Captain: Holy shenanigans! An update! What?! I know, right? Life has been pretty crazy at times, namely with getting a job in my field! Woo woo! Only had to move about 1100 miles from home for it, yeesh! It's just a temp position, so I'll probably be moving a lot as I bounce around jobs until I can land in a career. But, it's totally legit. I mean, I'm getting paid to hang out with elk and bighorn sheep, take selfies with a cuddly mule deer, and hand-feed cougars every day! I'm totally suffering out here, can you tell? Haha! Anyway, been chipping away at this chapter for some time, but I have to say I'm glad I took the time I did. Ended up re-writing some parts a few times and changed up pieces of my timeline to build some better flow. Thanks for hanging with me and hope you enjoy the chapter!


Back when Emma had been going through the Police Academy, the training had been hell. On test day she'd had to do a water rescue after being under a freezing shower for ten minutes. Then it was on to a grueling four-mile obstacle course, at the end of which she was pepper sprayed and had to drag a 200-pound dummy a hundred yards, load it into a patrol car, and then drive said car a quarter mile. After being allowed to clean her eyes, it was then the driving test. At the end of that day, she'd never felt more exhausted in her life. Satisfied that she'd passed it all, but so utterly spent that's she'd slept in her underwear, unable to find her pajamas and too tired to look.

All of that sounded far more pleasant than getting herself off the sandy ground and facing another day of walking across this Middle Eastern gauntlet.

With a groan, she forced herself up into a sitting position, her body protesting in a variety of pops and snaps. Altair was up already, despite that the sky had barely begun to lighten. She could make out the white robes moving around, saddling the horse and working his left shoulder again. Other than the injury, he appeared none the worse for wear from yesterday. Emma silently cursed him for it. Her body felt like she'd been hit by a taxi and then forced to run a marathon.

The final test of the Academy sounded like more fun than walking for another twelve plus hours.

She'd barely regained her wits enough to catch the hunk of heavily salted jerky that had been tossed her way. She grimaced at it, her jaw aching at the memory of chewing the stuff last night. It was like gnawing on a salted tire, with only marginally better flavor.

Her gut chose that moment to announce that it didn't particularly care what the sustenance took the form as, it needed food and it needed it now. With only a little grumbling to herself, she forced herself to tear off a hunk and start chewing.

This man was going to get her to Masyaf, but he was going to make sure that every muscle and bone in her body hurt when they got there.

She hoped his shoulder hurt like hell.

"It is time to leave." The reins for the mare were in his hand, and the old girl looked as worn as Emma felt. It was almost briskly cold, but she knew it was too much to ask for that to last throughout the day. The pack felt as though it had gained another twenty pounds overnight, and she wasn't at all sure she would even be able to lift herself onto the horse. Riding would certainly not help the stiffness at all.

"I think I'll walk." She'd really rather just lay right back down and go back to sleep, but at least walking might loosen things up a bit.

"We lost too much time resting the horse yesterday, we ride." He turned, mounting the poor mare who let out a heavy sigh as his weight settled on her back. Emma felt a surge of pity for the animal. This wasn't like modern times where people got attached to their animals and took care of them. This was the time where they ran the creature to death and bought a new one.

"She looks ready to collapse still, I can keep up walking." She lifted her fingers to the mare's soft muzzle. Warm breath ghosted over her hand.

"Get on the horse." He growled, nudging the animal to pull her head away from the woman. Emma responded with a scowl, planting her hands on her hips. He may have been tasked with getting her to Masyaf, but that hardly made him her superior. If he really thought this trip was going to go smoothly by ordering her around, then he had another thing coming.

"I will sling you over the saddle myself if that is what you require." He threatened, and the cop knew that he meant it. Injured or not, he would dismount and 'help' her up in a way that was no doubt going to be a far cry from pleasant.

Pick your battles, she reminded herself, lose one to win the war.

Muttering a plethora of choice words under her breath, she forced her foot up and into the open stirrup. As she swung herself up behind him, her hand came down on his shoulder for balance. His only reaction was a grunt, but she took some satisfaction in knowing it was more from pain than general annoyance. Petty? Oh yeah. Worth it? Definitely.

The moment she had her seat, she retracted her hand, leaning back to avoid touching him. With a sigh, the little mare started off faithfully, her step showing more energy than Emma had given her credit for.

