"Don't you think it's time for you and me to make some history? Tell me now what you say cause we can take anything. Just because we're growing up, it doesn't mean we've had enough; When times are hard we'll smile and say we're not afraid of anything (cause we feel young and wild)!" –Royal Teeth, "Wild"

-o-

"Go on. I can take it."

"We have been over this countless times. I am not going to hit you."

"Come on, this is the final test! Ally on ally, the two most skillful fighters east of the Mississippi, dueling one-on-one to the surrender! You usually have to pay for this kind of thing."

Jacqueline bounced eagerly on her toes, waving her fists. Officially out of her teens by a couple years, she was a grown woman. Dark hair contrasted a fair, pale face with light freckles of past summers, though it was tied back in her trademark braid that now reached to her lower back. Navy eyes glinted from lashes to match her hair. Where Connor was rugged, brutal, no-nonsense and powerful, she was fast and beautiful and precise, with perhaps too much showmanship but no less deadly than her fellow Assassin. They were a wolf and a fox, comrades in arms, and perfectly matched in skill.

"Are you afraid I'll win?" Jacqueline dared, and began ticking off requirements on her fingers. "No drawing serious blood. No killing, obviously. No serious injuries, like broken bones. No guns or arrows. First person pinned loses."

Connor scratched the back of his neck, like he was considering it. His features had grown from their smooth boyishness to a more rugged, handsome persona. His hair had also finally grown out, and he kept most of it back in a messy ponytail, excepting that one piece he had braided by his temple. "One fight, then."

"Ah!" Jacqueline laughed and picked up the straw dummy to move it out of the way. "Excellent! Your strength on my speed. This will be interesting. So, you stand at the edge of the circle, there—okay, good. Now I'll stand here."

At an equal distance they now stood, like a formal duel. Connor held out his hands. "Now?" He asked dryly.

"Shut up, I was getting to that. Now in three…two…one…go!"

The first steps were taken, and the fight not even begun, when Achilles called from the steps. "Spare a moment, you two?"

Jacqueline made a noise of exasperation, while Connor chuckled. She slapped his arm and they stepped over to join Achilles. He was holding an interesting contraption. It was a long length of rope, and tied to one end was a foot-long flint dagger. Connor weighed it experimentally in his hands and began whirling the end.

"What is it?" He asked.

"A Sheng Biao, or rope dart, if you prefer. One of the many plans given to us by Shao Jun to—"

Connor accidentally let go, and the swinging dagger slammed several inches into a wooden beam. Achilles levelled a chastising look at him. "Sorry."

"Oh, I am going to have so much fun with this." Jacqueline yanked the rope dart from the wall and wound it back up so it hung on her belt. Above them, someone knocked on the front door. "I'll get it."

She trotted upstairs and opened the door. Standing on the step was a man in full Native garb, complete with braided hair, feathers, woven clothes and a carved hatchet at his side. Her unease of strangers at the door took over, and she fell back a step.

"Good afternoon." He said, a little uncomfortably, as though he did not speak English often. "Does a man of my descent live here?"

"Uh…Connor?" Jacqueline called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes from him. "I think someone's here for you."

He was already there, and she quickly stepped aside. "Kanen'tó:kon?"

"Yes, my friend." The man nodded.

Connor stepped outside with a small grin, showing a rare flash of teeth. "What brings you here?" He grew more serious. "Is the village all right?"

"For now." Kanen'tö:kon said solemnly.

"What do you mean? What has happened?"

"Men came. Claiming we have to leave. They said that the land was being sold and that the Confederacy had consented. We sent an envoy, but they would not listen."

"You must refuse!" Connor exclaimed, with surprising vehemence.

"We cannot oppose the sachem. But you are right as well. We cannot give up our home."

"Do you have a name? Do you know who is responsible?"

"He is called William Johnson." The English name was awkward on Kanen'tó:kon's tongue.

"Where is Johnson now?" Connor growled, stepping forward.

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale."

"Sale?" Connor raised his voice. "This is theft!"

"Connor, take care. These men are powerful." Achilles had joined their group, leaning heavily on his cane in the doorway. Bisou nuzzled her nose past his leg, and then managed to squeeze her huge body out the doorway to sniff at Kanen'tó:kon's foot.

"What would you have me do?" He demanded. "I made a promise to my people!"

Achilles bowed his head and let out a long, tired sigh. "If you insist upon this course of action, seek out Sam Adams in Boston. He'll be able to help."

"I'll accompany you." Jacqueline added, with a pat to his shoulder. "You won't have to do this alone."

Connor nodded and held out his hand to Kanen'tó:kon, who handed over the hatchet at his belt. In one smooth movement, he swung the weapon out so it lodged deeply into one of the finely painted white columns on the porch. "What have you done?!" Achilles asked, almost tiredly.

"When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried in a post to signify its start." He explained. "When the threat is ended, the hatchet is removed."

Achilles sighed, fumbling for a proper response. "You could have used a tree!"

Connor paid little heed. He walked around the front of the house toward the stables. "We ride for Boston at once. Kanen'tó:kon, please look after the village until I am able to stop Johnson."

"Of course, my friend." He also replied in something long and intricate, clearly in their native language. Connor answered in kind, and his friend took his leave.

Jacqueline hopped the fence to the stables and stalked into the barn. She magnetised to Blanche, her white mare, and began saddling her. "We can reach Boston by nightfall if we ride hard. Will food be an issue?"

