Part 1
Revealing News~

 

Ti amo, Emilia. Was the last thing my mother told me while I was holding her hand in her death-bed. Ti Amo meant I love you in Italian. My mother died from sickness a couple of months ago. I miss my mother. She was the only person I could talk to. Because my father was always busy with his job that he would never speak of to me. But I never bother him about it. My parents took me here to the New Land from Italy so we can have a new life, a new start. My parents taught me English ever since I was a toddler, so English is easy for me here. But I hardly talk to anyone, in less I'm trading at the shop or if I need to. My mother was always annoyed that I was never a proper lady, I never wore dresses or anything that would flow with the wind. What I would where are pants, boots and a blouse.

 

My father would laugh at this, because my mother would get irritated when someone came home and I wasn't properly dressed. But other than that, my mother and I never had much conflict. My father and I used to be close, in till we sailed here to the New Land. Ever since, he's been distant from me. Which hurt me. I have to fend for myself at home because he is at working most of the time, trying to get extra coin for the household. A knock on the door makes me flinch and drop my pen into the ink. I let out a groan of frustration and walk to the door. "Chie c'é?" I accidentally say. I clear my throat then repeat. "Who's there?" I peak out the window next to the door and see that it's the mail carrier.

 

I open the door and the mail carrier said. "This letter is for a, Dante Arone." The mail carrier says showing the envelope, clearly marked with my father's name.

 

"This is the right place." I say as he handed me the envelope. "Thank you." The mail carrier nods and walks away without another word. I shut the door observing the letter in my hand. This is the third letter that has been sent to him this week. I observe the letter and it has the same marking on the stop right corner, which I am not sure what it means. I tossed the letter onto the dining table and walked back to my paper.

 

My mother taught me how to do poetry and write over the years. I did not know how much I loved it in till she has died. It is the only thing that keeps me in place, pouring my feeling into the paper and ink. My father says that was one of the things he loved most about my mother, Anne. My father was an English Settler that moved to Italy, there he met my mother and changed his name to, Dante. He never told me what his real name was previous to that. Then shortly after, got married, then had me.

About a year ago, we moved her to the New Land. For a better future for us. It is definitely nothing like Italy here. In Italy, I'd hear something about Assassin's, but mostly it was just legends, myths. I cannot say for sure what I believe in when it comes to Assassin's. Some man named; Ezio, was a common one I heard about.

 

I ignore the topic of Assassin's, because there is no point in talking about something that is believed to be, a myth. I continued writing a story that my mother was meaning to finished before she passed. But even her sickness restricted her to do things such as this. She left it to me to finish it. And I made a promise at her grave that I will. In her story, she made a story about a girl named Clarissa. The character was very much like me. She would always tell me that I have "bella foresta gli occhi verdi" which meant, "beautiful forest green eyes." My mother always admired my eyes and how beautiful they were. She always told me that these eyes could resemble the beauty within my soul. I wish she was still here with me. Teaching me things. I frown as I think of her. Her warm loving personality. I continue writing slowly, to make sure that this is what my mother would want.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Hours pass by as I carefully hand write the story with most delicate and elegant writing I know. My eyes kept trailing off to the letter on the table. I have this urge to read it, even though it is not for me. I put my pen down and stare at the letter. Biting my lip nervously as to whether I should or shouldn't open it. Tapping my foot on the wood floor, every nerve in my body wants to grab that letter and read it. I look out side, it is nearly sunset. My father would be here within the hour. I look at the letter again. Without a thought, I get up and close the curtains at the window and walk to the letter. My finger skims over the stamp.

 

I am not sure where it is from or how to express its detail. I slowly and carefully open the letter, trying not to make a rip in the envelope. I glance at the door every once in a while, listening for a sound. After a slip of my finger at the end, it is opened perfectly without a single rip. I lift open the top and pull the paper slowly out of the envelope. I unfold it slowly and skim read the letter.

My heart sunk, seeing this letter. And my cheeks get warm with anger. My father never mentioned what he works for. Now I know. I fold the letter up and placed it back in the envelope angrily. Knowing I need to pick up something for dinner, I grab my coat and boots. Slip them on. And on my way out I grab the bag of coins that my father leaves me with every day. The crisp cold air of the winter breeze prickles on my warm cheeks. I shudder as the chill goes down my spine. I walk through the snow and around people. The crisp cold air calms my nerves. I walk into the general store that is just down the street from my home.

I rub my hands to warm them as I step inside, feeling the heat in the store melt the cold away. "Cold out there, aye?" The clerk said.

 

"Yes, very." I say walking to the desk.

 

"What do you need, lass?" He asked pressing his palms onto the desk.

 

I think about it, because I'm not so sure either. "Um... bread and cheese." I say pulling out the bag of coins. "And some fresh milk." I add placing it on the table.

 

The man nods and takes the coins needed for the stuff I need. "Alright, lass, gimme a second." He said walking to a door that leads to a room that I am not quite sure is. Probably a supply room. I look by the fire and see a man who I did not know who was here. I

grab my bag of coins and shove it into one of my jackets pockets.

 

"Hi." I say walking to the fire to warm myself further.

 

"Hello." He says. He wears glasses and has shoulder length hair. His voice is rather cheery.  "Cold out there. Coldest of the winter

I'd say."

 

I nod and say. "Yes, yes it is." I force a smile, feeling awkward.

 

"Where did you port from?" He asked with a curious look to his eyes.

 

"Italy." I respond leaning against a wall.

 

"Ah. A fine place that is, isn't it?" He asked with an enlightened smile.

 

"Of course." I say with a nod. "And you are?"

 

"Oh dear me, I forgot to introduce myself." The man said putting his hands together. "I am Benjamin Franklin, friends called my

Ben." He says reaching his hand out.

 

I take his hand and shake it politely. His grip is firm, but he shakes my hand quickly. I let go of Benjamin's hand and give him a polite smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Franklin. I am Emil-" Just then the clerk came out with the supplies.

 

The man puts the stuff on the counter. "Alright, lass, here's what you need." He said. I nod to Benjamin and walk to my supply. I scoop it up in my arms. "Have a good evening." I nod to him.