Perhaps it was the coolness of the morning restoring her energy; the cop almost shivered under the robe but was determined to enjoy the chill. It was not to last. As the miles slipped by, the sun rose up over the hills, chasing off the brisk morning and reclaiming the desert. The mare's steps slowed the further they went, sweat running slick along her sides. Emma wiped her own sweat from her forehead, her skin begging for relief from the rough robe rubbing against the burns from the day before. There was no relief. Not out here. Not for miles in any direction. The river that had seemed so far yesterday had all but disappeared into the distance, and she was half certain that the trees ahead were a mirage.

Altair continued to push the mare well into midday, refusing to let them walk and give her a rest. Sweat was replaced by froth, and she was beginning to hack on the dry air.

"Jeezus, do you plan to ride her to death?" Emma growled, attempting to judge if the narrow trail was wide enough for her to dismount on the go. It was a swift drop down one side, and an impossibly steep incline on the other. The only way to go would be to slide off her rear, but after so many hours, Emma wasn't positive her legs would hold steadily enough.

"She will live." Was all he offered, nudging the reins so that she took the left fork in the path.

Another hour passed before the trail finally widened and the landscape once again flattened out. The hillside dropped away in one last dramatic rock formation, revealing that the trees she'd spotted in the distance weren't a mirage at all. They were real, and they had finally reached them.

A small creek ran under the shadows and Altair let the mare eagerly take herself to it. She plunged her dusty muzzle into the water and drank deeply. Emma groaned as she stiffly swung her leg over the mare's rear and let herself slide to the ground. It wasn't a graceful landing, but at least she didn't crash onto her bum this time. Dropping the pack to the dirt, she sank to her knees next to the stream, dipping her hands into the water. It wasn't nearly as cold as she'd hoped for, but it was water and it looked relatively clean. Drinking left a light layer of grit in her mouth as the water washed the sand from her lips. If she never saw a sandy beach after this ridiculous venture was over, she would die happy.

Filling her parched water canteens, Emma glanced up and down the stream. It was not a thick forest, but sparse and hardy. Trees and plants only grew here if they could take the dry season when this creek was the only water source they had. The land sloped lazily away, but it looked as though the sparse vegetation joined with a line of thicker growth. A river.

"There is a village close by. Stay here, I will retrieve a fresh horse." The mare's reins were back in his hand, but his own bag and her saddle had been stripped from her and neatly set in the shade of a large bush. The animal herself had finished her drink and now appeared to be attempting to catch a nap before she was forced to move again.

"Given the luck you had last time getting us a horse, I should go with." Like hell did she want to be left on the side of the road in who-the-fuck-knowsville and hope he could figure out his way back. Besides, she could hardly figure out a way home if she wasn't allowed in absolutely any village they passed. This one could be English held! Doubtful, given the lack of crusaders on the roads, but it was a possibility!

"I have a horse to trade this time." He turned, lightly tugging on the reins. The mare blew a sigh through her nostrils but obediently turned with him.

Emma stepped up next to the horse's head. "A half-dead horse. No one in their right mind would give you a healthy animal in exchange for this!"

She gestured to the poor mare, still thoroughly lathered and stepping slow. At least she didn't appear to be favoring any foot in particular, just all of them.

"Stay, or be bound. You are not coming with." Altair didn't even grace her with a look, simply kept looking straight ahead and walking.

A frustrated sound pulled from her throat, and Emma tossed up her hands, eyes scanning the ground for a rock, stick, or anything that might give her some satisfaction hurling in his general direction. "Arrogant asshole!"

Either he didn't hear her, or more likely, just chose to ignore her, for he kept walking, sure that she would follow his orders.

Stay like an obedient dog, or be bound like a disobedient one. She was not a fucking dog!

He really thought that was going to work, didn't he? That her fear of the unknown world around her would keep her in place, would force her into relying on him. Ha. He obviously didn't know Emma Harp very well! She was not a woman of his world, she was not raised to service men however they ordered. She was raised a fighter, she was from a family of earth-shakers. They did not stay quiet or still for fear of the unknown, they dove in headfirst!

There was no way of knowing where this village was exactly. It could be just over the ridge, it could be a mile away. She could have seconds or hours. She hoped for the latter, planned for the former. Once Altair passed out of sight, she granted him five additional minutes. It did not appear that he was going to turn around to check on her. Good. Slinging the pack back over her shoulders, she stepped directly into the creek. It was shallow enough that her boots would keep the water out, and clear enough she could see where to take her steps. She started walking, following the flow of the water towards the river.

