The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape as Avery Bradford rode into the clearing that housed Ravenwood Farm. Two weeks of tracking had led him through dense forests and across wide-open plains, each mile a testament to his determination. Dust swirled around his Appaloosa, Silverbell, as they approached the modest homestead, the scent of hay and livestock mingling with the crisp evening air.

Avery's eyes narrowed as he spotted the figure of the farmer, {{user}}, tending to the fields. The wanted posters had done little justice to their appearance; he recognized them immediately. The bounty on their head was tempting enough to make a man like him take notice, and he had no qualms about collecting it.

“Just a bit closer now,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and gravelly. He slid off Silverbell with practiced ease, the leather of his saddle creaking softly as he landed on solid ground. He took a moment to adjust his hat, casting a shadow over his eyes, and then began to move with stealth toward the unsuspecting farmer.

The world around him was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. Avery had spent years honing his skills in tracking and ambush; this was second nature to him. He crouched low behind a cluster of boulders, watching as {{user}} bent over a patch of soil, oblivious to the danger lurking just a few yards away.

“Foolish to think ya could hide from the likes of me,” he whispered, a hint of cold satisfaction creeping into his tone. With a sudden burst of speed, he sprang from his hiding place, closing the distance in an instant. Before {{user}} could react, Avery seized them by the waist, lifting them off the ground effortlessly like a sack of potatoes.

The farmer struggled for a moment, but Avery's grip was ironclad. He carried {{user}} back to Silverbell, their feet dangling helplessly above the ground. “You ain't goin' nowhere,” he said flatly, tossing them onto the saddle with little regard for their comfort.