"No," Connor said shortly. His beige horse was already ready, and he gave its side a small pat. "I can hunt."

She pursed her lips. "I mean, do you have money?"

"Oh. No."

"Neither do I. Well, maybe a few pounds left over from that time during the Boston Massacre." She tied her quiver to Blanche's side; it was a lot easier to shoot on horseback that way. "Before we go, I need to grab some things."

She jogged back into the manor and up to her room, a saddlebag in one hand. Ransacking her own room, she stuffed a few pieces of parchment, a quill and inkwell, several oranges, and a spare knife that she'd stabbed into her bedside table to keep an old Queen of Hearts card pinned down. After a moment of consideration, she picked the card up and tucked it face out into the edge of her stocking, on the side of her thigh.

"Bye, Achilles!" She called, pattering down the stairs. It was exciting—real action! An adventure to save Connor's village!

"Be careful out there, girl." He warned, appearing next to the front door. "And keep an eye on Connor. He doesn't know with whom he's meddling. You must be his voice of reason."

"I will be. I promise." She assured him. "À bientôt." Her mentor gave her a weary smile, which she returned with a bright one of her own before dashing back outside. Connor was sitting in the saddle of his horse, holding the reins of hers. She took a running start and nearly leapt into the saddle.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, tugging the reins so Blanche wouldn't just dart off. "What about Bisou?"

"We cannot afford to take her with us." Connor said. He was clearly anxious to get on the road. The dog in question came trotting out of the house and looked up at Jacqueline in her saddle.

"Aw…all right." She said reluctantly, and reached down to scratch behind her ears. "Bye, girl." Bisou panted obliviously and whined a little in her throat.

Connor snapped the reins of his horse, and cantered off. Jacqueline gave a yell and spurred Blanche on, galloping after him. It was midmorning, and everything seemed extra bright and saturated with colour. The circumstances and reason for their leaving was grim and time sensitive, but it was invigorating to be on the road—to be doing something. Anything.

-o-

They didn't reach Boston by nightfall. Camp was made on the frontier, if it could be called a camp. It was just a tiny campfire they sat near before sleeping. Connor was obviously unhappy about it, but Jacqueline was in a very optimistic mood and adamantly refused to look on the down side.

"Think of it this way, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She said, stirring their little fire. "Johnson's preparations will take far longer than it will take us to reach the city."

"He should not have time to make any preparations at all." He said the word like it was a curse. "We could still ride through the night. Boston is not far."

"Do you want to get attacked by wolves?" She sighed, and decided to try and lighten the mood. "You still owe me a fight."

Connor was sitting with his knees up, arms crossed on top of them, and at her statement he rested his forehead on his arms with a sigh. "Now?"

"Why not now?"

He was trying to find a reason, but she could tell by his face that he couldn't think of a good one. She made a noise of victory and got to her feet. For the second time that day, they were facing off. "I want your best shot." Jacqueline said, unclipping her weapons belt.

"Very well." Connor took off his hidden blades and tossed them aside. "When—?"

The question was cut off when she dove forward and tackled him. He toppled back with a surprised "oof!" Before he could make a grab at her, she had rolled away and had fallen into a defensive pose. He swung at her, but she jumped back. For a minute or two they circled, ready to lash out or defend themselves if need be. Then she lunged at him, feigned left, but he intercepted her this time and threw her back. She somersaulted backwards, stopped and used the momentum to slam into him again. This pattern continued a few more times, until at last Connor made the offensive move.

In two large steps he was right by her, and his fist connected with her stomach. She was shocked; it was easy to forget that despite his size he was only slightly slower than her. The punch was drawn, obviously, or she would probably have had to deal with a broken rib or two. She bowed over with a huff, but she was able to block his next blow with her forearm and deal one of her own. It wasn't as strong, because unlike him she wasn't a solid wall of Native American muscle, but it was enough to give him pause while she crouched and pulled his feet out from under him.

Before she could pounce him, he caught her mid-air and threw her to the side. She rolled in the grass and fumbled to her feet. A wild grin was on her face, despite the new scratches, and she ran back at him, undeterred. He was purposely deflecting her, just pushing her away. That was fine by her; there was already going to be a bruise on her stomach from that punch. It was also a violent kind of fun: she would charge him, he would toss her away, it would repeat. She threw a few more punches, sharp and accurate, and flipped away before he could grab her. One landed on his jaw, and it hurt her hand more than it probably hurt him.

After what might have been half an hour, maybe more, they were both exhausted. They were each an immoveable object, and an unstoppable force. The fight deteriorated from their almost staged, harmless moves into formless scrabbling in an attempt to even land a hit on the other. Drenched in sweat and bruised from head to toe, they called a truce when Jacqueline shoved Connor into their campfire by accident and he subsequently threw her right over his shoulder and knocked the breath out of her.

"Enough!" She wheezed, trying to suck in a breath. "It's a tie. Enough."

Connor patted his feet off, where the fire had singed his boots, and promptly sat down. He wiped a hand across his forehead and pointed at her accusatorially. "This was your idea."

"Ouais, and it was fun." She said defensively, taking a few deep breaths. "We're both just too good." He only grinned briefly and nodded in response. She pushed a few sticks into the fire that had been partially stomped out and curled up by it. "We should sleep."