"…behind us…worry…no, she'll…"

I blinked heavily, trying to comprehend the thick voices that echoed from somewhere beside me. Where was I? What was going on?

As my vision returned, the bleary color of desert sand flashed in and out of sight, occasionally interrupted by the smooth legs of a steed. I was on a horse, and there were others riding beside me. But I was not riding. Far from it. I was thrown over top of this creature that carried me, dangling like a rag doll.

I struggled to recall the last few hours of my life, constantly being made aware of the pinching sore on the top of my skull. What had happened? How did I end up on a horse? And with whom?

I turned my head as far as it would go to catch a peek of my companion. Before I could make out the unique marks of his face, he spoke, identifying himself for me.

"Ah, so you are awake, my dear bird."

It was him. Unstoppable tears bubbled up at my eyes as all of my memories gushed forth in a mighty unfeeling wave. I had been taken hostage by this man. He was going to kill me. But why? What had I ever done to deserve this?

I could not hold them back any longer. The tears that had threatened to fall shook across my cheeks, propelled by the wind whipping across my face. Where was Altair? Where was anybody? Why was I so alone? Why was it fair that I should suddenly be tossed into a world I knew hardly anything about with danger lurking at every corner? And why was that danger so gravitated towards me?

As I sobbed, the Templar laughed. It was a cold, strained noise, like the sound of a broken winter storm. If only Malik had killed him while he had the chance, and me as well. Only then did I truly realize that there were some things worse than death, and this was one of them.

"We are not being tailed, Husam!" a faceless voice remarked, riding up beside the man whom I was with.

I looked up just in time to see his cape crack open in the wind, revealing a dark cross sewn into its depths. He was a Templar, which had to mean the rest of the riders around me were as well. They must have fled Masyaf…Or maybe they murdered everyone and took the treasure. But then, why would they worry about being tailed?

"Hah!" the Templar beside me laughed. "Why would they try, Brother?"

The other Templar chuckled approvingly, "Those scum! They are cowards! Have to use trickery and words to get what they want!"

"Hah! Hah! The assassins won't last long, Brother! We will crush them soon enough!"

The two men shared their moment of victory with gaudy laughter and vulgar comments. As for me, I was beyond confused. Why were they in such high spirits? I cringed. What if they had gotten hold of the treasure? And what of Malik and Altair? But then, why did they speak as though the assassins still existed?

I groaned and attempted to move, as my legs were tingling with numbness, but as I did so the steed came to a sudden halt, jolting me harshly back in place. All around me the sound of hooves sliding in the sand swirled through the air. Everyone had stopped.

The man who had kidnapped me, Husam, slid off of his saddle and secured his large hands on either side of my ribcage, pulling me to the ground beside him. For the first time, I could see the arrangement of Templars waiting around me. There were at least fifty of them, each with his own notable steed, and each with his own branded cape. It was a sickening sight. I was used to deceased computerized Templars, not standing in the midst of living ones composed of actual flesh and blood. I was terrified.

For a moment I considered running, but my mind was changed for me when my arm was grasped possessively by my Templar captor.

"We will set up camp here for the night!" he roared, so to make his voice reach to the far end of the Templar troops.

With a few quick hand gestures, Husam directed the men around him to use the supplies grappled to their horses to build temporary commendations for the night. One by one, they slipped from their steeds and began to erect plain canvas tents in the dusty valley that extended around us. Beyond it lay an eternity of mountains, over which peered a transcendent golden light, saying its sorry farewell to the people of the Earth.

The glorious sun from before was no match to the beauty that watched from the those darkening peaks. This departing sun shone upon the world like a last memory, saving its grandest appearance for its final moment; its magnificent finale.

As this sun disappeared, it took my life with it. I was going to die, of that I was sure. These Templars were going to get whatever they wanted from me and then dispose of my useless body.

"Come, my little bird," Husam said menacingly. "What is your name?"

I did not look at him. I couldn't. How dare he ask my name? Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had not told Altair my name. I sighed. He would never know it now. I began to wonder if he was alright, an unreasonable tension building in my stomach. I was worried about him.

"I said, What is your name?" a familiar voice sneered, yanking me back to Husam's presence.

I turned angrily to face him, a new determination building in my heart. He was scum, all of the Templars were. None of them deserved to know my name. Before I even considered what I was doing, I spat rebelliously at his feet, smiling wickedly as he gasped in horror. His face exploded into a horrible hatred that could have burned his very flesh.

"Sharmouta!" he cried, raising his oversized palm and throwing it across my face.

I stumbled sideways, disoriented for a few long seconds. Suddenly, I felt his violent grip on my arm as he dragged me into one of the smaller tents that had been set up. Inside, there was a primitive bedroll and a number of burlap sacks scattered on the sand. There was no light, save the soft glimmer of a fire burning in the camp outside. The sun was gone.

"If you will not behave like a human being, then I will not treat you like one!" Husam shouted, tossing me to the grainy floor.

