Hey Guys! I just finished writing well over 6000 words! How about that?! Well, I hope you enjoy, I might not post for a while since I leave for Spain in about 2 weeks and I have to stuff to do by then! Please don't forget to Follow and Review!
-Moon
Tightening her grip on the reins as the two assassins rode side by side allowing the horse to take a fast trot. They spent the last hour riding the horses at a fast gallop, giving them intermediate breaks. Catherine knew it would be early evening before the two assassins arrived in Boston. Golden rays of the sun were already casting its glow upon the landscape. There was no less than an hour left of the natural light.
Quietude stilled in the pine woods with the only the music of the frontier. The clip-clop of the horses' hooves disturbed the natural peace of the woods. The Irish Assassin kept her thoughts to herself while stealing the occasional glances. She could see the deepened look on Connor's face. His eyes sparked a determination that she has seen many times before. No one was going to stand in Connor's way when it came to his targets. Much like a starved wolf when it came to their prey.
Catherine felt her spine prickle with uncertainty as she clenched her jaw tightly. Pitcairn was not going to be an easy target much like Johnson's assassination. Though she did not compare the Master Templar's death as an easy one, it had fewer variables. A whole army stood between the Assassin and Pitcairn.
"We should be there soon," Catherine spoke, breaking the silence. If she was quiet for another moment, she was going burst with anticipation of their arrival. "Do you have a plan, Connor? I doubt there will be much room to trying to reason with Pitcairn."
Her mind festered with the memories of her pleads with William Johnson. She can still feel those words on the tip of her tongue.
"What do you know of him, or at least remember of him?" Connor asked.
Catherine paused for a moment, trying to rack her memory of the Templar. She did remember the portrait back in the cellar, but not the man. After a moment of deliberation, a brief memory snapped in her mind.
"I do, I only met him once when I was a small lass," Catherine said, "As you know, I spent time in New York. I had met his son Robert Pitcairn, he was a few years older than myself. " Catherine pressed with the story. "I only saw him though, he was starked in his British livery. He gestured me a friendly smile and polite hello like anyone would with a small child. The way I heard he was described is that he is a good man in a bad cause.."
Connor looked over to her. "You sound like you almost admire the man."
She shook her head no, "I don't, It's just what I know."
Another moment of silence passed over until Connor picked up the conversation.
The Native glanced at Catherine. "Did I tell you that Pitcairn was not present when the Templars attacked my village?"
"No, but does that make him any less of a threat?" Catherine asked. "Neither, was your father. Yet, he did give the order." She still remembered meeting with Haytham in Philadelphia in the tavern. He had proclaimed that it was Colonel George Washington that lead the attack on Connor's tribe. The Grandmaster was shifting blame onto someone else. Catherine knew it, but there was something that was nagging her about it. He looked so honest when he had told her this.
Connor shook his head, "I was just wondering to see what you thought of the man since you have had ties with them."
Catherine snapped her head to Connor, heaving the horses' reins causing Peg to come to an abrupt stop. The native's horse came to a complete stop.
Her bronze hair fell behind her shoulder as she turned her horse to face him. Not knowing why this comment bothered her so much, she spoke. "They are not my ties, they are my father's."
Connor felt agonizing guilt, realizing what he just said. "Catherine, I know." He said as he realized how it sounded. "I apologize for what I said." His eyes showered with an apologetic nature as he glanced as his partner. From the reflection of the sun, his dark eyes glowed light honey. That was her favorite part about his looks was his chestnut eyes.
There was a regret lashing out at him. All she could remember was the time she spent in Paris. The fact of her parentage was hidden well from over half of the brotherhood. There were occasions when it slipped through the cracks. It caused her to be compared to her father and whispers of her ties to the templars. A child of the cross, though nothing ever came of the rumors nor, was treated differently. There was just a distance with some. Charles Dorian never once treated her differently. Neither did Sophie Trent, they all held her in high regard to her status as an assassin. Even the novices held her in high regard. She sometimes missed the other students.
