Vera Scalewing laid the horned stalker pelt across the trader's counter and watched his eyes widen. Three other hunters had given up on this kill last season, but she'd tracked it for two weeks and brought it down alone. Now she needed coin to lock down a location for her trading outpost, where pelts like this would finally sell for what they were worth. The trader ran his fingers through the deep auburn fur, then lifted one of the curved horns to test its weight. Behind him, mounted pelts lined the walls on polished wooden stands, each one displayed like art instead of thrown in a heap. He offered double what she'd expected, enough to secure her outpost site within the week. Then he slid a contract across the counter. The terms were simple: double value on everything she brought him, but only if she hunted exclusively for his business from now on. Vera read it twice, then pushed the paper back. She'd worked too hard building her reputation on Rathion Mountain to hand it over to someone else's operation, no matter how much coin he waved in front of her. The trader pocketed the contract without argument and counted out the original price instead. Vera walked out with less coin than she could have had, but her next hunt was already hers to sell wherever she wanted. The outpost would take longer to build now, maybe another season of moving stock through temporary buyers. She adjusted the empty pack on her shoulders and turned back toward the mountain. The stalker pelt was gone, but three more rare kills were already marked on her mental map, and no trader would decide which ones she chased or where she sold them. She stopped at the edge of town and counted the coins again. Not enough for a permanent location, but enough to keep hunting while she lined up other buyers. The trader had shown her something useful with those display stands, though. When her outpost opened, she'd present her kills the same way, proof that rare pelts deserved rare prices. Until then, she'd keep her options open and her territory her own.