"When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."

Mae West

Returning home took a bit of work since the storm nearly wiped the entire crew, but it wasn't the only thing rattling the nerves of the remaining crewmen. Upon Eleanor Mallow's body laid a letter from Haytham Kenway, addressing an order to root out the Commander in Chief and have him killed. Washington was still in danger… They had to go back to the north with haste, but the observers weren't too worried. They believed the Assassin would destroy the Templar order since he was determined enough. However, he believed his determination was barely sufficient. That was just one issue. The novice snubbed to speak to her blonde accomplice ever since they rescued her. She didn't feel sorry for nearly biting her whole finger-nail off. In fact, she wished she did after not being defended. Maybe staying in the 18th century this long wasn't too bad; she was starting to see who her true friends out here were. What's more is the part of the curse where she would revert to a fowl. Tsipporah bit at her wings, frantic at how long she was going to stay like this. The two were up fighting it out. The rest of the crew was a little frightened at the girl's anger towards her 'friend'.

"Come on, babe, speak to me," Angie pleaded.

"[…]"

"Please?"

"[…]"

"You know having a relationship was a bad idea anyway…"

"[Stop trying to reason with me already, you whore! I have talons now. I can fuck up your face if you keep trying to talk to me!]"

"Sipsy—AUGH! Okay! Okay!" the cursed novice swooped into her face with the intention of clawing out her eyes. "At least you know how it felt, right?!"

"[I'M GONNA GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!]"

"I didn't tell you to listen to me anyway! Why are you mad at me?!"

"[You gave Connor a condom! You think you had no part in this?!]"

She kept her talons fixated on the objective of bloodying Angie's face until she would properly apologize. Everything was fine for them to just keep to friendship; maybe even just romantic love, but no, they had to step right out of bounds and listen to the dumb blonde just this once. Now she and her man were cursed by the First Civilization for acting upon such sinful impulses. Why not Angie? She is the Eyes of Aphrodite, so why did she not receive punishment as well? Every opportunity that lay before her she's taken advantage—never was she ever cursed to sentence to the stripping of her powers. This wasn't fair at all. The novice couldn't help but unleash all her pent up aggression. Nothing about this trip to save the world was magical at all even though it was wartime. In fact, it made her want to forget all of this.

Connor sighed and requested for his first mate to take the wheel for a moment. As he did, the captain walked up to the two bickering women—well, woman and fowl. He managed to reach for her neck and pull her back, apologizing for treating her roughly, but he had no choice. The novice began to quiet down and resorted to latching onto his forearm. She shrugged her shoulders and glared at her ex-friend. The captain would not let this go on.

"You both cannot continue like this. I only ask that whatever problems you have with each other, you will solve them like the adults that you are."

"[Hmph…]"

"But I want to apologize, Connor. She won't listen to me…" Angie sniffed and folded her hands. The novice could take no more of this. Why should she accept a 'sorry' from someone who pushed them off the cliff in the first place? "I can't do anything to change our leader's mind, but I can't let you guys go off alone…"

"Will you not hear what she has to say, Tsipporah?"

"[Motherfucker, hell no. I'm not mad at the fact that we laid down, no; I'm mad that she encouraged me to do it and you, and now that we did it together as a loving couple would, the bitch goes ahead and snitches on us like we did something wrong. You whore, I followed your advice! …The one time I listen to you and you… you just…]" She wanted to cry. She regrets nothing of what's been done. She cannot change the past and will never do so, but the one time she's truly loved someone—her girl-friend did not defend them at all. Suppose this was one of the things amongst many emotions that reside in war—betrayal. "[Nothing is going to make me change my mind, though. You're still my friend, but a very unreliable one when shit gets real. I'll keep watch from the crow's nest if that's okay, captain?]" He nodded and she took off to the peak of the ship until she could perch onto the nest's post to oversee everything. Down below, a distressed Angie stood. She pinched her forehead in her hands, wondering how she was going to make up for all of this.

"She is stubborn to a fault, but she will forgive you." Connor patted her shoulder reassuringly and the blonde gave an incredulous look.

"What makes you so sure?" she choked.

"You have said this yourself. She treasures her friends dearly. She will not be rid of you so easily."

"Right…" she jerked and remembered to ask, so she leaned forward and whispered, "Did you two like your first night together?" Connor stepped back and glared at her. As much as this woman helped him out in trying to get the novice near him, he felt that that sort of information was too private to disclose. "Come on, at least tell me!" she hissed excitedly. He should keep this brief for he didn't want to keep Faulkner waiting.

"I will speak of it when we are back in Homestead, but until then, you must mend the severed ties with Tsipporah. You've known her for years. Surely, this feud will not last long." Angie wanted to laugh. Was he really this naïve? Maybe he didn't know how some Haitians work. If there's anything she's learned of her friend's culture is that the people are very stubborn and full of pride. It wasn't just Juno that set her friend back on revealing her true feelings for him; it was personal pride. Whether or not she was shielding herself in the beginning, admitting some personal touches would be out of character as a Caribbean girl. The blonde went back to work about the Aquilla, mostly on standby whenever the captain needed the sails to be adjusted. Night still painted the sky, yet the blue gradually appeared. The stars were still out, too. At least, in the novice's eyes, there was no British flag on the horizon.

