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The Frontier, America - 1755

My life changed the day I found that artefact. The one in the form of a snake. It influenced my whole life, never leaving me. Like a shadow it followed me everywhere, a constant reminder. I remember the day I stumbled upon it like it happened only moments ago. Me, my friends and my half-brother Ratonhnhaké:ton, the one who would one day be the legendary assassin Connor Kenway, were playing hide-and-seek in the valley. That would be the last time I saw Connor for many years. I did not know it at the time, but as my destiny changed, so too did his. As I found that thing, the snake, my half-brother was being threatened and beaten by Charles Lee. Both our destinies changed from that of a simple villager's life to becoming deadly assassins. The object was a curious thing. I admit it still is for me. I went to my favourite hiding spot; no-one ever thought to look for me there. As I crouched behind a tree, I slipped and fell to the ground. In the disturbance of the leaves, I noticed a faint glowing, something emanating. I never thought about it at the time, but now part of me feels as though it wanted to be found. Curious, I brushed the leaves off, but still there was nothing but that infernal glow. Furious at finding nothing, I dug into the dirt, splitting one finger nail in the process. I was too angry to even notice, let alone care. Finally, as I pulled a handful of rock-solid dirt out of the way, I saw what I was looking for: A strange glowing curve of golden scales. I pushed more dirt out of the way, finally uncovering a golden snake, no bigger than my hand, glowing golden in the muddy dirt. The snake was curled in a figure of eight and looked as though it was trapped in the motion of biting its own tail. I reached for it, but I swear I heard it hiss and images flashed through my mind. Strange hooded men, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, colossal structure of wood throwing fire at one another in the great sea, strange mechanisms that released a blade with a flick of the wrist, a native like myself wearing hooded robes of mud brown with no sleeves, he had a black tattoo of a snake wrapped around his arm. The snake. My vision slowly returned. The images had faded, but I still saw that black snake coiled around an arm. When that had gone, I was left alone in the woods with the golden snake that had shown me the visions. I had no idea how much time had passed. Closing my eyes, I reached for the golden snake. Nervous, I inched my eyes open slightly as my hand got closer and when my fingertips brushed against its scales, it leapt onto my arm! I felt my arm go numb and no matter how matter how much I shuck my arms, it wouldn't let go. It had latched on. I felt it bite into me and slowly it absorbed into my arm. In its place was an ink version of the snake, winding down my arm, its mouth gaping in the palm of my hand. At this moment, everything changed for me. My body became more sensitive to touch. I could feel each, individual leaf brush over my toes in the light autumn breeze. I could hear the crunch of leaves being trampled far in the distance. I could even see every little detail in the bark of the tree next to me, every little crack or dent in the bark and all manner of small creatures who made that tree their home. I could smell the waste of wild animals, miles away. All of my senses were increased to an in-human level. I knew what my village would do if I ever went back. I would be branded a freak and cast out into exile. So rather than go back and face the shame, I ran away from my village, out of the valley that we were forbidden to leave.

I spent days surviving in the wild. Being too young to hunt food, I stole food from shops in small settlements dotted around the great forests. I spent my nights camping in caves and beneath bales of hay in settlement stables. It was in this time of surviving that I noticed my body changing. I was getting bigger, stronger and faster. Any scratches I received would heal almost instantly, the old, dead skin peeling away. I saw things differently too. I could see heat. Whenever I saw something warm, if I focused my sense, it would appear red. If I saw something cold and focused my senses, it appeared blue. It made tracking easier and when I taught myself to hunt, it made tracking the animals and setting up traps easier. For years I roamed from town to town, hunting animals and using them for food in the wild and selling the furs in the towns. Soon I had acquired quite a bit of metal pieces, coins the people called them. I understood that they were used in trading, and I used them to buy myself some clothing to better 'fit in' with the strangers of our land. The ones who could throw fire from their hands.

