A/N: So, I reread the previous chapters and corrected some spelling errors and put in a line or two here and there. Eh. I'll probably reread it again in the future and do the same again. PS: I updated the description.

Desmond woke with a start. For a moment he did not remember where he was. Then it can rushing back to him like a slap in the face. Thinking of face. Something was happening to his. He opened his eyes to see what looked like a big ass wolf sniffing at him. Check that, licking his face. It was light out letting Desmond know that it was morning or whatever, but the hide of the animal was blocking the light from coming through the small opening. The licking stopped when the animal noticed that he was staring. It took a step back into the doorway causing more light to bleed through to the inside of the hut. With the wolf, as he was now sure it was, out of his face he could see that it was staring back at him. Unsure of what it was trying to do and afraid that it might attack he kept still. The wolf tilted it's head for a moment then bolted outside of the hut. Desmond pushed to his feet seconds after while also picking up a half burnt stick from the now dead fire. He stayed crouched on his heels just in case the wolf came back.

Faintly he could hear the sound of the wolf running away. Thank goodness. Desmond wondered to himself what would have attracted the animal to begin with. He stood up slowly listening to the cracks in his joints as he did so. Shit all of that running did a number on him. He glanced down and realized what had caught the attention of the wolf. There were scattered spots of blood all over his hoodie from places he was scratched from passing branches or even a hand print of his near his heart that had come from his own hand. Mentally, the novice assassin slapped himself at his idiocy.

He paused in his mental musing to glance outside. There were no signs of anyone or anything else. Judging from the height of the sun, Desmond guessed that it was about 8:00 in the morning. Too damn early. But after the adrenaline push after the wolf, he doubted he could go back to sleep. That and he was hungry as hell. Loudly, his stomach decided to remind him again. He turned back into the hut with a hand over his belly. He picked up the extra cloths to put them on. At that point, the smell hit him. He smelled horrible. Taking the clothes with him, Desmond left the tiny shelter and went to the pond. Before he knelt down to the water, he glanced around again to make sure no one was there. He felt extremely exposed at the thought of bathing out in the open. None the less, there was no one else there. Signing, Desmond placed the clean clothes near the pond and stripped off his dirty and damaged clothes.

The ex-bartender slipped into the water with a gasp. He had not realized how warm it had gotten already even with the sun so low in the sky. Taking a deep breathe, Desmond went fully under the water and came back up, shaking the water out of his face. Now dirty water ran down his body, cleaning at least some of the dirt and dried blood off of him. He hissed as he started running his hands to rub on his skin to get more of the dirt off. Damn his hands hurt. Thankfully they did not look too bad. There were only a few spots where the skin was either cut open or rubbed raw on his hands and torso. Dipping his head in again, he scrubbed at his hair.

Feeling cleaner, Desmond pulled himself out of the water with a growl from his stomach again. Glancing at the pond again, he through twice about taking a drink to fill his belly. Maybe he should have done that first thing. He sighed again and went with the flow for now. He picked up the clothes that almost looked like what Altair would wear. The bad thing about the clothes was that they did not come with shoes. Hopefully, he would not run into anyone that would look down at his feet with his sneakers. After pulling the clothes on, Desmond went back to the hut. There he pulled apart the bed area that he slept in. He found that there had been a travel padding under the blanket. Using the blanket and padding to his advantage, he took the apple and rolled it up in the padding. With that, he placed the rolled up apple in the blanket in a way to make a rucksack. Pleased with his work, he threw it across his back and tied it upfront.

Walking back outside he noticed the heat had went up drastically. Thankfully the dirt had finally settled at the bottom of the pond and he was able to take a drink. The novice drank until he was certain again that he could drink no more. Who knew when he would be able to find water again. Sucked that he did not have a container he could use to take it with him. "Well, can't have all the luck, now can I?" Desmond asked the air.

With nothing else holding him at the run down hut, Desmond headed in the same direction he was going the day before. It lead him to the hut, right? Maybe it'll take him to a town…With food.

-H-O-O-D-I-E-N-I-N-J-A-

Days went by with very little change in scenery or events. At random times, Desmond would get lucky and find a tiny stream or puddle to get a drink from. He had no such luck for food or anything else for that matter. He was starving and was starting to run out of energy. He did not even have any run in with templars. He tried catching animals at random times and even set up traps at night. He did not even get one taker.

With the lack of company or much of anything else but walking, he was getting a lot of thinking done. He thought so much that he wanted even just the smallest of vacations from his own mind. The thinking made Desmond realize that he was definitely not a think. It actually made him miss the damn Brit. He never knew he would someday miss that annoying twit. 'Guh! Now I'm insulting him with his own countries insults! I swear when I get back I'll call him everything insulting in the American fashion!' That thought pulled Desmond through the next few days.

