HAYTHAM

One heartbeat.

That was how far I was from screaming her name. All the swarms of smoke, all the hissing, the distant cries and blazing heat died away. The scars on my hands were nothing, nothing, to the slurry of exposed skin on Ziio's body. Never mind my thumping heart. The question was if hers was beating at all. Tears in my eyes, I began to panic.

What do I do? Carry her to safety?
No! That is absurd, Haytham!

Yet before me lay the beautiful woman who'd enchanted my life, in a mess of raw skin and pools of dry blood. All resistance I had left was mute to me. I needed to do something. The first on that list was get out of here.

Ziio's warm body was limp as I scooped her from the rubble. Her clothes crumbled at my touch; ashes and blood rained on the ground. I could not believe I was doing this. I still could not overcome the trauma in such a short time. I whipped around, searching desperately for an inconspicuous exit. I was in luck. The hill was in sight behind some thick and (thank God) not aflame bushes. I cupped my palm on Ziio's bleeding head and hurtled through the thicket.

Time was already running out when I was at the top of the hill. Though the air was clean now, I could barely gasp for breath. But I did not care. I was taking her home.

I threw her roughly over the saddle and leapt on the mare's back. How on earth was I to make sure Ziio didn't fall? I grabbed both of her hands and tried to sit her up. Her head drooped like a dandelion; her hair swished in her bloody face. I crossed her senseless arms over my shoulders and tucked them into the strap on my cloak. I'd have to ride carefully. I snagged on the reins and my horse leapt into life.

Despite the sense of emergency, I could not help but notice a bittersweet feeling growing on me. My horse broke into a gallop...and Ziio's head kept drooping on my shoulder. Her flesh was flaky and cold. But I could feel it. It was almost surreal. It was a sudden feeling of how things used to be, and how this was not right.

The trees whipped past like the wind as we rode faster and faster. I needed to reach my estate before time ran out! Who was I to know if Ziio was to live or die?

I will need a doctor.

But the nearest doctor was in Boston. There was no way that Ziio would make that journey. A dribble of blood slithered across my cloak. Her head was still bleeding. I would have to perform basic treatment at home.

When I at last reached my large house, I dismounted and placed Ziio on the ground. I ushered my horse into the stable. I tore past my stable hand – Robert – nearly tripping the poor young lad right over. I snatched Ziio from where I left her in my crop field and burst inside.

A baffled servant and startled maid moved straight out of my way. No questions. I realise now how unusual I must've looked with an unconscious Mohawk woman in my arms, blisters on both of us and blood dripping down my cloak. Across the hallway. Up the wooden stairs. A swerve to the right.

I burst into the guest bedroom and threw her onto the bed. I half-turned, about to disappear downstairs...but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the way Ziio was lying so peacefully, or maybe it was the glorious gloss to her hair, or maybe even the fact that even with her injuries she seemed the same. But she was beautiful. Quite beautiful.

No time! She needs dressing for her head!

Snapping back into focus, I dashed back onto the landing. I missed two or three stairs at a time, almost slipping up on the last one. But I didn't care.

"Rose!" I panted to my maid, "I need you to find some bandages, water and pins. Quickly!"

Rose was so baffled that she simply nodded. She dashed off into the drawing room.

"Henry!" I called to my older servant, "I need you to ride to Boston and find a doctor. I'm so sorry for this inconvenience. But that woman's life is at risk. I need her to stay alive. Do you think that is possible?"

He nodded his greying head, and disappeared in a flash.

It was at times like this when I felt fortunate. I was very lucky to have such obedient servants with immediate responses. Without them, Ziio would've died there and then. Rose began dressing the dreadful blisters on Ziio's arms and legs. She insisted I left the room as she worked on the rest. I found this request most odd, considering I'd seen Ziio at her worst...and in many other forms.

And so I paced anxiously up and down the corridor. When would the doctor arrive? Would he buy us enough time? A dark thought rippled through my mind: an image of Ziio, cold, still, senseless. I felt a shiver shoot me in the spine. I simply could not imagine it, carrying on with life knowing that she was gone. Nor could I picture living with her memory in my house. But why? Why this sudden concern? What did it matter to me if she lived or died?

If I hadn't seen her just minutes beforehand, I would have practically forgotten that the woman existed. Fascinating, what one may forget in such a short time. Five years was nothing. So something in seeing her – half-raw from carnivorous flames – had changed me. I was still overwhelmed by the actions I'd taken. It was like someone else was controlling me. Somebody was pulling strings at the usual, dignified Haytham.

My thoughts were soon interrupted. The click of the door announced the doctor's arrival.

"Will she wake?" I asked, biting my lip.

The doctor scratched his ageing chin, having properly dressed her wound. He sat on a chair beside the bed. Spectacles perched on nose, took one final look and turned to me.

"She appears to have suffered a severe blow to the head."

Severe. I didn't like the sound of that.

"However, as you reacted so promptly, Mister..."

"Kenway," I finished.

He grunted. "She will hopefully wake within twenty-four hours. However..." He trailed away, looking at Rose for support. The young maid simply shrugged; she was no expert. I did not like this uncertainty.

"However...?" I pressed.

"Her burns are such that walking shall be painful for the woman."

"For 'ow long?" It was Rose who asked in her Yorkshire accent.

"Oh...I am not to know."

Yes you are. You're a doctor.

"Surely an estimate never did anyone any harm?" I said coldly, drumming my fingers on my hidden blade.

The old man's watery eyes squinted into my own. It was almost like he was trying to read my threat. "If you insist. About a month, I should say."

"Wh –" I spluttered. "I'm sorry? A – did you say a month?"

He nodded nonchalantly.

Oh no. How on earth was I going to keep Ziio here for a month? And what of when she woke? How would she react?

"No. I cannot nurse her for a month! I have duties to perform!"

"As do many, sir," the doctor purred. At that remark I wanted to eject the blade unto his bloody throat. That'd teach him.

Though I refrained from doing this; I just sighed. "All right. What are my options?"

"I could take her to the clinic in Boston –"

"No."

My answer was so defiant that I wanted to snatch it back. Rose tilted her capped head in surprise. The doctor's eyes widened. But I stayed still, watching Ziio's scarlet chest, rising, falling. Why would I do such an inhumane thing to her fierce heart? Everyone I'd known who'd gone to the place had never come out. Rumours stated that the conditions were fit for feral dogs; not humans. No wonder half the patients died.

"Then I am afraid I cannot help you," he stated coolly.

This man was bringing my blood to the boil. My fists clenched; I bit my tongue to tame my anger. Why was he refusing to treat Ziio? Because she was a Mohawk? Outrageous. Why did nobody understand that Ziio was a human? She had a heart and mind. The most courageous I'd ever come across.

"Fine," I spat. "I will treat her."

The doctor simply nodded, rose from his seat and curled his lip. I slipped a handful of coins into his hand and Rose led him downstairs. He spoke no words, not even a grunt of thanks. He had what he wanted: money.

But I was still denied the one thing I wanted. I had to see that Ziio was safe.

I watched her broken body as she slept. I wondered what she saw in her unconsciousness. Her final moments? The building closing in like the grasp of a monster? Memories? Voices? Whatever it was, I hoped it would end for her soon. Yet she looked so peaceful, almost like she was asleep. But I wanted her awake.

Please, Ziio. I thought. Wake up. Please.