"I am sorry for snapping," Catherine said as she let her eyes soften. "It's a sour story for me thinking of the past with templars and my father…"
Catherine hadn't stopped thinking of the man she called father. Having not seen or heard from the man in close to 4 years, it put a toll on her. For good reason too, Shay thought his only child was dead. She had doubts that he even knew she was still alive because of how much Haytham wanted her gone.
She did miss her father as much as she missed her mother. There were times that she couldn't help but long for them to all be together in the little tavern. She imagined Snowdrop with a warm fire and laughter that filled the air. She had even imagined the idea of Connor being there. Just all the people she cared about in the room. Wouldn't that be a sight? Catherine thought meekly.
Feeling a hand clapped over her leather gloves, she glanced at Connor. He had covered the short distance bt leaning over and touching her hand. Their horses only stood a foot apart. "I know you miss him...the same way I miss my mother. I see it on your face sometimes when Shay is brought up."
"It's more than that, Connor." She squeezed his hand. "I sometimes long for things that could never be."
Connor listened as Catherine spoke. "I wish my mother was back by side, my father here. I want a family, my family to come back. I hate the Templars but it does not change the fact of how I feel about my father. "
"What if you found your mother?" Connor asked, "maybe you can convince your father to step back from being one?"
Catherine felt her eyes wield with warm tears. "How?" Her voice cracked. "I looked everywhere Connor, what if she is really dead? Died somewhere alone?" Catherine had heard nothing but silence regarding the location of her mother. "What if Haytham, or one of the templars stricken her dead? I don't think I can through that pain when I know I only have hope of her being alive."
Catherine drew in a breath to keep her emotions in check. During her years from any tears to be formed. She pulled away from her hand from Connor, "I'm sorry. We should go."
The Irish Assassin used the reins of her horse to turn the horse. Connor didn't get another word in as she pushed the horse to ride off ahead of him.
Neither of them spoke another word until they arrived in Boston. The entrance to the neck of Boston was guarded, but they were able to slip in without too much attention. They were able to store the horses not far from Paul Rever's house.
Catherine made sure her hood was pulled securely over her face. She did not want anyone to recognize her in the Boston Commonwealth. She stuffed her braid into her hood as she walked alongside Connor. It was falling out of its loops of braids, she cursed herself for never being able to keep it pulled it back.
He allowed her to take charge of their destination since she knew the streets of Boston better than him. They avoided the sight of any red coat patrol. There was heighten patrol on streets, something. There is a heighten edge and alertness in the air.
Orla flew above the two hooded assassins, her wings cast a shadow from the glow of the moon. Catherine crossed over to the next roof with no effort. Connor followed her close behind only stopping when she stopped in her tracks. There was Paul Revere's house just across the street.
Before two assassins could climb down, a platoon of guards was marching by. Catherine and Connor took cover behind a chimney to avoid being caught from the site. Connor withdrew the knife from his belt to ready for attack. Catherine's brown eyes laid onto Connor's newer blade. A faint feeling of happiness filled her stomach, a few weeks ago for Connor's birthday.
Big Dave, the local blacksmith at the homestead. Had managed to work a beautiful knife with ore that Norris had mined. She was grateful for the help from the homesteaders, she had no earthly idea on what to get the man. He was obviously not expecting such a gift from Catherine. She even engraved the wooden handle with his name, his real name. Ratonhnhaké ton. She had worried she had spelled his name wrong. There was no official written language for Mohawk.
Catherine had gifted it to him on the night of his birthday. They were huddled by a campfire in the woods. When Catherine handed him the clothed package when he unwrapped it. He 0saw it was long hunters knife. It was a useful object to have on her person for hunting and combat. He felt so touched by the gift Catherine had given to him. It was touching as well as useful.
