Connor had not realized how much he had missed life in his village until Achilles had suggested he go and visit with them for a while. There had been a momentary lull in their battle with the Templars, and while Connor had been the first to suggest going out and rooting out leads, Achilles had other plans. He said he wanted some of the new recruits to get their feet wet, when it came to missions like this, and that Connor ought to take a month to himself, go back to his village, and relax. Connor had protested vehemently, of course, but as with all of their arguments, the old man had won in the end.

Connor had considered telling Achilles that he was going back to the village, when in reality he would ride to New York, but Achilles somehow preempted that, and had instructed the other recruits to inform him if Connor showed up there. The old man knew him better than he did. He wasn't sure why Achilles was so hell bent on him relaxing for a little while, though he had insisted it was because Connor had been running himself ragged lately and would end up killing himself just from exhaustion. Still, his anger and frustration at being kept from his work dissipated as the familiar sight of Kanatahséton came into view.

The second he dismounted his horse within the walls of the village, he might as well have been under attack. Kanen'tó:kon was the first on the scene. He had run out to meet him on the path to he village, and had barely been able to wait for Connor to get off the horse before grabbing his shoulders and bombarding him with questions.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! It has been so long, I have not seen you since that incident with Johnson."

Being around colonists and Englishmen so long, Connor had forgotten just how much he missed being able to speak in his native tongue. He nodded, and reached up, taking a hold on Kanen'tó:kon's arm. "Yes, it's been a while, my friend."

"You said you would visit, and yet I see nothing of you."

Connor frowned, and released his arm. "I am visiting now."

"It has been ten years now, hasn't it? Since you left the village? And you have visited us, three times, and once was to kill a man."

He felt his face turn bright red at the accusations, and his eyes turned away, almost as if he was ashamed. "I am sorry, Kanen'tó:kon. They weren't an easy ten years, if that makes it any better."

"It doesn't."

"I am here now."

"Maybe it isn't good enough?" The two stared at each other, for a few seconds. Connor felt the corners of his lips begin to twitch, but they continued to stare, dead serious for a few more minutes. Kanen'tó:kon broke first. He burst out laughing grabbing onto Connor's shoulders. Connor let himself laugh too, leaning on his friend as they embraced. Finally they pushed back, reeling their laughter in. Kanen'tó:kon looked him up and down, the smile not quite gone from his face. "Oh it is good to see you, Ratonhnhaké:ton!"

"You too." Connor wiped the corner of his mouth, his shoulders still lightly hitching with laughter.

"Come on, everything is just like you left it."

They had made their way back to the long house that Connor had lived in and called home, and Connor had found that indeed nothing had changed. He had wondered if as he grew it would cease to feel as big and frightening as it did when he was a child, but there was a similar feeling of loneliness and emptiness and just feeling so… small, that accompanied the long house. Everything else in the long house looked like it had been used and changed regularly, as he obviously hadn't been the only one living in it, but his corner was completely untouched. Of course his bed had been changed for his visit, but the rest of it was exactly as he had left it ten years ago. He sighed and shook his head looking back around, trying to find some sort of joy or comfort of being back here.

"Do you remember when we were children, Ratonhnhaké:ton," Kanen'tó:kon walked up behind him. "And in the middle of the night you would come and wake me up, and we would go and sleep down by the lake?"

Connor smiled looking back over at his friend. "Yeah… I did that quite a lot, didn't I?"

"Almost every night." He said. "You hated sleeping in here."

It was true. This had been the long house that he had moved into after his mother had died, once the village had been cleaned out and repaired. As a child, he had sat, huddled under the pelts of his bed, curled in on himself, refusing sleep. He knew that if he slept, he would have nightmares, and if he had nightmares, then he would wake up, and when he woke up… who would he call to? Who else did a frightened child call to in the middle of the night, if not their mother? No matter what, if he slept in the long house when he woke up, in the middle of the night or otherwise, he would always forget. He forgot, but only for a split second, that his mother was dead. He hated forgetting because he always had to remember eventually.

"You grew out of it, though." Kanen'tó:kon smiled, nudging him. "Good thing too. I thought we were going to get beaten if we wandered back into the village covered in sand one more time. They would always yell at us, remember?"

