When everyone woke the next day, we moved quickly to get our belongings together and to make a plan of action. It was agreed Haytham would go with Charles and Tommy, the latter of whom would be "arranging for" some supplies for the short voyage to Maine to be delivered to a warehouse in Boston.

We managed to set off before anyone showed up to the manor, luckily. Our two parties separated, and we made for Boston.
Shay, Weeks, and I traveled most of the day, not even stopping to eat until the sun had gone down - and then we only cooked over a rather tiny fire; the last thing we wanted was to be found by a squad of soldiers. After we'd settled down a bit and Shay had drifted off, Weeks and I sat and talked quietly.

"So, you've been with the Order since you were young?" I asked.

"Around your age - you have just a tiny headstart on me." He paused, then continued with a laugh in his voice. "Well, that and the favor of the Grandmaster."

I scoffed. "I was just useful for a while and he got attached to my shining personality."

"Very attached, evidently; if you hadn't noticed, three out of four of the people coming along with the Grandmaster have been a part of the Order for decades. You? Just a few years." He said.

"Well, I've only been alive for about two decades." I pointed out with a smirk.

"You are…?" He trailed off - an unspoken question.

"I turn twenty-one this July." I answered.

"Huh. I'd thought you were a bit older - mid-twenties, maybe. I suppose your work has aged you a bit." He said.

"That and my lineage. My father never did look terribly young." I said.

"And you take after him more than your mother?" He asked.

My shoulders shrugged. "More or less. The only thing I got from her is her height - accent, too, I suppose. The rest, you can thank my father."

"Interesting." He fell silent a moment, studying the dark woods around us. "So I assume you haven't seen them in some time?"

"No. I don't intend to see them again, honestly." I answered.

His tone grew gentler. "Pardon me for asking, but have they passed on?"

My inhale was slow and deep. "They're gone, yes. I won't be seeing them ever again - and I'm at peace with that."

He hummed. I glanced over at him. "So what about your family, Weeks? Or did you just… pop into existence, parents be damned?"

He chuckled. "I'm afraid my family passed quite a while ago. They taught me to be independent, and those lessons got me through some very… difficult times."

"You loved them?" I asked.

"Of course." He answered. "You didn't love yours?"

I hesitated. "They weren't around enough to really be loved."

He said nothing in response, apparently thinking over my words.

The next few days passed similarly to the first; Shay would fall asleep, Weeks and I would talk, one of us would keep watch, the other would sleep, then Shay would take the last watch of the night. Weeks was good conversation, if still frustratingly secretive. He did more listening than talking - but he was certainly good at talking anyway, always deflecting my questions and going off on short tangents I couldn't quite steer back to the original question. Frustrating, but I'd used the same tactic far too many times to hold it against him. It gave me some insight as to how it felt, if nothing else.

The journey to Boston was short and oddly relaxing - though it was doubtful the long voyage we'd be going on in just a short time would be quite so nice.