My skin is paler than all the children's, my hair, lighter. My eyes did not share the wistful look of my ancestors. But, of course, my father was a white man, though of no choice of my mother. He raped her, and yet he still had the guts to call her a savage. My whole life was spent caring for my mother, her past had never left her and the spirits continued to plague her with the memories she did not want to see. Often, she woke screaming, water pouring all over her skin. Her body never got the rest it craved until her passing. I remember. I remember, when I returned from a hunting trip, only to find a small boy shushing my mother as she had obviously disturbed the village screaming my name until I returned. I never truly thanked Ratonhnhake:ton for that.

I jumped awake with a deep inhale of breath.

"Hey! Lakota, shh. It's ok! I'm here." I heard Ratonhnhake:ton's soothing voice call out. I was on a soft bed inside the manor in one of the upstairs rooms. I tried to sit up but my arms gave out beneath me.

"You collapsed. It seems that although you can hunt the wilderness, hunting a man does not bode well for you." I recalled last night's events.

"Ooh" was all I could manage. Ratonhnhake:ton was sitting beside me with his back against the top of the bed and his feet stretched out before him. I managed to move onto my side to face him. It was still dark outside meaning it was early in the morning.

"Have you slept, Ratonhnhake:ton?"

At the mention of sleep, his eyes began to droop and he began to look extremely tired. His back slunk down the wall until he was lay down beside me.

"Thankyou, Ratonhnhake:ton."

He turned his head to look at me,

"For what?" he asked,

"Everything" His mouth twitched into a smile but it did not last long, but his eyes gave away the contempt feeling I knew he felt at my thanks. His hand drifted up to my hair, that he must have unpleated while I slept, and he tucked a few strands behind my ear and out of my face. His hand slid from my ear to my shoulder, and then pushed my shoulder down so I was forced to turn away from him. His arm then slid down my rib cage to my waist where he pulled me strongly but delicately to rest in a spot in front of him, mirroring his position with his chest to my back.

"No Lakota, thank you." he whispered in my ear, his smiling mouth brushing against my cheek. His warm breath tickled my neck and lulled me to a comforting sleep, to await the sunrise.

Two months later,

I have learned the old man's name, Achilles. It took time to learn but the old man is patient. We sat together, whilst Ratonhnhake:ton was out on a small errand, and he taught me. His hand pointed at his chest,

"Achilles" he said, and then he gestured to me. I did not understand at first so he repeated his name patiently.

"Lakota" I finally managed to say. The old man smiled and repeated my name, I tried to say Achilles but instead I muttered some different name that sounded completely Mohawk. He chuckled a deep laugh and I tried again but resorted to calling him what I had heard Ratonhnhake:ton call him many a time, "Old Man." He seemed to like that. He gave Ratonhnhake:ton a new name; Connor. It is shorter but it is hard to pronounce when you have spoken Mohawk all of your life. He has gone by the name of Connor for two months now. That's how long we've been here. Since then we have developed routine and duties. Achilles is teaching Connor the ways of the assassins. Connor is teaching me a new language and I look after the horses and animals on the homestead. I have become the Clan Mother to the men, and I love it. Achilles and Connor had spent all day down in the secret basement, opened by candelabra. I had taken Spear riding earlier, and had managed to catch a deer for dinner. The men would enjoy some venison. I took the Venison out of the oven and plated it up with the vegetables I had cooked. It had taken me a while to get used to an oven instead of an open fire, but I got used to it eventually. I called them out from the basement and set their plates on the table and then took my seat.

"This is beautiful, Lakota!" the old man said as he took a great mouthful and closed his eyes in delight. I only half knew what he was saying but it did click after a while.

" Mmm, just what I was needing! How 'bout you Connor?" he asked,

"It is lovely." He said, in his closed off way. I should be used to this by now, but I just don't understand why he can't show his emotions.

"You will make a wonderful wife, Lakota! The man you marry will be a very lucky man." Assured Achilles. At his words Connor's eyes opened wide for a second and he froze mid shovelling of food to his mouth. He then smiled. It was a small smile but it lit up his eyes and he looked like he was day dreaming. What was he smiling at? And marry, what did that mean? Days passed as my mind ran through the Old man's words, trying to find out what they meant. Achilles and Connor had left for a city, looking to do business with a man; it was Connor's fist time outside of the homestead. They had been gone for most of the day-I filled my time with cleaning the manor, looking after the animals and hunting for food- until I heard the creaking of the old wooden door at the front of the manor. I walked out to greet them but only found the Old man.

"Where Connor?" I asked,

"He is doing business and being taught a few life skills by a man. Do not worry." The old man said, as if he sensed the fear growing within me upon not seeing Connor. I nodded, and told Achilles I was going to sleep before walking up the stairs to the spare bedroom that me and Connor shared. I slept restlessly that night, dreaming horrible thoughts of what could be happening to Connor. When I woke the sun was shining through the window. I could hear shouting downstairs in the unmistakable tone of Connor's voice. He was home. I leapt up to join the men downstairs but as my feet touched the floor, stomping could be heard coming up the stairs. I walked to the door to meet Connor but he stormed through and ignored me completely; pacing wildly across the wooden floorboards.

"I can't believe he left me there! How dare he?! He calls himself a mentor when he left me there in the hands of a man I did not know. What a foolish old ma-" I stood in front of him, forcing him to stop his pacing. My right hand rested on his upper arm. His head turned to look at my hand planted on his arm, sending his fluffy raven hair moving softly as he moved. His eyes travelled from my hand to my eyes, he was still panting from his rant about the Old Man but as we looked at each other's eyes all of our worries melted and Connor's eyes relaxed into the self he only showed to me. His chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and he closed his eyes.

"Look. Me." I tried to tell him to look at me in the English. It was harder than I had thought, but I got the message across. Connor opened his eyes and moved slightly closer to me bringing my arm with him that I did not realise was still attached to his forearm. Suddenly I realised how close he was to me. He seemed to realise it too as he pulled his head back ever so slightly and his muscles tensed. A shiver ran up my spine. When had he developed such large muscles? Ratonhnhake:ton was a warrior like many men of our tribe, and as an open community we had frequently bathed together as kids, but since moving in with the Old Man, he and I spent very little time together. The arm that I still had a hold of tensed as his hand moved to hold just below my elbow. His touch was soft; as if he were scared he would break me or scare me off like a frightened doe. His fingers traced a light trail down to my hand as he pulled his bicep away from me; he was now holding my hand, our palms touching. His rough hands were much larger than mine. His rough fingertips were a quarter of a finger exposed over the top of mine. He stared at my eyes as I looked at our fingers and as quick as a hare he grabbed my hand and rested it on his chest, above his heart; flipping his hand to lay atop of mine. His life beat beneath my palm, hard and strong. His lips parted slowly as if he were trying to find words, he did and they weren't English so I could understand them clearly enough but yet not fully.

"You are my family, Lakota. You're all I have left." I believed there were more words he wanted to spill as his eyes told me things his mouth could not. They spoke of heartbreak, fear, vengeance, but most importantly, love.