"And yet, you always went with me anyways."

"Well of course I did. You always got me into so much trouble."

"What?" Connor raised his eyebrow. "I did not."

"You did!" Kanen'tó:kon exclaimed, exasperatedly. "Every time we were told not to do something your first idea was to go out and do it!"

"That is not true."

"It is, and you are well aware." His friend folded his arms. "You always dragged me into your ridiculous adventures, and I always ended up paying the price. Do you remember the time it had rained so much the lake had risen?" He pointed off in the direction of the water. "The adults all told us, 'do not go near the lake'. So what did you decide we should do? Go out and try to jump across the rocks that were still above the water. In the rain. And do you remember what happened, Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

Connor thought about it for a minute before a smile crept across his lips. "You fell in."

"I fell in!" His friend raised his arms. "I nearly drowned because of you."

"I had forgotten about that…"

"And what about the time you decided he ought to go try and catch a fox? My face was so scratched, my own mother hardly recognized me."

Connor could not resist laughing. "You grabbed it by the tail."

"Which was YOUR idea!" He said, his pout becoming more pronounced. Connor only continued to laugh, holding a hand over his eyes as Kanen'tó:kon continued to look slightly put out. Finally though a smile cracked his friend's lips and he shook his head. "Alright, alright. It's funny now, but it was not back then. Now get changed and come with me. We are going to go see the clan mother and then we can catch up."


After several days of being back home, it had almost been as if he had never left. He really had missed how close his village was, and the sense of family he got from being with them. It was a similar feeling that he got from the residents of the Homestead, but there was something more nostalgic about being back in the village.

He and Kanen'tó:kon had been spending plenty of time together, relaxing and they had even gone out hunting together. In the years he had been gone, Kanen'tó:kon had become a skilled hunter, and fighter although as per usual Connor was leaps and bounds ahead of him. Although he gloated, jokingly, he was sincerely very proud to see how far his friend had come.

The two of them sat together in a circle around a communal fire out in the middle of the village. Snow was falling lightly, but staying close and the fire was enough to keep them warm. There were several elder men sitting on rocks a few steps away from the fire, beating on drums and chanting, and there were also several haunches of venison and elk roasting over the fire, mixed with herbs and spices. The smells and sounds of home.

As Connor readjusted his legs, turning around to get comfortable, a child ran up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and tugging. Connor looked over and smiled at the little girl, turning towards her. She was clutching something tightly in her hands, so he nodded to it. "What do you have there, little one?"

She slowly unfolded her hands revealing several feathers tied together with a length of leather string, and decorated with a few painted beads. Connor smiled and reached out, running his fingers on a few of the plumes.

"Did you make this?"

The girl nodded, flushing and looking extraordinarily proud of herself. Connor's smile grew a little wider and he pulled his hand back, pointing to his chest.

"For me?" Another nod, and he shook his head, looking over at Kanen'tó:kon who was chuckling between drinks of water from a small wooden cup. He looked back at the little girl and put a hand on her shoulder. "Well here, you help me put it in." He then reached back and pulled out the string that was tying his hair pack, and placed it in his lap. The girl bounded over behind him, and Connor held his hair in place while she tied it around his pony-tail. Once she finished he moved some of the feathers so they were visible. "How is it?" He asked as she moved back in font of him. The look of elation she gave him was enough of an answer, and she took off around the fire, to the arms of her father, pointing back and explaining her good deed.

Kanen'tó:kon reached over and took one of the feathers in his hands. "It looks good on you."

Connor smiled and leaned back on his knees, watching the fire flicker sending up white smoke into the noonday sky. Watching the little girl sit with her mother and father, stringing together more feathers and beads, reminded him of something. A question that had been on everyone's mind at the homestead, apparently. Was Connor ever going to get married and have children of his own? When asked, the answer seemed obvious, and he rattled it off without thinking now, having been asked so many times if there was a woman in his life. He was too busy to be a husband, or a father, and he would not be able to give them the attention they needed now.

However, in all honesty, he had his own questions. How did one go about being a husband and a father? What made a good man, or good parent? It wasn't as if he had a lot to go off of. Achilles had lost his son and wife to the fever, and while Connor looked up to him as a father and more, he knew actually being a father was different. He had come into Achilles' life as an angry over-eager teenager, who needed the discipline necessary to become an Assassin. He knew he and Achilles had a relationship very much akin to a father son relationship, but… It still wasn't enough to base his own fatherhood off of.