I stared at the darkness that was the ground as soft wet rivers cascaded down my cheeks. What had I done? This man was unstable. At that very moment, he was no doubt contemplating the taste of my uncooked heart for his dinner.

"If you try to go anywhere, my men will cut you down like the animal that you are!" he continued, his tone twisted with fire. "I'll be back to deal with you later."

This last statement he ushered from his lips with the same acidity that he had asked my name. I looked up at him, completely hopeless, as he exited the tent dramatically, thrusting aside the canvas door as though it had wronged him personally.

What did he mean 'deal with me'? The only explanations that I could come to where involved torture, death, or a mixture of both. Either way, I had to find a way out. As it became clearer and more intimate before me, I realized that I did not long for my demise as I had originally thought. My thoughts of doom at this camp meant nothing to me now. I wanted to survive. Not under any circumstances did I want that monster coming back to 'deal with me'.

So, I scoured the small tent, tearing open every burlap sack. There had to be a weapon in there somewhere. As more and more of the small coarse lumps toppled uselessly to the sand, I began to lose hope. There was nothing, only small pieces of wrapped food and battered blankets.

I sighed, staring faithlessly at the last jagged sack that lay before me. As I picked it up though, I noticed it was heavier than the rest. There was a distinct "clink" noise singing from its belly as well; metal.

I tore open the stitches that held the rough fabric together and cried out in agony. A witty iron ladle grinned up at me, not a blade. I closed my eyes and took a very deep, very strained breath. I was going to have to rely on nothing but my own agility to get out of here. I was going to have to run. Fast. No sneaking and stabbing with a blade, not that I would have been able to do it anyway, but the thought had seemed promising.

My eyes stretched wide to see in the scanty light, I managed to pick out the shadows of three men patrolling around the camp while everyone else dined around the fire. Three men. One loaf of a girl. Nevertheless, this loaf of a girl could run a million times faster than a fully armored man. Okay, so maybe not a million, but I still stood more of a chance than they did at winning a track and field medal.

I managed to time my exit from the tent perfectly. So perfectly in fact, that I happened to do it just as all three of the patrolling guards were facing my direction. But it was too late to turn back now. I had to start running. Lucky for me, the merciful desert moon glowed brilliantly upon the Templar's horses like a divine guide telling me my next move. Needless to say, I listened.

But my divine moonlight was not the only voice echoing in my ear. The throaty shouts of Templars rose up with the smoke of the campfire. They were chasing me, swords unsheathed. Husam was right. They really were prepared to cut me down the instant I tried to escape.

Well, let them be prepared. All I cared about was mounting the short, copper steed that I had nearly run into in my flight. I had only ridden on a horse twice in my entire life, so I hesitated a bit before attempting to hoist myself up over its belly. By the time I had gotten situated on its saddle, two dozen men were within an arm's reach of me, ready to strike with their blades.

I shrieked and pushed on the horse's sides with my calves. "Giddy up! Please, just go! GO!"

The animal reared suddenly, forcing all of the Templar's back a step to avoid getting kicked. I whacked its reigns nervously for what seemed like an eternity, my heart beating clear out of my chest.

"Please!" I sobbed. "Get me out of here!"

The horse huffed and jerked from side to side before erupting into a violent burst of speed. Once again, I shrieked, completely lost. Unconsciously, I pushed on its stomach again with my left leg, tugging on the reigns. I had learned this a long time ago while riding through a simple course on a simple horse with countless safety precautions. This was much different.

Nevertheless, to my immense relief, my steed leaned left and galloped forward into the black cliffs before me. Soon, the deafening noise of the Templar camp was nothing more than a distant memory, ringing lightly in my ears. It was strange. Why had they abandoned the pursuit? Somehow I doubted that they were fond of losing their captives.

My ponderous thoughts were cut off by the horrible speed of the horse. It was going wild, jerking left and right, losing its balance with random spurts of adrenaline. Being on this steed felt no less dangerous than being trapped in the camp, and I was right.

The crazed animal reared suddenly, throwing me to the hard sand and disappearing into the night. I groaned, staring after it in disbelief. Somehow, a part of me simply could not accept that I was totally alone, stranded in the middle east with no food, no water, and worst of all, no map.

I felt the familiar pang of liquid building up in my eyes, but I held it back. This was no time to cry. I had to keep moving. There was no telling who or what stalked around the valley at night, and I had no weapon.

So I started walking in the same direction I had led the horse, away from the Templar camp. It was definitely a road, but to where, I did not know. Nevertheless, a road would mean people, people with homes and food and directions. That was my motivation. I had to find people.

Never in my life had I experienced such pain. My entire body ached from being thrown by the steed, and my heart pounded with an overwhelming feeling of loss. What had I lost exactly? I had lost my life. I had lost everything I had ever known. I had lost the only man willing to protect me in this hell, and I had nearly lost my will to live. Yet I still hung on to the scraps of it that dangled from my heart. I had to keep moving. There was no turning back. There was no going home. There was only survival.