It was incredibly fortuitous that Prudence found out she was pregnant not long before I did. It wasn't that I was keen on sharing the woes of maternity with another woman that I was glad. It was the fact that she knew of a doctor that made me so happy. Lyle White relocated to Davenport soon after the year began. All the inhabitants were relieved by his arrival, but none more than me. It was that February that Abby got sick. Dr. White diagnosed her with scarlet fever. He spent four days overseeing her care and was almost as happy as Connor and I were when her temperature finally returned to normal. Within a week, she had made a full recovery and was back to her usual, hyper self again.

It was when I was able to stop worrying about my daughter that I began to notice something was wrong with me. I was having pains I didn't think were normal in my condition. I first attributed it to the stress of dealing with a sick child, but they got increasingly worse as time passed. By the time I thought to seek attention from Dr. White, it was too late. Too much damage had been done and I lost the baby. All Lyle could do was preform a surgery that would keep me from bleeding to death, but, at the same time, prevent me from ever having conceiving again. It was Connor who made the decision for Dr. White to save me. I was too weak to argue with him at that point. If I hadn't been, I don't think I would have let him go through with it.

I stayed in bed for weeks after that. Not for recovery, but from depression. I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't even want to see Abby. All I could do was cry, eventually drifting off into a restless sleep plagued with remorse.

I begged Connor to leave me. I didn't see any sense for him to stay with me now that I could no longer give him the family he wanted. But he remained. He said he didn't care if we never had any more children. I was still his wife and he still loved me. But I didn't feel like a wife anymore. I didn't even feel like a woman.

Connor tried every way he knew of to get me to participate in life again. He tried being supportive, he brought me gifts, he even got harsh with my continued refusal to do anything. I ignored it all. I thought he would eventually give up on me. And after a few days of nothing, I thought he finally had. But then he came back, dressed in his Assassin's attire and sporting all his gear.

"Get dressed," he told me. "We are going hunting."

My response was to pull the covers up higher and pretend I hadn't heard him. That usually made him go away. But this time it didn't work. Connor went to the corner of the room, picked up my bow and brought it over to the bed. He held it out to me, offering it with a pained expression.

"You have not gotten to use this since I gave it to you, Faith. I know you have wanted to. This is your chance. Come hunting with me. Just like we used to."

I looked at the bow, the one he had made just for me. It was ornate and beautiful. I remembered how happy I had been when I'd opened it, how excited. I had caressed it every day, yearning to make it sing. I had once been a good shot. But that had been so long ago. I wondered if my talent had decreased with disuse. I had spent so much time just being a homemaker that I had forgotten how to do anything else. It made me sad. It gave me a longing for more.

Sighing, I got up and put some clothes on. I'm not sure if there was a reason for it, but I subconsciously chose my old jeans and shirt to don. I had not worn them in a very long time. They hadn't fit me because of the weight I had gained. Now they were almost too big.

Connor convinced me to eat before we went out. He even cooked my favorite foods for me, sweet potatoes, squash and bread with honey. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I ate.

I followed Connor through the woods. He led me farther from the house than we had ever been before, using the trees to advance whenever possible. He urged me to do the same. It was difficult for me. I had not done anything so physically taxing in years. Not since Connor and I had gotten married. But he was patient with me. He reiterated all he had once taught me, helping me to remember the lessons.

Once we got to the rocky cliffs north of Davenport, the woods ended and Connor called a stop. We stood upon the large branch of a massive oak tree and he surveyed the land with keen eyes. It was the end of March and the thawing land was scattered with dustings of residual snow. I could see my breath in the chilled air, but I really didn't feel the cold. I was numb.

Connor hesitated, pointing toward the stone wall. I glanced in that direction, barely noticing the moving dark dot that signaled the presence of a male elk grazing near a greening bush.

"See if you can take him," Connor told me.

I knelt on the branch, drawing my bow in the constricted space. I took aim with my arrow, using every technique I had ever learned as I sighted the buck. I released a second earlier than I had intended, unable to hold the string with my weak arms. I stood up, muttering a curse as the animal ran off in the direction of the forest. I looked at Connor. He made no reaction. After a moment, he descended the tree, with me in tow. When we were back on solid ground, Connor pulled out his spare dagger and handed it to me.

"What's this for?" I asked him.

"To end it," he replied.

I looked at him with confusion, unsure what he was talking about.

"Your arrow did not miss," he said. "It only wounded him. We must track him and finish it."