And it wasn't as if he could base it off his relationship with his father. He had only known Haytham a few months now, and their rapport had never made it out of the twisted stage. Connor had seen animals kill and eat their own young before, and yet, those animals would probably look at his relationship with Haytham and say 'that is messed up'.

Though, Connor was sure of one thing. He would like a family someday. How far away that 'someday was' no one could say, but he was certain it would happen. Once the threat to his people was ended. Once war and revolution wasn't hanging over every aspect of his life.

Before he could get any deeper into his train of thought, he heard a loud commotion coming from the entrance to the village. He sat up and saw two young men running towards the fire, looking panicked and disheveled. Connor looked over at Kanen'tó:kon and pushed himself into a standing position. The Clan Mother turned around as they reached the fire, leaning over breathing heavily.

"What is it, what has happened?" He asked, taking a step to the side around the fire.

"Red coats!" The pointed back the way they came. "We spotted them from the hill, there is an entire squad of them, going through the valley."

Panicked whispers began to spread through the villagers, and Connor's brow furrowed. He looked to the Clan Mother who gave him a worried glance. He then turned back to the two men. "Were they headed this way?"

"I am not sure…" One said, shaking his head.

"Alright." He raised his hands. "Do not panic, it could be they are lost or just passing through." He then turned back to the Clan Mother. "I will go out and see if I can tell where they are headed." Before she could protest, he raised a hand to silence her. "I will not do anything to endanger the village. I will keep my distance, and will only approach if they reveal themselves to be hostile towards us." The last thing they needed were more soldiers coming through, looking for revenge for their dead comrades.

The Clan Mother nodded, looking down. "Very well, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Kanen'tó:kon stood as well, taking a few steps forwards. "Let me come with you."

"No, Kanen'tó:kon. I will have a better chance of not being seen if I am by myself." He nodded at his friend with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Do not worry, I will be back. " He walked over to the two men, who looked to be a little younger than he was, and put a hand on one of their shoulders. "Where did you see them?"

"Not far from here. By the cliff face."

Connor nodded and took off. He made his way through the village and out into the valley beyond. He paused briefly scanning the surrounding woods, before spotting a tree with thick branches and bark knotted enough for him to climb. He ran at it, pushing himself up with sheer momentum before reaching and grabbing onto a stump of a branch and beginning to haul himself up the rest of the way. He swung himself over onto one of the thicker branches, and was running through the tree tops in no time at all. He was careful with his feet, not disturbing too much of the snow that had settled, but still moving at a quick pace. He leapt across one branch onto a hunting blind, and crouched down, as the sounds of drums filled his ears. He wasn't sure why British patrols insisted on carrying a drummer with them as if to say: 'Hey. Here we are. If you want to find us, follow the guy with the drums.' But then again he wasn't sure why the insisted on marching in straight lines either. He pulled himself off the hunting blind a little higher up into the tree, and clung to the edge, snow falling on the native clothing he now wore in lieu of his usual Assassin robes.

He looked down beyond the leaves and branches, and saw a group of soldiers trudging miserably through the snow. They did not have the look, or even the numbers, of a platoon looking for a battle, but rather the weathered tired look of those who had been traveling for days with no respite. Connor could hear a few of them grumbling, and propelled himself through the tree, onto a lower hanging branch, trying to catch any part of the conversation.

"This has got to be the most round about way of getting there."

"They said it would be quicker."

"Quicker my foot! We're freezing, and starving, and wandering through unfamiliar territory. We'll be lucky to reach the camp alive."

Connor felt himself relax, and leaned back in the tree. They were just passing through. To where, and why, he had no idea, and frankly it didn't feel too important. However, that was only how he felt until he saw the figure creeping through the bushes a few feet behind them. Connor steeled himself against the branch and watched as the red coats slowly began to make their way past him, and out of sight, while the figure stood up briefly and darted behind a tree. He frowned and swiftly and silently leapt across to the tree the strange man was hiding behind just in time to see him duck into a bush and the vague rustling of the foliage after that was the only clue Connor had as to where he was. He crouched onto a branch, and narrowed his eyes following with small steps along the edge of the branch. As the soldiers disappeared from view entirely, suddenly the figure stood up, brushing himself off.

