Hello once again! Thank you every much to all my new followers, favorites, and reviews!

To be completely honest, I've had this chapter done for a day or two now, but I wanted to release it today. Why? Because today is the 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY of this story!

Thank you so much to all the people who have read, supported, and have simply been here for the ride! I am currently more than halfway done with this story, and I don't expect this to go over 50 chapters. I really never expected this story to get the popularity (if you could call it that) it did. And I am so grateful. So once again, thank you!

BTW, I'm also only 80 views away from having 10,000 total, so that's my next goal.

WARNING/EDIT:This chapter has strong implications of torture and a particularly bloody scene. If any of these are trigger warnings for you, I suggest you proceed cautiously.

As always, I don't own Assassin's Creed or Ubisoft's portrayal of historical figures. I do, however, own my OCs.

October 30th, 1775

First came the darkness. Then the cold. Then the shapeless lump of dreams. I felt lost. And then, I slowly became aware of the feeling of the dew on my cheek.

I snapped my eyes open and took in what I could. My untied hair had fallen in waves over my face, giving a curtain of protection for my eyes. There was a pounding behind my eyes like a nail being driven into my skull. My hands and feet were tied tightly, and when I wiggled around in them, I could not feel them come any looser. My hands were bunched up tightly against my chest, useless. I tried flexing my hidden blades, but they were not on my wrists. The weights of my sabers and my bow were gone as well. I rolled over, spitting hair out of my mouth.

Oak trees branched out above me, and I could still see the honey sky fading away into a shimmer of indigo, signaling twilight. Figures I would still be in the forest. And now I was alone, unarmed, and tied up like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.

I huffed and tried to sit up. I kicked and wiggled for what felt like an eternity before I flipped onto my knees. I slumped against a tree, shaking hair out of my eyes and trying to process what had happened.

There was a hessian, correct? And I heard a voice before I blacked out…?

No matter, I told myself stubbornly, you need to get out of here before they find you.

I leaned my back into the tree and pushed with my legs, trying to stand upright. I hopped and struggled, my feet flopping around together like a fish's tail.

"Escaping is futile, impure."

I froze, my heart stopping mid-pump.

Methoataske stalked out of the undergrowth with, to my surprise, another man in tow.

Once again, this was not the Methoataske I remembered. She wore a dark blue jacket this time, complete with a pair of black breeches and combat boots. A stone tomahawk and her flint rock were buckled to her sides, and she was carrying a musket. Her hair was tied up in a bun, tucked under a hat. She looked like any other soldier, had she not been a woman or a native. In her hand was a musket, and I could see a white ring glinting on her finger, with red stones set into it. Her eyes were as hard as the stone of her tomahawk, sharpened with fury and hate.

The man next to her was harder to pinpoint. He dressed himself like a redcoat officer, but his outfit had a more important air to it than Methoataske's did. A powdered wig perched atop his head, becoming more fake with every shake of the head. A cravat stuck out from his throat, and a silver chain was hooked into his torso pocket for what I assumed was a pocket watch. His face was more sullen and decrepit, with a bored expression that made it look as though he had more important things to take care off than a squabble between two natives. But when he took out his watch to check the time, I could see the same white ring on his finger, with the red stones set in the position of a cross.

"I do hope you are getting this business taken care of fast, du wilden Frau." he spoke with disdain.

Methoataske ignored him, instead strutting up to where I had been tied. I shrunk down under her gaze as she glowered at me in malevolence. "Fear not, Rall," she spoke slowly, "for this will be over soon."

She finally left my side, and I drew in a shuddering breath, feeling unfocused. When I looked back up, Methoataske was staring at me with contempt.

"You think you could fool me?" she sneered, "with your little Assassin plan?"

I stayed silent. The weight in the air held, but I could feel it on my shoulders, crushing me. Methoataske held my gaze, lifting her chin high. Rall simply looked disinterested, staring idly at the treetops for a bird or something of the sort.

"Mein Kommandant!" came a voice from the trees.

A bunch of pines shook and parted to reveal a hessian, dragging what looked like a beaten animal with him. There was blood covering most of its body, and it coughed feebly, earning a kick from the man who had captured it. The hessian brought it over to Rall, who meanwhile had a different light to his eyes.

"Has it talked yet?" Rall asked. Methoataske sent a sideways glance over to me, still cowering under the oak.

"Nein."