….

At some point, the novice felt herself tired and fell asleep, cuddling into her own feathers. The feeling was nice. To be able to curl one's self in for warmth was heavenly. Such a feeling brought about pleasant dreams within her of the times she was here earlier. The days of training and the days of old…

"Don't be mad at Achilles, man," the Goth tried to coax the native boy into calmness, "He made sure that you were learning on the job. What's wrong with a little sink or swim?"

"Do not play games with me, Tsipporah, nor should you defend the old man! You nearly died back in Boston, losing so much blood!" Young Connor paced back and forth angrily in the dining room as he recalled the events that took place only a few days ago. The old man kept him training nearly hour every of the day. The only breaks he was given was when he ate, slept, or had to study on the history of the world as well as the Templars. He was about to go to his room until he heard his friend fall over in the study, spilling ink everywhere. He was confused as to why she would walk on such a severe injury. Her calf was split open and it almost took Surry half the night to stitch it up neatly. She wanted to write or draw, she said. Without them both, she would implode and would truly be in pain.

"Stop being such a girl, man," she punched his arm assertively, "That's another reason why the dude's training you: to stop being such a pussy. There can't be two pussies in one household. 'Course, I metaphorically have a penis, which makes you a woman." She ended her phrase with a trolling smile—a look that Connor has grown to hate since she first appeared before him. Although, it was her tough persona that's made him not fret over her well-being as much. She is tough or at least tries to be. It was a part of her that he sort of admired. Not many girls or women are like that in his village. Sure he's had a share of tough-skinned women caring for him, but this one was strange. Her inquisitiveness about her surroundings set them both in the same box. She, too, was looking at him the same way. His clothing didn't exactly embrace his body and often wondered… no. She's seen him without his top before, but never acknowledged it. She didn't take the time to search his body with her eyes—why is she thinking so hard about this?! At that moment, the teen realized that she was gazing into his eyes and he locked into her stare, walking closer to her. Quick, say something inappropriate. Fart? Burp loudly? Blurt out "penis"?

"Why do you stare?" he whispered as he was almost inches away from her face, "You are the strange one here."

"You're the one coming all up in my personal space," she furrowed her brows—rather thick, too, but shapely. Never wore any make-up or tried to fit in at all either, claiming it to be overrated and a waste of time. He wasn't the only one to think she was unordinary. "Maybe you should worry about getting back to reading before the old man kicks my ass." She shoved a book onto his chest, but it didn't faze or move him. He kept looking at her. Narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to see something in her, but couldn't. It's been bothering him ever since he met her in the forest. Why was she so familiar? Unconsciously, he took her cheek into his palm, stroking the plump skin under his thumb. Euphoria washed over him while she froze in her place, bewildered and confused. Tsipporah was told that natives were very social and interact very closely, but she was a complete sociopath most of the time. These were one of those times.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, withering in his touch.

"My mother. The day you I found you in the forest was the day my mother passed."

"I know she must be proud for you to be doing all this training to protect your people."

"If only I could have protected her then. I wasn't strong enough then and I will not let such a thing happen again, yet… it did with you. Had Samuel Adams not appear you would have bled to death… and I could have done nothing but watch." She took him by the shoulders and shook the hell out of him.

"And I could've let you die to save my own life, Connor, but I'm not that kind of pussy. You are alive and the only thing you can do is make the most of it. I'm surprised that I didn't die, shit."

"Yes," he caressed her cheek, "I am glad you have not perished. Even though I was not so kind in the beginning, you still wanted to form a truce with me. I respect that." There was a light in his eyes as he looked at her. It was friendly and nostalgic. He was grateful that she defended him despite bearing ill-will towards her. In years, he has never met such an outsider who would go so far for him. His mother did tell him once that his special friends will not just be of native descent, but something more. As her body steadily burned, she took his hand in hers and handed him a special keepsake. He remembered it from days before when he asked of it. She claimed it to belong to someone he will meet later in his life. Her passing was untimely and decided that now was the time to give it to him—to return it to the person that gave her the gift. The Goth wanted to back away from his teasing hand.

She wasn't too keen on getting all touchy-feely with boys; not that she was leaning into the opposite like her blonde friend at home was. They didn't know each other for so long and… his hands felt amazingly smooth. Her mind pleaded for them to pass through her hair once more—to explore her locks as much as he pleased. He took his hand back for a moment to pull something from his side pouch. The teen came back to reality when she saw him pull away. In his hand was a small carving two figures with a crown engraved into them.