Connor's eyes widened. "Father?!" He spoke only a little louder than he meant to. Haytham Kenway proceeded to brush the snow off his coat and look around, glancing at the tracks in the snow. He slowly began to follow along, and Connor bounded into the next tree, scrutinizing his father. What the hell was he doing here? Why was he tracking those soldiers? Well these were all answers Connor intended to get. Besides, getting the jump on his father from up in a tree would hold a certain amount of satisfaction. Pay back for what had happened back in that church. He followed along quietly, waiting for the opportunity to jump, when suddenly his father began to wander off to the left, very close to…

"Oh no." Connor perked up. "No, don't go that way… That's a…" An angry growl and a vicious snarl cut Connor off as he winced. "Bear's den."

He stood up and leapt across the trees, as his father let out a startled cry and the sounds of furious growls and roars began to fill the air. Connor pulled himself up along one of the branches and looked down just as the huge black bear, reared itself up onto two legs, swinging a might paw squarely across Haytham's jaw. The man fell backwards, and the bear was on him in a second. Connor winced at the sound of ripping flesh, and jumped from the fork in the tree he was standing on onto a branch only a few feet away from where the bear had begun violently tearing into his father's shoulder. He leapt from the branch, and landed with a thud in the snow, and was quick to pick himself back up.

A flick of his wrist coaxed the hidden blade from his sleeve, and he darted forwards. The bear looked up for a moment, its mouth bathed in blood, and with a growl it launched itself towards Connor. Connor reeled backwards, moving just out of the way of its strike, and as he twisted around, he stabbed downwards, his blade piercing the bear's shoulder. Of course that wasn't going to do much. The bear reoriented itself and turned around, lunging at him again, snapping its jaws at him. Connor ducked out of the way again, this time managing to get to the side of the bear, just enough to grab onto its fur and stab downwards. His blade plunged deep into the bear's flesh, just at the base of the skull, killing it instantly. He jerked the blade once, and pulled it out as it toppled to the ground. He briefly wiped the blade on the side of his thigh, and then retracted it back into his sleeve before looking over at where his father lay in the snow, which was slowly beginning to turn red. He rushed over and knelt by him, looking down at the tangled mess of cloth and flesh that his shoulder had become.

His father's eyes were closed, though his features were twisted in pain. Connor put a hand to his father's uninjured shoulder and shook. "Father?" Haytham did not answer, only turned his head and groaned at being shaken. Connor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He honestly had no idea what to do now. Should he get up, and leave his father here to die?

Well why not? What had the man ever done for him? They had worked together once, but that was not enough to merit such sentiment. He grimaced and looked down as more blood continued to leak out onto the snow. Could he do it? Could he just stand up and walk away?

No, he decided. No he absolutely could not. "Bear with this a moment, father." He grumbled, moving himself around to Haytham's other, uninjured side. "This is going to hurt."

He grabbed Haytham's arm and pulled, sliding a hand under his father's back pulling him up into a sitting position. Haytham let out a cry of pain, and twitched against the touch and it almost felt as though he was trying to pull away. Connor grabbed him around the waist and pulled him up harder.

"I know." He growled, frustrated. "Just hold on a while longer."

He pulled his father's hand around his shoulder, and pulled him up onto his back, hooking his hands under Haytham's legs. Haytham let out a strangled cry of pain, and then must have lost consciousness completely, as his head hit Connor's shoulder uselessly. Connor rolled his eyes and pulled him up further, and began to trudge back through the snow, towards his village. Outsiders were absolutely forbidden to set foot inside it, but it wasn't as if Connor had the time to take him to a town, or even the homestead. He grimaced, as he continued to trudge forwards until the village slowly came into view. He noticed several villagers standing outside, Kanen'tó:kon among them, obviously waiting for him to come back and give them the news.

Kanen'tó:kon spotted him first, and the look of worry and horror was not lost on Connor as he bolted forwards. "Ratonhnhaké:ton! What's going on? What happened?"

Connor shook his head. "Please, I need to tend to him."