Rall pouted a little, a look of amusement now trickling onto his features. "Sehr gut," he responded. He turned around, and then looked back to his soldier. "Should he tell you anything, come find me. I am eager to hear what this savage has to say."

The thing wheezed again. A brief flash of fury burned in my muscles, and I felt a growl crawling it's way up my throat. Rall looked at me again, then back to Methoataske.

"Does she know anything?" he asked her, ignoring me as I struggled on my bindings.

Methoataske shook her head. "She does not. But she will cooperate with Haytham, or else there will be repercussions."

"Repercussions?" I demanded, forcing down my fear and trying to let my anger show, "What repercussions?"

As if responding to my voice, the figure moved it's head. I could see a bloody stump where the nose should have been, and two dark brown eyes staring back at me, the light entering them as they recognized me. The pelt of the thing turned into clothes, and the dark gray hair became more defined. A mouth opened, whispering words that I could not hear.

My voice cracked. "N-no," I pleaded urgently, desperation seizing my body. "Please, he didn't do anything wrong. Don't hurt him."

Methoataske smirked and shook her head as the soldier drove another kick into my father's stomach. He curled up feebly, like a newborn baby. I could only stare and strain on my bindings, watching wide-eyed as I looked at my father. How long had I been unconscious? Were they doing this to him the whole time?

I pushed myself off the tree, only to fall face first into the muddy dirt. I felt someone lift me up from the back, and put me on my feet again so I was standing up straight. I tried to take a step, but the ropes around my ankles were tied too tightly. I would have fallen again if not for Rall, who had picked me up the first time, gripping my arms to steady me. I hung my head in submission.

"What do we do with her?" Rall questioned.

The solider had since ceased kicking my defenseless father and looked ready to respond. But Methoataske cut across him. "Leave the impure with me," she offered, her voice slick and slimy, "Take her weapons and bring them to Kenway. Tell him I will be in New York soon, and he will not have to worry about anything."

Rall frowned, glancing at his man and then at me. I could almost feel the intensity and distrust between him and Methoataske, so white hot that if I reached out, I'm sure the air between them would burn the skin.

"Fine," Rall agreed, rather grudgingly. With a wave of his hand, the solider picked up my father by the back of his shirt and dragged him back into the trees the way he came. Rall followed, sending one last annoyed glance at the woman he was supposed to be working with before disappearing as well.

Methoataske and I were left alone. The air, once hot with tension, was now cold with hate and terror. I wanted to run, but my legs were frozen. I dropped my hands to my front, feeling empty.

Methoataske started to circle me like she was a wolf and I was her next meal. I swallowed, trying to keep my voice even. "How did you know I was here?" I asked innocently.

Methoataske shook her head. "Your father came in, spewing conspiracy from his mouth," she recalled, bitterness dripping from her teeth, "and the tribe follow him instead. No one will come with me to end Washington. Kenway believes that the fool Hickey can kill him, but I know better. Hickey will ruin everything. And the Templars will fall because of it."

"So you capture my father?" I continued as Methoataske came closer, "What will the tribe think? You're their leader, after all. And he's their healer. What will they think when you come back?"

"Tribe does not know. They think that Tenskwatawa and I are looking for herbs together. And they should not worry about me. I will not be coming back to them."

Each word she spoke sliced away at my heart. "You're abandoning them?"

"Like you did."

"I didn't abandon my tribe! The spirits chased me out! You really think I would turn my back on my own people."

Methoataske stopped, a malicious glint growing across her features. "The spirits? What spirits? Those are stories for children, impure. Only a fool would believe that power and reasoning comes from something we cannot see. Matter must be taken into one's own hands. Like how I did with you."

Something about those words struck me. Pain and sadness erupted, clouding my fear. "You mean…you're saying that it was you who chased me out? There was no spirits? No vision? Nothing!?"

Methoataske, a meter away now, smirked.

I dropped my gaze. I could still picture myself all those nights ago, running for my life in fear that I was going to die. All because the spirits had ordered my leave. I had left…for nothing. Caused my father so much pain because of one woman who hated my existence.

I left out one hollow laugh. "Well," I sighed, "If you had never chased me out, then I never would have become an Assassin. What was your goal? For me to lose everything I cared about? Well, look around you. My father loves me more than his own tribe. More than he fears you. And if I were to see what the tribe was like now, I would leave it. And I am sure others would too. So you might as well just kill me now, and stop suffering through the failure of never being loved."

