Hey guys!
Welcome to chapter 4 of Tides of a Revolution. I had some comments that my fanfic was a lot like the Last of Us (an awesome video game!). And even though it is a good game, and I got the idea of Olivia from it, I don't want to copy the game. I've tried to make it as different as possible, but let me know if it's still similar, and even leave a suggestion about how I could make it different!
Anyway, here it is, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

CHAPTER 4

~O~

The man and I run through the trees, my heart pounding. I honestly can't believe we survived that. My short legs struggle to keep up with the man, who is probably the tallest man I've ever met. His skin is dark, as is his hair. It's a little shorter than his shoulders, and half of it is tied back into a braid. My parents always taught me that it doesn't matter what colour your skin is, but other people have different views.

As the hour wears on, I begin to tire. The man looks as if he could run all night, but I'm only a child. I begin to slow slightly.

"Hey... can we stop?" I ask him, panting.

The man stops running and turns around. He appears to stop and think for a while, before nodding. "We cannot build a fire; it will be too easily seen."

"Fine." I say. I'm used to being cold.

The man sits down on a fallen log, and even though he shows no emotion, I'm guessing he's pretty broken up about that girl back in Boston.

"Where are your parents?" The man asks.

"They died." I say simply. It was years ago, and I was young. "What's your name?" I ask, changing the conversation.

"Connor." The man replies.

"Well, Connor... you know the way to New York?" I ask.

"Yes. I have one rule; do what I say, when I say. Do not ask why. Our survival may depend on it." Connor says.

"...Why did you even agree to this?" I ask.

"The people deserve freedom." Connor replies.

"But you could die! We could both die!" I exclaim.

Connor suddenly looks angry. He's a tall man, and with his dark skin and large muscles he scares me.

"Do you think me foolish? Or simple? I know we could die. But I am doing this for the people and for my wife! She is still stuck in Boston, under constant threat of death! So do not lecture me about risks; I know them better than you ever could." Connor says angrily.

"Did you know there are bandits? Raiders?" I ask angrily.

This takes him by surprise. "What do you mean? Everyone's in the cities."

"People escaped capture. They set out to survive in the wild. The soldiers pretend they don't exist so that people in the cities think there's no hope." I say.

"How do you know this?" Connor asks.

"I just know, okay?" I reply quickly. No need to tell him about my adventure a few months ago.

"We need to get some sleep." He says, still looking angry. "Come. We need to keep warm."

I look at him cautiously, warily.

"I will not hurt you. Come here." He repeats impatiently.

I approach him slowly as he brushes away the majority of the snow next to the log and lies down next to it. He lies down and faces the log, and I lie down next to him, facing out to the forest. I curl up slightly, and use my arm as a pillow.

~C~

I wake up to a throbbing in my head. For a moment I wonder what's happened. I sit up slowly, before noticing a note in my hand. I open it and immediately recognise Connor's handwriting.

Clara,
Please forgive me. I did not want to do what I did, but there was no other choice. I couldn't stand it if you were hurt because of me.
Please be safe. Do not do anything reckless. Keep your head. Do not come looking for us; you'll never find us and you'd only get shot.
I love you. Please, be safe. I am sorry.
Connor.

I stare at the note. That bastard!

I hear a knock on the door, and I stuff the note down one of my boots and stand upright just as a guard enters.

"Rich woman wanted you to 'ave this note. Count yerself lucky." He says, handing me a note. I take it from him and as soon as he leaves the room I open the note.

Clara,
This is your mother. I know all about your friend's little "adventure" last night. I wanted you to know that you'd be dead now if it weren't for me. Do not make me regret my decision.

My eyes widen as I read the note. My mother... has done me a favour. Why? What will she want in return? She'll definitely want something; that's the only thing I'm sure about.

I look down at myself. My jacket, grey and thick, with a hood sewn onto it, is crushed from my night of bad sleep. Beneath it, a simple white shirt offers little protection against the cold. The black stretchy pants I wear reveals my figure, a small trick designed by the Templars to itemize women. We don't wear skirts or dresses anymore, unless you're rich; we wear pants. I certainly don't complain, but others did. Before they were killed. Anyway, at least these pants are easy to move around in.

I look outside. I can see people flocking towards the direction of the market, and I know nothing good can come of this. I exit my house, feeling odd without Connor by my side. I follow the crowd to the market; but now it's not a market.

Gallows. That's what's replaced the stalls. The almost cheery atmosphere. The stallkeepers shouting at everyone to buy their products.

And standing on the gallows with a noose around his neck is none other than Samuel Adams.

I see him standing there, and everyone else just stares. No one tries to help; for that would mean death for them as well.

Suddenly, a man steps forwards. He is dressed in very rich clothes, and he carries himself with an important air. He raises his voice.

"Attention! Attention!" He calls loudly.

Everyone who wasn't already looking now turns to see the rich man.

"This man was found to be guilty conspiring against the Crown. He offers no reason why he would seek to destroy the very force that keep you all safe. He is a traitor to the city, his country, and the Crown!" Exclaims the rich man.

"It is you who is the traitor!" Sam calls bravely.

The whispering stops immediately. Everyone gapes, open mouthed, at the man who has dared to bad-mouth the crown. His bravery inspires me to do something as well.

I let out a long, loud, mournful whistle. Sam sees who does it, but doesn't look my way.

I hear a few people exclaim out as they are pushed aside by guards. My heart drums in fear as they approach me, but I keep my head to the front. I am seized by the guards, and they drag me out of the crowd. I let out half another whistle before one of the guards slams his fist into my stomach.

The people follow me and Sam's lead. One by one, tentative whistles are let out and everyone keeps their eyes on Sam. Inside, my emotions are a mixture of grief and pride. Outside, I am completely emotionless as I am dragged out of sight of the crowd. My last view of the crowd sees Sam going down. He meets his death.

I'm about to follow him.

The guards drag me to an alleyway, and they hold me against the wall. After months of hunger and not practicing my skills, I have no chance against them.

The guards pound me. My whole body hurts. It feels as though they've reduced me into the size of a child. When they're finished, they leave me in the alleyway. I have no strength left. I cannot move.

They have left me here to die.

I feel arms lifting me. They drag me away, to where I don't know. All I know is that surely it's the guards, come to finish me off.

So let me know how that chapter was! Let me know if it was still too much like the Last of Us, and I'll see you after 5 reviews