 

"Have a good evening, to both of you." I say as I pushed the door open with my foot. I quicken my pace to my home from the bitter cold. It is lightly snowing now and I'm ready to get home. I'm lucky that I live close to the general store. As I step into my house, I remembered that I needed to start a fire. Because it's bitterly cold in here to.

 

I place the supply I just bought on the table, next to that heart wrenching envelope. I grabbed some firewood that's next to the fire-place and tossed some in. I use the flint rock that I found and begin to start a fire. The fire won't start and I let out a groan of frustration. I grab some dead grass that I collected from outskirts of town and threw it in. I use the flint again, quickening my motions. And sparks flew into the fireplace. Finally the dead grass caught on fire and the flames grew slowly around the wood. I smile from the warmth the slow-growing fire let out.

 

I walk to the table, draping my jacket onto the chair. My dad should be home any minute now. I grab the cheese and take it to a small counter. I grab a knife slowly slicing the cheese into slices. I blow my leather black hair that fell into my face away. I finish cutting the cheese so I walk to the bread and begin cutting a loaf into slices. Just then I hear the door open behind me. I turn to see my fathers smiling face. I give him a faint smile and then went back to slicing the bread.

 

"You received a letter today." I say not turning to look at him. I hear his footsteps on the floorboards. "Third one this week." I add bitterly.

 

I heard the sound of my father dropping his boots onto the ground. "Oh really?" He asked. I hear the scrape of the envelope being taken off the table. My stomach wrenches.

 

"What does it say?" I asked cutting the last slice of bread. I hear him open the envelope and take out the letter. I turn and lean on the counter. Watching his eyes as he read it. His eyes widened and a frown curved down on his lips. I bit my upper lip and say.

"What does it say, papà (dad)?" I ask.

 

He gives me an assuring smile and says. "It is nothing important." He folds the letter up and places it back in the envelope.

I frown and furrowed my eyebrows. "Papà, I know what it says." I say angrily. My dad gives me a surprised look. "Why didn't you tell me?" I forced out angrily. My father stay silent. "Dimmi! (Tell me!)" My eyes begin to well up with tears, beckoning to come out.

 

He looks taken back and says. "I... I did not want to worry you." His voice is calm but it also seemed nervous.

 

"Papà, you can get yourself killed doing this!" I say angrily, trying to keep my voice low. "Spying on the - the britannico! (British!) For the people who want to make this place a free Country. Puoi farti ammazzare! (You can get yourself killed!)" Tears burn my eyes, one leaving my grasp. "Please, don't do this! This is an act of tradimento (treason) for the British! If they find out, you'll morire (die)!" My lip quivers and I grip hard onto the counter behind me.

 

"Emilia, please understand. I have to do this." He says with a sigh. "I can't back out."

 

"Sarete andato per mesi! (You'll be gone for months!)" I spat angrily, tears of anger pouring from my eyes. I speak Italian as I am angered. Random words will form from my lips in Italian without being able to stop myself.

 

My father frowns and grabs onto a chair. "Listen, Emilia, I cannot step out." He says with a disappointed tone. "I am sorry, Emilia."

 

Him and I stand in silence. I bite my upper lip, sucking in the tears. I shake my head, whip around the bread and place it on a plate, along with the cheese. I place it onto the table, grabbing two slices of bread. I run upstairs to my small bedroom. Leaving my father in the silence of his own grief.

Edited September 23, 201411 yr by TheWayToDawn

Part 2
Heartbreak~

 

It's been a month since my father has left. I worry for him when I wake and till I lay my head on the pillow at night. There are times I cry because I feel like he will never come back. And when I do cry, I try to pour those feelings into my poetry. My mind trails to the talk my father and I had together, just before he left.

 

"Emilia, I just wanted to let you know that... Even if I seem far away, I'm always here with you. I wanted you to know that I am so, so proud of you. You've grown so much. You're mother would be of you proud. And... Ti amo così tanto, Emilia. (I love you so much, Emilia.)" 

 

"Ti amo di, padre. (I love you to, father.)"

 

Were the last words he and I exchanged to each other before he left.
I sit at my mother's grave in the cold bitter winter. Hugging my coat on tight. This is the second time this week I came here. I would sometimes cry and the cold winter breeze with tingle against the wet tears on my cheeks.

 

"I miss him so much, madre (mother). I feel so alone." I say leaning my head against her gravestone. Skimming my fingers against the rough texture of the stone. "Please, madre, be sure that he is safe." I sniffed. "I don't want to be alone." I squeaked as some tears rolled down my cheeks. "I wish you were here with me." I cry into my hands, letting myself go, letting myself cry. But I quickly dried my tears and took in a deep shaky breath. "Make sure that padre (father) returns home safely... And if he passes. P-Please... be there with him." One last tear rolled down my cheek. I stand up. I kissed my hand, then placed it to her gravestone. "Ti amo, madre." I whisper before I leave.

 

My face tingles from the bitter cold breezes coming through. I fold my arm and squeezed tightly, trying to keep warm as possible. I keep my head low and don't look at anyone. My home is three streets down. I am sure to come and go quickly so I don't get myself sick from the cold. My body begs for warmth as I go down the second street. I quicken my pace as I am on my street. My voice is shaky from the cold, my jaw is chattering. I must have stayed out longer this time.

 

I open the door to my home and even though there is no fire, it is still warmer in here then outside. I quickly shut the door and walk to the fire-place. I start a fire and sit by it for a few minutes. Letting myself become engulfed with the warmth the fire is giving to me. It feels as though the cold melts off my body from the heat and the warmth replaces it. Once I'm warm enough I take off my jacket and draped it on the chair one again. I open a storage box where I keep the tea bags. Once in the storage box, I grab the tea bags and quickly retrieve a pot and fill it with water. I hang it above the fire-place to let the tea warm.

 

The warmth of the fire makes me feel cozy and makes me feel enlightened. I grab a blanket and a book from upstairs, then trail back down stairs. Laying the blanket on the floor and laying on my stomach so I can read the book. The book is about an adventurous girl named, Paula. She traveled in Europe, France and other countries that is to the East. I loved the book. This is my second time reading it. I lift my legs in the air, letting them sway side to side as I read. Engulfing myself into the wonderful read.

