The Meeting

This first chapter is called 'The Meeting' because of just that, Connor Kenway, an Assasssin, meeting this mysterious female that refuses to speak. His mission is to bring her back to her home, but just where is she from? They have to travel South until they reach their destination. When he reaches it, he can't believe what he finds. ConnorXOC


31. The Discovery-Chapter II Continued


Midnight Rose walked back to where her brother laid resting. She caressed his Tombstone as she turned her head to the direction in which Connor ran off. She sighed, returning her attention to her brother’s Tombstone.

She knelt down to the cold earth, as she spoke to him with her thoughts. “I continue to honor my promise brother. I have found the one that understands what I have to say without uttering a word. He too seems to hide behind a mask, figuratively speaking, for he has yet allowed the hood to lift from his face. Oh, brother you have no idea of how I long to know what is hidden underneath. Even though I have never once laid eyes on his face, yes, I am ridiculously captivated with him. I cannot go a moment without him, Connor, robbing my thoughts as he has my heart. I know that I should not be weak in this manner, I have tried repeatedly, to no avail. It is much the same as you confided in me long ago. ‘When you find that one special person, you find that you cannot exist without them, not even for a moment, no matter the repercussions’. I completely comprehend your words now big brother, honestly. Although my love is the furthest from simple, you see. Isabella loved you in return, while I fear that my love goes untested. To make a bad situation worse brother, father has this absurd notion that I have to be Cherokee now after all these years. I shall inform you more detailed later. It is late, I have some things that need completing. I shall speak with you early tomorrow. I love you Screeching Hawk.”

Midnight Rose lifted herself from the ground as she kissed two fingers then placed them on his engraved name. She sighed as she left Screeching Hawk.

Connor ran from the hillside grave. Covering a lot of distance, as he took to the trees and continued around the huge landmass over his left shoulder. It was becoming nightfall. He had plenty time to figure out in which way he was going to lower himself down to the valley that lay at the bottom of the stiff drop-off. He peered down and saw the distance was too far to jump down, he looked around him, then noticed that the trail he and Midnight Rose had taken up the mountain also continued going down just to the left of the rugged cliff. Connor decided that this was the perfect way to descend quickly until he could find a decent hiding place. He ran down the small rocky trail as the nearby tress grew taller and taller, until there was one thick enough to hold his weight.

The Assassin in training jumped across the gap, grabbing a limb as he let the momentum carry him to a branch large enough to walk on. The ground was still a ways down, and he would not be able to hear at this distance. He lowered himself further down the Oak Tree, until the leaves ran low, lacking the proper ability to hide his presence. Connor descended the tree, to find shelter elsewhere. He walked around, for there where many mounds of dead leaves about. He was going to choose one of the leaf hills for shelter, until noticing they were wet, he decided otherwise.

Connor walked to the opposite end of the high cliff wall, then found the perfect tree for hiding. It was very large in girth and still as green as a tree that had just bloomed in spring. He climbed one of the many huge branches as he heard oncoming horses. He crouched down as two Indian men came into site from the only entrance into the small circular clearing. They dressed in the same fashion as the men in the Cherokee tribe, tan moccasins, breechcloths, and leather leggings. The only difference distinguishable in the two at a distance from the Cherokees would be their hairstyles. The two Creek’s hair was fashioned into Mohawks and resting upon their heads were yellow dyed porcupine roaches. The men were bare-chested and heavily covered with tribal tattoos, having their faces painted a bright red.

The two men lowered themselves from their steeds as they scoured over the surroundings. When they seemed satisfied, the two walked toward the tree in which Connor hid. Just under the branch used for spying, was a boulder, the two men took rest upon the rock as they waited on their company. They began talking and laughing as the echo of hoof beats bounced off the cliff wall. Connor could not understand the language of the two, but watched intensively. One of the men, the skinner of the two stood, spit, and crossed his arms.

As the standing man spat, he stated in English. “You think this a good idea.”

The other nodded, “for our people. It is good.”

As the two conversed, four men came into sight arriving from the same direction as the Creek. All were atop white horses. The horses’ bridles and saddles were very elegant, a rich dark chocolate brown with blue and white jewels embellished throughout the trimming. Sewn in a bright gold color on the saddlebags and the saddles were the crosses that all the Templars used. Connor studied one of the signs. It was a simple cross, meaning much to some, nothing to more, but to him provoked anger. The four white men lowered themselves to the ground to greet their new counterparts. Three of the men were dressed as any other white man of humble means, but one, he was a different story. One could tell by looking at him that he was a man with wealth. He wore a powdered wig, fancy clothes and around his neck, he wore a necklace with the same cross hanging low to the center of his chest.

The man in the wig closed in on the two Creek Braves, “hello my friends. It is wise that you have come.”

The two Indians walked to the others as they all shook hands.

“I have thought hard over this and you are right, this is the best decision that I could make for me and my people. You wanted information. I have that which you seek.” The Indian that was sitting earlier spoke.

