Bad Blood

It stayed in its place. Whiskers moving with its mouth and ears high in alert. Sitting on it's hind legs to look with caution, the beating of a strong heart made it's tiny breast expand. Just a few yards away was a bush full of sweet berries it loved to eat. A true treasure of a meal. The season was good and it brought food for it to eat. The rains have watered the green and made the trees come alive with the squirrel's jumping from one branch to another. But the berry bush had plenty to feed until next season once all the berries were gone.

Skittish animals that could move with their strong hind legs away from predator's wanting to feast on it did not have to worry for the moment as mother nature gave them fortune. It found comfort in a deer heard grazing on grass or eating away at the last berry on another bush. It scampered towards the bush with dark eyes until it smelled something that caused it to stop. The deer have smelled it as well. The scent of danger. Not from a wolf, bobcat, bear, fox, or mountain lion- that smell was from something far more destructive.

The wind had shifted its course driving away the scent of that danger. Alert had the animals looking from one direction to the other. Nothing within the forest was in sight. Caution caused it to move slowly towards the berry bush unaware that something was in-front of it.

It was caught as the rope pulled tightly against it's neck. It squeaked causing the deer to run off in a frenzy. The animal struggled against the rope around its neck. With each move the rope tightened causing it to breathe heavily with instinct driving to gnaw at it. It was not strong enough to get away as it died from suffocation.

Coming from patch of tall grass I emerged with my dagger in hand. I had waited two hours to catch something in my snare. My body had ached from staying still for a certain amount of time. Two hours of watching bigger game pass me by. If I still had my rifle I would have caught a prize to feed.

A nice big hare would have to do. With only my dagger as my only weapon, I could not think of the loss of the others. I had to properly skin this animal. I had to remove it's insides and check on the other traps that I had made before I go back to the camp.

I found a stream to clean my fresh kill. My mind was riddled with many thoughts. Some I understand better than others. Father answered what I wanted to know, but some of those questions he strayed from quickly. To not speak of the treasure was one thing but to stray from why he carried the hidden blade was disheartening. I knew my father to keep secrets to protect his family.

'He cannot always be there to protect us. I have been on my own for too long. The knowledge I have now,' I thought wrapping the meat once I clean it in the small stream.

"Even I do not understand what I believe to know."

Not too far from me was a fox. It had stopped right on it's tracks smelling the death of a hare as I began to skinning process. My hands were covered in its blood. I did not fear foxes only their bites. Their disease was known like that of raccoons and wolves. Connor once told me that foxes were tricksters that grinned constantly. Even though these were tiny hunters, foxes would be conniving enough to trick wolf pack out of its meal. It could even trick a bear-which is the most feared of all predator's.

I could see it's ear twitch and one black paw raised. It wanted my hare and nothing more. Sighing I threw it the scraps of the hare. Once the organs hit the ground just inches from it, the fox quickly grabbed it with its tiny jaws and ran off into another direction. I swear it was laughing at me.

…

He stood on shaky legs. His muscles ached as the nauseating feeling of wanting to vomit was mixing in his stomach. The pain in his head throbbed as blurred dreams flooded his mind. He hurt. His body hurt. The baking of the sun on his skin did no good as the sweat was beating down his brow down to his neck. He looked pathetic and weak. He felt exposed and naked without any cover for his upper body.

...but he was alive.

"Do not move much or you will open those wounds once again." A voice spoke and footsteps were walking close to him.

Looking to where the footsteps were, he saw a figure of a man. This man was familiar to his eyes. Just days ago he had helped fight the tall men and kill the one with the fiery red hair with a hidden blade used by assassin's. This man-who was still a stranger- was Seliah's own father. The infamous Salty Bones. The former pirate who left his own daughter in Boston to train under the guidance of the brotherhood.

In the short time, both men have gained in little to no conversation. There was no tension between them just observation. Salty could see Haytham in the features of this young man. Strong features but he could also see native. The necklace around his neck could only make the speculation true. The stories be true. He thought remembering the story of a native woman wearing a necklace such as the one on the assassin's neck.

Could this be Haytham's true son? Could this... assassin truly be.

Connor looked around his surrounding area finding someone missing.

"Where is Seliah?" He spoke keeping his gaze on the older man in-front of him. "Where were you?"

"She went into the forest to search or hunt for food. You have taught her well. Seliah was not so keen with her footing as a child." He said throwing Connor his (now) clean clothes. " As for myself, I was getting the blood out of your clothes. I did my best but it will do once you and Seliah return to the manor. Neither I or my daughter can sew. It is best to ask her mother to do so."

Catching the clothing in his hands the assassin inspected them. There was a hole from which the blade went through. "You do not plan on returning?" He said as within his clothing was his hidden blade. The weapon no longer had any blood.

"I do not. As you may already know, pirates and Templar's have been shaking hands." What the assassin did not know was that Salty read the letter found on Johnson's body. It was valuable information the former pirate needed.