 

I look up at the pot above the fire and place down my book. It's gotta be done by now. Carefully and steadily, I take the pot to the table. I grab a cup from the table and fill it with the warm tea. I place the cup filled with tea on the table and retrieve the book that I left on the ground. I sit down, reading the book that I hold in one hand and taking small sips of the warm tea with the other hand. I'm going to have to cook myself a small dinner soon, since it is almost sunset. My mind tries to trail away from the book and back to my father. But I don't allow it. I try not to allow it. My father will be okay, I assure myself.

 

After finishing my tea, that warmed my body on the inside. I look out the window, it's the break of a sunset. I close my book and add more wood into the fire-place. As I walk to the counter a knock on the door interrupts me. I turn around slowly, curious about who would be here at this hour. I walk to the door and open it slowly. To reveal a tall man, that wears an outfit that I never really recalled seeing before, its dark blue mostly with a small cape. His hair pulled back under his hat. His eyes seemed cold and dark to me.

 

"Can I help you?" I asked cautiously as I grip onto the door.

 

"I'm here regarding news of your father, Dante Arone." He informs me. He has a British accent and his voice seems so calm but alarmed. My heart stops and I clench the doorknob. "If I may?" He asked gesturing to come inside.

 

I take in a deep breath and said. "Yeah, of course." I open the door more for him to enter. He walks in with his hands behind his back, looking around my home. I close the door behind him and I watch him nervously.

 

He turns to me and gives me a look that doesn't even have much sympathy to it. "Lovely house." He compliments.

 

"Thank you." I say blankly. "My father?" I blurt out.

 

"Ah yes, your father." He says as though he just remembered. "Before I start, I'd like to introduce myself to you. My name is

Haytham Kenway. And you must but, Emilia." I nod in assurance to my name. "In the matters of your father. I had to bring the news to you. Your father been shot." Cover my mouth with my hand, not only to keep it from hanging open, but also to keep myself from screaming. "He died not to long after that, last night." Tears burn my eyes and I take in a deep breath.

 

"Okay..." I say breathing in. "Who was responsible?" I asked.

 

"We are not sure." Haytham says without a look of sympathy in his eyes. I look at an envelope that I didn't notice in his hand. It has a symbol, but I could not identify what it was. "I'm deeply sorry. Do you know what his position was in the army?" I look at him with suspicion. He must know what position he was in. In less- "Ms. Arone, if you know anything that regards to your father, I need you to tell me." His eyes seems darker and colder now.

 

"I... I don't know." I say trying to keep my voice casual.

 

Haytham takes a step closer to me. "He may have acted in treason, so you need to tell me any information you have about regarding your father." He says with a cold voice.

 

"I - don't - know." I say looking at him in the eyes. He backed up, looking at me. As though studying me.

 

"Alright, then. My job here is done." He says walking to the door. "And Ms. Arone," He says opening the door. "I will find out what your father did. It does not matter who gets in my way." I see the letter he had in his hand and it is on the ground. "Good evening, Ms. Arone." He says shutting the door behind him.

 

I clapped both of my hands over my mouth, tears flooding from my eyes. I sob into my hands so loudly, that I think people can hear me down the street. I try to calm myself, but I keep crying. After for what seemed like ages, I calmed myself down and walked to the letter he dropped.

 

I opened the letter and some of the things in the letter are shocking.
"Dante Arone has been eliminated." And. "The Native boy can be a problem." And one part towards that end. "The girl will something regarding to her father, if she does not corporate, she'll need to be eliminated immediately." I closed the letter and I cried again.

 

What did I do wrong? I did nothing wrong. I packed up a bag and even though it's the middle of the night. I need to get out of Boston and quick. Who ever this Haytham guy is, he is associated with the people who killed my father. After I look around at the home one last time, I exit the building. A horse is across the street, I can take the horse, ride out of town. Somewhere safe. I jumped onto the horse and quickly rode off down the streets. Hoping to find a place to rest tonight.

 

~*~*~*~

 

I have long left Boston and I have no idea where to go. I followed the paths, winding around, took random turns in the forks of the roads. I'd silently cry to myself the whole ride. My father is gone and someone is after me. I'm cold and I have no direction as to where I'm going. I finally see a lit up house and I hope maybe I can trouble them to stay the night there. I stopped my horse at the house and jogged to the door. Slowly I knocked on the door, hoping I did not wake anyone.

 

The door opens to reveal a middle-aged woman, pale blue eyes with diamond blonde hair. "What is it, miss?" She asked softly.

 

"Um... I need a warm place to sleep tonight. And your house is the only one I've seen." I say shivering from the cold.

 

"Of course, dear." She says with delight. "Come in before you freeze to death." She moves aside so I can walk in. Hee house welcomes me with warmth and my body tingled from it.

 

"Th-thank you." I stutter. "Thank you, ma'am." I repeat as I rub my arms.

 

"Sit down, dear." She says with a sweet tone. "I'll get you some tea to warm you up." I smile as I sit in the chair she offered me. It's in front of the fire-place.

 

I look at the lady and she fills a cup with already brewed tea. "I'm sorry to trouble you at such a late hour, ma'am." I say apologetically.

 

"Don't worry about it, dear." She says waving a dismissive hand. "Here you are." She says handing me the cup. I wrap my hands around the cup, relief goes through my body to feel such warmth, I take a sip and feel the tea warm me up inside and out. "My

name is Annie. What is yours?" She asked handing me a blanket.

 

"Um..." I say hesitatingly as I place the blanket on my lap. "Clarissa."

 

Annie smiles and says. "That's a beautiful name."

 

"Ms. Annie, thank you so much. I hope I'm not a burden to you." I say with a sympathetic frown.

 

"You're no problem at all, dear." She says waving her hand with a smile.

 

~*~*~*~

 

I wake up the next morning, feeling the warmth of the fire on my face. The blanket is wrapped around me, my arm tucked under

my head. The first thought that came to my mind was, I need to get out of here. I movement from somewhere in the house. I get up and see she's making some type of oatmeal.

