I opened my eyes groggily, aware that I was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room, but unable to believe that it was my own. I sat up slowly and glanced around. The walls were paneled with dark wood that contained few adornments. A large stuffed eagle was perched on a branch at the far end of the room between the windows. There was a table between two chairs with a game spread out on it and a desk nearby. A warm, cozy fire burning in the hearth built into the wall on my left basking the interior in a soft glow.

I could hear noises nearby and turned my head toward them, feeling it throb from the action. I placed my hand there and felt a large bump on the back. It was tender to the touch. I wasn't sure how it had gotten there. My memories were vague and unclear. The only thing I felt fairly certain of was that I had never been where I was before.

I stood up and quietly walked to the doorway. I could hear voices coming from the room across the hall. Both of them male and unrecognizable. I considered approaching them, but was wary. I looked down the hallway and noticed a door leading outside. Being unsure of the circumstances, I decided to take the exit. As I stepped in that direction, the floorboard creaked. The voices quieted and I paused. I heard movement, footsteps approaching, and a young man appeared in the doorway opposite me. He wore simple deerskin clothes and moccasins. Part of his shoulder length hair was tied back, one stand hung braided at the side of his face. His skin was tanned brown and he had dark hair and eyes. He watched me cautiously as I did the same to him. The quiet was awkward.

"Hi," I told him, just to break the silence.

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and inclined his head in a sort of greeting. "Hello," he returned in a gentile voice. "How are you feeling?"

I was still unsure with what was happening, but his concern put me a tad more at ease. "Fine, I guess."

The other voice spoke from farther inside the room, it sounded older and less proper than the one of the man in front of me. "Connor, why don't you invite our guest to dinner."

The young man looked over momentarily, then back at me. He gestured for me to come in. "Would you care for something to eat?"

At the mention of food, I felt the early pains of hunger. I wasn't sure when I'd eaten last and would not be opposed to doing so now. I pushed aside my insecurities at the situation and nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

The boy led me through a kitchen that looked like something from an old movie and into a fancy dinning room. At the head of the table sat and elderly black man who stood stiffly as I entered. His eyes regarded me with kindness as he held out a hand. I shook it polity.

"Welcome to Davenport manor," he said. "I'm Achilles. The boy is Connor."

I had guessed the others name from the previous conversation, but the man's name struck. It was the same as the Greek hero. I smiled at the happenstance. The story of Achilles was my favorite.

"I'm Faith," I introduced myself.

The man grinned at me as though my name entertained him as much as his did me."Hmm. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You, too," I said.

He gestured to the seat at his right and we sat down as Connor brought me a plate of food and a cup of water. I looked at the food. Steamed potatoes, squash and some kind of meat that I didn't find appetizing. I pushed the meat aside with my fork and began to eat the vegetables. They were a little bland and tough, but at least I had food. We ate in an uncomfortable silence where I avoided Connor's occasional glances and he pretended he wasn't watching me. When my plate was mostly empty, I thought about asking for more. I stayed quiet because I felt it would be rude to ask for seconds while there was still food in front of me.

After a period of quiet, Achilles looked at me. "So, Faith, where are you from?"

It was a simple question, but one I wasn't sure how to answer. I couldn't place a permanent home. What little I could recall at present was sketchy and lacked the details to explain anything. I shrugged at him. "New York," I answered.

Connor frowned at me. "You are not from another country?"

"No," I told him, unsure why he would think so.

"It's not important," Achilles stated. "What interests me is how you came to be so far from a settlement without any indications of company, weapons or supplies. You couldn't have made it very far on foot. I can only guess that your horse was either stolen or died from the cold. And as for your injury, were you attacked by bandits or wild animals?"

I stuttered for an answer. I was unsure what had happened to me. I had no marks other than the one on my head. I couldn't imagine having been attacked in any way. Nor could I recall ever owning a horse or a carrying weapon. They were simply not need, as far as I knew.

"I think I fell," I said.

Achilles nodded slowly. Connor stared at me with doubt. He looked to have questions of his own, but didn't ask them.

"Fortunately," Achilles spoke, "Connor found you before you suffered further harm. The wilderness isn't a safe place at the best of times, even less so in the winter. You're welcome to spend the night here, if you choose. At least you'll be warm."

"It's nice of you to offer," I said. I looked around, attempting to conjure a rebuttal. "But I should really find my home."

"Home?" Connor repeated with a interested tone. "Where is that?"

I looked at him with an unwillingness to elaborate. The slightly mocking expression he gave me when I failed to answered irritated me. I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed to find that amusing, but showed it without smile. Achilles got my attention back to him with a low clearing of his throat.

"Stay," he said. "Or don't. The choice is yours. I'd feel better knowing you were safe here for the night instead of wandering around the countryside in the middle of a snowstorm. But if you insist on leaving, I'll have Connor escort you to the edge of the property."

I pursed my lips and considered my options. This house, this state of living, was not familiar to me. I noticed the lack of electricity and felt my choices limited. I doubted I'd be able to find transport and – if I did – a better place to stay. Achilles seemed sincere in his offer and apparently it was Connor who had brought me here. I suppose that made me welcomed. I made my choice and nodded.

