OMG,I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS WAS! It has been so crazy, I am going to scream because I have been so drained with no energy and no drive to finish. I think my skills have gotten a bit better over the time frame, let me know. Please read, review, and follow. Love to all my supporters in these rough times, be safe guys.

-Moon

Catherine did not take her eyes off the British officer in front of her, "Tell me who you are? I know no regular farm hand would have such a device on their arm."

"I don't have to tell you anything,"

"Must I remind you, there is a weapon pointed at you."

Giving a stern look, she slowly reached for her hat that she had stolen early in the morning. "Tell me, do you recognize me in any way?"

The Major glanced over Catherine with an odd stare, "Should I?" He cordially asked

Catherine narrowed her eyes at the Scotts man, "I assuming you know a Shay Cormac?"

The Major became staggered to hear the name of one of his colleagues, "Where have you heard that name before?"

Ignoring the question, Catherine pushed forward with her own line of questions, "What do you know of his family?"

Major John Pitcairn gave one overlook of the assassin, "He had a wife and daughter that had both died within the last five years… I sadly attended the funeral of his daughter four years back." In a humorous glance, "Are you about to tell me that you are his long lost son?"

In a moment of solidarity, Jones left the backroom with two plates of breakfast. The pewter plate was placed in front of the disguised assassin. The plate had a scrambled egg with bacon and a side of bread.

Catherine only glanced at the plate, refusing the meal because of the sure lack of hunger she felt. An ongoing battle was taking place less then a mile from the tavern. She watched him eat from her end of the table.

Pitcarin ate while she only stared at him in discontent, never before she felt so confused in seeing a man so calm in the moment. Her eyes switched over to the where she saw her assassin livry and other weapons were stashed. She would not be able to make an escape.

A redcoat came in the front door, he was one of the many that was searching the grounds of the Jones tavern. "Sir, Lieutant Colonel Smith is heading directly here with reforcements."

Pictarin stood from the table, ignoring the rest of his breakfast. "Thank you for alreting me,"

Another man stepped into the threshold of the tavern. His shoulders were adoren in a leather cloak, the sameone she had seen from a distance on the green before the battle started. The man pushed down his hood to realive his stoic face.

Martain stood with a bored expression as his eyes scanned the room, Catherine eyes widen at the sight of the man. What was this man doing here

? Her theory of the man working within Haytham's inner circle even if the man had claimed to be netural between the Assassins and Templars. The young Cormac sat very still not to draw attention to her. Attempting to hide in a plain site was one of the tennets.

Bowing her head slightly, using her hat to hide her facial features from the Grecian. Her lush aburn hair stuffed into the leather tricone hat that rested upon her crown.

The man's eyes laid upon Catherine, had an intregied look on his face as he approached the table.

"Martain, I thought we agreed to spreak later."

"I actually came for someone else," His tone set an alertness in that took attention of everyone in the tavern, even those of high command. "A so called Patriot, or Rebel, whatever the British Crown likes to call them. It's a woman with noticeable red curls and thing scar across her cheek." He used his thumb to gently scrape the left side of his face to indicate where imperfection of Catherine's skin.

Jones alerted with his eyes, knowing very well he was talking about Catherine. Her eyes locked onto his shaking her head softly to not speak a word.

"I am afarid, I haven't seen such a woman this close to the battle."

Catherine could only hold onto the laugther, the misogynistic trait of any man that she came across was real. The only ones who had seen her as their equal was in the brotherhood.

Maritain had a glint of mischievous, "I don't think you will not need to look far." The sound of his heavy boots walk across the tavern, with a quick movment of his hand, her hat fell to the ground unraveling Catherine's chopped hair.

"You really have to try harder then that, my darling." He spoked

Catherine's hands were still reached aboved her head, trying hard to catch the hat before it hit the ground.

"Here, I thought you would be playing with the big boys." Martain cleverly said, "You shouldn't lay your personal affects in plain sight."

Major Pitcarin stood hesitant as he watched Martain reach to grab the young woman by her wrist yanking her to her feet. Odd enough, he wasn't that surprise the young man that had sat before him was a woman, especially from the femmine features that had caught his eye. She was a simple beauty that was above average looks.