Methoataske's face wrinkled up at the realization I spoke, and she moved to me much faster with one arm outstretched. I tried to shrink back from her breath, but she seized my cheeks and squeezed so hard I would not be surprised if a tooth cracked under her fingers. From her belt, she gripped the piece of flint from our last encounter and held it up for me to see. I felt myself get pushed back until I was against the tree. She pressed the cold rock onto my lips, tracing the scar there.

"I have been waiting for this for a long time, impure," she cooed, sounding like a mother trying to rock a baby to sleep. It lulled me, but her hard grasp forced me back into reality. Her gaze was centimeters from my face. "Since you were brought to the tribe. And now, I get to end your sorry little life. And then I will end the lives of your friends. And it will be so…very…satisfying."

As she raised the rock, pure, feral instinct shot up through my body.

I bit down on her index finger like a wild animal, feeling the bone between my teeth.

Methoataske shrieked in surprise and reeled back. As she did so, I bit down harder and twisted. The echo of the bone snapping in the clearing could've been heard all the way back to Boston.

When I relented, she scrambled backwards, clutching her finger. I hopped away from the tree she had pinned me against, spitting out a clot of her blood and flexing my fingers. Rage burned in her eyes as she rounded on me, her one hand to the side but the other with the flint raised in attack.

She lunged and I fell to the ground on my back to avoid it, watching her thrust sail over my head. Caught in her attack, I raised my bound legs and kicked her in the stomach with both feet. She tumbled away, but was up in a heartbeat. I realized what a stupid move I had made, falling to the ground with no surefire way of getting myself up, and it showed. I had to roll across the dirt as Methoataske brought her tomahawk down. The sudden pain in my shoulder told me that I was no quick enough. I ended up on my stomach, spitting hair out of my mouth, when I felt something grab the hood of my robe and yank me off the ground. I had to hop away to keep my balance, still smacking face-first into another tree. Just when I had turned around, I could see Methoataske raise her flint from a distance away.

I ducked once more, the flint spinning in the air and lodging behind me in the tree. The sharpened part of the flint shone in the dusky light. I locked eyes with Methoataske once more, seeing the realization of what she had just done sprout in her eyes.

I raised my hands and brought them down on the blade of the rock, sawing the ropes holding them back and forth. I heard Methoataske's ugly bellow of rage, and her footsteps pounding through the clearing. At last, my hands were free, and the rope fell away from my wrists. I tugged the flint out of the tree at last and blindly turned around, swinging.

When I opened them again, Methoataske was standing a few meters away. The flint in my hands was dripping in blood, and I could see a long shallow wound across her chest. She clutched it, turning her forearms red. I nearly dropped the flint in shock; when I was young, I could have never imagined that Methoataske, the kind gentle soul that raised me as an infant, could want me dead. And I never could have imagined hurting her.

Slowly, she backed up into the trees, mumbled in Shawnee to herself. She turned around and fled, staining the leaves that she passed through with red. The clearing was bloody and scuffled, and I dropped my arms tiredly. Pressing my back to the tree behind me, I sank to the floor, panting. I was physically and emotionally strained, but I was not done yet.

I cut through the bindings on my ankles and stretched out. Rall had my weapons, and my father. I had to find him, get my things, find my father, get across the river, and get to safety. I laughed to myself as I rehearsed my plan. Cory would think me insane. Perhaps I was.

I stood up, ignoring the stinging in my shoulder, and climbed into the treetops.

I searched the woods for a while, not finding a trace of my father, Methoataske, or Rall. Any of them would do, but at long last, when night had officially fallen and the sliver of a moon hung in the air, I could see torchlight from an overhanging cliff above the woods. I scaled it cautiously, listening for voices that could signal anything.

When I reached the top of the cliff, I found myself in an isolated encampment in the woods. I ducked behind an unoccupied tent, where I could see two hessian soldiers conversing over a table. On that table lay my weapons. My sabers, my bow and arrows, my hidden blades, even my pistol. All waiting to be taken again. I passed the flint from one hand to the other, contemplating my choices.

I crept out from behind the tent, keeping low to the ground. By the time I had reached the two soldiers, I could tell they had no idea I was there.

I knocked the first one out with a blow to the back of the head, and he fell without as much as a shout. The other rounded on me, looked shocked, but I sliced his knees and he went down. I subdued him easily, and let him fall to the ground next to his friend. I sighed, then tossed the rock away, listening as it bounced of rock after rock until I could hear it no longer.