All rivers led to the ocean eventually, right? And Jerusalem had been somewhat close to the coast, so it couldn't be too far. She had only to follow it to the coast, then track that to Acre, or some other English port. From there, she could attempt to barter a way to England. After that...fuck if she knew. All she was certain of was that it sounded like a hell of a lot better than hoping some master of assassins might have some answers for her.

Luckily, the creek stayed fairly smooth in its current, which meant she could walk through it all the way to the river. Altair would have no tracks to follow, not until the water deepened and she was forced back onto the bank. It was almost a full mile before that happened, when the creek gave its meager offerings to the river. It was not impressive in its width or depth, she could probably ford it without getting her hair wet, but it moved at a decent pace, and supported an abundance of vegetation along its banks. Hopefully, she would come across something edible, but for now, she was eager to put as much distance between herself and the assassin as quickly as possible.

Walking along the edge of the bank, careful to step over protruding rocks and roots, Emma let herself really take in her surroundings. It was a landscape unlike anything she'd ever seen before, almost entirely alien and yet looking perfectly in place out here. Birds she didn't know the names of chittered overhead, fluttering from tree to tree. Lizards and snakes strung themselves out on branches, lazily tasting the air and appearing utterly docile. From far overhead came nothing, only an occasional breeze that rustled the branches. No planes, no jets, no city traffic, no skyscrapers. It was all things she'd noticed enough in Jerusalem. But out here? Now she was entirely alone, in the wilds that probably didn't exist anymore, with animals that might very well be extinct in her time. The passenger pigeon was probably flourishing well where New York would someday be, ignorant of the existence of their drab-colored relative that would take over. The only sounds were the birds, the wind, and the river. Even the earth seemed determined not to spoil the untouched nature of this place, and silenced her footfalls. Her pace slowed the more she looked around, the more she took in.

Emma had always seen beauty in the big cities, had always preferred them to the open farmland or the cluttered forests. But this was something different, new. This was not shaped by human hands, not managed to look a certain way. This was the wild, as it had always intended to be.

Perhaps this, this moment right here, was what Eliot had been talking about when he was encouraging her to travel, that the experience could change something inside a person.

Movement on the opposite bank had her halting in her steps. Was the moment over, interrupted by humanity stepping back in?

Golden fur stepped cautiously out of the brush, and Emma felt the breath rush right out of her lungs. Four powerful legs ending in deceptively fuzzy paws balanced the animal easily on the steep bank. Her long, graceful face lowered to lap at the water.

Emma didn't dare move, hardly dared to breathe as her eyes traced over the lioness not contained behind fences or bars. This was a hunter in her own home, confident in her power and rule. She was unchallenged here, she was free.

She stood to her full height, amber eyes scanning her surroundings. Her sight landed on Emma, and for a moment, she swore the animal was looking deep inside, searching for something. The big cat blinked and the spell was broken. Turning her large head, she made a chuffing sound towards the brush.

Another lioness appeared, followed closely by four cubs who were far more interested in each other than their surroundings. Slowly, oh so slowly, Emma let her body sink towards the ground, finding a seat against an exposed root.

She'd always thought seeing an animal in the wild was no different than seeing them in Central Park Zoo. She'd been wrong. She'd been so utterly and completely wrong. It was nothing alike. The lions she'd seen before did not even deserve to be called as such compared to these animals. They were tame, docile, overgrown house cats fed reliably every day. These were lions, battle-tested, hardened by nature, living only by their own ability to fight for the right to life.

As if following an unspoken cue, the little party of lions parted right down the middle, and out stepped the large male. His mane was thick and dark, streaked red by the sun and nearly blond around his face. He towered over the females, his very walk demanding respect. He was less than a stone's throw away, twenty yards by Emma's best estimate. She doubted very much that they didn't know she was there, and yet they acted as if she wasn't. As if she was no threat, no concern to them.

One of the cubs splashed into the water, cried out in shock, and speedily scampered out and back to his mother. She humored him, licking him dry as he clung to her side. The other three had already forgotten the incident and resumed their wrestling match that had no rules and no winners.

After getting his own drink, the male laid in the shade along the bank. His ladies soon lay with him, leaving the cubs to their play.