"What is that…?" she felt like she knew the answer to her question, "I think I've seen this before…"

"My mother told me that a spirited girl gave her this, praying that my father would return to her. She said it was a love-charm or something like that."

"Love charm…" it sounded too familiar. She made a lot of those when she was five, before heading to America by government aid. All in her childhood, she would make charms for the divorced, the separated, and they would work. People would find their true love with these. Funny how she was receiving this from… Connor. "That's weird. I used to make these when I was a kid. It sure looks familiar—"

"And just when were planning to clean all of this?" Achilles entered the room and the two adolescents stiffened, waiting for death. "Connor, return to your studies."

"Yes, master." He immediately left the room and went towards the basement to retrieve his books. The Goth swung her feet innocently in her seat. There was nothing she could say that would take her out of trouble this time. The old man's eyes narrowed and readied his cane.

"I see you had enough energy to walk all the way downstairs. Perhaps that energy can be used for something more useful."

"Okwhateveryouwant." She jittered, not liking how he raised his cane at her.

"I told you before that I will not tolerate any more of your shenanigans. On your feet." She stood up the best she could, feeling some pain travel up and down her leg already. Her eyes closed, waiting for the blows to come. The one thing that reminded her of home just had to be the spankings…

THUD.

Practically, the whole ship ran onto the top deck hearing a strange bang. Sounded like a body falling on deck. The captain was already on it as he was at the wheel, commanding the men to weigh anchor. He leapt over the railing to find the source of the noise… surprised to see what it was. The toned figure shook her unruly curls and cracked her neck. Blinking, she yawned and rubbed her eyes, and stopped for moment. Hands… fingers… smooth skin… hair… oh, shit. Connor didn't expect this outcome.

"You're—"

"Human!" Angie pointed and the novice stood on her legs, squealing. But how did this happen?

"What the hell? How am I human again?"

"You're not even gonna celebrate that you're human again?"

"Nope. This is too unexpected and my hair is still white. What if I turn again?"

"Babe, you sound like you might turn into a werewolf."

"Are you ladies done talking? We need to head home," the captain broke them up, "We will seek out answers once we return home."

Even returning home brought them no peace; not that they expected any different. The young Assassin could not be swayed by the old man's words of telling Washington the schemes that unfolded between the Assassin Brotherhood and the Templar Order. The two observers didn't want any part in it. They've gotten so used to their bickering the months after that they had to find other ways to amuse themselves. In the following time, the novice found herself turning every night, soon realizing that fowl-form was nocturnal. Upon visiting Clan Mother for advice, she learned that this form was bestowed on her by her mentor—Ziio. Of course. It explains why her hair changed, but there was another problem still—Juno… just as Connor and Achilles were fighting, as did she and her own friend. However, the blonde had tried every second of the day to muster proper words of apology only for the other to not accept. At the Davenport manor, Tsipporah kept herself in her room one afternoon as she overheard Godfrey and Terry throwing fits as always. Since this timeline barely had any cable, their noise would suffice. Every now and then, she peeked out the window.

"Come on, babe! How long are you going to stay out there? It's a beautiful day!" Damn, that blonde doesn't give up. The novice let out a frustrated grunt and rolled in her bed. Perhaps she's gotten too comfortable living in the 18th century for so long. What was she now? Oh, yeah… twenty-three.

"I wonder what I could have ended up doing had I not get mixed up in all of this…"

"Babe!"

"It's fucking cold outside, you frostbiting-whore!" she instantly reacted. She didn't want anything more to do with her. Sure, they could be comrades in arms; allies even. They can't be friends after all they've been through for several reasons—this war, for one. It struck some cords into her that perhaps being in any relationship with Connor at this point would prove a danger to everyone. She already had him knee deep trouble with Juno. Juno… she's been pestering her since the start of this trip. When the novice thought this trip to another time would be adventurous and fulfilling, she ended up as the errand-boy of the spirits—much less the old man. To add salt to her wounds was that she wasn't allowed to feel anything with the assassin—fuck that. If feeling was forbidden, they shouldn't have chosen a human for this job. The first person outside her circle she told was her own father. The only thing that fazed him about the whole thing was that his own daughter was crushing on a Mohawk Native-American fresh from the forest. At least, with him, everything remained the same.

"No, you don't understand! Someone is here asking about you!" The novice kicked her door open. "Aw, babe, don't make that face. Connor's down again. Maybe you should go hunt with him."

"He and the old man fight every day now. I don't want to get involved."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"What, bitch? I like to stay as neutral in this as much as humanly possible."

"Fine, Sipsy. Stay in that room for all I care! I don't need you!" she jumped the railing of the stairs to the sitting room, finding the assassin there. How ironic because there was something she wanted to ask him, anyway. Perhaps now was a bad time. He was writing in his journal furiously, nearly slashing the pages with a quill in hand. Then again, he was trained to make anything into a weapon. She knocked the archway before entering, letting him know that she was there. Of course he knew who was there, however. She always smelled of some floral aroma. The scribbling of the quill ceased as she came beside him, peering over his shoulder and he promptly shut his private book.

