EXAMS ARE OVER AND SCHOOL'S OUT!

Thank you for being so patient. I know, worst timing to go on a long hiatus, but school sucks :P got a busy summer ahead but I plan to finish Everbound this summer. We are very near the end now...just you wait...

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for everything :) this is a pretty dense chapter so may take a while to read...

INTERMEZZO TWO

A minute. An hour. A lifetime.

It could have been any of those, Aaron thought, in this blind hysteria. The autumn chill rippled across his back like the twilight above. He had never witnessed a night so dark.

Aaron loved the forest. He and Alexa had spent innumerable hours here in their youth, clambering on branches and hiding in the hedgerows when called for dinner. But this was the twilight of their innocence. The woods were no longer a hideout from dinner. They were a hideout from death.

He swivelled where he was crouched in the bush, turning to Alexa. His sister; the one whom he always relied on to ground him when his mind flew wildly. She was silent; rigid. It made him uncomfortable. Aaron traced with his eyes the veins in her temples. He watched how they slammed against her bruised skull, pumping some sense into her.

Inwardly, even Alexa was frenzied. She clutched at the little sense she had left, gathering her incoherent thoughts. She could say nothing. And so the silence rang on in Aaron's bloodied ear.

"When will Mother and Father come for us?" he despaired in Mohawk.

"Ohitekah, keep your voice down!"

Alexa's whisper was so sudden, Aaron jumped somewhat and scratched the scar on his hand against the thistles. A drop of blood seeped from it again.

"Why?" He sucked the blood from his scarlet wound. "The soldiers are gone. You saw them turn their backs. We can speak without any danger."

"How do you know that? We have to wait. Wait for Mother to remember us."

In unison, their mother's words seemed to flow through their heads. The twins looked in each other's eyes, and remembered how she took them aside after Lee came for them: "If ever we are attacked, you know where to go. Remember the underbrush by the bottom of the valley. Hide there until I find you. Do not move until then. Make no sound, and never, ever stray until you know that you are safe."

Aaron gave a sudden shiver, for his back was exposed through the rips in his blouse. "We have been waiting here for hours."

"Not hours; look...stay here," Alexa hissed, grabbing his wrist as if he'd otherwise escape. "Please. I am afraid."

"As am I, sister. As am I."

Aaron tried to take a deep breath – but something sharp jabbed him in the ribs. It wasn't the thorns; it was the claw of his own fright. He had never been this afraid, not even when his father pulled a pistol on Charles the other week. Not even when, aged eleven, he and his sister watched naval battle; a black hailstorm of cross-firing cannonballs. Any one of those could've hit him square in the chest. It would not have hurt as much as this.

"Do you think they would still be looking for us?" his sister asked gingerly.

"I don't know." His eyes pricked with tears. "And it scares me that I do not know."

Alexa half-swivelled in the leaves, but thought better of it on seeing her brother's glazed face. "No," she gasped. "No, please do not cry..."

"How did we reach this point?" His voice cracked the air like thunder.

"Aaron – Ohitekah, don't...or I will cry too. Please –"

"All our lives running from Templars and now look. They appear on our doorstep!" His terror turning him from man to boy, Aaron pounded his fist on the grass. His sister ran her hand along his back, as if she could stifle the great sobs he held within. "We aren't safe anymore, Imala. We never will be. We could die like this."

Alexa combed her fingers through her hair, trying to centre her energy. "No," she breathed quietly, springing to life. "We have to be stronger than this! Don't you think Mother and Father feel this way? Don't you think this crosses Ratohnhaké:ton's mind? Yet they remain fearless, and they live. So must we."

Aaron flinched – but not because of Alexa barking at him. His eyes gaped; his ears pricked like a fox. Alexa looked at him questioningly...but he remained frozen. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Listen again," Aaron hissed.

After her brother's outburst, Alexa had become deaf to background noise. She listened intently. For a moment – one hopeful moment – she thought she heard it. Was it her parents? Were they approaching? She looked at Aaron with hopeful eyes, but no...his face was frozen with a different kind of intensity.

