"Haytham. Haytham!"

I snapped out of my reverie at once. "Yes, Charles?"

We were sat once more in the Wright Tavern, marvelling over a map stolen from Braddock of the colonies surrounding the town. Alas, I wasn't paying attention. I was re-capturing every beautiful moment of the afternoon Ziio and I spent together two weeks ago. A change of pace. A rest from all the dedication, battle plans and dirty kills.

Was it the way that my heart-strings were plucked at the sight of her face; at the sound of her voice? Was it that her personality triggered such enthusiasm in me? I knew I'd only met her...well, about a month ago. This didn't seem to make any difference: Ziio's presence was unravelling my maturity, my dignity, the outer layer of myself. I was chipping away at her mask to see a truly beautiful woman...with a truly beautiful personality to match. It seemed a balanced exchange.

"Do pay attention," sighed a somewhat exasperated Charles. "This is important."

Embarrassed, I sat up tall in my chair and attempted to focus.

"So, if Braddock were to strike here..." he pointed to a location somewhere near the river. "Our forces can easily penetrate in the gap in his forces here."

"That will not be necessary. Ziio and her allies will ambush him there. It is the only way this will work for us without being outnumbered." My mind slid out of focus to the day when I had broken into Edward's camp and retrieved the map we were poring over. She had been present; she'd given me orders and scolded me once again like she would in a serious situation.

Ziio...

Charles eyed me suspiciously. In the end he shrugged and nodded. "Very well. But what is our role in this? When do we know when to attack?"

"Time will tell, Charles. Rest assured. The Mohawks will send word when it is time for the attack."

"Will we have to wait long?"

"I'm afraid so. A few months, at the very least."

"But, that's-"

"We must be patient if we want this to go to plan," I interrupted him. "Yes, I was quite uncomfortable about that thought as well. In order that our plans our set in stone, we have to wait."

So wait we did. We took a little break from all the hard work. I do remember clearly one incident when Thomas and I headed for the woods to chop some timber. The barmaid was running low on the stock and offered us a little money in return.

I dragged the moaning Hickey through the thicket, equipped with axes, blades and ropes. The warm spring glitch like on the day I'd spent with Ziio was beginning to disappear: light snowflakes swirled in the air and landed gently beneath our feet.

"'ow long are we goin' to be?" he demanded. "I could be doin' much better stuff than this."

"Yet you are logging, Thomas. And you will see the task through whether you like it or not."

He groaned. "These axes are heavy," he blurted.

I cocked an eyebrow. "And your sword is not?"

"Ugh, fine. But I'm doin' this for the money. This better no' take long." He turned away defeated and began plunging an axe into the trunk of a small tree. I rolled my eyes behind his back: why did Thomas have to be...Thomas?

Once we thought we had as much as we could comfortably transport back, he and I bound ropes around the logs and started packing up our tools.

"This ain't enough," he noted. "We need more."

I nodded. "You take this load back. I will cut some more."

I breathed a sigh of relief: this did not spark any exasperation up from Thomas. He heaved the two ends of the rope over his shoulders and began to drag. His figure went slowly further and further into the distance. I thought inexplicably of her again, and the world around me melted away.

Ziio indicates the camp. "Use the snowstorm to mask your approach," she orders.

I look reluctantly past the tree trunks into the blustery swirls of snowflakes. Is this really necessary? How am I going to infiltrate the camp and find out as much as I can without detection? I don't want any more trouble like before: that is certain.

I notice she is glaring at me impatiently. "Having second thoughts?"she barks.

"Hardly," I reply coolly, standing up taller. "But I'll have to approach this carefully."

Realising that she cannot intimidate me further, she wavers me way. "Go on, then. I'll keep watch from here."

I cannot help but pause and chortle at her tone of voice. She is endeavouring display a venomous attitude, to come out on top...and it isn't working.

"What?" Ziio snaps, bewildered. "Why are you laughing?"

"Hm, hm. Nothing. I just thought you'd have given up jumping down my throat." I flash a little smile at her.

She returns it for a brief second, making my stomach do a backflip. "Ha! Now is not the time. Now go!"

