July 1775

"Thank you all," George Washington finished as I looked over at Ichabod Crane, the British turncoat, beside me.

"You should've stayed home, Miss Cabot," he whispered in my ear, his grip on my forearm tightening as I struggled to get away from him.

I yanked at my shackles, glaring at the man. "Traitor."

"Crane." Washington stated as the Continental Congress came to a close. "Why bring this girl here?"

I spat a mixture of spittle and blood at the Commander's feet, my face bloody from when I'd fought back against the Bluecoats coming to capture me.

"That is why," Crane sighed. "This girl, as you called her, is the most dangerous foe we have to face. She is a informant to King George herself and is the highest official in the British Army and Navy. Odd for a girl who just enrolled."

Washington barely had time to process his words before the man was pulled away by Sam Adams and his companion. The brown eyes of the hooded, white-clad man met my own hazel, and I glared at him as I blew bloody blonde bangs out of my face.

We locked gazes for a moment, our minds thinking each other the enemy. Assassin, I thought, just as I knew he was thinking, Templar.

I turned to the brunette Crane, who had started hauling me to my feet. "Why did you insist on bringing me here, Crane?"

His gray eyes met mine and he said, "To make you understand what you are trying to destroy," before tugging me along with him and onto the streets of Philadelphia. He earned odd looks as my bloody, bare feet and obvious captivity reached the eyes of the innocent, the dried blood being washed away in the pouring rain, which not only felt soothing but cold all at the same moment.

The brick streets were rough under my feet, and the clop of hooves made me wish I could mount a horse and flee. But I was hobbled, and I had no way of running.

Ichabod's black coat seemed to ward off the cold, wet rain, though his hair was just as soaked as mine, and he was the unlucky one who had it all in a ponytail at the base of his skull, causing all that water to drip down his back. As the brick streets gave way to dirt roads, then simply paths, and deeper into the woods we marched, the pine needles causing my feet to bleed once more.

He threw me to the ground, and I landed in the mud, cold, tired, and barely able to keep myself from shivering. I thought it was only sheer determination that kept me from quaking in my boots- or lack thereof.

He started unshackling me, kneeling at my feet as thunder rumbled above us from the dark gray clouds. I cast my eyes skyward. "It's best we get shelter soon."

"For you, yes," he said, finished unchaining my ankles. Before I could even attempt at running, he grabbed my ankles, looked me in the eye, and said, "There is a fort two miles to the north, allied with the British. You will go there, and I expect a report every fourth day containing movements of the army, supply amounts, and numbers. If you do not comply, I will have Connor hunt you down like the animal you are and behead you."

The way he said that made me not want to cross him, even though the anger did drip from his eyes rather than his voice. It seemed as if he didn't want to hurt me. He wanted the information I had access to.

I didn't know which was worse.

So I simply started at him, praying that the facts that I was cold, scared, and weak betray me. No where in what little training I had did this situation come into play. There were no codes, no rules, no ideals that I could fall back on. There was nothing to help me.

"I trust you will comply, Miss Cabot," he said, unshackling my wrists.

"I d-don't really have a c-choice, do I?" I said, my teeth chattering together.

"Not if you wish to live," he said sadly. "March."

I hobbled to my feet, hesitantly walking forward. I heard his pistol being loaded, and adrenaline shot through me. My feet moved faster until I was running at a full sprint, leaping over logs and streams with such ease I forgot what it felt like not to have over a hundred pounds of equipment on me.

Ichabod swore, chasing after me, his footfalls heavy on the forest floor. "Miss Cabot!"

I darted behind a tree, watching him thunder off before skidding to a halt, charging after me.

I couldn't move fast enough to keep him from capturing me, but at least I stopped him from running into me.

He grabbed my wrist, yanking me to him and grabbed me by the throat, pinning me to the tree. "I am growing tired of your constant foolishness, Miss Cabot," he said, growling.

"You can't hold me captive! You have no right," I choked out, managing to kick him away and breathe. Slowly, I realized, it wasn't the adrenaline from the chase that made my heart race; no, it was the intimidation and fear of the man standing a head-and-a-half taller than me, clearly willing to use force to make me do what he wants me to.

"Miss Cabot," he sighed, the fight clearly draining out of him. "You are the enemy and over the marrying age of eighteen."

I looked at the ground.

"You are not, are you?" he chuckled.

Slowly, I shook my head. "I'm sixteen."

"Miss Cabot!" he laughed, clapping me on the shoulder.

I fixed him a strange look. "What?"

"I thought you were forced into the Army," he laughed, his eyes twinkling.

"None can force General Keziah Cabot into service," I hissed, offended. "She makes choices of her own accord."

"I will escort you into the camp," Crane stated, now somber. He lead me onwards, and the walk was silent until we reached the gates.

"Who walks the path of the true?" A sentry called.

"That of the honest among liars," I stated, halting forty feet away.

"And how does the honest bring with her?"

"I am Lieutenant Ichabod Crane," Crane stated before I could cut him off.

"Crane you idiot," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The gates boomed open and I dropped to my knees, hands by my head. "Do it." I hissed at him. "They'll arrest you or worse."

He shot me a look. "Why on earth-"

And then shots rang out.

I sprang to my feet, running into the woods, tugging Crane with me.

"Miss Cabot!" He protested as I drew the sword at his left hip.

I bore it in my left hand, saying, "Run!"

"I think not."

"Crane!" I snarled, whirling to face him as the icy rain turned to snow. It's snowing in July? I questioned.

"Why?"

"Must you question everything?" I hissed. "Now go!"

Hesitantly, he shot one last, hopeless look at me, and fled.

Seconds later guards filled the wooded area where he had been, and I had turned to watch him go. One gently grabbed me, apologetically glacing over my body. "General, are you hurt?"

"Not any more than I have been in the past. Let's get out of this insane weather, shall we?"

He nodded, and they made a protective line around me. "And march!" I barked, and the drummer did his job.

My feet fell into step with the beat of the rolling drum, and I forgot the chaos of life. Just order remained.

If I only knew what I was about to enter...

1781, SLEEPY HOLLOW, NEW YORK

"General," Crane greeted me.

"Crane." I responded, my black cloak over my bright red British uniform.

"Good to see you're still honoring our agreement." He stated.

I shot him a glare. It wasn't a good idea to bring up my recent doubts about this trade of information. "The Hessians will come in waves. Be wary of the one branded with a bow."

"He is here?" Crane demanded, his black coat covering his blue shirt.

"Afraid so," I said, looking around. "I am glad this war is almost over."

"I pray it is not." A new voice said.

I spun to face Connor, my old friend.

"Connor. I was only hoping to see you on the battlefield."

"As was I."

Crane gulped, clearly seeing the tensions rise and the two of us stepped closer, narrowing our eyes.

"I still haven't forgiven you, you know," I said. "Father was my world. All he wanted was the truth in the world."

"He tried to kill me!" Connor growled. "I wanted to kill him as much as you did, Keziah, and therefore I must say your accusations are invalid."

"Stop acting like the king, Connor," I hissed, getting in his face. "You may have been his heir but I was his favorite."

"Miss Cabot," Ichabod coughed.

"One moment, Ichabod," I said, then hissed at Connor. "I will see you on the battlefield, Assassin. If we both live, it will be a miracle."

I walked away, Connor's brown eyes smoldering in anger. I stripped off my cloak, tossing it in the bushes.

"General Cabot," my lieutenant said, "Orders are to strike at dawn."

"Follow through," I stated as we walked into the camp.

She nodded, and ran off into the camp to spread the word.