 

"Morning, dear." Annie says with a smile. "I hope you're hungry." She empties the pan into two bowls.

 

"You live alone?" I asked. She nods and gives me a shrug. She hands me the bowl and a spoon. "I have to leave when I am finished. I got a long road ahead of me." I inform her.

 

"Where you heading to?" She asked sitting at a table. I frown. I'm not so sure myself.

 

"To be honest, Annie... I don't know." I say.

 

"Well, dear, I hope your travels are safe." She says with a smile. I smile back and quickly eat the oatmeal she has given me.

 

"Thank you." I say finishing. I grab the bag of coins I have in my pocket and gave her some. "This is all I can give. Sorry." I say feeling a little guilty.

 

"No need, dear." She says trying to push the coins back to me.

 

"My mind is already made up." I say. She gives me a smile and nods. Annie walks me out of her home and hands me a canteen of water. I thank her and just before I mount the horse. A group of three men walked over.

 

"Emilia?" One of them said. He holds a rifle and so do the others. Annie and I exchange looks. "You need to come back to Boston with us." I shake my head taking a step back. "Emilia, you need to come with us." He grabs my arm and fear shoots through my body.

 

"L-Let go!'  I yell. Annie takes a step back, which I don't blame her. I pull my arm to my body, knee the man in the groin and quickly mounted the horse. I had to make this horse run before I could bid Annie farewell.

 

I hear gunshot come from behind me and I spur the horse to go faster. In fear that I will be on of their next kills. They wouldn't be able to catch up with me, I'm on a horse and they're on their feet. I spur the horse to go faster again, hoping that they won't find me. I feel something cold and hard hit me against the side, which makes me fall off my horse.

Edited September 23, 201411 yr by TheWayToDawn

Part 3
The Stranger~

 

I grunted as I landed on the ground, my hip hurts from landing on the ground. A man on another horse has his rifle pointed directly at me. I feel a rock by my hip and I throw it at him and run. My horse only went a couple of feet in till it stopped. I jumped onto the horse and that’s when another gunshot  went off. It missed me, but it spooked my horse. It ran down the path as I hung on tight. I look behind me and three other men are after me. I accidentally let out a scream as I heard a couple of gunshots behind me. Gripping onto the horses reins, maybe I can out run them in the trees.

 

I steer my horse off road. My heart is beating to what feels like a thousand beats a second. I can feel it thumping against my chest. I’m scared and I’m cold. I do not want to die today. I steered my horse between the trees and I look behind me again, I haven’t lost them. I hear gunshots again and this time my horse yelps and falls to the ground. I fall down with it in the powdery white snow. I get up and try to run through the snow as fast as possible. I know how to climb a little, so maybe I can look for trees for me to climb. Behind me the guards are closer and I’m even more terrified.

 

I see a stump and the tree bent sideways. I can climb that. I run as fast as possible through the snow and climb up onto the tree. Hoping they can’t climb or maybe they’ll just give up. I walked on it as fast as possible and when I got to the edge of the top I jumped to the tree branch ahead, hoping it can hold my weight. A couple of gunshots went off again and I felt searing pain go through my left leg. I cried out in pain, my voice squeaking. I clench my teeth together and pull myself up onto the branch. I grabbed onto my leg where the pain came from and when my hand returned, there’s blood. Quickly I

jumped to the next branch and the next. Trying to use my right leg to land on each time.

 

Gunshots went off again, but I only heard three this time. I don’t bother to look back though. I find a thick branch, maybe I can jump onto it. I hear a man yell in pain, but I don’t look back. I have to keep going. I push off my branch as hard as I can with my left leg, hoping to get to the other branch. My body flies through the air, I reach my hands out to grab the branch, but to my horror. I feel my body go down. I hit the snow on the ground beneath me and I cry out in pain. Breathing fast, trying to collect myself from the fall. I hear a growling sound and my whole body froze. It’s a sound from a dog.

 

I turn on my back and see a wolf growling at me, etching its way towards me. “S-stay back!” I try to shout, but my quickened breaths restricts me to do so. The wolf barks at me and shows off its teeth. It jumps at me, I scream knowing this is going to be my end. Then to my surprise a man stopped the wolf. The wolf yelped in pain and lay motionless. Taking this as my opportunity to run. I get on my hands and knees, then begin to run. I plow myself through the snow the best I can, but I begin to become dizzy and tired. The snow soaking my clothes. I see black spot all around me and I fall to my knees. Breathless and incapable of moving.

 

“Help…” I say breathlessly. The only person I know that’s here is the man who killed the wolf. But he could kill me to. “Aiuto! (Help!)” I struggle to say. My arms shake to the point where I feel as though I can’t hold my body weight up much longer.

 

I feel a hand on my back and another on my arm. “Hey, hey!” I hear a man’s kind, soft voice. “Ma’am, can you hear me?” I fall onto my side and I get a blurry haze of a Native American boy. Then everything hazes to black

 

~*~*~*~

 

My hands clench onto the soft material of what feels like a thick blanket. I feel warm and dry. My leg throbs with pain and it makes me wince. The sound of two men talking make my eyes open wide. All I can hear is a muffle of their voices, but I’m afraid they were the one that were trying to kill me. Panicked, I try to get up. But the pain that shoots through my leg doesn’t allow. I let out a small whimper and sit back on the headboard of the bed. Breathing hard, feeling tears well up. I grip the

thick blankets, frustrated. Like my mother, this could be my death-bed.

 

Footsteps come from outside the door, the floor boards creaking. I watch the door, clenching my fists, making my fingernails dig into my palm. The door open to reveal an elderly man, with dark skin. He walks in with a cane. I watch him intently and he doesn’t even both to glance at me. He slowly walks to the chair that is placed next to my bed.

 

“Who are you? Where am I?” I ask quickly, my lip quivers slowly.

 

The elder man moved his hand up to silence me. I quickly go silent. “My name is Achilles.” He starts.