"I have been aware since my encounter with the one with the eyes of the sky. The coward who injured me from behind. The men that we have fought were more than pirates. They were like giants." As he fixed himself, Connor saved the hidden blade for last.

"They were foreigners from a land that were of a warrior tribe. Men as tall as you or I. They had spoke legends and when I sailed the seas, I only encountered their descendents. Some became pirates of my crew because these men had strength and knowledge of passageways from their ancestors." Salty said having thoughts of his piracy long ago.

They stared at each other. One waiting for the other to back down. Salty was not sure how much this native knew about assassin's. He wore the robes, the hidden blade, the skills, but did he know the creed in which the desert assassin's and those from the foreign lands knew? The creed that has not changed in centuries.

The whisper's of the old man in Masyaf spoke of the creed before he was killed by Salty's hands. It was a given right to know of the ancient creed. Though, times have changed since then and the knowledge of assassin's dwindled by a thread. Salty had knowledge of the brotherhood due to Oliver who knew much more from the books and writings of Campbell.

"You spoke that you once fought against assassin's. How many are there in the brotherhood?"

Salty turned his back to the assassin. With his pack over his shoulder and his horse not far from the camp, Connor could only wonder what it was that ran through the former pirates mind. Through little conversation and interaction as Seliah was not there, both men were still among strangers. Salty possessed a hidden blade, had the knowledge of assassin's, and he has fought against them years before he made his life on land.

Connor still had little knowledge about the former pirate. Seliah was Salty's daughter but even her own father held back from telling her certain things. How far deep into the grave will each have to dig before an answer was found? Then only then could time pass. The Templar's, the English, even now pirates will come together into war. Allies were of importance for one man could not take down an army.

"There are so few in lands. As the pirates dwindle in numbers, Templar's and assassin's balance on a thin line. Rest your body for you need it."

From the shadows of the forest came the whispers of the past. Heavy eyelids closed as the sound of an eagle screeched high above in the sky. It called to him as it once did long ago with another.

Our journey was only just beginning. Johnson was dead. My father left without seeing my mother back into the forest and into the unknown. I knew he was still on the hunt for Gray eye. Connor had succeeded in ending one threat only to discover that another was lurking. Monsters rather then men haunted my mind. Where the Templar's make their plans is where the pirates pick up the scraps.

A man named Pitcairn was made the assassin's next target.

"I thought it might bring clarity. Or install a sense of accomplishment. But all I feel is regret." Connor said with doubt and uncertainty.

"When we come close to finding an answer to this puzzle, there is always a piece of it that eludes us." I said with defeat looking from one painting to the other. These men were the keys- the clues- to something far bigger than what Connor and I could imagine. "They breed like the sickness that lingers in their veins."

I felt Achilles hit me in the side of arm for my brash comment. Letting the pain subside I crossed my arms as the truth was never so simple to take in.

"Hold fast to that. Such sacrifices must never come lightly." Achilles spoke trying to be reassuring to the assassin. Connor however did not seemed to fazed by it. Since our return he has been keeping distance with his conscience being clouded by the letter and the whereabouts of our intended target.

"I had to do it. Not only for my people, but for all others Johnson would have harmed." He confessed.

I uncrossed my arms to place my hand on the assassin's shoulder. He did not flinch or pull me away. It surprised me to see that this was truly affecting him. Why? I was not sure. He just stared at the paintings of the Templar's from their ordered rank.

"Influence is in the mind of the people they control. If we start from the top there is always someone who is stronger. It is as if trying to cut the head from a snake of ancient stories only to have two more grow." I commented.

"It's a start. But to truly be free of Templar influence, all of them must be dealt with in turn. Even your father." All eyes looked to the very top. There the painting of Haytham hanged. A haunting image of Connor's father who he knows nothing about other than being a Templar. Nothing more and nothing less could be said.

Connor had to kill his own father. From the beginning I thought it madness. It was blood against blood. A relationship that truly was not there. Father against his own son. It must be torturous to have to go on knowing that the deed had to be down. It made me wonder how he was to handle such a thing when the time came?

It made me wonder how dangerous Haytham can be.

"I know." Connor said after a moment of silence.

I took a step back with my arms down at my sides. What could I say? I have never killed nor do I hold much resentment towards my father. Connor was raised much of his life without a mother. Connor never knew his father.

"You speak the words, but do you believe them?" Achilles said.

"Time will tell," Connor looked to the older man, "but he will not die unless he answers truthfully. What do you think Selaih?"

Their eyes set upon me. I looked to Achilles with a fine line on my lips. Then I looked to Connor who I have fought side by side with.

"What I think is nothing but speculation. My father has said much and the further we go into this world of Templar's, pirates, and even the English, it is best we start making friends faster than we could handle. The threat among your people are your priority and the threat against all will not be mine to bear alone."

Time would not be wasted as our next mission was just outside knocking at the door.