Emma knew she should move on. Leave the lions to their nap and continue her trek for the coast. If Altair got lucky, he might have guessed which direction she had headed. She didn't know what her head start was; he could be eating away at it right now.

And yet, she was loathe to move. To break what felt like magic that had descended over the scene. A prick at the back of her mind told her to turn and move.

She stayed where she was, even as the sun crossed its zenith and began its long descent across the sky. It had to be afternoon by the time the lions stood and shook themselves from their nap. Each took another long drink from the river, before disappearing back into the brush.

Emma blinked as reality came back with their departure, her mind brought solidly back to earth. Given the numbness of her rear, she'd been sitting for far too long, lost too much time. Altair could find her at any moment. Her entire plan could be ruined because she'd let herself get distracted. Yet, even as she stood and dusted the sand from her robe and shook it from where it stuck to her skin, she couldn't find it in herself to regret staying. Plan or no, something like that was bound to never happen again.

Readjusting her pack, she turned to face her path once again. Her eyes caught movement on her bank, and her heart leapt to her throat while her hand shot to her side before she recognized Altair, moving from where he'd been leaning against a tree.

"Jeezus!" She put her hand over her racing heart instead of the grip of her gun. "How long have you been there?"

The only warning her sense had given her had been some time ago, but she'd brushed it off as a subconscious worry about being caught before truly ever escaping. Surely he hadn't been there that long; but then, why had her Sense failed to warn her about his approach later?

"Long enough." Was all he supplied, his brows pinched together. "You act as though you have never seen lions before."

She shrugged loosely, at least he wasn't bodily dragging her back the way she had come. Yet. "I haven't, not in the wild. We have a few in captivity back home but...they don't exist here, not anymore. I'd forgotten they were ever here."

Once upon a time, she could recall a history class talking about royal hunting parties, gladiator pits, and lions; but the cats had been eradicated from everywhere but Africa for so long that she'd never considered the native wildlife being something she'd have to look out for. Other than the snakes, of course.

"Be sure to remember the next time you get the idea to run off." Now his voice had a bite to it, and he turned his back to her to start back to wherever he had left the new horse.

"Oh, I remember." She turned away from him, starting back down the river bank she'd been following before.

"What are you doing?" His tone was thick with annoyance and tinged with exasperation. Ah-ha, so he wasn't the stone wall he pretended to be.

She shrugged lightly but didn't turn back. "Making my own way. Say you couldn't find me, say I was so annoying you left me out here."

A year's salary she would bet that he muttered something along the lines of 'if only' under his breath in the moment of quiet that followed. Perhaps he would go along with it. Maybe he had finally reached his breaking point where he was so tired of her disobedience and inability to keep her mouth shut that he would leave her.

Strong fingers wrapping around her bicep and dragging her to a halt proved his will was made of sterner stuff than she'd hoped.

"And make a liar of myself? I think not. I was tasked with bringing you to Masyaf. You are going, even if I have to tie you to the horse for the remainder of the journey." He tugged sharply, forcing her to turn and take a step away from her path or fall into him.

Regaining her balance, she jerked back, twisting her arm against his thumb to break free. "Only if I wanted further protection from the Assassins, which I neither want nor need!"

He snatched her wrist before she could even think to put space between them, lightly twisting to put tension on her shoulder. She couldn't break against his thumb without moving her body to relieve the pressure first. "Perhaps in your world you didn't need it, but here you desperately do. You have no rights and I promise you I am far more reasonable than anyone else you could meet; Saracen or English."

Nonsense! Surely the crusaders would not be such giant assholes to one of their own who needed help! Right? Weren't there some sort of rules for rescuing damsels (as much as she did not want to admit she was one)? Damn it all, she could quote the Amendments, not history!

As much as she didn't want to believe him, he was possibly-probably-right. The English had their propriety and rules of court, but that was in England. This was the battlefield, these were soldiers who hadn't seen an English woman in who-knew-how-long. The knights and noblemen who might actually help were far outnumbered by the foot soldiers who'd been drafted from the fields.

Damn it all and damn him. He was her best chance of getting anywhere, even if she doubted Masyaf was her best chance of getting home.

She blew out a heavy breath with a growl. Perhaps if she'd grown up camping, if she'd spent her days off adventuring in the woods, she would be willing to test herself against soldiers and the wild. But she'd only helped Malik start the fire a few times, and knew nothing about what to avoid and what could be helpful. Her home was the city, where she never lost her way among the towering buildings. Out here, she wasn't even positive which way was true north.