The native stood silent waiting to see if the red coat patrol will pass. Catherine sheathed her hidden blade with a pop. A sigh passed her lips when the last of the red coats passed by. Connor followed suit. The bronze hair girl climbed down the side of the building and ran across the street. She felt Connor's presence behind her as she stood in front of Paul Revere's door. Before Catherine could knock, Connor reached behind her and forced the door. It announced their arrival at the tenets inside the home. Connor was a looming presence that pushed past her
Catherine stride in after the Mohawk assassin. There was voices that could be heard in the house. Following the noises, they found three men by a table, two of them sitting while one of them was pouring a pot of tea. The man holding the porcelain teapot looked up from his guest and looked at them in surprise.
"Oh, Connor! You came!" He looked past and glanced at Catherine, "I see you brought a friend to help us." He smiled at Catherine who only nodded.
"Call me Catherine,"
"Oh a lady friend, I see," Paul Rever cleared his throat, he and the two other men look puzzled and uneasy at this thought. He shook his head and cleared the idea at this thought. He walked up towards Connor to take him by the elbow who did not seem pleased about being touched by a man he did not know. "Let me introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman." The native jerked his arm away from the silversmith.
Catherine could not know how she would describe this man, but there is was nonsense about him. She could remember the descriptive letter that Connor had sent her. It held a detailed story about the night of the Boston Tea Party. He had thoroughly described the man that was standing in front of her. The way he had echoed the words "lady friend" made her irritated at the sight of this man.
Connor strolled forward, ignoring the men. "The letter that was sent to us said John Pitcairn was here."
"The letter sounded urgent, so why don't you tell us what is going on?"
Paul Revere walked past Connor, shutting the door behind the two Assassins. "Aye," The Silversmith confirmed. "As we speak, he is readying an assault upon Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. Once they are apprehended by Pitcairn, he will move onto Concorde to seek after our supplies. He hopes to destroy them." He walked around the room explaining the situation with an attempt to pled for Connor's help. "You must help us."
"Only tell us where to find him and we can put a stop to this."
Catherine shook her head at Connor's brashness, "It's not going to be that easy Connor, he will have troops at his command. Our only luck might be a full-frontal assault to get to him."
Never before Catherine has faced a battle on the field for actual war. In her life, she has taken on more than one man, but never got to the point where to was a full-on battle. War was upon the American Colonies.
"She's right Connor. The man has more than hundreds of soldiers at his command, we do not hope to match him. You cannot hope to match him by yourself." He held up his hand in inspiration. "Fear not though, you will not face him alone. We have an entire army at our hands. They are just waiting for the order to pick up arms against the British."
The Minutemen is what he was referring too. Catherine had heard from James that he had been working closely with Samuel Adams. Himself and others were starting to put together a well supply militia. It sounds like he had succeeded in his venture. She wondered if James was going to be there. He had spent so much time with Adams it seemed likely. She wished her long time friend was safe.
"Then call upon them then." Connor was getting irritated with the Silversmith every second that past.
"Indeed! You and I will cross the Charles River and rouse the men." He explained his well-thought plan. "William, I need you to take the overland route and do the same." He glanced at Dawes as he was sipping on the rest of his tea. He then turned his gaze onto the other man to give out more instruction. "Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal… one by land, two by sea if our enemies come that way." He walked both the men to the door as he gave instruction. Finally, his gaze landed on Catherine. "You are an unexpected factor, my dear, but you came at the right moment. I need you to head to Lexington right away to warn Hancock and Adams, inform them of our arrival. No one would suspect a woman this late in the evening up suspicious. They will be at Clark's house in Lexington, Revereane Jonas Clark. It's a two-story home right on the edge of Lexington."
Catherine frowned at her task, "But I want to come with you." Her eyes turned into two angry slits.
"It would be too dangerous and peril for a woman."
She gritted her teeth and was about to bark back but Connor stopped her. "It might be best for you to head straight to Lexington to warn them ahead of us. We don't want to draw much attention with more than one rider."
Catherine shot Connor a look, this surprised her. He had not spoken up against the discrimination of her gender, but it was different this time. She felt a bit hurt at that, but she huffed. "Fine, but I am not doing it because I am a lady." She gave a side-eye glare to Paul Revere who looked ready to leave. "I will see you in Lexington, be careful Connor." She stormed past him, not letting Connor speak after her.