Soon, I came across a massive town of people, which I believed they called a city. It was a coastal city, but I wasn't in possession of such knowledge at the time. I found that I could trade a large amount of my metal pieces in return for passage across what I thought was a large lake. Later in life, I learned that this was the Atlantic Ocean. Seeking to escape my past, I accepted the trade and spent many months on an odd wooden structure that used wind to pull itself along the water. A 'ship' I later learned that it was called. On-board this 'ship' I learned how to handle a small blade; a dagger. The crew would often fight on the main 'deck,' out in the open air. They would fight with bare fists or sometimes with daggers. Most times it was for sport and 'gambling.' Sometimes it was because of a disagreement. And so the crew taught me to fight with fist and dagger, and I took to the art of it like a fish to water. I became something of a favourite when gambling was concerned. I was always more than happy to gamble with them. Even on things other than fights, such as dice games. Once I had learnt the rules and how to play, it became easy. I could see the sweat trickling down their face, I could smell the stench of their breathing as it became faster and I could hear their heartbeat increase its pace. All signs that they were becoming nervous. All I had to do was know when to place a bet or when to call it a day. A disadvantage of my new-found powers, however, was that my ultra-sensitivity amplified the rocking of the ship on the waves, making me very light headed and eventually sea-sick. Finally, after many months on the water and much being sick and stumbling around because of the gentle rocking of the structure, we arrived at a very busy looking new land. 'England' the sailors called it. I'll admit, it was very intimidating. Huts made of perfect cuboid stones called bricks and held together by some mysterious material. I had seen bricks before in the small frontier towns, but they were used sparingly. I had also seen them before in the coastal town, but I had been too focused on the great body of water that stretched as far as the eye could see. People walking in every direction, filling the 'streets.' Smoke rising from stacks of bricks with no fire in sight. Even the smells of this land was different to that of my former home. This place smelled far less natural, filled with more smoke and the smell of man than the smells of nature. This seemed like such a magical land, full of hope and promise. But everyone gave me looks of mild interest or just outright disgust. I never understood it at the time, but now I know it was because of who I am. Because of the colour of my skin. Because I was a creature of a land none of them had seen. But some of them saw an opportunity in me. I was young and very inexperienced but I had one value that interested them. I was cheap labour. And so, within my first day on this new land, before I had even found a place to take shelter at night, I had found myself a job in this new and strange place. Perhaps this place would make a nice place to replace the home I had lost. Just the thought of that made me sad. It reminded me of all I had lost for so little gain. It reminded me of all I had lost just to get here. I had lost family, friends and my home. Now I was in an unfamiliar place, perhaps further than any of us had gone before with no-where to take shelter and no experience of how to survive in this land. There were no great trees or roaming elk. Just large buildings of bricks, wood and stone. Past that there was miles of fields, but not an abundance of wild animals. Hunting would not be an option here, I'd have to buy or steal food here to survive. Maybe this job could be my saving grace.

But there was something I never counted on when I arrived in England: the kindness of strangers. As my first night in this strange land went terribly due to the pouring rain, an old woman passed me on the street and, seeing me slumped in an alley and soaked to the bone, she took pity on me and told me to follow her to her home and get dry there. Against my better judgement, I followed the old woman. At first I was adamant that I would stick it out through this weather, but the wet, the cold and the weariness weakened my resolve and I gave in, following her home. When we arrived at her home, she described it as little more than a shack. For me, it was the largest house I'd ever seen at the time. It was a four room house on one floor. As you walked in, your entered the living quarters, with a fireplace and a couple of old and battered chairs occupying the majority of the small room. A metal contraption holding a large metal pot over the fire was on the fireplace, presumably for cooking stews and other meals. From that room, two doorways led off to different rooms. To the right was a small bedroom with barely enough space to fit the small rotting bed and set of drawers next to it. On the drawers was a small oil lamp for light should she need to get up in the middle of the night. Over the window looking out to the streets, instead of curtains was a collection of the woman's clothes, hanging up. From the other door in the living room was the kitchen. The kitchen was basic with only the bare essentials of cooking in the room. Leading off from the kitchen was the fourth room, the pantry. Here, she stored whatever food would stay fresh for a while, ready to be cooked before it became complete un-edible. She laid out a thin piece of cloth as a blanket on the floor in the living room, near to the fire and said that that is where I could sleep. She also brought out some old clothes, stating that they used to belong to her son and told me to put them on and leave my clothes near the fire to dry. I went into the bedroom to change and when I emerge, she was facing away from me, stirring the pot hanging over the fire. As I took a few more timid steps, she turned around from her task and assessed how I looked in the clothes.

"Ooh." She said "Don't you look like the gentleman."

She hobbled over to me and brushed dust or dirt off the shoulders of the clothing. She told me I could keep them and that I was more than welcome to stay here. I agreed and as she requested, I went into the kitchen to chop vegetables for the bubbling stew she was making. As I cut the vegetables, the aroma of the stew wafted into the kitchen and my stomach rumbled audibly. I was definitely hunger. I'm not ashamed to say that when the stew was done and she served it into bowls, I consumed the bowl-full as fast as I the small spoonfuls would allow. She smiled and gave me another serving. I took it greedily and it was only in the coming weeks that I'd realised how grateful I should have been that she'd given me an extra serving. She could barely afford such desires as extra servings as it was. She was dirt poor. So when I started my new job the following day and got paid at the end of the week, I gave her what money I could afford to give her out of my wages. There wasn't much left for me, but I helped her while she helped me. That made me happy. She also gave me a nickname to call me by. 'Young One' she called me.

Author's note: Hey guys! Xmas tomorrow! Who else is hyped? Don't forget two more chapters tomorrow. Catch you all then.