But the river...the river would provide water, shelter, potentially food, as well as eventually lead her to the coast. She didn't need true north if she had the river. Malik had shown her how to start fires, she had her gun and a knife. It would be difficult, but she could manage well enough, so long as she avoided coming across any fighters.

The grip on her arm tightened, tugging her away from her intended path.

"Come." His voice was hard, an order he expected to be followed without question. "Your delay cost us much time, we will have to travel late to make up for it."

Emma grit her teeth, looking once more down the path of the river. He wasn't going to let her go on her own without a fight, and she doubted she had the skills to match him in hand-to-hand, even if he was injured.

Next time. There would be a next time, and she would make her escape then, regardless of any lions.

Altair did not release her until they reached where he had tethered the horse. He mounted the chestnut animal immediately and gestured for Emma to resume her position behind him. She grumbled heavily about once again riding. The walking had certainly helped her loosen up, only for sitting to watch the lions causing everything to tighten up again. Her rear was certainly unprepared for being in the saddle again.

Her knees protested the moment she took her seat on the horse's back, and she knew the hours were going to be long. She glanced back towards the river and the cool breeze that drifted over it and through the shaded cover of the trees. Back into the blazing, unforgiving sun they went, back onto the dusty, dry road.

This horse was younger and in better condition than the last, and so the river quickly disappeared as they left it, the animal eating ground at an eager pace. Someone must have thought the mare was worth something.

They did not come across many people on the main road, and not one of the few spared them a second glance. The assassin refused to stop for an evening meal, and Emma painfully felt that the last thing she'd eaten had been a strip of jerky at sunrise. Now the sun was slipping below the horizon, and Altair nudged the horse off of the main road and down a narrower path, nearly invisible in places from lack of use. The cop hoped that meant that he knew of a good spot to make camp nearby.

The horse kept plodding on, his pace more even and lacking the pep he'd had before. Dusk brought with it a chill on the wind that was in stark contrast to the heat just moments ago. The robe that rubbed painfully against her sunburns was soaked in sweat and now worked to capture every bit of the wind and send it straight through to her bones. The path the assassin had chosen offered some protection from the main force of the elements, but he showed no signs of stopping for camp, even as the stars began to dance and twinkle overhead. The moon was thin, barely throwing any light. She wondered how even the horse could see in such darkness.

She tipped her head back, feeling her eyelids droop. If they didn't stop soon, she was going to fall asleep right there on the horse. Her lower half was numb anyway. Feeling herself tip, she blinked hard, attempting to force herself to stay awake. As much as she wanted to sleep, it would hardly help her any to go ass over tea kettle over the horse's rear.

Sucking in a breath, she released a quiet, "Wow."

Oh she'd seen the stars before, had figured they couldn't get much more impressive than the first few times she'd seen the night sky in Jerusalem, and she'd been too tired last night to pay any attention to them. She'd been wrong about this too.

Somehow, some way, even Jerusalem's few lanterns had bled out a few of the stars. But out here, in the middle of the desert, without a branch or leaf overhead, her view of the heavens was unobstructed. She felt more than saw Altair glance over his shoulder at her.

"Wipe out the stars in your time too?" His voice was thick and gruff with weariness. The comment was certainly meant in sarcasm, but he wasn't entirely wrong.

"In a manner of speaking." She kept her tone soft. It somehow felt wrong to speak loudly while gazing at the billions of stars overhead, at the Milky Way painted across the sky. It took a while to find some recognizable constellations, as they were so surrounded by sparkling diamonds that they no longer stood out. Even Sirius struggled to announce itself the brightest in the night.

"In the city, there are so many lights that never go out that we can't see the stars at all." Even outside the boundaries of New York, only the brightest stars could be made out. She'd never really gone further than that, at least not recently enough that she could remember it clearly.

She wondered if Eliot ever saw the sky like this, or if pollution and lights hid this view from anyone in the 21st century.

Despite the ache of her muscles, despite the exhaustion and the stress that wearied her to the bone, despite everything, her lips pulled into a soft smile. The stars didn't change. Whether she had seen them or not they had always stood their guard over the sky. The same constellations, the same galaxies. Eight hundred years was hardly a wink in time to a star. It was a strange sort of perspective, to realize that no matter what she did here, if she changed history irrevocably or if she died tomorrow, it would matter nothing to the stars. A single life was achingly short in the grand scheme of the universe. The stars didn't just see empires rise as fall, they were witnesses to evolution, to the rise and fall of entire species. They saw the first fish crawl onto land, and they saw the last dinosaurs fade away.