"Tend to… what happened? Who is that?"

"Its important, Kanen'tó:kon. Please, I'll explain, just help me get him to the long house."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton… you can not bring him…"

"He's my father, Kanen'tó:kon."

Kanen'tó:kon's eyebrows shot up, almost to his hair line. "He is your…?" The question was suddenly forgotten as he walked around, grabbing Haytham by his unharmed shoulder and pulling him down, supporting him. Connor let go of his father's legs, and very carefully propped him up from the waist, careful not to disturb his injured arm. Kanen'tó:kon nodded inside. "Come on."

"Thank you…" Connor breathed, relaxing. He looked back at a few of the other villagers as they ran up to him. "There was a bear who attacked. I fought and killed it, but did not have time to take anything from it. It is back that way, by the cliff."

Hey. Waste not want not. He and Kanen'tó:kon pulled Haytham through the village, which earned them more than their fair share of stares, but Connor was more preoccupied with not dropping his father. They pulled him back to a largely unoccupied long house, or at least it was unoccupied the second they brought in a bleeding outsider. Connor helped Kanen'tó:kon lay Haytham down on a pile of pelts near the fire, and Connor dropped to his knees next to him, breathing heavily.

"I will get some bandages and something to clean it with." Kanen'tó:kon looked down at Haytham for a brief moment before taking off into the village.

Connor looked Haytham up and down. He reached across and grabbed the clasp that kept his father's cape around his neck, and began to fumble with it, before pulling it out from under him. He then looked down at his father's chest, and blinked. Leave it to the British to invent such complicated clothing. "How do you even…?" He grabbed one of the buttons and unfastened it, only to discover it wasn't actually attached to anything, and was just there for show. "Oh for the…" He sighed, resisting the urge to slap a hand over his eyes. "If you die because I cannot get your shirt off, then it will be your own damn fault."

After a few seconds of struggling, and seriously contemplating using his hidden blade to just cut the clothes off, he was finally able to pull the garment off. Only to discover his father wore at least two layers under that. How cold did these people get? Finally, though, after a lot of swearing, and a lot of struggle, all three layers that his father wore over his chest were gone. Just as he was sliding the bloodied clothes out from under his father's back, there was the sound of someone entering the long house. Connor looked back, and Kanen'tó:kon swept into the room holding a bundle of bandages and a large bowl of water.

"Thank you…" Connor tossed the bundle of bloodied clothes off to the side and took one of the clothes, dipped it in the water and then held it to his father's wound.

"The Clan Mother is not going to be happy, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"I know." Connor moved aside. "Here, hold that there for me, please." As soon as Kanen'tó:kon pressed his hands to his father's shoulder, Connor moved along to his father's side, and reached down and took his hand and pulled it up. He looked down at the bracer and very briefly ran a hand along the broken Assassin symbol that clipped the hidden blade to his arm. He turned his father's hand over and began to unstrap the blade from his arm, pulling it off and setting it aside.

"What are you doing?"

"It will likely make everyone less nervous, if he is not armed." Connor explained, before grabbing hold of the belt that held the sword and pistols to his father's waist and unfastening it and setting it aside.

"That is probably a good idea." His friend consented. "… Your father. How bizarre. What was he doing here?"

"I think he was tracking the soldiers." He looked up. "They weren't looking for us, by the way. Just passing through."

Kanen'tó:kon nodded and looked back down at Haytham. "I see where you get it now."

"Get what?"

"That scowl." Kanen'tó:kon smirked. "Look, he's making it now."

Connor reached over and lightly smacked his friend across the head. "Enough…" He muttered, which only caused Kanen'tó:kon to laugh. Connor set the weapons off to the side, and then moved back to take the cloth from his friend, and lifted it away from the wound. He sighed and put the cloth back. This was not going to be an easy task. He looked to Kanen'tó:kon who reached over and put a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly.

"I will help you, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"Thank you." Connor looked back and bit his lip. "For now, we should just focus on stopping the bleeding."