"Maybe you should mind your bussines," Catherine snarled to the man.

Martain clicked his tounged, "Oh my dear Catherine, didn't your mommy ever teach you to clean your things up? I can spot your coat from a mile away." He chasted her as if he was her own mother. "That's right, if I recall she abonden you along with your father."

"Catherine?" The major spoke, "as in Catherine Cormac?"

"That is correct, Major."

*"You didn't tell me that the girl you were loking for was-"

"The daughter of one of your colluages? Well, yes, I guess it slipped my mind."

Yanking her wrist back, she fought to slip her wrist away. A hard blow to her stomach, stopped her in her tracks causing the wind to be knocked out of her lungs. Dropping to her knees in front of Martain, he could only look down at her.

He lowered himself to her eye level and grabbed her chin gently. He turned her face gently to him as he gently stroke his thumb across her cheek down the side of her face, to him grabing her chin to have her meet him in the eyes.

Pressing his thumb hard across her lips, she could feel the roughness of his glove. The taste of the leather was on the edge of her tounge as he countied with his sensual touch. This wasn't the touch of a man who wanted her dead, but of something else that he desired.

The words that he spoke to her in Paris still rung in her mind, he wanted her. Not just to be part of his organization, he wanted her. The hairs of her neck rose at the level this man was stooping too.

He pushed her chin away, unknowingly Catherine pushed the entirety of her force into her shoulder that met Martian's Abodmen. Giving double the potency of Martain's punch.

Tumbling back onto the floor, Catherine lept over his body as she darted towards the exit, but it became blocked by two of the red coats.

Using her elbow, she pushd it hard into one of the red coats throat, knocking him back while using her hidden blade on her other wrist to stap the other solder in the shoulder. Subding them both in a quick blows.

Adderinal shook through her body as she over power both of the soliders in front of her. She turned her head over quickly to Jones, without speaking a word he was able to crumble Catherine's coat and throw it at her that she caught, throwing her assassin coat over her shoulder, she withdrew her dual pistol and pointed it at the Major and Martian.

The Grecian sat up from his postion holding his throat with a dark look in his eyes, "This isn't over, Cormac."

Knowing that she hadn't reloaded her pistols since she last used them when she was being chased by horse back, but they were not aware of that.

"It's over when I say it's over, I won't be so forgiving the next time I come in contact with you. You both keep your lives today."

Slowly backing out the door she gave one last glance towards Pitcarin, knowing Connor will be frustared to know that the Templar was still alive.

"Miss. Cormac," the major called out, "It dosen't have to be like this."

"It has and will be like this, I refuse to allow my home to be under such a tryannt."

"You think yourself grown, but you spout your mouth like a child who dresses in her father's costume and pretends dress up."

Snapping both pistols in the Major's direction, "Playing dress up, you say?" her voice dripped with venom. "Was I playing dress up when Lee tried to have me killed? Or when I had to watch my mother get shot in Boston during that blasted massacre. I grew up form being a child a long time ago, I have a woman's scorn. You can tell Haytham that he better not under estimate me, because that is what happened to Johnson. I will set fire to anyone who crosses me," Her words dripped with venom as she made that promise.

She was insulted that the Templar had called her a child. The assassin had not been a child for a long time, she had grown into her own woman.

"You think your rebels will win this fight against a whole empire? We are trying to prevent more mindless death, but yourself and your so called Sons of Liberty will start a war you can not win."

"We will see."

As she stepped back she could see another soilder began to approach her, using the small crossbow on the side of her gauntlet, it was hidden from sight. A dart went flying into the man's neck. It had been filled with a posion that would put him to sleep for a few hours. She was very careful when it came to use this weaponary, she only had a handle full of darts. There was only one place where she could require them which was back in Paris, from a very acomphilshed craftsman.

Taking her chance to escape, she turned her back to run out, Pictarin behind her was shouting orders for his unit to seeze her. Using the power in her leges, she ran across the yard to the neriest horse where she leapt into the saddle by launching herself from the ground.

To prevent anymore from following, she took cherry sized smoke bombs that she threw on the ground to scare the other horses. Having her horse run hard as if the animal was chasing the wind, while holding onto one hand onto the reins, she pulled on her robes, letting her hood bounce on her back.