These stars were the same that her father would be looking at. Most of them would probably outlive the Earth itself.

An odd sort of comfort came from the thought. A single person could change the world, but an entire world would only ever fail to change the stars.

A flash of movement across the sky. For a moment she thought of a satellite. But no, there were none of those in orbit yet. A falling star, these people might call it; a meteorite burning up upon entry into the atmosphere. She'd never seen one of those before.

Emma dropped her gaze when her neck began to ache and blinked twice in surprise at finding the horse had come to a stop. Altair was partially turned to look at her, but his expression was impossible to make out under the darkness of his hood.

"We make camp here." She nodded, unsure if he could even see her. Swinging her leg over the horse's rear was more difficult than it had been the previous day. Everything protested the moment her weight was on her own feet again, and she had to lean against the animal to keep herself upright while the blood resumed its usual flow.

Altair was slower to dismount as well and appeared to be favoring his left arm. Frankly, she was amazed he was even able to move it at all, not even three days past being shot. When she'd been hit, day three had seen her still on so many painkillers that she'd practically been in a vegetative state on her couch. Thank God for Netflix.

Despite their seclusion and distance from the main road, there was still no fire allowed that night. Emma decided she didn't mind it quite as much as she lay back on her pad watching the stars pass overhead, her jaw sore from working over strips of jerky as yet another meal. For a brief moment, she thought she heard large paws working the earth nearby, but exhaustion won out, and she was asleep before she could think twice about it.

The next morning did not dawn more promising or pleasant than the last, and neither did the one after that. Muscle she did not know she had hurt and protested every move, and she doubted that if she'd been on her usual schedule of hitting the gym three days a week that it would have helped any. The muscles used to grapple criminals were certainly not the same used to stay on a horse for four days in a row. The brief periods of walking to rest the horse helped for a time, but only served to cause other parts to stiffen once they were riding again.

But perhaps worst of all was the fact that every second felt like an hour. Either the cold nights were biting at her exposed skin or the blistering heat was making her feel like her skin was about to melt off. Any wind only ever served to throw sand and dirt into her face and throughout it all, it remained painfully silent. There was no doubt she and Altair both wanted to be well away from each other, but for lengths at a time they were the only humans for miles in any direction. And yet, there was no conversation. Only a few words here and there to indicate when it was time to make camp and then break it again. Emma had no particular desire to get to know this man any better, but the silence and miserable conditions were beginning to wear.

When he left her on a rocky outcrop to exchange the horse again on the morning of day five since leaving Jerusalem, there was no river to follow, no signs of where the coast might be. So she took the opportunity to catch a bit more sleep, anything to rest her weary body and make the time slip by faster.

He came back with a black stallion, even sturdier and spirited than the chestnut had been. This was a horse built to make good time, and she began to wonder if they were getting close then. She was fairly sure if she had to eat that jerky much more she was going to lose a tooth.

Altair, of course, appeared perfectly at ease with such travel. Occasionally he still rolled his shoulder about, but he'd yet to remove the bandage where she could see the state of the healing. How he hadn't shredded the stitches and bled out she didn't know, but somehow it seemed to have improved over the last few days rather than worsened.

Well, at least that meant she did a fine job cleaning and stitching it.

He also seemed remotely satisfied at finding her fairly close to where he'd left her. Though she suspected she caught him rolling his eyes at finding her on the opposite side of the road from where he'd told her to stay. She may not have had the energy to fight him completely, but that didn't mean she was whooped enough to simply roll over without a little reminder of who he was dealing with.

"I told you to stay on the east side of the road for a reason." He stated dryly as he brought the stallion to a stop in front of her.

Emma made a show of stretching before slowly sliding off of the rock she'd made her perch. "And that reason was what? That it lacked shade and a decent spot to snooze?"

Sure the east side hosted better formations of which to hide behind in case anyone went by, but not a single soul had crossed the road in the twenty minutes he was gone. Even dozing, she trusted her sense to alert her if anyone had. Besides, the west side really did have better reclining rocks and shade. Her burns from the first day of travel had officially reached the 'itch like a bitch' stage, and any time in the sun just aggravated them more.