I adjusted the leather strap for the sabers over my shoulder and the bow over the other before finally strapping on m hidden blades. I flexed them, and they came right out before retracting inside their bracers. Oh, how I've missed that sound. It was incredibly reassuring.

I pulled out the amulet around my neck. For some reason, it seemed to glow green at my touch even though there was hardly any light to reflect it. I shrugged and tucked it under my shirt again, racing for the nearest tree. My father was still out there, and I had to find him before something happened.

It took another bit of time, but I finally found what I was looking for back in the forest. Large footprints from a command boot were imprinted into the mud. I sighed in relief; perhaps Rall was still in the woods.

I followed the footprints for a long time, keeping alert for any signs of an ambush. The most that there was along my trek was a rabbit that looked very lost. I was beginning to grow wary. I hated silence like this, where nothing should be silent, yet it pressed down until you knew that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong.

At last, the footprints stopped, with them ending within distance of the shoreline of the river. I stood on the top of the slope, looking for anyone on the beach. But nothing was there.

I drew my sabers. And sure enough, I could hear a crashing in the bushes. I spun around, anger surging through me.

I expected Rall, but what I got instead was a muddy, bloody Methoataske. She looked wilder than I had ever seen her, with eyes so wide I could have sworn she had seen a phantom, and her hair was loose and crusty. In her hands was a large brown mass that she had seized around the neck with one arm. In the other held the tomahawk, being spun around and brandished so wildly I thought it would fly from her hand.

It took me a minute to recognize the mass as my father.

"No!" I nearly shouted, lowering my swords, "Please, just let him go. He didn't do anything wrong."

Methoataske cocked her head as if she didn't understand. "Nothing wrong? He sired you, impure! The wretched disease of our tribe! Of my cause! Without him, you would not be a part of this world! And for that, I must punish him."

I could barely see my fathers' eyes open, showing terror, pain, and agony, before Methoataske brought the tomahawk to his throat.

As I screamed, she pulled.

Blood, more blood than I could imagine ever seeing in my lifetime, gushed out of my father's throat, and his last cry was cut short as she released him and he fell to the earth. He was still twitching as the red poured out of his bloody and stained the grass red. I fell to my knees, dropping my swords, and shook him lightly as she watched with insanity simmering in her eyes.

"Father?" I questioned weakly, tears welling up and stinging the corners of my eyes, "Please, don't die! Get up!"

But nothing happened. He refused to stir. My entire body felt numb, and my hands fell to their sides. Tears slid down my face as I stared into the trees. The blood continued to run over my hands, over my boots, and down the hill to the shoreline.

I barely even noticed the faint shadow of the tomahawk on the ground as Methoataske raised it.

My tears fell off my cheeks and dropped onto my father's deerskin tunic.

I had no chance to react as Methoataske suddenly reared backwards, shrieking. Everything seemed to slow down as I turned to look at her tumble down the slope to the shore for some unknown reason, and an unknown force yanked me from behind. I didn't even have the energy or will to fight them; I simply left them lead me into the trees. My mouth was still hanging open and my eyes were focused on nothing in particular.

I should have stopped her.

He can't be dead.

I let this happen.

I barely even noticed the shaking and frantic shouting of my name until the face of Cory materialized in front of me.

He looked fine. A little shaken, but fine. There was a smoking pistol in one of his hands. He shook me by the shoulders, and his blond hair and gray eyes appeared sharper before me. I felt a rock under my arse, and the moss under my hands, but nothing else registered.

"Ava! Ava! Ava, listen to me!" that was Cory again. I let out a little moan in response, and he nodded, looking a little reassured.

"We need to get out of here 'fore they find us, lad."

I barely noticed Anna, standing behind my friend with both sabers in hand. She slid them one by one into their sheath, and then there was suddenly a horse next to her. She saddled and waited for us, looking expectant.

Cory glared at her but did help me stand. "Can you ride, Ava?" he asked me.

"Of course she can't, you idiot!" Anna snapped, "Look at her! She's traumatized! Take her with you on your horse. We need to leave now."

I allowed Cory to help me stand and help me onto another horse. He saddled himself, and placed my arms around his waist before kicking the horse and galloping away. As the three of us pounded through a stream out of the forest, I turned to look back. I couldn't see anyone there, but I knew. I knew my father was dead. And Methoataske was going to come after me now. There was nothing to stop her.