Fear.

Of what? Alexa wondered, and would have asked, had he not locked into silence.

But that was when the bushes rustled not far beyond.

Alexa rose slightly and slowly. Not the tallest of adolescents, she peaked over the hedges. Her vision was blocked by branches; her perception distorted by the dark. But that was enough. One glimpse was enough to strike terror into her already unstable heart. A pair of amber eyes seemed to glow in the not-so-distant underbrush. Her mind paralysed, Alexa forced herself to duck before her body locked. She wanted to cover her mouth; to stifle her gasps. She couldn't.

"Oh my God...get back!"

Aaron scrambled to his feet without question, forcing his sister up too. At a terror-induced speed they sprinted along the undergrowth. Alexa didn't want to look back. She knew not if the thing had seen or heard them. She didn't want to know. She led the way, heart in her throat along with her tears. This couldn't be real. This day was too hellish to be reality.

But it was, and she had to escape. Now.

Aaron grabbed her arm and pulled her to duck behind another thicket. His vision blurred; he heaved until he caught his breath.

"Wolves. Wolves, Imala! Just when we thought we had escaped death –"

"Head for the peak," she struggled. "We should be covered by the underbrush."

"It is too dark. We will not see where to run!"

"Do you have a better plan?"

As their breath began to steady, they heard it. A distinct snort – more powerful than a horse – meant that the wolf had flexed his nostrils. He had caught their scent. Alexa braved a peak around the tree – and a mist of crystallised air confirmed what she knew. "Go!"

Aaron knew he could never outrun a wolf. It was beyond all reason. He knew that they would die here. But nothing could stop him from running. Running blindly into the night; his panic, his only drive. He overtook his sister and grabbed her hand as they ripped through the thicket. They ran for minutes, not looking back, not knowing any concept of time or distance.

But the wolf was following them. They could sense it.

Now they were out in the open, with no vegetation to mask them. And even through the bitter wind, Aaron could hear his funeral call: the wolf's snarl. He heard as its paws thudded against the grass at an acceleration. He could not help himself: the boy let out a piercing scream as he stumbled into the night. This triggered his sister to scream, too, as they approached the trees up the hill.

The trees were their only cover. If they could just climb one...or would that cost them too much time? Not that Alexa had time to reason with herself. She charged for the lowest hanging branch, yelling at her brother to jump.

Her ripped lilac skirts hindered her as she scrambled – screaming – up the trunk. But she was a capable girl, and had grown up in the trees. Her brother bounded after her with uncanny speed. The wolf's snorts came closer and closer; its eyes glowed on the ground...

It snorted and came to a halt. Its prey had got away. The eyes, amber slits, spat venom at Aaron. Once again he was on the brink of tears, but all his focus went into balancing while crouching on the branch. He caught his breath, unable to look at the grey beast below. Should they call for help? Would any come to them?

The wolf growled into the grass, raised its head and let out an almost human wail. Alexa flinched. A wolf's cry could be heard for miles; she knew that from a book. It could mean one of two things for them: either humans would hear and come to their rescue, or...

Too late. Her other prediction was right: two, three, four more wolves poured out from the peak. They skidded to a halt beneath the tree. Alexa looked at her brother, unable to watch their noses snuffling the twins' scent.

It seemed like a minute before there was any movement. The tension in her legs was beginning to build; her vision was so blurred that she could no longer count the wolves below. Then one of them let out a sudden bark. It charged away from the tree to a spot beyond her visibility.

Crack.

A bullet? Yes. The splinter of a bullet rolled through the air; the wolf lay bleeding on its side. At once, all five beings yelped in alarm. What was that?

Crack. Crack.

Two more of the brutes were blasted backwards, landing still on the ground. Aaron forced his eyes shut; he gritted his teeth and braced for the final shot...

Crack.