Storming out onto the street fixing the collar of her shirt. Catherine was heading back to where they stored their horses. Her hair became disheveled as she walked angrily down the cobble street. The bronze hair fell out of the rest of the braid.
In her haste of anger, she had shoved the payment of the stable of her horse and Connor's. The young stable lad winced at the sight of the furious young woman. She riding up to the gates of the Boston Neck. There she saw the face of William Dawes. He glanced at the young woman in a slight surprise. "Mistress Catherine," He called out. Catherine lost her irritated features.
"Master Dawes," Catherine said riding up alongside the man. Both of their horses were at an equal steady pace. Neither of them spoke of their missions in fear of being overheard. As they approached the gate to the Neck.
"Let me do the talking, lass." His thick accent spoke to her. "The security is getting tight. There is talk about the gate going to close not allowing anyone to leave Boston." Catherine glanced at the man, he was riding on an old worn saddle on a nag. Dawes wore old tatter clothes that resembled a farmer. He looked harmless as a fly from a casual observer. Catherine, on the other hand, stood out against him, as long as she kept her head down and quiet, she could pass as male. Her hood was menacing and suspicious. She made sure her coat was covering her chest. Wrapping the reins tightly around her knuckles, she waited until they were approached.
"Halt," One of the soldiers called out.
Dawes gave a small smile, "Good evening, lads, my son and I are heading to my sister's place."
The guards glanced at each other then glanced at Catherine, but she kept her head bent lower. After a moment, they study the two for a moment before deciding that the two could pass through. Dawes tipped his hat in a kind gesture as both of their horses easily exited the gate. As they rode away they could see a messenger riding up to the guard with orders to close the gate.
"It was like luck has been on our side," Dawes said.
Catherine shook her head, "It's more than luck, I have to go."
There was no going back she thought as she looked upon the locking of the wooden gates."
"A piece of advice, I ken you to help." He looked upon the young woman's face. "Get yourself a good guise. You won't drag as much attention as an armed young man than an armed young woman." He left in the opposite direction of the young woman down the path.
The Irish Assassin rode hard down the path with the suggestion struck her mind. She had seen the looks of that she was ever given when she had walked into a boys meeting. It was quiet when she had entered the room at the Continental Congress. She just ignored them at the time, but with the dismissal of Paul Rever, it angered her. Her blood still boiled from the thought. She had her horse walking at a steady pace as she was riding through the different settlements. It was not a half-bad idea she thought. She rode by a barn that had clothesline hanging clothes to dry. Pulling the reins to stop her horse getting the idea of what she needed to do.
Starting down the path, Catherine moved to feel her chest feeling constricted. Under her clothes were uncomfortable bindings wrapped around her upper torso. She wore an extra shirt underneath to hide any sight of the mounds on her chest. She ran a finger through her shorten hair, she had cut a few inches from it with her dagger. Her red locks went from mid-back up to her shoulders. She had taken a ribbon and tied it tightly that felt as if she was pulling her face back. It did not change her appearance drastically. If someone were to take a double glance at her, they would call her a pretty boy. She had to use a reflection of glass to see herself. With her hair pulled tightly out of her face, she shared a strange resemblance to her father. She traced the faded scar across her face to see it more prominent than before without her hair hiding it. Once she was satisfied, she was back on her horse and on her way.
Her horse canter down the road with a decent speed. The ground was muddy from the last of the snow melting from the late spring. It wasn't uncommon to see snow around this time of year, even though there were very few patches of snow. The air was frigid that held a lingering smell of fresh pines. The moon glowed off her back as she rode the horse, it cast a shadow of her and the horse.
Catherine was positive she was heading down the right direction. thankfully she had not run into any red coat patrols quite yet. The Assassin kept her wits about in case she did spot something about.