"Saracen soldiers use this road to reach Damascus, and raiders frequent down it as well. Either would be pleased to discover a woman on her own." He knelt, lacing his fingers to give her the boost onto the horse she'd embarrassedly needed after the third day when she'd found herself physically unable to lift her leg that high anymore. Damn, she could not wait to recuperate long enough for her muscles to stop messing with her ability to do things herself.

"I'm sure it would be so terrible, everyone around here must be absolute scoundrels compared to your sun-shiny self." Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly took his help getting on the tall stallion. Honestly, the road stretched out so flat in either direction that she would have had to sleep for over an hour to give anyone a chance of sneaking up, and he'd said himself before he left that the village had no soldiers. Her inner grumbling cut short as she got her boost, and quickly found herself going over the horse's back. Only sheer luck and reflex had her latching onto a handful of mane that saved her from eating dirt. She glared down as she righted herself, the horse prancing in place. "That was unnecessary."

"Every time I have some hope that you have learned, you open your mouth and prove me wrong." He swung up easily in front of her once she moved back, taking up the reins and urging the horse forward without so much as a second glance.

"And every time I think you've learned, you start barking orders and remind me I'm stuck in the bloody Stone Age." She growled at his back.

Like so many times before, he let stony silence take over; his only response to nudge the horse into a faster pace. For the love of all things holy and her sanity, she hoped this journey was soon to be over.

Turns out, it was two days more. Two long days in the sun; two more days of gnawing on a salted tire and calling it food. Two days of cold nights with no fires; two nights of sleeping on hard ground that allowed grit to get everywhere. At least forty-eight further hours of feeling disgusting, like there were three layers of grime mixed with the almost week's work of dust.

She was never, ever, going to take showers for granted again. When she found a way home she was going to take three, eat an entire pizza, and then bathe every day for a month to wash this whole experience away.

Finally, finally, on the evening of the seventh day since they started the trip on that sad looking mare, they were close. Within the hour they would be entering the village that sat below Masyaf. Within an hour she could get a taste of real food again, could get off the horse and not have to get back on, could say so long, sayonara, wasn't nice to meet you, to Altair.

Her sense pricked at the back of her mind; it had been doing that more often over the last few miles as they passed more travelers. Merchants mostly, a few with an armed escort who eyed them sharply as they went by. Ahead, the road twisted through rugged hills and rock formations that blocked it from view. A cloud of dust rose overhead, announcing the presence of a rather large party.

The black stallion who'd gotten them through the last few days without a misstep shuddered to a halt in the middle of the road. Whoever was ahead of them wasn't far, perhaps only a quarter mile. With the horse still, she could almost make out voices. Not individual ones certainly, but something that sounded like a chant, or song, or something of that nature. Soldiers maybe? The ones the assassin had spent so much time warning her about? Surely since they were only two on a single horse, they would pay them no mind and let them pass without incident. Could say they were headed for Masyaf, it was so close. So close she could almost feel the freedom from the man in front of her.

But he didn't ask for the horse to move from where he'd stopped. He stared straight ahead at the dust cloud, his head tilted slightly to one side as he listened.

Not soldiers then? Or was he trying to gauge which army they fought for?

"What is it?" The stallion spun sharply as the assassin let out a curse. She was forced to grab onto Altair to keep from falling as the animal used his powerful hind end to launch himself into a full sprint up an invisible path that would take them away from the main road.

There was something different in the stiffness of the man's shoulders, something desperately urgent in the way he hunched over the horse's neck and asked for more speed. Altair's answer meant little to her, and once again she was cursing her lack of knowledge when it came to the history of this place. Whatever it was, whoever it was, was a serious enough threat to send a trained assassin into a full retreat.

"Mongol raiders."


Captain: Duh, duh, duuuhhhh! And ya'll thought they were gonna waltz into Masyaf all peaceful like, didn't ya? Not this time! Please drop a review and let me know ya'll are still out there!

Fun fact: Contrary to Emma's limited knowledge, there are still wild lions outside of Africa. They reside in the Gir Forest National Park of India, and are smaller than their southern cousins and do not form prides. They are highly endangered due to dwindling habitat and food supply. Not as fun fact: The African lion inhabits only 17% of its historic range, and that number continues to decline due to habitat loss and poaching.