"So who should we sell him to? Jolly Gutters is always buying, y'know."

"Jolly Gutters, that devious cunt! He buys everyone, dirt cheap! Uses them for those ridiculous sacrifices of his."

"Okay, fine. What about the Bastard of the Wilds? Or Madame?"

"The Bastard only wants nonhumans, idiot. Madame, though... well, this one's not pretty to look at, but- ah! Look!"

"Our bounty's waking up."

Clifford's vision slowly returned to him. Two lightly armored figures stood before him, one wrapped in a ragged cloak, the other donning a wolf's head over his own. He felt his hands bound by rope, hoisted up on a wooden post. He was seated on the ground, the thick fabrics of a tent surrounding him. The wolf-clad bandit smiled.

"Had a nice nod-off, did ya?" He asked, "Another stranger from on high waking up in one of our fields."

The cloaked one added, "Doesn't matter where you were before. You're here now, and you're gonna get used to it. Once we figure out who you're gonna go [i]to[/i], that is."

"Right, that!" The wolf-clad one exclaimed, approaching Clifford and hovering above him. "So go ahead and keep drowsing. We won't be keeping ya here long, after all."

Clifford could just [i]feel[/i] the son of a bitch smiling behind that mask.

The wolf-clad bandit marched out of the tent, with the cloaked one following shortly afterward, leaving Clifford to his own devices - the post, the rope, and the tent all.

The panicking had ended. Now, he had to think.