Peg's ears perk at the sound of steps ahead. The horse made a nickering sound as they came to a crossroads. She could have sworn she saw a faint silhouette in the shadow she could hardly see. She peered through the glow of the moon to see it was another rider. In her stomach, she wondered whether this was another rider on the road or another patrol out on the night. Dawes' warning had echoed through her mind about British soldiers. They would be out on the roads wanting to question anyone that seemed suspicious.
The rider turned their horse towards the young woman. The moonlight gleamed off a metal gorget. A piece of décor that British officers wore with their uniform. A gody piece of jewelry in her opinion. The uniform practically glowed in the dark because of bright the dye of the wool. She pulled her reins backward warry of the officer. She stiffened at the sound of another hoof print. Out of the pines of the woods, another British Officer came stampeding to her.
"I believe this is one of the men we are looking for."
Catherine cursed herself, she had just ridden herself into a possible ambush. The Officer she had ridden upon already had his flintlock pistol aimed at her.
"Halt sir, in the name of the King."
Catherine noted how quickly her disguised had been paying off. No one could possibly question her as a woman, though it was probably credit due to the darkness of the night.
She quickly raised her hidden blade at the man and dart flew out of the confidence of the gauntlet. The man did not have a chance to recover as Catherine pulled her horse into a gallop, darting down the path head-on. The other Red Coat was caught off guard by Catherine's quick reaction.
Once the two Officers gained their bearings they road after the Assassin.
The hoofbeats of her pursuers were growing loud behind her, but she called for Peg to go faster. She tried to reach under her assassin robes, she aimed it behind her to fire at the Red Coats. She missed, but it was a wild aim. She cursed under her lips as she rode faster, Peg was average for a horse who was running low on stamina.
Catherine would have to outmaneuver these men, if not she would have to stand and fight. She rather not since she had no personal quarrel with these men. She used her weight to turn the horse into the woods. The Assassin knew this would cause a quiet a detour towards Lexington, but there was no other wait. Peg gave a loud whinny from the sudden turn of direction but obeyed her mistress as they took a climb up a steep. Into the woods, her horse galloped like a wild stallion. Out of her pocket, she had decided to use only in an emergency was a smoke grenade. While in Paris, she had learned a thing or two about bomb-making. She had learned the chemistry make up of the ingredients of this bomb. It was an old recipe based out China from the recipe of fireworks.
She yanked the cork out and threw it on the ground hard causing a flash to erupt. Both men were engulfed in a puff a grey smoke covered their senses. That spooked one of the Officer's horses. Catherine knew it would allow her a head start. Blindly ridding, avoiding trees and branches, ducking to avoid any oncoming objects. Using her thighs ti grip onto the horses' side to prevent from being thrown out of the saddle. Peg lept, covering air and sticking her landing with a slight thud.
She could only worry about Connor and his endeavor. The Assassin hoped that her partner was not caught by any patrol. She rode hard and heavy for the next few moments in peace until she heard the thundering sound of hooves. She glanced behind her shoulder to see three more men after her. She cursed again and wonder where they came from. It appeared Pitcairn was clever enough to produce an order to not only patrol the roads but the woods as well.
She cursed herself, she had reached for the second gun at her belt withdrawing it and taking aim, she fired again. This time, she hit one of the soldiers in the shoulder causing him to fall off his steed. One of the men fired back at her, but she was able to avoid the flying ball. She threw all her weight to turn her horse down a hillside. The horse slide it's hooves as it skidded down the slope of, the men followed behind her.
"Stop it! We will fire again and you will be a dead man!" One of them cried out as Catherine reached the base of the steep. It was empty threats all that the Assassin had heard.
When the animal hit the bottom caused her horse to take off running again. Holding the reins tightly, her horse kept charging. She knew that her horse did not have much left in her. She saw ahead was clearing where she saw the woods opened up and a clear path to the main road. She decided that another charge into the woods, she would have to retreat into the trees. Where she could take out the men in the cover of darkness in her true element of an Assassin. Hunching herself in a position, she was about to perform a maneuver she had only done herself a number of times.