"Are you lost?" A familiar voice jolted me back to reality once more. I jumped and turned to face the speaker.

"Ziio!"

I felt my heart tighten. There she stood, a good fifteen feet away with a bow in her hand. As beautiful as I'd imagined her.

How did I not hear her sneaking up on me?
I was busy daydreaming...
About her.

"How did you-" I began.

"Nice to see you too," she replied, a little flirtatiously. "I see you have been staring up into treetops again. You didn't expect to see me there, did you?"

"No," I replied, finding myself shuffling closer. "I was waiting for a friend." I spat the last word 'friend' out like a rotten taste.

Ziio tipped her head. Her facial expressions pretty much summed up the word: Really?

"Alright," I sighed. "An accomplice, if you like." (For Thomas was most certainly not my friend.)

"He seemed rather rude to you earlier."

"Oh, don't worry. That's just Thomas being...Thomas."

She shrugged, placing her bow to the ground.

"What brings you here?" I asked. "Hunting again?"

Ziio nodded. "I have not caught anything yet, though. You?"

"Well, you must have seen what I was doing. Logging."

"Why?"

"Oh, the barmaid needed some more wood for the fire. We...I mean, I...volunteered to help her."

Was it just me, or did Ziio look slightly miffed when I mentioned the other woman? Either way, she momentarily dropped her gaze to stare at the bracelets round her wrist. Was she...was she jealous?

"Just...as a friendly favour. I am not that familiar with her," I promised hurriedly.

Silence.

Oh no...is that not what she meant?
No. She seemed hurt. She must have been upset.

I swallowed, pushing the obvious chemistry to the back of my mind. I itched my neck in the uncomfortable quietness.

At last, she spoke: "I see. Would you like any help?"

"No, we're fine thanks. I'll cut some more later." I pointed to my axe on the ground nearby.

"With that tiny blade?" she snorted.

"It's better than your knife," I retorted, a little insulted.

"What are you talking about? My knife has saved my life on many occasions." She stroked the handle of her weapon fondly.

"As I'm sure!" I chuckled. "So has my sword."

Ziio rolled her eyes. "Ha! What is it with men and swords?"

"What? Is there a problem with my sword?"

"They're large and clumsy," she huffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I had never heard anything so ridiculous. "Nonsense! It's the most useful weapon someone can own!" I drew it out of its case. "Have you never used one?"

"No."

"Why not?" I was completely flabbergasted. How come Ziio was such a skilful killer when she had never so much as picked up a basic essential: a sword- in her life? "I shall have to teach you!"

She laughed. "Now? Right now?"

"Why not?"

"Because..." She looked past my shoulder and into the distance. "I don't want to use one," she blurted.

"Such a feeble excuse. Come on, I'm going to teach you!" I bent my fingers in a 'give-me' gesture.

She tightened her clutch on the mallet of her knife like a girl with a doll. "I don't know, Haytham...I am not sure swordplay is for me."

"Having second thoughts, are we?" I mimicked.

"Oh, you..." She elbowed me playfully. "Why must you quote what I say?"

I flashed a cheeky smile across to her, immediately redeeming my mature self afterwards. "Come on. Hand it over."

Reluctantly she let the curled metal roll onto my gauntlet. It glinted in the sunlight with a type of dangerous allure. Like Ziio herself. In return I handed my sword to her. Ziio's delicate fingers pinched the sword as if it were something vile.

"Come on. Hold it properly."

"I thought I was supposed to be the assertive one," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice.

Ugh, Women!

"Would you like your knife back or not?"

Finally accepting that I had given her no choice, Ziio stood back. She raised the sword with hardly and difficulty at all (before swinging it round clumsily above her head). Dangerously close to hurting herself.

"Careful!" I cried out involuntarily. Immediately afterwards I wanted to snatch the word back: I knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Especially with the glare she was giving me now. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

*READ* There will be a Part 2 for this chapter...but because I don't personally like having chapters exceeding 1,500ish words, I've split what I've written in two. So anyway, sorry if Haytham and Ziio's little "meetings" are getting repetitive. Give an honest answer in reviews. If you want a little more drama involved then just say the word!