Catherine was able to catch her breath as her horse trouted through the battlefield. She avoided the blank and glossy stares from the dead that her horse. The sounds of retreat and musket fire were heard not far from her postion. A sudden noise caught her attention amongst the chaos, chaos that was just couple hundered meters.

The leather reins felt smooth in her palms as the assassin focused her aquit hearing for the sound of groaing again. Orla let out a harrowing cry as she circled above the greenery until she soared down with a gentle flutter of her wings onto a uprooted bark. Aganst a fallen tree was a man dressed in lien with leatger coat. He was older then her by a few years, more then likely in his early thirties. The palness of his skin scared her with the droplets of sweat. It appead that death was claiming him. Splots of blood soaked his green stained shirt. The biggest was in his mid section with his hand pressing over it.

Leaping from horse back, she hit the ground in a running sprint towards the man in hopes to save him. Praying she could do something for the man, but as she approached the smell of bile hit her. His pale eyes locked upon her with s look of acceptance.

"I=I thought no one was coming," He spoke as blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. "I-i feel like my skin is on fire."

Catherine kneeled next to the man as she took off her hat. "Let me help," She spoke in a soft tone.

The man could only crack a smile, "What is a pretty lass like yourself doing out here?"

"Don't you mind that," Catherine stated trying to distract him, "May have I look at you?" She asked in a soften tone.

The man shook his head with a nod of agreement. Reaching out towards the man, she peeled the shirt from his adboen and rolled it up. Before her pink tissue stuck out of a wound that look like a puncture.

"A damn lobster stuck me with his bayonet," He grimced with pain across his face. "How is it, love?"

The assassin had no experience in any medical knowledge, but she knew that she was staring at an intesents. She had seen this type of wound before back in Paris, when a older novice assassin's was carried into the headquarters of the central brotherhood. He was septic when he was brought to the attention of the doctor. He died within the hour. There was nothing to be done for a wound such of this cailbere.

Catherine tucked her hair behind her ear, she didn't know what to do. Reaching to her belt, she grasped for a flask that she had tucked away. It had been topped off with fresh water, "Do you need water?" Catherine asked in a caring voice.

He shook his head, "I have something stronger in my coat pocket. Can you fetch it for me?"

Reaching down the coat, she pulled out the leather bound flask. She screwed off the cap and the warm smell of whiskey hit her nose. She knew that it would help ease the man,s suffering who only had mintues left possible, she didn't know how much longer he would have laying slumped against the tree.

She pushed the neck of the bottle to his lips to let him sip "That will hit the spot…" He closed his eyes tightly, "D-do you m-mind setting with me for awhile? A man shouldn't die alone…"

"Of course," Catherine said clutching his hand.

He struggled to speak again, "I am Samuel,"

"Don't try to exert yourself, Samuel."

He weakly smiled, "Can-can you tell me your name?"

"Catherine,"

The dying man glanced at the blue sky, "I=I hope this was all for nothing… give our loyalties to one evil to another."

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked, slightly cut off guard.

He winced softly showing his teeth, like the patriot was sucking air through his teeth. His eyes widely dart around like he was looking at someone. One last gasp of berif, he slumped against the tree with his dying breath exhaling from his lips.

Cathereine stared in shock at the man, knowing she just heard the last words of dying man. The patriot's eyes had a pericing stare as he stared into oblivion. Reaching out, Catherine shut the dead man's eyes. Feeling sorry for the man, but glad he had died with company.

Catherine stood up, pushing herself from the ground, she heard the sound of a horse rider from the distance.

The Assassin turned her head slowly to see it was James on the back of brown horse. "Catherine! We are pushing back the Regulars!" He smiled victoiaris, "They are being pushed back to Boston."

Pushing the sadness from her voice, she spoke, "That is good news, where is Connor?"

"At the old bridge, come I can take you too him."

Whistling for her winged companion, Orla took off into the air. James wasted no time in leading Catherine away from fallen men.

The British had long fled when they reached the bridge from where Catherine had left Connor. Her teeth gritted from how she remembered how Connor had stiffed her from late last night. Ahead of them was Connor and James Barrett looking upon the fallen british soldiers that they manged to hold off.