"What do you want?" he growled, making no eye contact.

"Nothing in particular, but since you asked—"

"I am sorry, but I am in no mood for conversing, Emily. I wish to be alone."

"Not with Sipsy, at least? She's been in her room for a while… because of me." He finally looked to her, but with a hint of pity. The blonde stood aside, allowing her childhood friend to face the wrath of the white spirit. She felt responsible, thinking that putting them together like this would bear no consequence. "I mean, when I think about it, our fights are kind of like Godfrey and Terry. Only now, I don't think she'll ever forgive me. I know I said some shit about her being forgiving and all, but… Connor, you gotta understand. Her grudges run deep once they start." And it was true. Once the novice begun to hate, there was no stopping in her. The blonde bit at her nails, waiting for the young man to answer her, but the sounding of footsteps traveling down the stairs had their attention. At the end of the steps was a sour-faced observer, huffing and coming into the room.

"What're you two talking about?" she sassed, "I know it's nothing important; that's for sure." Connor stood, somewhat taking this as an offense. "What?"

"Is your friendship with her not important?" he waved his hand over Angie, "You need to mend this, Tsipporah. You cannot continue divided like this!"

"Then tell me, babe. Did your friend ever try to pressure you into something so risky only to find out that in the end that it would get you punished?" He narrowed his eyes. "Well?"

"No."

"See what I mean—"

"Because it was my doing. I led us to the outer reaches out Mohawk Valley, knowing the consequences." Both girls stilled their breaths, unsure of what to make of this. They knew their boss was rebellious, but to be so evasive of the rules. Guess they didn't know him as well as they thought they did. The girls looked to each other and back to the assassin with faces beckoning him to explain himself.

"You know of this," he pointed to Tsipporah, "It was the day we met that I taught the way of hunting to my friend, Kanen'tó:kon. The day before, I had convinced Kateri to try to get closer to him." The novice thought over how they all met and connected the dots. Son of a bitch…

"Where you find found me… was a restricted area. And Kateri kissing Kanen'tó:kon…"

"Yes."

"And here I thought you were a bit cold down south and lukewarm up north." It was a term only Angie understood amongst others from school. The blonde immediately laughed at the reference, recalling how they used it as a term for boys who had problems getting intimate for several reasons. They described Marie Antoinette's husband as such since it took over seven years for them to consummate their marriage. The thought had them wonder for a second what they were doing right about now. Connor gave a livid smirk, annoyed by the comment. Guess he knew what it meant…

"But they weren't cursed."

"No, but my cousin's mother was furious. She threatened to kill Kanen'tó:kon should she find them together again. They would not listen."

"How romantic…" she noted sarcastically, "And they weren't scared?"

"Of course not. We've dealt with much more dangerous things; not just Aghanashimi. They were not afraid and neither am I. To have you beside me is an honor. If I'm to be cursed for pressing further, then so be it. Better I cursed in your affections than to be free in solitude." Whoa, wait.

"What the fuck, man?" she threw her arms up. Angie wasn't sure if she should stick around anymore. "You cannot be serious about that. Isn't freedom what you want for yourself and everybody else?"

"Of course I do," he walked to her until he was only a few feet away of her personal space, "Or did you forget that night in the deepest part of the forest?" Angie rolled onto the floor holding her chest, stifling a fit of laughter. The novice's eye twitched—not out of annoyance, but remembering clearly how that night escalated quickly. It was a night she would never regret. Ever. However, for it to be rubbed in her face about it, didn't make her feel so proud about it. Is this how her friend felt every time she called her a "whore"?

"That was the night I felt that I had obtained more freedom with you. I did not expect acceptance from it and I know you did either. I will not apologize for my actions and neither should you or Miss Burke." A weight was somehow lifted from Angie's shoulders about this whole argument as she lay on the floor, eventually getting back on her feet. She was too afraid to take a breath as she looked to the novice who wore a contemplating expression. He knew they'd all be in trouble if he'd pursue any personal goals. Not that he was afraid, but thought there were other things that required his full attention. Ever since they met, all of his cogitating was still focused on avenging his mother and protecting the innocent. The novice told him once that revenge was not the answer whether Charles Lee was his target or not—revenge would destroy him. All of those thoughts came flooding back the moment they came together. Tsipporah wasn't too sure on what to say to that. She brushed her fingertips at her lips before looking to her friend. Of course trouble would follow. All this time she was afraid to say anything for a long time. A rueful smile formed on her face.

"You knew all of this would happen and you were sorry even before you said anything, weren't you Angie?" The blonde looked away, cheeks blushing and ready for tears. "You knew I was scared this whole time and pushed me into it? Why?"

"Because you're my best friend and you deserve better!" she took the novice by her shoulders and looked her in the eye with her own streaming with tears, "You always talked about going on an adventure one day, painting the town in bright colors, and finding true love to ride off into the sunset with—what happened to that girl who saved me from myself back home, huh? You know, the girl who stopped me from undoing the strapping on my seat when we rode the rollercoaster at the Youth Fair?"