Several hours had passed, and at last, he and Kanen'tó:kon had successfully managed to clean the wound, and stop it from bleeding. They had bandaged it, and carefully cleaned the blood off of the area where he lay, and while they had been doing so, one of the men from the village came in with a bear pelt, presenting it to Connor. It had been his kill after all. Connor carefully lay it over his father, as Kanen'tó:kon collected all of Haytham's weapons and clothes. Connor turned and walked over. "I will take care of that." He held his arms out, and Kanen'tó:kon slowly relinquished the weapons, but not the jacket.

"I will see if we can clean some of the blood from these. Some of the women might want to help."

"Thank you, my friend." Connor spared his father a quick glance. The man showed no signs of waking, despite the pain that was still evident in his features. Connor turned around and followed Kanen'tó:kon out the door and then parted ways to make his way back to his own long house. He pushed the curtain aside with his shoulder, and walked over to his bed, before kneeling down and setting the weapons in a heap besides the pelts.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton."

The voice startled him, and he turned around to see the Clan Mother standing behind him. "Oiá:ner…" He stood up and turned around. "Please, allow me to explain…"

She held up a hand to silence him. "Kanen'tó:kon told me who he was."

Connors eyes shifted to the floor. "I am sorry for bringing him here. However I could not…"

"I understand." She said, quietly, looking him over. "But you must understand this. While he is here, he is your responsibility. And if he presents any danger to this land or our people… You must kill him, yourself."

Connor looked up, and then turned his head away, folding his hands in front of him, and cracking his knuckles nervously. "I understand. Thank you."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, you must be careful."

"I do not trust him, Oiá:ner. Nor do I even like him. However, he is my father. I couldn't just let him die out there."

"Do you think he would have done the same for you?"

Connor looked up at her, conflict on his face. He thought for a moment, recalling Haytham leaving him after he had saved him from Church's men. Well, Connor had let them get a few good hits in before he had rushed in but still. He lowered his head, and took another great interest with his fingers. "No… I do not think he would."

"Mercy is the mark of a great man, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not forget that."

With those words, she left. Connor stood there, staring at the weapons that had collected beside his bed, and sighed. He did not have time to think about things like this. Not now. He walked back outside, and made his way back towards the long house his father now lay in. He pushed the curtain aside, and walked in before sitting down in front of the fire, on the side opposite his father.

Haytham continued to sleep, his face had relaxed a bit more as if the pain had receded, but the occasional twitch his body gave off was enough to let Connor know he was still hurting quite a bit. Connor folded his knee to his chest and leaned his arm across it before resting his chin on his knee.

"Would you have saved me?" He muttered, obviously not really expecting a reply. "If it had been my life, would you have just left?" He frowned deeply, and buried his face deeper into his elbow. He watched his father's face a few more minutes, and he shifted in his spot on the floor. "I was scared." He whispered. "I was scared you would die, and I don't know why. Maybe because I think you can still change, or that maybe… I might be important enough for you to…" To what? Denounce the Templars? Reject Charles Lee? Connor groaned and dropped his forehead into the crook of his arm entirely, burying his face against his leg and chest. "I do not know why I am even talking to you when you cannot hear me." He muttered. "Maybe because in reality, I'm scared of what you would answer."

The sun had long since begun to set, and Connor was finally beginning to feel the exhaustion that the day had brought him. It had been a very long day, and he could feel himself very slowly dropping off to sleep. He turned on his side and lay down onto one of the spare pelts that lay on the floor. He turned onto his back and watched some of the snow float down from a few holes on the roof, and then finally, he closed his eyes and was able to sleep.


Days had passed, and Haytham not once showed any signs of waking up. Connor had not left his side the entire time, though he wasn't sure if it was sentiment that kept him there, or some sort of obligation to see it through to the end. No one had really bothered him, during the few days though Connor had a feeling it was more out of suspicion than it was out of reverence.

He had been rekindling the fire on the third day, stoking it with a stick, when the curtain had opened. Connor looked over and saw Kanen'tó:kon standing there, holding it open with a kind smile on his face. Connor sat up, and had been about to ask what brought him, when the curtain opened a little bit wider, and a small face appeared in the door way. The little girl from days before stood there, shuffling her feet back and forth, with about two other children behind her.

Connor smiled and pushed himself up before walking over and kneeling in front of them. "Yes?"

