls his rifle)
           I'll head in from the west... you
           take the east.
                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           What if it's `Ree?
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           Then we leave `em be... meet back
           up here.
<b>           97.
</b>                         
          Henry nods... Glass takes off at a trot. Henry veers the
          other direction... splitting up across the snow.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Splinters of moonlight shoot through the pines. Glass on
          horseback, walking through the trees... appearing and
          disappearing.
                         
          He spots something in the distance... the slightest of glows.
          Glass eases off his horse... wraps the reins around a branch.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Henry's already off his horse... leading it through the
          trees... searching as he walks.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass moves silently through the darkness... rifle poised to
          aim and fire... just like the first time we saw him,
          perfectly comfortable in this world.
                         
          His eyes shine in the darkness, drifting back and forth...
          picking up everything.
                         
          He reaches the glow... the remains of a campfire. The
          slightest bit of dying smoke rises into the air. Glass
          crouches down, studying the surround ground... HOOF-PRINTS
          blended in with the other tracks.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Henry's horse is making too much noise with each step. He
          stops walking... wraps the reins around a tree... walks back
          around the horse...
                         
<b>          ...AND THERE'S FITZGERALD STARING AT HIM...
</b>                         
          ...Glass' Anstadt aimed and ready to fire.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           Didn't figure an important man like
           you to be away from your stove on a
           night as cold as this, Captain.
           You lost?
                         
          Henry just stares back at Fitzgerald and that rifle. His
          eyes drift to his own rifle, still strapped onto his saddle.
<b>           98.
</b>                         
<b>                          HENRY
</b>           I'm here to save your life.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           I done told you boys... I don't
           need savin' by you or nobody else.
                         
          Henry knows he's only got one chance... he makes a grab for
          the rifle.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass running his fingers across the tracks. Suddenly an
          O.S. GUNSHOT EXPLODES IN THE DISTANCE. Glass spins to it...
          races back through the trees toward his horse.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass at full gallop through the woods... veering between
          trees... ducking branches.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass charges from the forest... spots Henry's horse standing
          in the trees... tears through the snow toward it... leaps off
          the still-moving animal in a fluid slide... hits the ground
          with his rifle ready...
                         
          ...and sees HENRY'S BODY face-up in the snow.
                         
          Glass drops to a knee... scans the darkness, as he slides
          over to Henry...
                         
          ...and we see he's a bloody mess... a GUNSHOT WOUND in his
          chest leaking out onto the snow... HIS HEAD SCALPED... LEFT
<b>          EAR SLICED OFF.
</b>                         
          Glass stands back up, turning in a circle, as he peers into
          the distance around him. But there's nothing out there.
          Glass SCREAMS in rage.
                         
          He turns back to Henry... crouches down over him.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           You shouldn't a come.
                         
          As Glass looks at Henry, he notices something... takes Henry
          by the chin, and tilts his head. And HENRY'S RIGHT EAR HAS
<b>          BEEN CUT OFF AS WELL.
</b><b>           99.
</b>                         
          Glass stares at Henry a beat, then squints out into the
          forest.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b>           (repeating Spotted Horse's
           words under his breath)
           Arikara take right ear of Sioux.
           Left ear of whites. Not know what
           they take from you.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS/CLEARING - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass on horseback, leading Henry's horse behind him across
          the snow-covered meadow. Henry's fur-covered body is draped
          over the saddle.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          A thick layer of ice covers the narrow river, thinning just a
          bit at the center. Glass kneels near the middle, chopping at
          the thick ice to get to the water beneath. He makes a
          hole... dips his canteen down into it, glancing around into
          the darkness.
                         
          Then Glass turns... stares up a slope into the dark forest
          beyond... like he knows what's waiting for him there.
                         
          He walks to the horses, tied in the trees at the base of the
          slope... Henry still laying across the saddle of his horse in
          his bloody furs.
                         
          Glass SNAPS A BRANCH FROM A FALLEN TREE... looks back up that
          slope.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. WILDERNESS - NIGHT
</b>                         
<b>          OUR POV FROM DEEP IN THE FOREST...
</b>                         
          ...watching from the shadowy brush, as Glass appears up over
          the distant slope... riding through the trees, with Henry
          draped over the horse behind.
                         
          The forest is quiet... just the CRACKING of crusty snow and
          branches under the horses' hooves.
                         
          Then BOOM... as the ANSTADT BARREL WE HADN'T SEEN BESIDE US
<b>          FLASHES IN THE NIGHT...
</b>                         
          ...and Glass tumbles off his horse.
<b>           100.
</b>                         
          The horses prance around with a start, then settle... and
          then FITZGERALD RISES FROM THE BRUSH BESIDE US... eases
          toward the horses, reloading the Anstadt as he moves.
                         
          He reaches Glass, face down in the snow... his furs covering
          him.
                         
          And Fitzgerald has that rifle aimed, ready for Glass to
          suddenly roll over firing...
                         
          ...but Glass doesn't move. Fitzgerald nudges him with his
          boot, then crouches down... grabs Glass by the shoulder, and
          pulls him over...
                         
          ...and there's HENRY'S LIFELESS FACE HIDDEN BENEATH THE
          FURS... and that BROKEN BRANCH sticking up along his back.
                         
                         
<b>          ANGLE FROM BEHIND HENRY'S HORSE...
</b>                         
          ...on the REST OF THE BRANCH RIGGED TO GLASS' SADDLE to hold
          Henry upright...
                         
          ...and then what we thought was Henry flung over the second
          horse... MOVING... the bloody fur-covered arm lifting a
          rifle... the head raising up... it's GLASS... taking aim...
                         
          ...as Fitzgerald realizes what's happened... spins with the
          Anstadt...
                         