I wasn't sure how he had managed to tell that my shot had hit the elk, but I took his word for it. We walked toward where the beast had retreated and I could see the red drops of blood tinting the snow every few feet. Connor had me take point. He wanted to know if my skill was as good as it had once been. I had no trouble following the trail until we got deeper into the forest. The dense woods cast shadows that made sight difficult and the tracks were obscure on the muddy floor. I looked to Connor for help. He only waited patiently for me to figure it out on my own. I chose a direction that had little to do with insight and relied only on a guess. It stunned me that I was correct. We came upon the buck while he was standing near the creek. My arrow was protruding from his left hindquarters, just above his leg. He was limping lethargically as he whined quietly.

Connor and I crouched among the underbrush some yards away. I took aim again, holding my breath and trying to steady myself as I waited for the elk to raise his head. When he did, I released. The second arrow buried itself deep into his eye, angering him. He cried out, releasing a horrible, loud sound, and spun toward where Connor and I were standing. The buck lowered his antlers and charged at me. I froze, not knowing what to do. I felt Connor push me out of the way and fell hard on the ground. I looked up at my husband just in time to see him meet the advancing elk. He held the beast's horns in his right hand and released his blade with his left. With one swift motion, he drove the knife into the animal's neck. The buck whimpered and fell on it's side, dead.

Connor relaxed, flicking his wrist. Droplets of blood arched from the weapon, spraying on the scenery. He let the knife receded back into it hidden holster and looked down at me. I couldn't do anything but stare at him in awe as he knelt next to me, offering his hand to help me to my feet. I had never seen anyone move so quickly in my life. I had always known Connor was a remarkable man, but this was a side of him that I had never seen before. His warrior side. It made me realized how productive all the training he did was, why he took it so seriously. It made me realize how incredibly good he was at what he did. He was an Assassin. I understood that now. And I understood what that meant.

Connor pulled me into a standing position with a soft, concerned expression on his features that was a stark contrast to the violence I had just witnessed. "Are you alright?"

I nodded dumbly, still watching him with fascination. It hit me that he had done what he did for me. To protect me. Because he loved me. It was an astonishing and humbling feeling. I was incredibly grateful to him, but couldn't express it in words. I was speechless.

Connor looked me over, satisfied that I was unharmed and turned back to the buck. "We should-"

I didn't let him finish. I threw my arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Our mouths met hard enough that I felt my lower lip split on my tooth. Connor was shocked, standing still and not reacting as I delved my tongue between his lips in a way I hadn't for a long time. After a heartbeat, he recovered and returned the kiss. His embrace was strong, owning. He pulled me close to him, causing me to let out a quiet yelp at his forcefulness.

My pleasant surprise emboldened Connor. His hands lowered, caressing my bottom as his fingers went to my inner thighs, pulling my legs apart. He lifted me, taking steps until I felt the rough bark of a tree on my back through the fabric of my shirt. I paused in the kiss to tell him that a I love him. He returned the sentiment, speaking a long string of words in Kanien'keha that I didn't understand. Then he was kissing me again, his palms stroking my body as his weight held me to the tree trunk. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging until he let out a grunt. Connor stopped. His hand stilling on the fastening of my pants. He met my eyes. I felt his thumb rub the tender spot of my healing scar.

"You need time to heal," he whispered.

I nodded. I pulled him close, hugging him tightly.

"I am sorry," he murmured in my ear.

I felt tears sting my eyes. "I don't blame you," I said.

Connor looked at me. There was relief in his gaze. A deep thankfulness I hadn't expected. He had thought I resented him for the choice he made. This was the first time I had let him know that I didn't. I suppose I had been blaming him. Causing him to feel guilt by my actions. Pushing him away. But it wasn't because of his decision, it was because of my loss. I missed my child. I had never met it, but I missed it. I loved it. I could tell by the look in Connor's eye that he understood. He was grieving, too. In his own way.

He lowered me easily to my feet and backed away, holding my hand in a very sweet way.

"Where's Abby?" I asked him.

"She is with Achilles."

"I want to see her."

Connor nodded. He began to lead me away. We had only gone a few steps when I remembered the elk laying on the ground behind us. I asked Connor what we were going to do with him.

"The wolves can him," he answered. "I am taking my wife to see our daughter."

That was the first and only time I have ever known my husband to abandon a kill. I suppose he felt he had a good reason.