Prologue.

He watched her thread her way through the people, hurriedly pulling the small girl along with her free hand, her other clutching a large tapestry bag that she could barely hold, and had to keep stopping to heave back into a more comfortable position.

From his window he could see the stage she was running for, and he smirked to himself. A thin smile that crept across his face, his thoughts only revealed by the harshness of his gaze.

He watched as a well-dressed man, evidently heading for the same coach, held the door open, and offered his hand for the woman to climb in before raising his hat to the girl. He observed the man eagerly, drinking in his appearance. The smart red waistcoat, the matching red jacket, and more importantly the gun hanging from his side. He'd have to ask after him later.

Confident of any more passengers, the coach began to move off, and as the spring breeze blew the curtains into the room his eyes iced over, as he contemplated his plans.

He'd let her leave, for now, but it didn't matter where they went. He'd find them, he always did.

He enjoyed the hunt.