For a Price

 The Pied Piper calls the girls and boys. Boys and girls it calls them. But when they grow up, if they get the chance, it's rare that a man heeds the piper's call.

    Still, it can happen.

    But, for that, a man must listen. A rare thing indeed. Not to say anything against men. Only to say that there's less for them if they take the time to sit quietly. Only their soul. And that isn't valued as much, says the index. 

    But the Fae, though, they will pay a premium for a soul. They will buy it for a lifetime of riches, for a wealth of perfection, for a time's gain. In the end, though, they'll have the soul — and there's a guarantee out from the beset bounties that you'll want it back. And pay anything to get it.

    Women don't sell their souls much. Men don't either — mostly because they don't know of anyone who will pay a price. But the ones that know of it, their souls are long gone. And it's the bounties' job to bring it back.

    Which she'll do. For a price.

    People will pay it, too. Men and women. The soul's worth that much. It's worth more than death, they say. Any body knows this, though.

    Makes you wonder what the index is doing, measuring all that stuff that that isn't quite worth more than death.

    Makes you wonder what an index is, anyway.

    And what it's price is.

    And what price it'll pay, in the end.

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