          ...to Glass laying across the horse... rifle dead set on
          Fitzgerald... BOOM... BOOM... both rifles explode...
                         
          ...Fitzgerald goes flying backward into the brush.
                         
          Fitzgerald's wild shot hits Henry's horse, sending it rearing
          up, tossing Glass to the ground.
                         
          But Glass is on his feet in a flash... reloading as he
          charges into the brush...
                         
          ...but FITZGERALD IS GONE.
                         
          Until the flash of movement behind Glass... he turns... as
          the butt of the Anstadt whips through the air... WHACK...
          clubs him across the head, sending him tumbling down the
          slope to the frozen river.
                         
          Fitzgerald swings the Anstadt back over his BLOODY SHOULDER,
          snatches up his knife, and charges down the slope to finish
          Glass off.
<b>           101.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass lies on the ice, barely conscious. Blood oozes down
          his head... over his eyes. He wipes it away to see
          Fitzgerald barreling down toward him.
                         
          Fitzgerald dives in attack, but Glass kicks up his leg,
          sending Fitzgerald flying over... SLAMMING into the frozen
          river, his head CRACKING THE ICE.
                         
          Glass rips the knife from his belt... moves after Fitzgerald,
          his feet slipping and sliding under him.
                         
          Fitzgerald rises to his feet... the men charge like two wild
          animals... crash into each other... knives flailing.
                         
          They roll along the ice, blades glistening... slicing through
          furs... across flesh.
                         
          Fitzgerald thrusts his knife down... plants it through the
          back of Glass' hand, pinning it to the ice. Glass CRIES
          OUT... drops his own knife to pull Fitzgerald's out. As he
          does, Fitzgerald kicks Glass in the face, sending him sailing
          back... sliding to the center of the river.
                         
          The thin ice around him splinters... cracks. Glass looks
          up... sees Fitzgerald stalking toward him, HOLDING BOTH
          KNIVES now. Glass is trapped...
                         
          ...until he pounds his elbow down on the weakened ice... it
          begins to give... he pounds it again and again... Fitzgerald
          speeds up to get to Glass in time... raises one of the
          knives, as Glass shatters the ice... drops beneath the
          surface.
                         
          Fitzgerald rushes after him, but the ice cracks under his
          feet, forcing him back.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          UNDERWATER...
</b>                         
          ...and Glass just under the ice, floating with the current.
          His fingers search for a hole, but there's nothing.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b><b>           102.
</b>                         
                         
<b>          FITZGERALD...
</b>                         
          ...making his way down the river, peering through the ice,
          searching for Glass. He spots something... stops... leans
          close to make out the shape... it's GLASS' FEET.
                         
          Then suddenly, GLASS' FIST EXPLODES THROUGH THE ICE AT
          FITZGERALD'S FEET... grab Fitzgerald's leg, pulling him down.
                         
          Fitzgerald crashes to the ice... it splinters around him...
          gives away, and he sinks into the icy water... but the
          ANSTADT STRAPPED AROUND HIM CATCHES ON THE ICE... holds him
          against the current.
                         
          Glass drags himself from the water... stands... stares down
          at Fitzgerald trapped in the hole... his face looking up at
          Glass through the ice. Glass lifts one of the fallen
          knives... stands over Fitzgerald.
                         
<b>                          FITZGERALD
</b>           (through the water and
<b>                          ICE)
</b>           Help me!
           (off Glass' stare)
           Glass... please!
                         
          Glass hesitates a beat, staring at him, just as he did with
          Bridger that night in the bunkhouse. And then Glass leans
          down... grabs the Anstadt to pull Fitzgerald up.
                         
          Except Glass SLICES THE BLADE ACROSS THE STRAP OF THE
          ANSTADT, sending Fitzgerald floating away under the ice, as
          Glass holds on to the Anstadt.
                         
<b>                          CUT TO:
</b>                         
                         
<b>          FITZGERALD...
</b>                         
          ...floating under the surface... pounding at the ice as he
          drifts, until his swinging slows... stops... his body drifts
          away.
                         
                         
<b>          EXT. FROZEN RIVER - NIGHT
</b>                         
          Glass stands on the ice, blood dripping down his face,
          holding his Anstadt. He begins to tremble... not from the
          cold, but from finally reaching the end of this journey. His
          eyes begin to fill with tears...
<b>           103.
</b>                         
          ...and then he sees ELK'S TONGUE, and SEVERAL OTHER ARIKARA
          WARRIORS watching him from the other side of the river.
                         
          Glass and Elk's Tongue exchange a long stare, until finally
          Glass SCREAMS OUT.
                         
<b>                          GLASS
</b>           I am Tatanka Wicasa! I have killed
           whites and I have killed Arikara
           and I have killed grizzly! AND I
<b>           WILL KILL YOU!
</b>                         
          Elk's Tongue doesn't move... just stares back at Glass...
          soaked in blood and water. Then Glass CRIES OUT at the
          warriors again.
                         
<b>                          GLASS (CONT'D)
</b><b>           COME ON!
</b>                         
          But the Arikara don't attack... don't move at all... until
          Elk's Tongue gives Glass the SLIGHTEST OF NODS, then turns...
          they disappear back into the trees.
                         
          Glass watches them fade away, then collapses to his knees on
          the icy river... exhausted in every possible way.
                         
          He begins to cry.
                         
<b>           FADE OUT.
</b>                         
                         
<b>                          THE END
</b><b>                          
</b>
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	<td><h1>Revenant, The</h1><br><br>
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What did Bart do to the Gangster who held up the convenience store?
What did Bart do to the Gangster who held up the convenience store ?
Bart kills and feeds off the Gangster
Bart kills and feeds off the Gangster
Kill and feed off him
Kill and feed off him