It was with pure joy that he spotted his first village. The closer he got to the village, the more his instincts were telling him it was a bad idea. With that, his joy quickly moved to frustration. Desmond wanted to scream at his instincts to just let him get some food! But, thankfully, being on the run from templars in his normal time and the past helped his mind think about his situation truthfully. One by one his mind ticked off the reasons why he shouldn't just waltz right into the village. One, he had no idea if he would be able to understand anyone. He realized he understood the templars, but they were probably yelling in English for all he knew. He had yet to met anyone else to test his theory about it. Two, he had no money, so he would have to steal the food he wanted so dearly. Three, he was tired, so his attempt at stealing the food may end up in him getting caught. Four, again, he was terribly tired and if someone tried to rob him, he would more than likely lose the apple. Five, if he lost the apple, he would be screwed. Six, he had screwed himself enough already by getting caught by Abstergo and shoved into the Animus. Seven, who knew if he was changing history by just breathing a thousand years in his past. What the hell would it do if he just ran around? Eight, he was a bad actor. Nine, everything would totally show through his expressions. He wasn't like half face Altair. Then, ten…Something was off. He could just tell.

Stopping his decent from the hill he was on, he stared at his surroundings and the village. People were milling about in what he could tell was the market. No one looked out of place or overtly suspicious. He even saw a few kids running around harassing a pig. He looked all around him for anything that may be out of the ordinary. He saw horses munching away at some hay nearby. He even went so far as to look up to make sure nothing was above him. It seemed as if he was concerned for nothing. He took a few more steps down the hill. Looking back into the village. Still he found nothing wrong.

Finishing his decent, Desmond took a deep breathe and pulled up his hood before fully going into the village. It was structured like Acre, but he knew it was not that city. The people walking about was primarily made up of farmers. Of women and children. He walked farther into the village with his heart beating like a baseball team's best batter was using it as target practice. Few glanced his way and when they did they had a look on their face like they wanted to wash their hands of him. He had been walking for days through trees, dirt and things he hoped were not what he thought they were. He must of smelled rancid. The bartender felt it was better to count it as a small blessing that he did not know and that his dirty appearance and tired frame made him look more of a beggar than a threat. One blessing he did not get was language. He could not understand a single word that was being thrown around him. 'Damn. It can send you back in time, but god forbid it translate anything for you.' Desmond bitched in his mind.

After roaming around for a few minutes without trouble he decided to finally give his stomach what it needed. The marketplace was filled with the smell of already cooked food and delicious meats and breads that were still being made. More than once his stomach growled loudly. Taking his time, because he knew if he rushed this it would end up bad for him(especially without being able to speak to anyone), he scouted the stalls for the easiest steal. He was able to narrow it down to a baker's stall and his timing was perfect. No guards were looking and the merchant was busy with another customer with his back turned. Sliding by, Desmond was able to swipe two bread rolls to hide under his shirt.

He did not look back as he made his way out of the market place to eat. Unconsciously, his speed picked up slightly in his eagerness to finally eat something. Without a problem he found a secluded area where he was able to sit down and eat a little. God he was starving! Within a minute, half of the bread roll was gone. At that point he had to pause for breath and to let the food actually go down. Thankfully, the pain in his belly eased as the bread hit it. This let him pause longer after bites of the bread to actually chew the food. Once one of the rolls of bread was gone, Desmond knew he would definitely need to save the other one. Making sure he was alone again, he took off his makeshift rucksack and wrapped the bread in with the apple.

He stood up and stretched. His muscles twitched a little and his joints popped. The bartender did not realize how long it had been since he last stretched. Finally no longer hungry, Desmond was able to focus a little more on his surroundings. It looked like he was in a three walled back yard. Securing the rucksack back in place, he looked out of his hidey hole. The feeling he had before coming into the village was still there. In fact, it felt to Desmond that it was more acute than it was before. He did not like it at all. Then his eyes found what he knew was off.

The guards.

They were not there. Desmond could have sworn that he had seen a few walking around the town. He took a moment to think about it. Yes, yes there had definitely been guards before he stole the bread. The more he thought back, the more he realized how much of an idiot he was. There had been guards. Now he saw none. Meaning one of three things. A: They were having some sort of a meeting at a fantastically odd time. B: They were on to him and were hiding in ambush. Or… C: They had been picked off. Stealthily. By someone who obviously knew what they were doing.

'Fuck.'

AN: Yeah. The last sentence of that chapter, I didn't know that there was going to be a movie about it. Heh Heh. Probably a little late to say that, but whatevs. So, I am trying to make this longer, but no guarantees. I may end up posting short chapters, but a lot of them. Eh.

And this is totally the second update of today. Sweet.