"I never recovered from that, you bitch! Ever since then, I had panic attacks on and off, and nothing seemed right anymore. People thought I was the suicidal one because of you. Because of you!"

"That was something you did on your own because you believed that I was something more than just some guy's douche-bag. Now all of a sudden because of one act of bravery, you stopped acting like the girl I met and I need her back—you need her back."

"And why should I listen to anything you have to say about how I was before, huh?! Everything that I was back then pissed off everyone—"

"And made them trust in you. Sipsy… I've never seen you as happy as you were back then… than when you talked about Connor here. And I thought that once you came back to the 18th century you would tell him straight up whether he would accept you or not, but you didn't. So I pushed you." The novice choked and her ears were ringing. "Babe, I knew something bad was going to happen… I just—I wanted you to stop being afraid to go forward and fuck Juno. She can kiss my ass if she thinks she's gonna curse my best friend and the person she loves and—"

"Angie," she snapped, "I get it. Now stop trying to apologize when you shouldn't." The blonde relaxed her hands and let them fall from the novice's shoulders. "You keep this up and I'll have to go to jail for smackin' ho's." Angie chucked a laugh. "And shouldn't you be spooning with your man? Where's Fillan? I know he's missing that ass." The blonde wrapped her arms around her, crying into her neck. Tsipporah patted her back, uncertain of how she should calm her down. She was never good at these sorts of things. It was never her specialty. The assassin crossed his arms, glad that they were able to rekindle. He had to stay in case one of them decided to dart off, leaving the entire quarrel unresolved.

"Can I assume that all is well now?" he interrupted and the two looked at him.

"Yeah," the novice answered, "Thank you… Ratonhnhaké ton."

"Are you sure he's not doing all this to get in your pants again?"

"I gonna go back to jail. I'm gonna go back to jail because you, bitch." The assassin shook his head, seeing that the girls were back to being their usual selves. He saw it fitting that he would leave them alone, so he exited the room. His partner stopped him, putting herself into the entrance. "And where are you going?"

"To cease the fighting of Godfrey and Terry. They've been arguing for some time now and it must end."

"I'm more worried about you and the old man. Why don't you guys make up?"

"Because his naïveté will be the death of him," Achilles replied, scoffing, "Even your own observer believes it as well."

"Whoa!" she raised her hands in defense, "Don't drag me into this fight. I just made up with Angie here." Well, looking out for Connor is her responsibility, but she wanted no part in this fight. All the fighting wore her out at the end of each week and long travels tore at her muscles. More of this madness and she'll be riddled with twice the scars than she received leaving home. No way was she getting involved in two old guys jabbing. Then again… Connor sent her a questioning gaze. She chewed her lips into a thin line, twiddling her fingers with guilt. "Look…" she tried, "I have said this shit a lot of times. Not that I'm agreeing with the Templars here, but their vision of the world is just—"

"Wrong, Tsipporah," he didn't let her finish. He had no intention of doing so.

"Connor… babe… let me speak. Besides, I don't agree with taking away free will either—it's horrendous, inhumane—but if there's something… never mind. You'll kill me if I say it." Angie saw the look on her companion's face. She did this with dancers back in high school before belittling them on occasion. Not to hurt their feelings, but to be real about how they go about their situations. If she was going to defend her comrade; it'd be now. He'd probably curb stomp her mentally because he's still above putting his hands on a woman; much less one that he cared about so much. She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her honesty wouldn't raise bullets.

"Well, speak. You have my permission."

"If there's anything the Templars are right about, it's that you're a bit—nope," her bluntness was showing, "Yeah, man, you're such a kid at heart. I mean 'all strings should be broken, all should be free', really? You're not the first idealist who thought that and tried so hard to achieve it. That's the most childish notion I've ever heard of and I'm from the 21st century." She should shoot herself in the foot right about now. The old man was ready to laugh his ass off now that he was seeing the rational form of his partner, but she was still talking. "Although, calling you 'hero' was a bit of a childish notion, too, and I still believe in it. I was hoping we'd never have to tell or exploit the Brotherhood's secrets. And I can care less what those of the First Civilization have to say about it. You are my boss. Why listen to a bunch of dead guys anyway? I've already broken so many rules waltzing around with you. I can't see why warning Washington would be a big deal." She turned her face away with a smug look as Achilles gave a look of disapproval. The assassin was smiling inside.

"Fools. The lot of you," he gestured with his cane and turned away, "Do not expect any good to come out of this. To think that your own observer has been dragged into your foolhardiness and knows what to expect of it."

Oh God, what has she done? Is her mind completely gone now? What was she thinking? She knew very well that this was a dumb idea, but wouldn't go against. Of course she outwardly said it was a stupid path to follow and she's broken many rules in the spiritual realm, but this is reality. What does it matter anyway? She's disappointed many others before. At least this time, it's for something done right. Would something of this delicate matter alter time in some way, thought? The questions lingered in her thoughts.

