Day by day flew past.

I knew that perhaps I should visit him – but I couldn't. Haytham had no clue that our love was fragile around the edges, and the slightest slip could cause us both to fall. The possible outcomes were unbearable.

So were the rumours.

Whispers, rising from the village like hissing steam. Whether or not I was in earshot, I knew that they were talking about me. Each person glared with eyes black as beetles when I passed. All around me the villagers stood emitting a soul-splitting silence, before the mutters slipped shamelessly from every mouth.

It took me a while to figure out why.

First came the nausea. In a stream of nights I awoke and was violently sick. I assumed that this was perfectly natural: uncooked food or dirty water, perhaps. Besides, the sickness was not something that everyone knew of. And so I ignored it.

Then came a soreness I couldn't explain. My chest became swollen and tender, but it had nothing to do with the cougar bite. Even though a dreadful scar was still there, it no longer pained me. It had to be something else.

Next came the exhaustion. Whenever I hunted, my eyelids drooped like Autumn flowers; my head grew heavier with every second. One time I even collapsed, quickly lifting myself up before the rest of my patrol saw. That was when I became slightly concerned. But I told nobody. I knew that it would only put me into every conversation. Such unruly attention was the very last thing I wanted.

One night, I added two and two together. The nausea, the dizziness, tiredness and sore chest. It could only mean one thing.

Then I knew.

Such a demonic discovery should come with a warning. The blow of the revelation was worse than the abdominal agony. It hit me like a thousand arrows, and brought a surge of sour emotions.

My first feelings were ones of dread. If the people found out about this...there would be big trouble. The Clan Mother (who was coincidently my mother) would have me severely punished. The fact that I was her daughter wouldn't soften her heart at it was hardly a sin that I could hide forever.

The feelings that followed were depression and frustration. How could we have been so stupid? So ignorant? I knew what I did was wrong. Why did I not stop myself before it took shape? There was nothing I could do now. I was trapped in my self-digesting body. I was on a sinner's cliff, teetering over the edge of destiny.

But the worst realisation was that I would have to tell Haytham. Oh, heavens. How was he going to react to all this? Would he be angry? Upset? Disbelieving? I dreaded to think. But he had to know. He had to help me. When the village finds out, it will be daunting enough, I thought. But the hardest part will be telling Haytham.

I couldn't bear to face him. I knew that someday I had to inform him. It was half his fault, after all. Yet something inside me said that it'd tear us apart. What was best? Ride to Boston or wait for him to come to me?

I didn't leave my house very much; I hated my now edgy reputation. So I waited for Haytham to come to me. I doubted very much that he would. He was a busy man dedicated to the Assassins. Another week – the sixth without him – went by.

But then, one night, he came.

"Ziio," a voice breathed into the darkness. "Ziio. I am by the entrance."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Who's there?" I hissed.

"Koshisigre," he replied in English (much to my surprise). "Can I enter?"

I blinked. An outline of two figures (one tall and lean; the other cloaked and more muscular) was barely visible in the moonlight. I knew the taller one to be Koshisigre. But who was the other?

"What do you want?" I moaned sleepily. "And why are you speaking English?"

"I have a visitor," he whispered. "He is here for you."

"Hold on," I murmured. "Can it not wait until morning?"

"No it cannot. Come out here," Koshisigre commanded.

"Must I?" I replied, following his lead and speaking English. What's the reason for the change of language?

"Yes," the muscular man whispered. I didn't recognise him at first, until his very distinct English accent showed: "Ziio, it's me."

"Haytham?" I squeaked, my heart lifting higher than the roof.

I sprung to my feet, fumbled through the blackness. I plunged outside into the cold night; into his arms. I momentarily forgot that Koshisigre was standing next to us. I let Haytham hold me for a long time before I kissed him like it was the first time in years. The shock still hadn't hit me, even moments after.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered ecstatically in his ear.

"A little surprise," he chuckled, stroking my hair. "Though you have your friend here to thank."

I looked across at Koshisigre. "You?" I gasped. "You asked Haytham to come?"

He nodded, a smirk playing across his face. "You sound surprised, Ziio. Am I right?"

"I will explain in a moment," Haytham whispered, "but first we should move somewhere quiet. Is there a clearing we can go to? That way we won't arouse the village."

"Yes, yes," I squeezed his hand and began walking. "Follow me."

"Wait – stop."

Koshisigre grabbed my arm so sharply that I halted.

"I want to speak with you first. Haytham, you go. Ziio will join you in a moment."

Haytham looked baffled, but dipped his head and disappeared. Perhaps he was also surprised at Koshisigre's words: 'Ziio will join you in a minute.' Nobody had taken so much control over me in years. Furthermore, Koshisigre was not the assertive type: his style was pleading and negotiating. Why was he so protective all of a sudden?

He glanced at the village entrance to check that Haytham really was gone. Then (and only then) did he face me, a stern look in his eye.

"Now, listen Ziio," he hissed, "I only asked him to come because I thought it would make you happy."

"Thank you. But why are you doing this?" I asked.

"As happy as he does make you, and besides the time he saved my life, I do not approve of your Templar boyfriend."

"Templar?" I spluttered. "Haytham is an Assassin. Make no mistake about it."

"Are you sure?"

"I am certain," I snapped defiantly. "He has the same blades as Achilles. Where else would he obtain such things?"

"But what about his accomplice? You forget, Ziio. He killed our fathers, and your brothers. Does this mean nothing to you?"

"How dare you!" I snarled. "Are you suggesting that I never cared about Father?"

"Ssh!" he whispered. "We wil wake the others!"

"Sorry. But that man is different to Haytham. He saved your life, remember?"

"Ah, but did he save me for me, or for you?"

"What does that mean?" I was getting very impatient now.

"I am saying, if Haytham didn't know that the man in trouble – me – was your friend, would he have helped?"

"Yes, of course he would! He is a kind man. I promise."

"And what of his accomplice?"

"His accomplice –" I paused. What about the Irish man? "I am confused about, I confess. How do we know he is a Templar? All Achilles said was that they were not redcoats, yet were infamous for cruel acts. He could simply be corrupt. It doesn't mean to say he's a Templar."

Koshisigre nodded. "Alright. But...Ziio, please be careful."

"I will," I replied carelessly, before dashing off at the speed of an arrow to join Haytham.

There we are! Got there in the end! I've had awful writer's block over the past two weeks (I've already told you people on YouTube!) but I think I'm recovered now. Yay! Just so you all know I have a busy summer holiday planned and may not have a lot of time for writing. I will find as much as I can, though!

Thank you as always guys :)