Only after the pitiful screeches had stopped did Aaron open his eyes. And when he looked down on the scene...he was unsure whether to cry or shout in relief. All four wolves lay limp as plush. Blood was sprinkled cleanly over the grass. Haytham had killed the wolves humanely.

"Mother! Father!" he cried.

Haytham and Ziio screamed their children's names in unison. Without waiting for his brain to settle, without thought of the bullets that frightened him moments ago, letting relief cleanse him, Aaron ran to them. He jumped from the branch. Landed on the forest floor. Sprinted to the edge of the hill. Alexa soon followed; their parents charged towards them.

As his mother threw herself at him, Aaron's eyes were streaming. Her skin was warmer than the tears from her face. She murmured prayers of thanksgiving in Mohawk, clutching at her son's back. The young man's shaking fingers clasped around her. He would not let go. His mother was here now. They were safe.

Aaron then turned to face his father. When they hugged, both began to sob. His father, a man of feelings few and far between, was positively sobbing.

"Thank God," he whispered. "Thank God. Thank God you're both alive. Aaron. Thank God, Aaron..."

A cloak of darkness covered the Kenways, as the clouds began weeping lightly over the mountains. A display of love such as this was bittersweet: it should never have to be this emotional. But for the Kenway family, this was often the case. Lost and found. Close escapes from death. Darkness, closing around them...

Yet momentarily, they were lost in the unity of one another. The touch of live flesh against flesh. In their frayed states of hysteria, Haytham, Ziio and the twins were relieved of all darkness.

HAYTHAM

"Are you ready to talk about what happened?"

Aaron did not reply. He sat in just his breeches on the drawing room chair. Ziio knelt beside him, soaking his wounds with a cotton cloth. Robert had since gone to the doctor, and presumably gone home. Alexa sat beside her brother with her hands in her lap. She had not been noticeably scratched, although her cheek looked a little blue. I grimaced inwardly, knowing that was the same fist-shaped mark on Robert's eye socket.

My daughter squirmed uncomfortably; the blanket fell from around her shoulders. "There were three of them," she began. "All Templars."

"Alexa and I were playing chess in here. Robert went to answer the door, but when it opened, there were loud footsteps. It was a storm of people marching. I did not hear what Robert said to them, but he seemed just as scared as we were."

"And then they entered." Alexa looked at her brother, shivered, and placed the blanket back round her shoulders. "They carried long guns and ammunition, but they did not wear gloves. I could see the Templar rings around their fingers. I knew that they meant trouble, so I stood to move away. But one of them cried: 'Seize the girl!', and...and..."

An unspoken pact meant that Aaron knew when to take over before his sister burst into tears. "One of them dropped his musket, grabbed her and held her wrists together in front of her. He dragged her by the drawing room door while the other held Robert at...gunpoint. I tried to stop them, but it was no use. They were grown, and trained, and..."

It was horrific – truly horrific – such that I had trouble imagining it in this very room. Instead I focused on what the children had to say, not the images in my head. "It's alright, Aaron. There was no way you could match them. Continue."

Alexa swallowed, knowing when to take over. "I watched as the final man kicked Aaron to the floor and grabbed the back of his collar. He demanded to know where something was. I was too panicked to remember what they were asking for...Aaron, can you remember?"

"First they asked where our parents were," he frowned, "and I said that they were out. That was when the interrogation started. They asked me about where different objects were hidden in the house...and every time I told the truth – that I did not know – they...beat her. They beat Alexa." The boy took a sharp breath to tranquillise himself, then continued. "It was horrible. I didn't want to see her hurt, but I did not know the answer to their questions."

Ziio's hand dropped from tending his wound. "Oh, Ohitekah..." she gasped. "I'm sorry you ever had to endure this...so sorry..."

"There will be time for apologies later," I cut in sharply. Then, with a more compassionate tone: "Please, Aaron. What did they ask you for?"