"Takes a true monster to do something like this…at least they're gone." He spoke in high regards.

"It's no monster," Catherine said as she spoke up, "It's human nature."

"Catherine?" Connor turned around to see her walk up,

Barrett looked confused to see her, unaware when he met her that she was under an allies. "Were you able to warn them in time?"

"Aye, but Pitcarin had arrived shortly after and manged to find some of the supplies," Cstherine said, "I tried to elimante Pitcarin, but I was out number. Only half of the supplies was manged to be saved."

"I should have struck when I had the chance…Do you know if he is still back there?"

"He has slitherd back into the bosom of the British , no doubt." Barrett spoke, "I wouldn't go back to the Jones. He will be regroup and plan his next actroicty."

"We need to track him back down, because every day that we wait for him to die, more will suffer."

"Connor, we need a moment to breath to celebrate that we manged to help these people survive." Catherine said.

"Catherine, we can not wait." He spoke a little bit harshly

Barrett cleared his throat, "She is right, chin up, my friend. There were many who should've died. "

"What of them," Connor exclaimed as he gestured to the dead men amongst the battlefield. His eyes showed his frustration, Catherine reached out her arm hand to grab Connor's arm to calm him.

Barrett sighed as he clasped hands behind his back, "We work with what we have." The patriot patted Connor's arm, "It's never easy."

He wented to step away before landing his eyes onto Catherine, "I want to thank you for saving my Nephew's life. I owe you a debt for getting my sister and her family out of the line of fire. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call upon me." Barrett reached out his hand to shake Catherien's. "Godspeed to you all," He nodded at the trio that stood in front of him.

James had been standing behind Catherine and Connor, listening onto the converstation. Looking amongst the two men, she turned around folding her arms across the chest. "We need to figure how we can get close to Pitcarin, but for now to replenish our strength."

"I agree," James siding with Catherine, "I know it's going to be a long day ahead, we are trying to cut off the British before they reach Boston."

Catherine felt the heaviness in her eyes from the night of no sleep. This wasn't the first time she went without sleep on a mission for the Assassins. She struggled with it at first, but Dorian, her mentor in Paris and part of leadership of the Parisian Brotherhood. He had kept her up in the middle night by making her read The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli throughout the night, she remembered she read through it twice. Dorian would awake his young appertaince when she started to drift, but when the sun arrised. He would allow her rest, knowing full sleep deprvation was unhealthy. The Master Assassin understood the need to be fully alret on a mission that would take through the night and onto early in the mornig, but he also knew there was limtations to ones body.

Catherine was feeling the limitation in her body from the night of long horseback riding, to fighting soliders, to confronting Major Pitcarin and Martain.

"We need to let them handle it from here," Connor concluded.

Catherine nodded, "We need to reach out to contacts in Boston, to see if there is anymore news on Pitcarin." She thought about the small base of operations that was the Assassin headquarters headed by Stephane Chapeau. "We can use Orla to send message."

Orla sat above the trio on a tall tree waiting for command of her mistress.

"We can process communication with Stephane that way." Catherine said, "We should press forward to the homestead, James would you like to return with us?"

"I actually want to stick behind here and see if we can build defenses since we will be pushing forwad."

"I will hear from you soon then?"

"Aye," Catherine smiled as she reached over to her childhoodfriend for a tight hug. He patted her back.

"I'd hope to see you on there on the field of battle,"

"Well, I had to make sure our supplies were save. I might to consider joining the fight on the field, especially with my new look."

"I agree, you might actually blend well, you always knew how to play with the boys." James smirked as he patted her on the shoulder as a light hearted geasture.

"You take care of yourself, James. Don't get yourself killed, or I will kill you myself."

"Don't worry about it Cathy," He gave a small slaute as he shiffted his musket on his shoulder. Catherine watched the back of his head as headed down the path.

Connor's brown eyes shifted over to Catherine, she was still giving him the cold shoulder for the perivous night. Her mannerisms blocked Connor from joining into the converstation. She still gave him cold shoulder as she approached her horse,without another word, she climbed onto the animal, kicking its side.