Connor had brandished the trick back at the Homestead, this was during the first summer. At her first attempt, she almost knocked her own teeth out and knocked the wind out of herself as she fell onto her back. Nevertheless, she persisted throughout the day. Until she managed to grab onto a lower branch, pulling herself into the tree.
Her hood fell off her head at the speed her horse was riding, her short ponytail rode in the wind with her black ribbon. From the corner of her eye, she could see Orla gliding through the air with her wings fully spread.
She had followed her mistress all the way from Boston, ready for command at a second notice. Hoping for another distraction, she pressed her lips together to blow a hard whistle. She had made the motion a second time to act as a command. Swooping down, Orla's large wingspan blocked one of the Soldiers from the view of her mistress. Being attacked from such a large bird, the man fell from his horse crying out from the surprise. Her beak pricked at the man with her claws digging into the man's scalp and pulling at the base of his hair.
Hard press towards the woods, she glowered in the directions of the woods. Thinking it was time for an escape until six new horsemen sprung from the darkness of the pines. Their pistols and muskets aimed at the Irish Assassin. Catherine pulled the reins hard, attempting to turn her mare with a harsh shift of weight. Unlike before, it was too much of a short notice from, her horse reared on its hind legs.
Using her legs muscles, she glued herself to the saddle. The horse landed back onto her all fours while the soldiers started to gain ground towards her,
"Last time lad! Dismount, disarm yourself!" Amongst these new patrolmen, one spoke that wore an Officers coat. He wore a powder wig underneath his tricorne. He placed his pistol back into his holster as he approached the young woman. "Where did you come from, and you better answer honestly."
Catherine kept a narrow eye at the Officer, she couldn't tell his rank by his uniform. She never kept such things. "Boston." She answered in a short gruff voice, hiding the sound of her higher feminine voice.
"What time did you leave?"
"Shortly after you lot closed the gates," answering again with her low gruff voice.
The Officer looked awfully surprised at the fact this person had escaped quartine. General Gates, the Military Governor of Boston, had made explicit orders to bar anyone from leaving. It was imperative that no one knew of the plans that the British Army had for Lexington. There were strict orders to contain anyone outside on the roads within the county.
"Sir, may I have your name, if you're so kindly."
Catherine bit the inside of her lip, she had to think of something. "Jack," She blurted, the first name came to her mind. Her voice sounded a bit higher then she wanted too.
"Jack what?"
"Jameson?" Catherine said almost like a question, it was more of a question to herself wither or not she wanted to go that route.
The men glanced around at each other, looking like did they not believe the disguised woman. "Well, Master Jameson." The Officer said with a tone of incredulity, "you have no need to be frightened of us. Even though, you did fire upon my men I do hope good sir that you were mistaken in the dark. You see lad, we are after some deserters on the road."
Catherine balked at the man, "You lie." She could hear the other patrolman approach her from behind. "I know you soldiers marching your way to Lexington under the command of Major John Pitcairn." Her middle finger tugged on the small ring that was attached to her hidden blade. She was going to deploy it at a moment's notice.
The Officer looked surprised at the notion that Catherine knew of this information. His facial expression gave away that sudden awareness. It was supposed to be a well-guarded secret. The British were marching towards Lexington. The Officer rode close to the Assassin, Catherine stared coldly with her dark eyes.
"How do you know this information?"
"Oh, I know a lot of things." She studied every inch of the man until there was something shining on his left hand. It was not a wedding band like she thought when she only glanced over it. She saw that it was a silver ring with an angry red cross in the middle. So, that's who she was dealing with. She smugly thought it was obviously one of the lower ranks of the Templar Order.
"A lot," Catherine stated
"Well, if that is true lad, then you better hand over disarm and let go of those reins."
Catherine furrowed her eyebrows at the man until she heard several clicks behind her. Out of the side of her vision, she saw that while she was talking to this Templar Officer. They had her surrounded. Catherine had one hand on the reins while she was back into under an old oak tree. The height of the tree that towered over the Assassin and British soldiers.