His voice is raspy, but it is also elderly and wise. “And you are in my home. You may be wondering how you got here.” I do a slight nod and let him continue. “A young man named Connor brought you here. He only managed to wrap your leg a little, but I had to do the rest.” I glance down at my leg that is under the warm, soft blanket. “You lost a lot of blood, which resulted to you being out for two days.” He leans on his cane that is in front of him. “Now, why were those men chasing you?” He asked. I give him a puzzling look. “Connor told me about men going after you.”

 

I open my mouth to say something, but then close it automatically. How do I tell him? Should I even trust this old man, who gave me shelter and treated my wound? “I am not sure myself, Achilles.” I manage to say.

 

Achilles gives me a look that could only mean that he does not believe me. “Alright then,” he says pushes himself up with his cane. “When you are ready, you can tell me. But I better not be expecting anyone at my door.”

 

I then realized my name was not mentioned in this small conversation. “Emilia.” I say before Achilles exits the room. He turns and gives me a questioning look. “My name is Emilia.”

 

“Well, Emilia, I will get you something to eat. You must be starving, having not of eaten for two days.”

He says. Achilles exits the room and leaving me into silence. I look at the window and see that it is bright daylight outside, so it must be the afternoon.

 

I push myself back down, still feeling tired even though I had a two-day rest. The throbbing of my leg keeps going and sometimes I’d have to bite my lip to contain a whine. The pain of my father’s death is still fresh, but also anger grows with it. A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I think of my father. Even his last word to me were Ti amo. Just as I hear footsteps come down the hall, I wipe the tears that remain and try to look as though I haven’t. Achilles walks in with a tray in one hand and leaning on his cane with the other.

 

“I am sorry to be a burden to you, Achilles.” I say as he hands me the tray.

 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can do anything else anymore.” He says.

 

He leaves me to eat the food he left me. I slowly eat the food, even though I’m starving. I can’t find myself to eat it fast. My stomach turns from not only being hungry, but the tears and pain I’m holding back. I push my tray aside after nibbling on half. I can’t push myself to eat anymore. I haven’t heard a footstep up here once since food was given to me. Which I’m thankful. I don’t want anyone here. I roll onto my side, turning my back against the food. Pushing the pillow a little on my face, I begin to start crying. Hoping Achilles or this, young man, named Connor doesn’t come in to see me cry.

 

~*~*~*~

 

It’s been two weeks. The seasons are starting to change to Spring. Over the time I’ve made recovery. Achilles finally allowed me to walk and granted me permission to walk around the property. Even though it’s slightly cold, it’s still a relief from being in bed all the time. I haven’t even met Connor in person yet, not even to thank him. Achilles has told me that Connor is very busy. Which leads to questions on what he does. But I keep myself back from asking too much questions. But the question that’s been developing for a long time now, is when I saw a box that Achilles was carrying to a room. It had a symbol on it that I am not sure what it is from. But I need to know.

 

I sit in the stables with a horse, stroking its snout. The horse reminds me of my old life in Italy, I used to help take care of the horses with my mother. Her and I attended to the horses as my father attended his job at the nearby shops. I remember when one of the horses died from sickness and how much I cried that night. My mother always calmed me down, singing me lullabies, that now I cannot remember. My father would sometimes bring me ribbons from the shop that they did not need any more. I loved ribbons and I always collected them and tied them together. I hung them above my bed and I learned how to paint at that time. My whole room was decorated with drawings I made and ribbons that I tied together.

 

I stand up after a while, shivering a bit from the cold. My leg still hurts, but it’s almost healed. Achilles says that I am very lucky it did not go in deep, because I wouldn’t be walking now. The horse neighs at me and nudges my hand. I grin and scoop out some oats from my pocket. She knew I had these in my pocket, like I always do when I come down here. She eats the oats gently out of my cupped hand. I give her a pat on the back and walk up the slope to the house. Leaving her at the stables. I’ve been around this house loads of times. Achilles told me to never go to far, because he will not be able to find me if I get lost on this property. I try to assure him that I’m fine, but never argue over it.

 

I enter the home calling out. “Achilles!” But get no response, except the creaking of the house.

“Achilles!” I say again.

 

I shrug and exit the house, walking to the cliff where it drops to water and a broken down ship. With my keen eyesight, I see a couple of people at the little shed by the pier. One of them looks like the old man, Achilles. But I cannot tell. How do I get down there? I asked myself as I look around. My eyes follow the path that’s down that and it goes to the left side of the hill where it slops down. Debating whether I should I go down or not, the group of people disband as two of them are making their way to the path where I thought to go.

 

Squeezing my arms tightly from the cold, I walk back to the house. I can’t stand this bitter cold any longer. It is warmer, but since I’ve never been outside much in the winter the last two weeks. I’m more sensitive to the weather then I should be. I enter the house once again and walk to the room with a long table and lots of chairs. The fire is still burning in the fire-place brightly and I already feel the warmth emitting from it. I slide my arms out of my jacket and drape it on a seat. I sit next to the fire-place warming myself.

 

Slowly, I pull up the leg of my pants and check the wound on my leg. The wound is already scarring up, a round white spot on my leg with small red scabs around it. Frowning as it is still tender, I pull down my pant leg. And go into the kitchen to start making tea. My father comes to my mind again and a tear forms in my eye. I blink it away and shake my head. I have cried to many times about my father the last two weeks. I’m afraid that Achilles may have heard me sometimes. If he has, he has not asked me what was wrong or why I was. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to ask in till I tell him.

 

I am unsure whether I should or shouldn’t. I place the tea kettle above the fire, waiting for it to brew. I walk to Achilles desk with a book that was always on it, just then the front door open. Achilles and the Native American boy walks in, they don’t notice me behind Achilles desk as they walk down the hall.

 

“Connor, you’re going to have to go through extensive training from now on.” I hear Achilles say. Curious, I slowly walk forward and watch Achilles and the Native American boy, that I assume could be only Connor.

 

I hear a switch being pulled and the two disappear somewhere behind a wall. I furrow my eyebrows and slowly walk to where they have disappeared. When I look, there is nothing but a wall and they are nowhere to be seen. Curious I look around the walls for something suspicious, but all I see it a little lamp-post on the wall. I touch the lamp-post, inspecting it. It seems like a normal light. I pull on it slightly then to my surprise the wall moves next to me like a door. I hear Achilles’ voice from the bottom and I walk slowly down the stairs.