"Interesting that you still think me childish," he glared, "and to be agreement of the enemy."

"Hey, I can't just agree with you all the time. You think I'm that easy now? What, because we had sex or because I said I loved you—Oh, so you're just gonna walk away while a nigga talkin'?" she started getting passionate with her speech and Connor turned to the door. He could simply tell her to be quiet, but that would ignite the debate even more.

"This conversation is over," he said over his shoulder, "We will warn Washington of the Templars' plot."

"We?!"

"Looks like you're not getting' any lemons anytime soon, huh, babe?"

"Angie, shut the fuck up."

….

Just when a few friendships were mended, twice more were others broken. Though they kept their affections under wraps for the sake of the revolution, the assassin and the observer kept a distance from each other while the student and the mentor argued every day. She would say a few words to him, but he barely replied back. He would greet her in the morning and at night, but that's all he ever would say. It was starting to rip a gaping hole inside her. Maybe she shouldn't have said the things she said the year before. So much time has passed since then. What brought them even further was the fire that broke out in Boston. Many were killed and the Templars were suspected of starting the fire. It was the perfect plan to raze the city. The wind from the seas caused the flames to travel even over the Hudson River and the recruits did all they could to prevent the flames from spreading as well as evacuating the residents. It was a busy night, but what's worse is that Alice decided to tag along, secretly and that did not end well…

The cause of the fire had the citizens conflicted and the British bewildered. Somehow, all of it pointed to Washington and his 'soldiers'. Connor did not believe it. It was obviously another plot to pin the blame on the Commander in Chief so that the people would doubt and disfavor him. What the observers didn't expect of this was the extremity their enemy was willing to take. Well, except for the Boston Massacre. A surprise that was…

When winter came, everything had already escalated to a dire level that the assassin and the observer had to keep intervening. The elder mentor of the manor would not have this. What they were doing was suicidal—unthinkable. If they were to continue like this…

Tomorrow, they were to leave to aid Washington. The assassin had to be at the commander's side and make sure nothing bodes ill to his campaign. The young native man sat at his own bedside quietly writing in his journal. The past several months were difficult. The Templars were getting more and more tenacious with each passing day while he and his own observer were drifting apart, he feared. What was more urgent now was end of the Templar reign. The old man had some nerve degrading him. As if he deserves any credit. He's been discouraging him from the start:

"Why do you fight, Connor?"

"To protect the innocent and preserve the hope of justice for all."

"Are you daft, boy?" the old man laughed. The native boy didn't take that comment so lightly. "You cannot hope to protect everyone. The entire Brotherhood is falling apart. You may hope to defeat the Templars, rebuild the Creed that we stand on, but for what? Once everything is set and done you will be left alone. Is that what you want?"

"As long as my people are safe, then let it be so." The novice stiffened when he said this. The stinging in her leg wavered as she stumbled on a cane that Achilles' let her borrow for a while until she can walk straight. Wobbling a bit, she took her native companion by the shoulder. Usually, he would brush her off, but not at this point for many reasons; her injury being one.

"Man, you're a fucking idiot," she scoffed, "You're forgetting that I'm responsible for you."

"But for how long until the spirits take you back? You may be able to keep your promise, but once your so-called 'assassin' is finished or dead, you will return whether you like it or not." The Goth sniffed, knowing it to be the truth. "Well, maybe when your writing skills improve, then maybe I will educate you more seriously. Constance, make sure he studies and walk with some dignity. I will not allow two whipped dogs under my roof." And he walked away to the kitchen while both teens gave him a dirty look.

"I'll show you old man!" Connor retorted, "You will have to take back all of those insults when I complete my training." The Goth was having some fun watching him get mad. She couldn't help but join in.

"Yeah, tree-hugger, that's it! Next time, you should say 'fuck you' in his face, stand on your feet, arch your back; then lean in and go off on him." He stared blankly and she cleared her throat. "Sorry. It's like the third day since… meh. All he's been giving you was nothing but shit since you came here. I'm surprised he didn't pull a racist card on you."

"He needs to train me, Tsipporah. There is no other way. We both saw the faces of our enemies. They will come to my village again and destroy it. Soon they will turn on the world and erase the will of all humanity. I cannot let that happen. The old man can say what he wants. All I desire is justice." She narrowed her eyes in wonder of his character. It was one of the rare moments of the days they spent together that she would give him the silent treatment and turn away about her own business. "Tsipporah, I am not done speaking—"

"Come on, you gotta learn how to write. I hate math, but if literature and writing is a problem, then I can help you. Meet me in my room, pronto, Squanto."

"Connor?" a knock pounded softly on his door, enough to alert him, but not enough to wake the whole house, "It's Sipsy."