"The first time, it was a document. Something to do with the tribe. Ownership documents, maybe? I was too scared to think. I probably had seen them before, but I knew they were important. The second thing they demanded to know was where the amulet was. I have never understood why it is so desirable to the Templars, but I knew you kept it safe for a reason. So I told them I didn't know. And...once again, Alexa was hit across the cheek. But she did not cry. She was so brave, and I did not want to give in. I did not want to be weak for her..."

"You were not weak." Alexa reached across and put her hand on Aaron's. "You were strong. You are not to blame for this at all."

We are, I thought with a lurch in my stomach. Ziio and I are to blame.

"What else did they ask of you?" Ziio murmured.

"A box. That was all. They wanted...a document, the amulet and a box. None of which I said I knew about. Then they threatened to...shoot...to shoot us if we did not tell them the truth. Now I know they would not shoot us. Charles would want us alive; Alexa and I concluded that while we were on the run. But at the time I was terrified. I wasn't sure how much more I could take of this. It was awful."

Ziio paused to let Aaron cry for a moment. She placed her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Son, you were so brave. You both were. How did you escape them?"

Aaron wiped his face with his long arm. "It was Alexa. See, the man who held her had such large hands. He used one to strike her, but only one to restrict her wrists. I don't know how she did it, but..."

"I bit the hand which held my wrists. It was not hard enough for him to let go of me, but it distracted him. It distracted the man for long enough that I could kick him from in front. I did not think that I kicked him too firmly, but he recoiled backwards in pain. And I was free."

Kicked in the groin, I thought to myself. That's my girl.

"Alexa distracted them just long enough for me to rise to my feet. The one who held Robert tried to grab me and Alexa, but he could not go for us both at the same time. So he tried to seize me, but I ducked and rolled under him...and I called for Alexa to run."

"We ran upstairs on instinct," said Alexa. "They were shouting to one another: 'After them! Don't let them get away! Never mind the butler. Get the Indians!' But we were in our chambers before them."

"I called to Alexa to pass me anything heavy so we could barricade the door. In a panic we piled chairs, a chess table, a globe...anything. But there are very few heavy items in our possession. Soon we were out of ideas...and their muskets began hacking at the door. Alexa turned to me not knowing what to do. There was only one option...the window."

"We had to do it quickly. I passed the heaviest chair to Aaron. He raised it above his head, and in two swings, he smashed the glass straight through. But by now the pounding on the door was louder than ever. Chips of wood were falling off the door. So Aaron went first – he stood on the windowsill and broke a bit more of the glass away, that we would not scratch ourselves on the way out. The glass was stuck in his hand...it must have been painful."

"It was."

"But he followed through with it. I was terrified, but Aaron said that it was our only option. He grabbed my hand, and before I could think to back down, we jumped."

"It was such a long fall. I'm amazed that Alexa wasn't injured, landing on her toes with that long skirt. She scrambled to her feet even more quickly than I did. And we ran."

"Did you go straight to the hiding spot?" Ziio asked.

"Hiding spot?" I frowned.

Her eyes fell to the floor ashamedly. "I assigned them a place where they should hide if ever we were attacked."

"Hm. Of course. It's the sort of measure I would expect from you."

"You disapprove?" Ziio frowned.

"No. Only that I would do the same...it just shows...never mind. I'll tell you later. Where were you, Alexa?"

"Er...we ran. Part of us knew that we could never outrun trained men, but our fear clouded all sense of logic. We heard them charging, but they were far behind us."

"That was when they injured Robert," Ziio realised quietly.

"Exactly," said Alexa. "By the time they were chasing us, we were far ahead. And we kept on running. We were faster than they expected, I think. I heard one of them say: 'Oh, let them go. We've scared them enough for Haytham to take the hint.'"

There was plenty I wanted to say, but forced myself to wait until Alexa finished.

"We waited in the underbrush for a long time. Almost until you came. Aaron wanted to run to the village, to our grandmother, but I refused."

"If the soldiers were still there, we would be bringing trouble to them," Aaron explained.