 

“Who is that?” I hear an unfamiliar voice that I could only assume is Connor’s voice. I take the last step down and see a completely different room I’ve never seen before. It has some sort of stand with a suit I’ve never seen before on it. I look at the wall in front of me, it has a cross form in separate areas that looks like separate outfits should be hanged on.

 

“Connor, this is the girl you saved, Emilia.” Achilles introduces me with a hand gesture. “Emilia, this is Connor, the one who brought you here.” Connor and I stand in silence for a moment and then restlessly I break the silence.

 

“Connor, I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I would have died if you weren’t there.” I say.

 

“You’re welcome.” He says calmly with a smile. I glance at Achilles, searching for him to say something.

 

Impatiently I say. “Care to tell me what this place is.”

 

Achilles gestures me over and I look at the wall. It has different pictures of mean. My eyes widen as I see the one in the middle, the name under it says; Haytham Kenway. Anger boils inside me and I keep my stare on it. Achilles places his hand on my shoulder which cuts off my stare and I look at him.

 

“You know him?” He asked the obvious question. Now I have to answer.

 

“He’s the reason why I’m here.” I say.

 

“Explain.” Achilles says with a nod.

 

“Back at Boston, that man told me that my father has been killed.” I explain nodding to the picture of Haytham. “He asked me about what my father has done and threatened me that if anyone gets in his way, he’ll kill them. He dropped a letter that stated that my father was a target and he was eliminated and that if I did not corporate, I would have to be eliminated immediately. So I ran away. Some men found me, tried to take me back to Boston. And that’s when Connor found me. Haytham has something to deal with my father’s death and I intend to know why.”

 

Connor and Achilles looked at me for a few moments. “Haytham Kenway is in a group called the Templar’s.” Achilles explains. I don’t know what a Templar is but I let Achilles explain the rest.

He has told me about Assassin’s and Templar’s and how they fight each other. An Assassin that he has mentioned, which I have heard about in my home country, Ezio. Connor is now training to be an Assassin, in revenge on one of the Templar’s names Charles Lee. Unfortunately they have told me that Connor’s father is Haytham Kenway, apparently a leader to this section of Templar’s. Achilles told me that Haytham may have had one of his men from his group assassinate my father. Filled with anger, I asked Achilles if I could help. Since he is training Connor, why can’t I be trained.

 

Achilles rolled out the dangerous possibilities for me and also explained that since I’m a female, it may be more dangerous. That’s when I argued that I am more than capable of being a part of this. That I can fight. I can climb. And since I am a female and most men are vulnerable to women, I can use my charm. So I am more than qualified. Connor agreed with my side of the argument and with a sigh, Achilles finally gave in and told me I can join. But since I am a female, it does not mean I will get the training easier. Not like I wanted it easier in the first place.

 

Achilles sent me upstairs so I can get rest in for tomorrows training. The more and more I think about this, the more I think my mother would be disappointed in me. But I have to avenge my father. It may have been Haytham’s doing to sentence my father’s death. And I need to go after him, even Connor is after his own father. But he never told me for what purpose it was. But it is up to him to tell me. I shouldn’t pry.

Edited September 27, 201411 yr by TheWayToDawn

Part 4
Hunting Lesson~

 

Three months pass of filled with hard work, knowledge and training. Winter is long gone and Spring has arrived. The beautiful blossom in the trees, the flowers growing in the fields and the rainy days rolling in. More Game for hunters and poachers awaken. Spring has always been my most favorite season, the beautiful weather and surroundings is always so wonderful to me. My mother shared the same love for this season. It also gave me more inspiration for poetry and painting.

 

I haven't painted a thing since I came here to the New Land with my family. I had to leave most of my painting equipment. I am not sure how or where to acquire it here. I'm sure there is maybe some supply at a general store. Now I have no time to look for supply or even paint. Which is fine. Even though the work is exhausting and sometimes makes my body ache the next morning. I keep going, because I know I will have revenge on my father's death. But the more I come to learn about the Templar's, the more I realize how difficult the task may be.

 

Today, Achilles gave Connor and I a break. Connor has told me very little about himself, mostly because we don't have the time to. He taught me a little more about how to climb things during training. He told me he's been climbing since he was a child. Three weeks ago I asked Connor if he could teach me how to hunt with a bow. Without hesitation, he agreed to teach me how. He said he would as long as we can gather materials for another bow in our spare time, we will be able to do some small lessons. I did slowly gather what he asked for. With his spare time he slowly started crafting the bow. What felt like forever, the bow was finished within the past three weeks.

 

The bow was amazing and once I got to hold it, excitement rushed through my body. "We can start today if you would like." Connor said, seeing the childish expression on my face. I felt like a seven-year old getting a present on their birthday.

"We can?" I asked with an urge to jump. He nods as he grabs his own. We exit the house, eager to start the hunt. I can even tell that Connor is a little excited.

 

Connor jogs to a tree and gestures me over. "We can have a vantage point if we climb here." He said leaping onto the tree and pulling himself up. "Can you keep up?"

 

I push hard with my legs and grab the branch. Quickly pulling myself up. "Of course." I say as I lean a bit against the trunk of the tree.

 

Without a word he begins to cut through the trees like there is nothing to it. Having of practiced to climb the trees, I follow. Not as well as he does, but good enough to stay on his toes. The birds chirping with  the wonderful Spring breeze, the sunlight cutting through the gaps of the leaves. This really is peaceful. Connor stops on a vantage point that's on the tree, I jump onto it after him and he looks at me.

 

"Getting tired?" He asked. Sounded like a challenge to me.

 

"Nope." I say shaking my head. "What now?"

 

Connor crouches low and I do the same. "I set up some targets for you to shoot." He says nodding ahead. I see full sack with red-painted on the front, tied on branches. I nod and look at him. "You've got to learn how to aim a bow, before you can hunt with one." I look at the targets, trying to figure out how to hit them. "We'll retrieve the arrows once we're done." He adds. "Watch." He pulls out his bow and readies an arrow.