"You may enter." She walked in a little dazed, rubbing the fatigue in her eyes. She obviously woke up from sleep and couldn't fall back into it. "I see you are not in an eagle form. You've learned to control it?"

"I guess so," she shrugged, "Clan Mother had me meditating in the sanctuary for a while after the fire, so now I can control it… a little." She yawned, "Am I interrupting anything, boss?" He shook his head.

"No. In fact, I was just about to go to sleep. Are you not well enough to do the same?"

"Hm? Yeah, apparently, you don't know an artist's sleep cycle; we're nocturnal. Can't sleep through the night for shit. I'll stay up until four in the morning doing nothing unless I walk into my studio, but… that was home. I'm just walking around." He saw the pang of sadness in her eyes when she mentioned home. She was to go back. Deep down, she wanted that, but now she seemed conflicted. She wasn't the only one with so much on her mind. He gestured for her to sit next to him. The novice was hesitant about it at first when she came near as the wood beneath her feet creaked and taunted her every step. She swallowed and stiffly sat down without turning to him. Her stance was almost that of a statue.

"You are not ill are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered quickly in one breath, still looking away. He wasn't too convinced. Either she was ill or emotionally closing herself again. Was there any point in doing so anymore? He let his hand take her arm, making her face him. Her eyes searched everywhere but him. He softly took her by her chin to focus.

"Why are you really here?"

"We don't talk so much. And since we might fight tomorrow, I thought now would be a good time. I dunno." She leaned back, still not used to the closeness. Despite them making love before, it was hard to be alone with her best friend without thinking about what they've done. Touching by itself made her shiver and remember. The rough grinding against her furrowed her brows, driving her insane. She scooted aside to keep calm. "Okay, maybe I'm not what I used to be because I can't seem to get over the fact that we… er…"

"We, what?"

"Had sex in the woods, Connor. Had sex in the woods." He gave a low chuckle, which was rare for him to do around others, combing his hair back with a free hand before looking back to the novice. Did he have to repeat himself? He was not about to take back that memory.

"Do you wish to undo that private activity?"

"I dunno. I'm still trying to find out whether I was in pain or actually enjoying it."

"You can still find out." She jerked at the comment, wanting to stand up now. "However, now we must prepare for morning. You need rest. I cannot have you half-asleep when the sun rises. Unless, of course, you meant to sleep here."

"…" her heart stopped, "I-It's sort of lonely and dark in my room. I ran out of matches, so—"

"Then sleep with me."

"What?" she sassed, "No! Not gonna happen. My back still hurts from being banged into the grass."

"So sleeping in my bed would be even more of a problem with your back?"

"Oh… ahaha, you literally meant, shit. Okay." She adjusted herself into his sheets and realized just how big his bed was. Sure, she's slept here before, but was too tired to ever notice. Her thoughts were cut as she felt his arms come around her from behind. She cleared her throat upon contact.

"Sorry."

"No, I'm just ticklish."

"That would explain the restlessness when we—"

"Good night, boss." His grip tightened and snuggled in closer until his breath was on her ear.

"You do not have to call me 'boss', Tsipporah. Not here." The firmness his arms provided were downing most of her defenses again. She hoped he was going to leave it at spooning. Connor had no intention of getting any further tonight. He didn't want to boggle or trouble his observer any further. The least he was able to do was hold her close, feel her soft body against his. It was the least he could do until she started to struggle in his hold.

"If that's not your tomahawk poking my back; I'm gonna bite it off."

"…"

When morning came, the observers went to the stables to ready the horses. She happily greeted the beasts as she led them out of the stables, but as she came back up with them she saw her boss storming out of the house with Achilles calling out behind him. They both didn't seem happy at all:

"Don't do this, Connor!" the old man warned, but sounded more annoyed than worried. The last thing he wanted was his student destroying everything he built and worked so hard for. The young man walked out the door with his pack as his novice arrived with the horses and kept her head down, not wanting to be a part of this conflict.

"Then what do you propose we do? Sit and watch as the Templars take control? We are sworn to stop them, or have you forgotten?"

"Assassins are meant to be quiet. Precise. We do not go announcing conspiracies from the rooftops to all who pass by." He had a point there, boss. This is a bad idea.

"Who are you to lecture anyone? You locked yourself away in this crumbling heap and gave up on the Brotherhood entirely. Since the day I arrived, you've done nothing but discourage me. And on the rare occasions you've chosen to help, you've done so little, you may as well have done nothing at all." The novice turned her face and mouthed to herself something about applying water to burned area.

"How dare you!" the old man stepped forward. He was not about to take this criticism from a lowly student who was a bit narrow-minded about the world and the gray areas that followed suit.

"Then tell me: On whose watch did the brotherhood falter? Whose inaction allowed the Templar Order to grow so large that it now controls an entire nation?!" The novice scrambled onto her horse, swinging her feet patiently as she sat up on the saddle. She had to look away when the old man was glaring at her as if she should say something. Nope. Nope. Nope. Your student; your problem.