"And that was when –"

"The wolves," Ziio interrupted. "Ohitekah, hold still. I need to bandage your hand."

Aaron raised his hand tiredly. The glass from the window must've seeped deep into his skin. Even after Ziio cleaned the wound, it was still unsightly. She wrapped the fabric over and over his hand and murmured something in Mohawk.

"How long were you in that tree?" I asked my daughter.

"Not long. Minutes. We were lucky. We were lucky that you heard the wolves."

"Is that all there is to tell?"

"I...think so."

I drew a deep breath, exhaled, and pushed on my knees to stand. They still ached from running, but it was nothing on my children's injuries. I came to sit on the same chair as Alexa. She looked up at me blankly, and I saw the outline of lilac around her temple. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd been through today. Wordlessly, she rested her head against me. That was enough to keep us both locked in thought. Here was my daughter, in all her wisdom and beauty...and I had let her become hurt like this.

"You have spoken in more depth than I would expect of you," I murmured, kissing her head. "That requires a great measure of courage. Well done. Both of you."

As I held Alexa, I rocked her slightly as if she were a small child. Would I leave a small child home with just our butler? No. So what in God's name gave me the idea to leave them now? After Charles' visit?

"We should never have left you two alone," Ziio voiced my thoughts. "I know, I know. You were not alone. You had Robert. But you were still defenceless."

"The blame is all ours." I looked down at Ziio, who nodded. "But they still would have attacked if your mother and I were here."

"Maybe they thought we were. Maybe that was why they asked after us."

"True," I muttered, then fell silent. Were those Charles' orders? Hold our children at gunpoint and threaten us until we gave the Templars what they wanted? The tribe documents, the amulet and the Precursor box?

"Whatever Charles' plans, we must face the truth." Ziio glanced over her shoulder, into her silvery hair. "Aaron and Alexa are not safe here."

"What?"

"But this is our home, Mother."

Ziio placed her hands on Aaron's thigh. "I know. And that is why the Templars want you to feel endangered. They want your father and I to believe that – even in our safest haven – they have the power to destroy us."

Both she and I were known for our directness of speech, but Ziio could've worded this more carefully. A shudder rippled through Aaron's bare chest at her statement: 'destroy us'. So graphic. Yet so real.

"What are we to do?" I sighed.

Ziio closed her eyes, stifled a sigh, and turned to face both adolescents. "Go upstairs and pack some clothing. You will stay with Eva and George."

"For how long?" Aaron asked.

A short pause. "Indefinitely."

Ziio delivered the children that night. I did not go with her, but bid them farewell before they left. I did not want to leave them in such a traumatised state. Determined not to cry once again, I put my arms round both of them, kissed their heads, and whispered: "Don't worry. You will be back here soon enough."

The truth was, I did not know if they would.

What if the Templars burned down this house? An unwise decision, since it housed the artefacts, but a possibility. We could be murdered in our sleep, robbed...anything. I was not prepared to put Aaron and Alexa through that.

The possibility of it became even more real. Two days later, I received a letter from Jasmine. Her network of Assassin informants had discovered something disturbing: an army warrant to search the Kenway Homestead. Inside the envelope, Jasmine slipped the copy of the warrant her spy found. Ziio and I recognised the handwriting at once.

Thomas Flood.

I should've known. This warrant was written on the second of September; one day after the Templars broke in. It made perfect sense. Charles had control of the army. Why wouldn't Flood use it against us?

So, the Continental Army or Templars could break in at any given moment. They could search for the documents, and easily find them in my study. They could (if I was severely outnumbered) rip the amulet from my neck. They would not find the Precursor box; that was still in Achilles' possession.

Not for much longer.

Only a day later, I received another letter. I recognised the scrawl as Connor's. I opened it, feared the worst...and was right.

Dear Mother and Father,

It is with great sorrow that I tell you that Achilles passed on yesterday. I found him after what looked like a quiet stroke in his sleep. I can only pray that he died painlessly.