 

He straightens up and pulls on the string of the bow. I watch as the bow bends to its extent. He releases the arrow and he hits the farthest target. I watch as it falls to the ground with a small thump. "The key is to concentrate, breathe slowly and focus on the target." He says wrapping the bow back onto his shoulder.

 

"Okay." I say pulling out my bow with my right hand. I take out an arrow and pull it on to the string of the bow.

 

"Straighten up." He says holding my shoulder with one hand as he pushed the middle of my spine with the other. I do as he says and straighten up. "Keep your eyes on the target." I do as he says and watch one of the middle sacks sway a bit from the breeze. "Breathe slowly." I was already on that. "Aim." Slowly I began to aim and my arrows tip was pointed directly at the target. "Shoot."

With a deep breath, I release the arrow. The arrow cuts through the air, but goes down before I hit the target.

 

I let my arms fall to my lap, still grasping onto the bow. I bite the corner of my bottom lip. "What did I do wrong?" I asked looking at Connor. I wasn't at all disappointed with the miss. I was curious on what I should avoid not to do. "I was aiming at the target."

"Directly?" He asked with the look of thought on his face. I nod. "That's the problem. You have to raise it a little higher than your target. And to make it go more smoothly, you release the arrow with a pull." I nod readying myself again.

 

Remembering the instructions he has told me, I straighten up, control my breathing, keep my eye on the target and ready myself to aim. Connor sat back, watching me. Not instructing my next move. Pulling the string as hard as I can, I release the arrow as I pulled. Letting the string snap back to its original state. The arrow flew through the air once again. And I just barely missed the sack. "Uomo... (Man...)" I let out a sigh. Determined to hit that sack, I pull out another arrow.

 

"Why don't you try to go after a short distance target?" Connor asked. Feeling challenged I aim for the farthest one I can see.

 

"Why limit myself, when there's a bigger challenge up ahead?" I asked as I pulled the arrow on the string. Aiming carefully, I pull and release the arrow. I watch as the arrow goes completely through half the sack. The sack falls to the ground and I smile.

Turning to see Connor, the look of awe spread across his face. "You've shot a bow before." He said wiping the look off his face.

 

"I shot a crossbow, which is more different than this." I say with a shrug. "I didn't tell you that I never done something similar." I add as I pull out another arrow. I release the arrow and it grazes one of the middle sacks. "What is your real name, Connor?" I asked pulling out another one. "I know you must've had a different name."

It's silent for a few seconds before Connor answers me. "Ratonhnhaké:ton." He says. I nod and release the arrow once again, hitting the front sack.

 

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, huh?" I asked as I repeated the name. I pull out another arrow and aim again. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth as I release the arrow. It cut through the rope hold the sack up on the branch.

Frowning I say. "I know I need to change mine." Realizing I didn't specify what I meant. "My name." I add. I pull out another arrow.

 

"Why would you need to change yours?" Connor asks. I take in a deep breath and release the arrow once again. I miss the sack by a mere inch.

 

Looking at him, trying to form the words. "To hide who I really was." I say. "If I'm going to be an Assassin, I need to transform myself, even my name. It's my decision anyway." I pull out another arrow and aimed again. "Achilles says he's got a name for me." I add.

 

I hear Connor move and lean against my back with his. Aiming his bow. "That would be?" He asked releasing the arrow that hit the middle of the sack.

 

"You're just going to have to see." I say smiling. "Show off." I added. Connor leaves my back and I release my arrow and hit the last sack. "Did you eat?" Connor shakes his head as he leaned his back on the tree trunk. "Good. I brought some bread." I say opening a sack that was tied on my hip.

 

I tossed him a few small loaves and he catches each one. Him and I sit in silence for a few moments, taking bites out of our bread.

"Why are you after the Charles Lee?" I ask, breaking the silence that's been settling in.

 

Connor stays silent for a few minutes. I almost asked the question again, because I thought he didn't hear me. "He killed my mother." He said with difficulty.

 

Feeling his pain. I ask, "What did he do?"

 

Connor shrugged and played with the small loaf of bread in his hand. "He tried to burn down my village." He says staring at the loaf in his hand. "I watched my mother die in the fire." He threw the loaf out to the trees. I hear a squeak of a rabbit from below and watch it jet through the grass and out of sight.

 

I shoved my last loaf of bread into the small sack and tied it back onto my belt. "Sorry I asked. It must've been dreadful." I say. Connor just gives me a small nod and I stand up. "Should we go hunt?" I offer him a helping hand for me to pull him up.

Connor grabs my hand and I hoist him up. We climb down the tree and at the last branch I decided to jump down. "What about your mother?" He asked pulling out his bow.

 

"She died from sickness." I say pulling out my bow as well. "I held her hand before as she drew her last breath." I add with a frown. He looks at me sympathetically and gestures me to follow.

 

I follow him as silent as possible through the trees and tried as much as possible not to brush against bushes. Connor and I see a doe, which is actually quite a beautiful creature in my opinion. He looks around for something, which I am not sure what he is looking for. He pulls his arrow onto the string of the bow, steadying his aim. And without even a warning. He releases the arrow, which sends it through the side of the doe. The doe tried to run, but struggles. Connor gestures me to follow and I do. We run after it in till it stops in a meadow.

 

"You try." He says nodding to the doe.

 

I nervously take out an arrow and pull it onto the string. My fingers tingling from pulling the string. I let out a sigh and release the arrow. It zips through the air and misses the doe by a few inches. I let out a frustrated groan as I prepare another arrow. The doe jumps and then runs away as fast as possible. Connor placed his hand my shoulder and ran after the doe, letting his hand slip off my shoulder. I run with Connor to catch up with the doe. He quickly pulls out an arrow when the doe is in sight and then releases it. It goes through the doe's chest and it falls to the ground.

 

Connor and I walk to the doe, he takes out a knife and I kneel next to him. Connor looks at the doe and begins to skin it. The smell of blood quickly fills the air. "The arrows are reusable. He said with a concentrated look.