The trees eventually turned into road and fields and peace after a long time of non-stop riding. My two friends slowed into a canter, with me still staring behind, even though the forest was long gone.

"Ava," came Cory's gentle whisper, "Who…who was that person? Was it someone you knew?"

I heard a tut of disapproval from Anna, but I ignored it. I gripped Cory's robes harder, and allowed tears to slide down my face once more. The only thing I could hear were my sobs into Cory's shoulder as the cold night gradually unfolded around the frontier and around us. The stars seemed to dim, and the moon was like a flying leaf in the sky as I heard the lonely cry of a wolf in the distance. Nothing made any more sense to me now, and I clung to the only thing I knew as he led me back home.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A few days passed. Cory and I were back at the hideout, sheltering from the freezing November winds as they started to come up from the west. I sat on the side of m bad, staring at my feet. My hair fell past my ears and tickled my cheeks, but I ignored them. My wounded shoulder was wrapped, treated, and bandaged heavily. I could only focus on the muddy boots below me.

As it turned out, when I left so suddenly, Anna came out of Fort Hill and ran to come find me. Along the way, she found Cory, who insisted on coming with her. Anna was able to piece two and two together and figure out where I was heading in such a hurry, but she couldn't figure out why. When we got back to Boston, Cory bid her farewell for the both of us. And I had been in the hideout ever since, unable to sleep, eating miniscule amounts of food that Cory brought for me, and simply staring around, lost in my own thoughts.

I could hear footsteps, and the heavy sound of Cory dropping in, but I still refused to look up.

"Hey," he puffed happily. I felt something get placed into my hands. It was large and tough and felt like a brick. I nibbled the edge, surprised to taste bread. I nearly spat it out, it was so stale.

"That was the freshest loaf they had," Cory sighed, as if reading my thoughts, "All the fresh ones are going to either the patriots or the redcoats. Nothing I could do. I had to pay twenty pounds for this thing."

I sighed indifferently, taking another bite. It was so hard, and I had to chew it plenty of times before I could manage to swallow it.

"Ava?"

I looked up. Cory was staring at me, half the loaf of bread in his hand. He looked sad. Was it pity in his gaze? Or empathy?

He dropped his gaze, then picked himself up off his cot opposite me and sat on mine. I stared forward as he nudged me a touch. "I get you're upset, and saying this probably isn't going to make you feel better, but it wasn't your fault."

I bit my lip hard. "Yes it was. I just looked on and watched that crazy bitch kill my father. I should have done something. Then he wouldn't be dead."

"You can't be sure about that."

I spun around, staring into Cory's eyes. "I don't think you understand," I whispered sorrowfully, "I don't even know where they're burying him. I-I'm never going…I'm never going to see him again."

Cory fell silent, then I felt his arm fall onto my right shoulder and pull me closer to him. I nestled into his shoulder, swallowing hard, as he held me.

"Death is a part of life," Cory sighed. "When my father died, I didn't know what I was going to do. But life goes on. This isn't your fault Ava. You don't have to let go of your father, but let go of your blame."

We stayed like this for a long time, simply pondering. I blinked tears out of my eyes, and tried to bury myself deeper into Cory's side. Something stirred inside me: something almost painful. And I realized with a jolt that it was acceptance. My father was dead. He was gone forever. Was it my fault? I couldn't truly answer that question anymore. But there was only one thing I knew for sure. Methoataske was responsible for some of this. And I was determined to end her life in the harshest, most ruthless way possible.

And frankly, the prospect, and my own self, terrified me.

I pushed off from Cory, taking another bite out of my meal. Cory glanced at me with hope twinkling in his eyes, and I held his gaze and offered a small smile.

"Thanks," I mumbled softly, blushing.

Cory offered his cocky half smile, and offered his hand. I accepted it, and his pulled me along. I found myself laughing through my tears, a sound almost foreign to my ears. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed.

"Where are we going?" I questioned him as he pulled me to the exit of the hideout.

Cory's smile broadened. "Outside," he replied. "You look like you could use a little relaxation."

German Translations:

Du wilden Frau: You savage woman

Mein Kommandant!: My commander!

Sehr gut: Very well.

(Disclaimer: I am not a native German speaker with no German practice. All translations were from Google, so if I got them wrong, just ignore them.)

Once again, thanks for reading! Follow, fav, or review if you enjoyed! And thanks for one year!