As I trudged forward, the trees slowly became sparser and sparser until I found this small open field.
If you’d asked me earlier what I expected, had I not run thinking you were with the Sheriffs, a man squeezing orange juice into a bowl wouldn’t have rated a mention.
He glanced up at me as I approached, then looked at the sun.
“Hey…” I said, looking for a weapon, not seeing any.
“Want some?” he asked, after taking a gulp from the bowl.
I walked up and took a big gulp.
Some bounty hunters work with tranquillisers, alas.