"Um… Ratonhnhaké:ton… we were wondering…" The little girl played with her fingers nervously, and Connor glanced up at Kanen'tó:kon who just smiled and shook his head.

"What is it, little one?"

"We were wondering, if you would play with us?"

Connor's smile fell. "Oh… I…"

Kanen'tó:kon put a hand on his shoulder. "You have been in here for days, my friend. Come outside for a little while. He will be find for a few minutes." He gestured past Connor towards Haytham. "You are not doing anyone any favors by staying locked away in there."

Connor sighed and looked down at the little girl, who continued to stare up at him with pleading eyes. The other children crowded around her, each giving him their best beseeching faces. Connor sighed and rubbed the back of his head, before letting his hands fall to his side in a consenting gesture. "Alright… I suppose it could not hurt."

The children all gave a cheer, and the little girl grabbed onto his arm, and began to pull him forwards out into the snow. He laughed a little bit, and shook his head as the other children gathered around him. He looked back at Kanen'tó:kon who just shrugged. "Have fun, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Where are you going?"

"Hunting." Kanen'tó:kon gave him a winking smile, and then turned to leave. Connor sighed and looked down at the children, who had gathered around him.

"Very well then, what shall we play?"

"We should pretend to be hunters!" One of the boys yelling, grabbing up a stick.

"Hunters?" Connor folded his arms and a sly grin passed over his face. "Well I'm not sure you can handle it."

"What? We can!" Another boy gasped, indignantly.

"Hm, no I don't think so."

"Why not?" The girl frowned, looking upset.

"Because you did not stop that wolf from getting into the village."

All the children turned around simultaneously, gasping. "What wolf?!" One of the boys cried taking a step backwards.

"This wolf." Connor reached down and grabbed him, picking him up. The boy shrieked suddenly, and the other children laughed, as Connor lifted him up over his head. In an instant they were all over him, jumping, and grabbing at him, trying to bring him down onto the ground. He laughed and grabbed at them, as they continued to tumble in the snow.

He wasn't quite sure how long he had been playing like that, but it all came to a grinding halt when one of the children reached up and grabbed his sleeve, and yanked on it as hard as he could. He stopped, as he had been reaching for one of the boys who was scampering away from him and looked over. The child was white as a sheet, and clinging to Connor's leg, and for a moment he wondered if a wolf actually had wandered into the village, going by the boy's expression. Finally the boy raised a hand, and pointed backwards.

Connor stood up and turned around, and as soon as he did, the smile was gone from his face. There, standing in the doorway with a bear pelt wrapped around his shoulders, was Haytham Kenway. He was looking stupefied, and very confused, and there was a great deal of blood seeping through the bandages around his shoulders. Their eyes met for a brief second, and father and son stared at one another. Haytham straightened himself up, and continued to match Connor's stare.

Connor would never in a million years, admit to himself, or to anyone else, just how relieved he felt at seeing his father standing upright, and looking very much alive.

He finally managed to tear his eyes away from his father, and looked down at the children around his feet. "Go on, now." He said, pointing off into the village again. "I'll come play with you again later."

The children were all too happy to comply, taking off running , leaving Connor to turn and look over at his father once again. He slowly managed to make his legs move him forwards and he walked up to his father, who was still standing there, looking anesthetized. For what felt like ages, his words failed him, but finally he was able to speak.

"You are awake." He had to quietly remind himself to speak English.

Haytham looked over, looking startled. "Am I? I thought perhaps I might be dreaming."

Connor felt himself smile, if only a little. He shook his head, and looked after the children and then back to this father. How was it that his father could wake up after having nearly been killed by a bear acting so shockingly cavalier? Though Connor supposed he should have expected it. His smile flickered for a moment, before leaving his face and he looked around. It was a strange, large, and even sometimes twisted family he had. But he found, more often than not, he wouldn't trade it for anything.


(Okay, so this one isn't so much a 'father son' drabble, but a 'son' drabble with momentary interruptions of 'father-ness'. It still counts, right? Right? I dunno. Maybe next time we'll see if Haytham would save his son if he had to.

Also, a lot of you really want me to write about Haytham giving Connor the talk. And believe me, I tried. I tried to write it. I really honest to god tried, but I just could not get it to be in character. I'll keep trying, but... we'll see how it goes.)