"Thank you," I told Achilles. "I'll take you up on your offer."

The elderly man smiled. "Very well. While Connor washes the dishes, I'd like to hear more about you, and how you acquired such an interesting tattoo."

I frowned at him. The old man just waited patiently for me to speak as the young man begrudgingly stood and began to clear the table. It was apparent he wanted to hear the story as well. But I really wasn't sure what to say.

"What tattoo?" I asked innocently. I wasn't sure how he knew about the mark on the back of my neck or even that it was there. Or why it was of such importance to him.

Achilles let out a short laugh. "Oh, child. You know very well what I mean."

I stared at him. This was not a story I told anyone. Ever. It was private. I kept the tattoo hidden so that I wouldn't have to answer such questions. The abuse I'd sustained as a child wasn't shameful, but it was painful to relate.

"How'd you know about it?" I asked.

Achilles' glance was well meaning and respectful. "Connor saw it when he was removing your coat," he said. "I apologize for the invasion of your privacy, but it was a fortuitous discovery. That mark is familiar to us."

I stared at him. The unease I felt was replaced by interest. I'd never met anyone who was familiar with such a mark. The few people who'd seen my tattoo had been unsure of it's significance and uncaring of it's origin. I wasn't even sure of what it meant myself.

"You know what this symbol means?" I asked.

Achilles smiled. "You don't."

I shook my head and - for the first time since meeting him – gave the man my undivided attention.

"It's the symbol of the Assassins," Achilles told me. I frowned and waited for him to continue. "The Brotherhood has existed in secret for as long as time began. It's an Order who seeks to instill peace and freedom to all and opposes tyranny and injustice violently when need be."

"You mean like the Hashashins?" I asked. I'd heard a bit about the group of silent killers during the eleventh century from various histories. Most of what I'd learned was written by Marco Polo.

Achilles gave an impressed stare. "Yes," he said. "Though the Order has existed far longer, that time period was a tuning point in their history. It was around that time that Altair reinvented the Brotherhood and made it much how it is today."

"The legends say the Assassins were all killed by the Mongols."

That gained me a knowing smile. "Not all legends are true. The Assassins still exist, though they are far fewer in number than they once were." There was a far away look in Achilles' eyes, then he composed himself and regarded me again with interest. "That is why I find your tattoo so intriguing, Faith. So few are familiar with the culture or choose not to believe it. It's rare to find anyone with whom such things can be shared."

I began to understand what he meant and found it fascinating. "How is it that you know all the history, Achilles?"

The old man failed to answer. He looked at the doorway of the kitchen to where Connor had been standing for the last couple minutes. He stood up. "We can speak more tomorrow," he said. "I'm turning in for the night. Connor will show you where you may rest."

Achilles left the room and I looked at Connor. The other watched me with an indiscernible expression for a moment. I found this entire situation to be weird and confusing, but my only thought was to just run with it. I stood up and Connor led me upstairs. I looked about the house as I followed him. It was nice, in a quaint, timeless sort of way. It was charming even in the state of discord. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the wood floors would benefit from staining, but the beauty was evident. The decorations were scant, and it lacked a homey feel. But with a little attention, I knew it could be a wonderful residence.

Connor led me to a bedroom at the far end of the hall. The interior of which was a drastic change from the rest of the house. It contained native décor and was cluttered and messy with frequent use. I looked around at the headdress, pipe and woven blankets. Then I looked at Connor.

"Is this your room?" I asked needlessly.

He nodded. "We do not have a spare bed, so you may sleep here tonight."

"Thanks," I told him.

Connor entered to gather some of his stuff as I walked around and studied the decorations. There was a beautiful necklace of beads on the shelf, laid out with care. It was far too feminine to belong to him. I touched it with my fingertip. It was well worn and smooth from use.

"Please do not touch that," Connor said from behind me.

I pulled my hand away. "Sorry," I said. "Is it your girlfriend's?"

Connor stared at me. There was sadness and something like regret on his features. "It belonged to my mother," he said, casting his eyes aside.

I guessed there was a story there, but not one he was willing to share. "Oh."

Connor took a breath and looked back at me. "Do you require anything before you rest?"

His polite nature and the proper way he spoke made me wonder even more about his past and how he and Achilles had come to know each other. They were complete opposites and their bond was not one of relation, but felt forced by circumstance.

"No," I said.

"Then I wish you a good night."

Connor moved for the door, glanced at me momentarily, then closed it softly behind him as he went out. I looked around the room once more when I was alone. I respected his wish and didn't touch the necklace again, but I let myself finger the other objects casually as I studied them. I wasn't all that sleepy when I finally undressed and lay down on the bed, but the relaxation was welcome. I stared up at the canopy over the bed and wondered what tomorrow would bring. I eventually fell into a restless slumber that was filled with strange dreams of secret societies and clandestine plots. The weirdest part was how much sense they made to me. I understood everything in my visions and knew that the year was 1772 and that a war was about to break out. Unfortunately, all of the revelations faded upon waking and I was once again confused with my location and purpose.