I would include details of Achilles' funeral, but I do not expect a written response from you. Jasmine has already informed me of what happened to my siblings. I assume, from the warrant she sent you, that you plan on hiding the said objects. Although I was not with Achilles when he died, he asked me to return the third object after his passing. According to him, you gave this object to him almost four years ago.

Of course, Connor meant the Precursor box.

At present, it is too dangerous to send this object to the Kenway Homestead. I am not a leader; I cannot give you orders, but I have the power to advise. Mother, Father, I beg of you to visit the Davenport Homestead soon. Pack your weapons, the other two artefacts, and enough supplies to see you through a week. I will give further instruction on your arrival.

Your son,
Connor.

I could no longer deny it: I was extremely troubled. Connor had been vague in the letter; he had to be, in case it was intercepted. I feared the unknown. I feared the unpredictable. Yes, Ziio and I were capable as con artists when it came to improvising on missions. That wasn't to say that we liked doing so. Our future was fogged by paranoia and tension. The Templars were closing in on us now. Their impact was spreading, like a swarm of spiders unleashed to infest the Assassins. Particularly me and Ziio.

How did we sink this low?

For all these years I had buried my Templar connections. I suppressed them until I was deluded. Deluded into thinking that they were gone; that I could lead a normal life. A free life. A family life...but no. In the same way I could never escape Ziio in my past, I could never escape the Templars and Charles.

But something didn't quite add up. There was one more missing link; while I was in no fit state to find it, I wracked my brains. How did the Templars know the things they did? On so many occasions, their schemes would have required something more than regular spies. What was my mind bypassing?

I did not voice this; Ziio and I were preoccupied with planning what to do next. The first step was to visit Connor.

I was grateful to lock up the house and leave. It seemed deadly quiet without Aaron and Alexa. It reminded me of those desolate days before they were in my life, during Ziio's horrific slavery years. How thankful I was to see my son's face; sorrowful and exhausted, but otherwise unharmed.

Jasmine and her grandfather were with him. They took our coats, but Connor was implicit that we would need them in a moment. Even Jasmine's aqua eyes looked dirtied with tiredness. Everyone was frayed and uncertain, speaking in low monotones.

"What is your plan?" Ziio asked, once we were seated in the drawing room.

In response, Connor lifted the Precursor box from under the chair. He passed it to Mister White, who passed it to me. "Take this," he began. "First, you need to find a new hiding place for it. And the amulet. In case you are..."

"Ambushed," Mister White finished. "We cannot afford for it to be taken from your body."

I nodded, even though the amulet had remained safe for years around my neck. "Such as...? Where are you sending us?"

"It is less straightforward than that," the young woman winced. "We have completed the first part for you. See, there are wanted posters all over Boston. They are offering a great reward for you both. Connor has sent informants to bribe the press. That should keep your notoriety lower, but..."

"There is more," Connor sighed. "Flood is currently in New York. Before he died, Achilles also implored you to kill him. Not me, you."

"Why?" Ziio asked, but her face fell in grave understanding. "I see. That I may have my revenge."

"Exactly. He felt that...that you deserved it."

For numerous reasons, the party fell into mournful silence. At this point, Achilles would have brought our attention back to the matter. But Achilles was not here. And it struck me again (harder than ever) that I was partly to blame for his death. Yes, he would have died anyway. But his disability certainly made him uncomfortable. More than that; he was never the same man again.

All because of me.

"Anyhow," Jasmine proceeded cautiously, "we have only tracked Flood so far...and you will need to be careful. You aren't exactly low-profile in New York, either."

"But where do we hide the artefacts?" I asked.

The three of them looked at each other. "We're getting to that," Jasmine murmured. "Firstly, you will have to travel at night. Use the usual tricks. You know...tailing, pickpocketing, and there should be some of our own informants in the city. Former slaves and such. They will know of your presence in New York. We will ensure it."

