Prologue

Her first leap of faith she performed at the age of sixteen. It was at night, and the tip of a church, a pretty big one for a regular church, she thought. The cold air bit at her soft flesh as she soared through the air and fell into nothingness, arms outstretched at her sides. With a smooth and unnoticed motion she flipped over, and softly landed in the big hay stack at the foot of a shop just on the other side of the street. She was scared, she admits it, but for her first jump, her mentor was proud, and so was she.

Easily she jumped out of the hiding place and shook off the rest of dry grass, before marching down the street of Boston, composure in her gait, a slight sway in her hips. So slight, that it is unnoticed by the residents of the city. She was used to the strange looks the people threw at her; after all she wasn't a native Bostoner. She was an eighteen year old Shoshone of the name Sacajawea, but called Wea in her tribe.

A few years she has dedicated to training the arts of the Assassin Brotherhood. She seeked revenge on those who had killed her parents, her brother, and most of her tribe members. She was six years old, and on a hunt with her older brother, Odakota. With the bounty in the hands on their way back to home, they quickly took notice of what was going on. Their whole settlement was on fire, people were dying in the poisonous smoke, in the heat of the flames that cocooned one instantly. There were so many colors Wea has seen that night, colors she has never seen before, watching her brother being sucked in by the flames to find their parents, only to get shot by one of the Redcoats. She, on the other hand, got threatened by a general called Charles Lee. She heard the one single shot echoing off the in the forest, forcing its way into her ears, the one shot that killed her brother that night.

With a nonchalant expression and hatred flooding her eyes, she swiftly withdrew her hidden blade with which she had killed the last soldier in this fight. She looked around, regaining her vision of the real world and saw the sliver of red, as the snitch disappeared around the next corner to call for reinforcements. After all, Sacajawea, known as Rose Branton, killed ten men in less than five minutes, thanks too Achilles' hard training.

Sacajawea got up from her crouched position and took off into the opposite direction the snitch fled to. She jumped onto a wooden fence, climbed onto a few boxes, performed a wall run and grabbed hold on the lip of the building, pulling herself onto the roof of the house. With much skill she jumped from one roof onto the other, followed by two of the many soldiers tracking her down.

It has and will always be one of the most exciting feelings for Sacajawea to experience, being hunted down over the rooftops of Boston by British soldiers, who have no chance when they're fewer than ten men. Wea silently but quickly walked over the skimpy ropes linked between two rooftops. As she reached the other roof, she drew her sword, whirled around on her heels and smoothly cut through the two ropes like a piece of butter.

The ropes gave a whipping sound and with the soldiers they sailed downwards. Wea sheathed her sword, exchanging her weaponry with her hidden blades, and jumped off the roof. Her blades cut through the soldier's throats like nothingness, a speck of dust in the night wind, blacking out the screams of terror. She heard the officer commanding his men to find that "bitch".

With that call, Wea took off. She ran through the streets of Boston at night, pushing aside the residents, still being extremely careful not to hurt them or cause damage in any thinkable way. She used the alleyways as shortcuts, and in the distance her eyes already took notice of a hay stack, which she would use as a hiding place.

To make sure she had a safe distance to her enemies, Sacajawea glanced over her shoulder, starting to slightly run out of breath. Her lungs clenched together, screaming for the air they so badly needed but got denied, her calves burning like fire as she ran and ran. Wea turned back around and just as she faced straight forward, she ran into somebody about a head taller than her.

The non existing air got forced out of her lungs in a huff, as she pulled one of her brethren to the dirty ground. The sound of weapons colliding with weapons and earth echoed through the city. Taken aback Wea managed one single glance at the assassin underneath her, before seizing the – obviously – mans collar and taking a right sided roll into the hay stack she luckily reached. She pressed her body against his and laid a hand onto the assassin's mouth, trying to keep him quiet. Both were panting heavily, she noticed, so he must've been running away too, or just finished one of the gory fights that she experienced day for day.

Sacajawea squeezed her eyes shut and buried her head in the man's shoulder, still pinning him down with all her bodyweight and pressing her hand against his mouth. His hot breath tickled her soft skin, as she heard the shouts and insults from the soldiers, directed at the two assassins, as they were coming closer and closer.

"Where'd that sonuvabitch go, ya'll?"

"I've no idea, mate."

"D'you have any luck with that assassin yet, my friends?"

"Na, he's too fast for us. How 'bout that assassin you're chasin'? Any good news from your side?"

"Sadly, not. She's way too fast for us, we just can' keep up with 'er like that."

"Same here. That dude's just too skilled for our men."

"What'd Lee say? Don't ever underestimate your foe."

"Yeah, somethin' like that. Well, I'm gonna head back to my post. See ya around soon."

"Yeah, let's head back, guys. Sooner or later we'll find them. Both."

After that conversation, the only thing that was left to hear was marching, a lot of footsteps, heading into the other directions of where Sacajawea and the assassin she bumped into where located in the hay stack. Wea rolled off of her brethren and out of the itching stack, stood up, shook the rest off and listened. But nothing was to be heard. She searched for a way out of the little corner between the four houses.

"I must thank you. That was pretty close, what has happened here. I am forever in your debt, my brethren." The taller assassin thanked her in a low and soft voice.

Sacajawea looked up from her escape route and into the shadow face of the assassin. She saw nothing but his jaw, his lips and his nose. Everything else was sucked in by the darkness. Without another word, Wea turned around and ran off, disappearing out of the assassin's sight.