"If I sought to dissuade you, it was because you knew nothing! If I was reluctant to contribute, it was because you were naïve. A thousand times you would have died and taken God knows how many with you. Let me tell you something, Connor: Life is not a fairytale and there are no happy endings!"

"No. Not when men like you are left in charge."

"In your haste to save the world, boy—take care you don't destroy it." Connor nodded and turned to his observer for a moment that quickly morphed to her other form, jerking her head in his direction.

"[Don't mind me. I'm just a majestic, international figure of freedom.]"

"We're leaving."

"['kay.]" She turned back. Over time the turning quickened in pace—so fast that there was no pain in doing it. The assassin took off first, but the blonde stopped her friend.

Angie scrunched her face, already hearing their argument. It was too cold to be having a heated argument. The blonde couldn't resist gossiping with her friend to change the mood; can't have two grouches on this trip.

"Be careful, babe. Make sure a redcoat doesn't give you a redcoat."

"Thanks. See you later. Hah!" she whipped the reigns and Archer sped off behind

….

This winter was colder than any other before. Every few seconds, the two were breathing into their hands to stay warm along the way. It made one wonder how on earth the colonists were doing at Washington's encampment. The grim silence was rather chilling in the air save for the rare movement of animals in the woods. After the long trot, they made it to the Valley Forge encampment and parked the horses aside. Well, Connor did; the novice fell off hers.

"Observer…"

"I'm okay!" she raised her thumb in the air comically before rising to her feet. Afar, stood the commander who was pacing back and forth; it seemed like something was troubling him and Connor's suspicions were correct. He with him and the novice's heightened hearing caught the conversation sharply. A man by the name of Benjamin Church may have taken off with supplies meant for the camp after being released from prison. The colonists were already preoccupied with surviving the winter and didn't have enough men to investigate this matter further. Not a problem. Connor agreed to find Church for him as well as the missing supplies. The novice stood with the horses, sighing on how they were even going to start with this until—

"[Maybe you can ask of this matter to the animals.]" She heard a voice, but then she heard sputtering after. Her head snapped to the horses as the assassin appeared by her side and she grew an epiphany.

"Connor… I think I know how we're gonna find the men who did this faster."

"What do you mean?" he looked at her, then to Archer.

"Archer, you can understand me?"

"[Yes, so heed my words if you can. You must speak with the other forest animals and see if they know anything.]"

"This is so cool! I can understand what the horse is saying!" she clapped her hands, fangirling. Connor rolled his eyes and got onto his own horse, and the novice followed suit.

"So where in this forest should we begin?"

"No idea—"

"[Wolves!]"

"What?" And just as their horses warned, a pack appeared, barreling out of the forest to surround those who served the Brotherhood. Connor quickly acted, leaping off the saddle and charged at one who appeared to be the leader, but the novice intervened.

"Wait!" the wolves stopped before they moved onto the camp. Some colonists already had begun to gather bayonets in their arms and gunpowder at their sides. "The men who came to the camp and stole supplies—do you know where they are?" The young assassin wrinkled his face, wondering if what she was doing was wise, but it seemed as if the wolves would oblige to answer. They circled 'round slowly, snarling as they searched the two with their bestial eyes that shined of grey and gold. One of them leapt forward at her and pinned her to the ground.

"Tsipporah!" Connor took out his hidden blade, but the novice held her arms out in surrender. "If you hurt her…"

"[A girl who speaks the tongue of us beasts. Interesting. Give us one good reason to not harm your little gathering here.]"

"That guy in the hood can kill your leader in 0.5 seconds flat." The wild dog licked his lips and pressed his claw further into her coat. "We're looking for the men who stole this camp's supplies. Do you know where they went?" The wolf may as well be a serial killer as he flashed a slasher smile, or what she thought it to be one. He slowly got off her chest and looked to the hooded man who had their leader under his forearm.

"[Release our leader. He saw the men who came in the night like thieves.]"

"[Indeed…]" the leader snarled, "[Humans come to steal; to pillage those who do not walk upon two legs. The dark-skinned people were enough, but now these men of pale faces come and pillage, too. They are worse. If they freeze to death, then so be it.]"

"Connor," the novice started, "That wolf you're crushing knows where the men have gone with the supplies."

"Give me one reason to believe that."

"He hates humans, but they favor the natives." Connor got up, freeing the leader from his hold and the huffed in a taunt before trotting his way through the forest path. He nodded his head in the direction to follow and the two got up on their horses, ready to follow.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Not really, but talking to animals is so fucking cool; you gotta admit."

Hi guys. I'm not dead. Just dealing with a bi-polar, trolling computer. I finally got this finished and now I can move on with the next chapter with ease. Yes, we see Haytham there. Some of us may like it and some of us may not, but Daddy Doom's gonna be there. Why? Because I said so. :D

Shout out to my new followers and hope everyone is having a good New Years! Whoo! XD