 

I walk around to the other side of the doe and I grab the first arrow. I pull it out with a bit of force and I put it next to the deer. I grab the other arrow, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. I tug it out and a crunching sound comes from the deer, I cringe at the repulsive sound. I place down the arrow with the other and then squat next to Connor. The doe's side is open and nothing but the exposed insides show. Connor's hands are practically covered in blood by now and the stench is getting stronger.

 

I feel weak for saying this, but I don't want to vomit. "Connor, should I go around and see if I can find more to hunt?" I asked as casual as possible.

 

"Think you can do it yourself?" He asked looking at me. I nod a bit. Trying to keep myself from glancing at the doe. "Be careful. Don't shoot them if you see young." I nod, picking up my bow and arrows. "Take these." He says handing me the arrows I just ripped out of the doe. I nod and put them in my sheath.

 

"Meet you by the river?" I asked. He nods and continues his work with quicker hands. Eager to leave the stench, I head north.

Maybe I can find smaller game to hunt. Probably more harder, but I might as well try.

 

I walk steadily, try to make as little of noise as possible with my boots from Boston. They are quite heavy and hard to remain silent with them on. I wonder how Connor can move so slightly with his. Maybe it is made from a lighter material. I keep my the back of the arrow rested on the string of the bow. My finger lock onto the string, at ready to shoot. I remember when my father let me shoot a crossbow, my mother panicked and I never seen the weapon again. My father apologized to me, but since I was little. I did not know why.

 

A twig snaps nearby and straighten quickly, pulling the string on the bow. I stiffly move around, keeping my eyes narrowed with the bow. Taking slow steps around. I hear an unfamiliar sound of an animal and see a fox run between two trees. I follow the fox smoothly between the two trees and I see it stop by some flowers. It glances around cautiously and I since it's such an elegant creature. I do not want to shoot the fox. But this is all part of hunting. And if I cannot kill a simple animal, then I am not fit enough to be an Assassin.

 

If I can't kill an animal, how can I kill a person? My stomach lurches at the thought of killing a person. I shake the thought away and press my lips hard together. Concentrating on the fox. Come one, Emilia! Just release the arrow! I order myself. Just... release! I pull the string of the bow and then the fox flinched. I stay frozen to the spot. What is it looking at? I thought. The fox makes a whimper, I see it bolt to the right. Then a wolf pounces on it. Taking my kill. My eyes widen and I release the tension in my shoulder. Letting the bow and arrow point down.

 

Climb! I need to climb a tree. I thought. I swing the bow around my shoulder and I back away from the wolf. I go as quick as possible to a climbable tree. I see branches just low and sturdy enough for me to climb. Why is it always wolves? I think angrily and I pull myself up on the branch. The wolf either must've not heard me or did not care. Because it did not leave its fresh kill. I climb higher, maybe I can get a vantage point on this tree. Find a new thing to hunt. I pull myself up onto the next branch, then the next.

 

It has been easier for me to climb since my training has started. My arms have strengthened and so has the rest of my body. I have never that climbing could come this easily. I hear a creak sound of a branch that is about to give way. I jump off the branch and grab onto the thicker branch above me. The branch beneath me snaps and falls to the ground. Letting out a sigh, I use my feet to walk up the core of the tree and pull myself up the rest of the way. This should be high enough. I thought to myself as I stand and lean against the tree.

 

I can see a lot from here. I can see the river slightly. The bright green leaves of the trees. Part of the meadows. And I look below, I see a person. I squint and identify that it is Connor. I see a pile of branches and leaves below. I glance the wolf's direction and see that it has left and so has the corpse of the dead fox. I crouch and slowly walk to the edge of the branch. I look down at the pile and exhale slowly. It's now or never. I tell myself. Without letting myself hesitate, I jump off the branch. A rush goes through my body as I free fall. I dive down and then push myself forward in midair. I land in the pile of leaves and branches on my back.

 

A heave of air leaves me, there's a sound of snapping twigs around me. Surprisingly the landing was softer than I had intended. I get up from the pile, more twigs snap under my feet. I feel the tug of twigs and leaves in my hair. I pull them out slowly. My hair caught on one of the twigs and pulls some of it out of my tie. I pull out the rest of my tie and shake my hair out. I quickly tie my hair again, to keep the hair out of my eyes. I see a beaver. One of the slowest and most odd-looking creatures I have seen. I quickly take out a bow and arrow. And release the arrow, it jets through the air and I shoot it in the side. It makes a sound, similar to a pig but higher pitched, and it remains motionless.

 

I quickly walk to the beaver, wrapping the bow back onto my shoulder. I yank the arrow out of the beaver and sheath it quickly. I need to get to the river to meet Connor. I think that is where he was headed. I grab the beaver by the tail and pull it up. Heavier than it looks. I make my way through the tree and high grass with the beaver in my hand. The beaver could lose a couple of pounds if you asked me.

 

The closer and closer I get to the river, the louder the rushing water gets. It is a calming sound. I've never had to opportunity to venture around in the woods before. I was always told how scary it might be, but truth be told, it is quite wonderful and soothing. If only I known about this sooner, I'd probably have ventured into the woods more often. But maybe that is why I was told not to go. Because of that very reason. I see the river between the trees, the cool stream that rushes faster as it nears the waterfall. I

stand at the edge of the river, an inch closer I'd fall into it. I scan up and down the river to see if I can find Connor.

 

I see Connor downstream, washing off the deerskin. With the beaver swaying at my side I walk to him. "Connor!" I call out as I get closer. His head whips around till he looks my direction. I raise up the beaver with a shaky arm. I've been carrying this beaver for probably fifteen minutes.

 

He stands up and meets me with the deerskin in his hand. "Where'd you kill it?" He asked raising his free hand to grab it.

 

"South of here." I say nodding to my left. I hand him the beaver, happy that I don't have to hold this heavy animal anymore.

 

"You can take this to Achilles." He says handing me the deerskin. "And I'll skin the beaver." I nod and can't help but skim my fingers across the soft but wet skin.

 

"Okay, see you soon." I say following the downstream of the river. I'll turn once I get to the bridge. Once today is over it's back to training with Connor.

Edited October 16, 201411 yr by TheWayToDawn