"Fine," Catherine said as she threw the reins In that split moment. No one blinked as she launched herself off the horse into the tree's grabbing the lower branches. As she went for a jump, one of the lower-ranking officers fire upon her. It missed by the inch of Catherine, but it landed in the shoulder of her steed. Peg let out a loud whine in pain, Catherine felt sickened by the sound of the power animal's cries for help. The mare fell onto her side and cried and tossed about.
"Someone put that damn animal out, fire at that man! For god sake, don't kill him though, I want him for questioning." The Officer growled at, "Aim for his legs!"
Catherine climbed higher into the tree, much like a raccoon that scurried along its branches. Aas she reached for a branch, it exploded in bits of wood and splinters from a flying musket ball.
It was a harder maneuver in the trees to escape the fire of the British. She needed the right angle to make her mark. Swinging onto the next branch, she spotted one of the soldiers onto the side that it would be an easy escape. Springing her hidden blade to life, she made her leap. Soaring through the air much like an eagle with talons. Landing on the man like a cougar, she stabbed him in the neck.
The Red Coat gurgled on his own blood, it was an astonishing move that no one saw. They froze in their saddles, even the minor official Templar.
As the Templar gained back his nerve. "I know what you are now."
"Oh, so you do learn!" Catherine said with a repressed smile filed with scars am. "I thought you were some dimwitted following sheep." The man went to withdraw his sword not taking another chance. "I will give you one chance, walk away. If you do so, you and your men will get to live."
Her hidden blade glimmered in the moonlight with drips of blood from the dead man's blood. "You can tell Major Pitcairn that he won't be offered the same transgression though."
"Here I thought all Assassins were dead, even going as far as killing a whore of a woman who attempted to rise it again." Catherine gritted her teeth as he listened to him insult her. "Stupid girl, shouldn't get in the ways of the Templars. A war such as this is not a woman's game."
She decided that she was going to kill the man. "Well, No one ever told me that," Catherine said reverting voice back to a higher range.
The man's eyes widen at her voice going up an octave, "Wait." It dawned on him. "You, you're the bloody Cormac whore. You are supposed to be dead." He rode closer to the woman in disguise. "Though, no wonder I couldn't recognize you, make such a young pretty lad."
"I don't know if I should be insulted, or not."
"It matters not, I shall rise through the rankings when I bring you as a prisoner for the Grandmaster. The idea of bringing your lifeless body sounds easier, but I rather not disgrace my honor at killing a lady."
"Then I shall kill you before either of that happens." She slowly moved her fingers to her gauntlet, she pulled back the small bow strang to load a dart. In the harsh darkness and from the height of her horse.
Acting first, she fired a loaded dart from her gauntlet hitting a man on the left of the Templar.
Catherine sprung into battle from the back of her horse. It was a matter of slice and dice, she cut down those men like straws of grass. Fire and furry was brought down on the red coats. Anger struck through her at the very idea of being looked down upon as a useless doll.
With a hard strike of her blade, she cut down the Templars across the chest. His white shirt bleeds through, causing him to fall to his knees. He shuttered with death appearing in his future.
"Y-you girl is playing a very dangerous game."
"I am playing war, I know how to play it unlike others. It's a simple rule, you win, or you die. I can play this like a game of chess." With the last thrust of her blade, she slashed the blade across the Templar's neck.
Catherine took a step back from the dead Templar. The Chaos had stopped and the remains of it sunk into the soil. Droplets of blood stained the tips of her coat and face. Looking back onto her horse, who was heavily breathing. A pity filled her stomach as she saw the wild eyes.
"I am sorry, Peg." She murmured as she dropped down to the eye level of the creature. She rubbed it's snout one last time before grabbing a loaded pistol. A loud gunshot followed by a loud cry.
Grabbing her saddlebags from the horse, she moved over to a bay who was less skittish of the other horses. Climbing onto the horse, after securing her saddlebag. She left the bloody battlefield towards Lexington. The sky was turning into a distant pink of the rising sun. How much time did she waste on running from these Red Coats, she thought. She only hoped to see Connor safe once she arrived.