July 28th, 1811

I thought about them every day. I would wonder if they were okay, fear for their safety, and wish desperately that things were different.

"How old is she now?" I would wonder, "Twenty? Twenty-one?"

I had met Caroline when I was thirty and she was twenty eight. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her wavy red hair made her stand out in a crowd, and her blue eyes would shine like starlight. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and melodic, her accent vaguely Scottish. I loved her very much, but because of this I had to leave.

I feared for her safety. She was already being taunted openly in the streets for marrying "a half-breed savage." I was worried that people would start beating her in the streets, or worse. Not only that, but there was me life as an assassin to worry about. I didn't want our enemies to target them to get to me.

So I talked her into relocating in Boston, where the people didn't know us, and I left them behind. My wife and my daughter, my beautiful little Irene. I let them believe I was dead, although whenever I found myself in the city, I would check on them. Caroline never remarried, and I noticed that she kept the name Kenway.

Irene was also very beautiful. Luckily, she didn't take after me, so she wasn't scorned by the people around her for being related to the Kanien'kehá:ka. Rather, she had her mother's pale skin and blue eyes. She had my father's brown hair, although it was wavy like Caroline's. I never really spoke to her, being as young as she was when I had to leave.

I spent most of my time, outside of working with the brotherhood, in the woods near Boston. That way I could at least be semi-close to my family. I made decent money hunting and trading animal meat and pelts, for those who were not too xenophobic to trade with me.

One afternoon I was stalking a deer, a large, young buck that seemed sort of cocky, given how close I was to Boston. I notched an arrow in my bow, taking a deep breath as I drew back the string and aimed. Suddenly the deer's ears pricked up and he scampered away. I cursed under my breath and lowered my bow, putting the arrow back into my quiver.

I didn't have to wonder why the buck ran away, because I heard them too. Not long after my dinner ran away, the four boys of maybe age ten or so crashed into the clearing. I sighed and sat down on my heels, placing my bow back on my back.

I watched the boys play for a little while, as they "sword-fought" with sticks they found, and chased each other around. I found myself daydreaming, drifting off into nostalgia, remembering when I was little and playing similar games with Kanen'tó:kon near our village.

Due to these thoughts, I completely missed the sound of a large animal approaching, and the faint growling sound it made. The bear crashed into the clearing, almost immediately spotting the four little boys. It's lips pulled back from its furry maw, revealing large, pointed teeth. It growled at the boys, fixing them with its dull, dark amber eyes. The boys stood huddled together, their eyes wide, trembling. It was one of the biggest bears I had encountered in my life time.

Without thinking, I notched an arrow into my bow, firing it at the bear as I leaped from the bushes. It was only a glancing blow, really, intended to get the attention of the bear, to have him focus on me rather than the children.

I dropped my bow, with the intent of picking it back up later after the battle was finished, and drew my tomahawk, swiftly engaging the bear. Normally, when fighting a bear, you want to be loud and look as big as possible, so that it would see you as a threat. However, that was not an option here because if the bear gave up on me it would immediately attack the children. So I danced around the bear, it's large, clawed paws attempting to bat and scratch at me as I reached for openings to bury my tomahawk in its dark auburn pelt.

At least until I caught sight of the children, who were still huddled on the other side of the clearing. I tore my gaze away from my furry opponent and made eye contact with what seemed to be the eldest child of the four. Why were they still here!? Do they have no sense!?

"What are you doing!?" I screamed at them, "RUN!"

They didn't need to be told twice. The children turned tail and ran into the bushes from whence they came. However, as always in battle, getting distracted can be fatal, and my reflexes were not quite as good as when I was young. The bear brought his claws down on my side, neatly parting my flesh, tearing open three long gashes from my waist to my bellybutton. Blood immediately stained my white robes scarlet, and a crimson puddle began to form beneath my boots as it dropped down from my wounds.

I grimaced and tried to block myself from feeling any pain, cursing to the heavens internally. I swung my tomahawk one last time and buried it deep into the bear's skull. The bear collapsed in the puddle of blood that was a mixture between mine and its with a dull thud and a small splash, flecking my robes with even more blood. I wrenched my tomahawk free, and even more blood oozed out of the wound, clumping on the dead bear's skull.

I straightened, and I suddenly felt woozy. Sharp shards of pain spread throughout my body from the wounds, and my vision went blurry. I knew I was going to die. I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I had been younger, there was a very small chance, practically minuscule, that I could temporarily stitch myself up and hobble to the nearest doctor, but I had never been that good at personal first aid, and I fear that if I tried, I would do more harm than good, and ultimately speed up my demise.

I didn't have much time left. I knew that wild animals would likely follow the blood trail, and it would be in everyone's best interest if I got as far away from Boston as possible.

I made my way slowly and painfully away from the city. More and more blood poured out of my wounds as I walked, my vision growing blurry, the edges darkening. Eventually I knew I couldn't make it any farther and collapsed beneath an old pine tree, with younger saplings growing around its trunk.

My breath was coming in gasping wheezes, and I was finding it difficult to think. My blood continued to soak into the pine needles below me. I took a small shaky breath and looked up at the sky, spotting an eagle soaring above. I found myself thinking of my wife and daughter, Caroline and Irene.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, closing my eyes for the last time.

This one is completely head-canon, because we don't really know how he died. In fact, we don't really know too much about him after age twenty-eight.

Also, he had to pass on his genetic material some how, so I made up Caroline and Irene. I simply looked up names that were common in that time period, and chose random descriptions for the names.