"As for the documents," Connor continued, "leave them with me. Even if they are stolen, they bear little significance. If the Templars find them and destroy them, all it does is disproves your ownership of the land. It does not overrule the Assassins' right to defend it. I will hide the documents in a safe."

"The box and the amulet, you'll need to take somewhere safer. I mentioned those former slaves. We currently own a patch of land which is passed off as a plantation by the authorities. Some of our spies stage as slaves toiling it; they take shifts in doing so. Beneath it is a network of tunnels which link to our ships in New York's frontier. However, there is one tunnel which you will have to ask them to show you. They have a vault in there built to hide such artefacts. Our spies should explain this in greater detail. Look for them."

"And when we are done?" Ziio suddenly grew worried: surely we could not return to a warranted house?

"Ah." The three looked at each other; Mister White cleared his throat: "Well. The Assassins will do what they can, but...you may have to stay in hiding."

Oh, good God. "For how long?"

"Oh. Indefinitely," Ziio huffed. She closed her eyes, turned her head to the ceiling, and despaired. "Yesterday, I told my children that I would see them again soon. When it was safe. But will it ever be safe while Charles lives?"

"We cannot risk killing Charles yet, Ziio. I know how much you want to, and by Christ you've every right, but...the revenge inflicted would tear the Brotherhood to pieces. It is not wise until we have eliminated his potential successors."

"Where is Charles, in any case?" I asked.

"Nobody knows. He hides. He waits. Not even our informants can trace him."

"And what of this...going into hiding? Where will we hide?"

"Up to you," Jasmine replied. "Just keep running. Don't stop in one place for more than a day. Wherever you are, we will find you. The Templars may be everywhere, but so are we."

The inexactness of Jasmine's words unravelled me further. Far enough for my fate to settle. How dark our fate seemed. We were fugitives; victims. No longer Assassins. Our only purpose, after killing Flood, was to get the hell out of Boston. I didn't know how long it would be before I saw Connor again. Or any of my children, for that matter. I did not know where I would be in a day's time; a week's time...maybe even a month's time.

No. This is all too overwhelming...

But I had to accept it. And I had to accept it right now.

Outside, the sky shrouded the sunlight. The moon was barely a claw mark in the sky; the stars were completely concealed. Small September raindrops began to splash the window panes. They grew bigger. Louder. And as the meeting went on, the mood inside and outside grew heavier.

"It's dark," Connor observed, "and you need to reach New York before dawn."

So regretfully, Ziio and I hoisted our bundles of supplies, weapons and artefacts. We tied them to our horses as inconspicuously as we could. The other three helped us with this process, holding their cloaks up to shield the rain outside.

"Remember," Jasmine shouted, strapping down the pouch containing throwing knives, "if a guard asks about the box – which they shouldn't – say that it is an antique given to you by a family member. Or improvise. You're a gifted liar, after all."

I wasn't sure to which of us she was referring. Perhaps both me and Ziio.

Connor slapped the flank of my mare; water dripped from her hip. "The horses are ready. Are you?"

My stomach churning horribly, I could not lie to my son. "No."

Even in this dark; even in his bereaved and exhausted state; even in the aura of sadness around him, my son's brown eyes glowed. They squeezed out every last drop of love they held left. They filled with tears as Connor bound towards me, threw his arms around my shoulders and held tightly. I felt my fingers digging into his robes, tasting their scent of earth and rain on my tongue.

"When will I see you again?" I breathed, knowing he could not answer.

We parted; Ziio stepped forth to bid Connor farewell. After a few monosyllabic Mohawk words, Ziio and I mounted our horses. The night ahead was starless; overcast. So were we.

"Godspeed." Jasmine's pale lips quivered; her hands clasped in prayer.

"And to you," I replied. Then, to myself: I love you, son. Stay safe.

I wished I'd spoken those words aloud, but it was too late. With a sharp kick of the heel, Ziio and I were fugitives galloping into the night.