Silvertip Mountain Through the big top tent up high

The bounty hunter's chin lifted a fraction. Not in challenge, exactly, but in subtle intensity as the matter of payment was pressed. Frankly, he preferred suspicion and wariness to those more versed in supply and demand. Specifically, he remembered an aging man with the air of an oilslick about him saying, Name your price, and then the look in that young girl's eyes when he finally found her.

Bounty hunting could be messy business, no matter if it was a man hunt or a rescue mission.

"Peace and safety for the winter," he said at last. "A fair share of my own kills or group hunts. Healing, if I'm called to fight. I can pull my own weight and give all the rest a little slack. Defend the territory. Any more than that's gonna be somethin' extra."

He did not yet speak of the agency he expected come spring season. He wasn't sure he would be staying that long. He wasn't sure he wanted to know just exactly what sort of man this was, yet.