The man in the powdered wig motioned for his men to leave the three alone. “I am pleased that you have something to share with me tonight, it will be well worth your time. I never break a promise to someone that takes it upon themselves to help the greater good.”

The slim Indian walked away from the two men that were speaking, as to give them their privacy. The Creek mounted his horse to wait in patience.

Connor, high above the pair was waiting for the two to begin to have their detailed conversation, as he inched down the limb to get a better vantage point. The Templar could not have been that old, he seemed to be in his thirties, which made him look rather hilarious in Connor’s opinion with the wig high upon his head. The paleness of his skin under the moonlight made the man seem almost ghost like. He was very slim, and the mannerisms the man possessed told Connor the man looked down upon the braves in which he was company. Even though the man disliked his counterparts, he was gracious and did not lead on in the least that he wished to be far from them.

The Templar ushered his new ally to sit with him on the rock under Connor. “Now, speak freely my good man, whatever information you have is great, no matter how small.”

The Indian shifted on the rock. “Yes, I have but a few bits of news that I can share with you, for not much is known by my people either.”

The Templar rubbed his chin, “I was afraid of this Black Squirrel. Ah, it is no matter, I am still intent on hearing. Please continue.”

Black Squirrel started, “the person that you call Assassin is not of my people. I have seen the one known as Poisoned Tears close with my own two eyes, the dress could be from any Indian tribe, but there is one detail that lets one of Creek blood know. On the jacket worn are markings.”

“Yes, I too have heard told of the markings down the sleeves, even though this Assassin changes outfits, the drawings are always the same, as well as the tears on the mask.” The white man commented.

The Creek continued. “The markings are tribal and are the same that a Cherokee Warrior would have tattooed upon his arms. You see friend Peter, as we Creek are many and the Cherokee few. They have a warrior that protects them, without equal. We are unable to make a move without provoking the wrath of Poisoned Tears and this is something my people fear greatly, for from Poisoned Tears no foe has ever walked away.”

The Templar named Peter stood. “You think that you have given me little information Black Squirrel, when you have given me everything that I have needed to hear. You shall be rewarded greatly for you assistance to the Templars. I shall take your Brave and train him as you have asked, but I also shall give your people help, right now. My men will return to your village with you and see what all is needed. Thank you Chief, may the Father of Understanding guide you.”

Peter extended his hand and the Creek Chief gladly received it.

Connor patiently waited and listened very carefully to everything said. “Poisoned Tears, they are after Poisoned Tears. I must leave, and tell Milagros of this.”

As Connor turned to lower himself down the tree, he came face to face with the masked Assassin. Connor, startled, almost lost his footing on the large limb. Poisoned Tears reached forward grabbing a handful of jacket keeping the young Assassin from falling over.

“Thank you.” Connor mumbled.

The Assassin only gave a left tilt of the head.

Connor glanced over his shoulder to see the lead Templar and the Creek Brave put their horses in a trot. As the Chief and the other Templars were already out of sight. When Connor returned to ask Poisoned Tears a question, the Assassin was gone. Connor searched for Poisoned Tears as he jumped down to the ground. He then saw the Assassin running through the trees, closing in on the two men on horseback. Connor ran to find a tree that he could climb. While he scaled the tree, the two on horseback stopped to have another word. The trailing Assassin continued to follow the duo until being directly over them. Poisoned Tears now in a stealth stance began inching down the limb as Connor jumped to the same surface. The masked Assassin threw a knife in Connor’s direction, causing the young Mohawk to block the oncoming steel with his stone tomahawk to evade the sting of the blade. As the noise of the ricocheted knife, that now raced to the ground, grabbed the Templar's attention.

“Well, what do we have here?” the Templar stated as he turned his horse around looking up at Connor, but not noting the presence of the other Assassin.

As the man closed in on Connor high above him, Poisoned Tears gave a shake of the head. Without warning, the Assassin silently pounced on the seated unwary Templar. The masked Assassin shoved the man onto the ground, followed by throwing a very small sliver of metal no bigger than a needle at the Creek Brave, piercing the man in the side of the neck. Poisoned Tears then held up a gloved finger and waved it back and forth. The young brave was too terrified to move, for he knew of what this person was capable, he could only hold his neck where the tiny piece of metal entered his flesh.

Now Poisoned Tears turned around quickly and pointed to the Templar on the ground with the same finger. The Templar tried to scurry backwards, but the Assassin slammed a moccasin down onto his chest. All the while, Connor watched the effect that this Assassin had on the two men. He knew that this was something in which he was going to strive for to provoke upon his enemies, shear fear.

“What are you going to do Assassin, take the life from me? Then, what does that prove? Only that you are more soulless than I. You are truly savage aren’t you?” The Templar spat as he talked.

Poisoned Tears looked back to the Creek who fell to his knees then crashed entirely to the ground.

“I’m already dead aren’t I Savage.” The Templar asked as he now began to wheeze while he looked at the dead Creek.

The masked Assassin nodded only once.

The dying Templar begged, “then please give me my dying wish, show me who you are.”

Poisoned Tears stooped down, leaned close to the Templar, Peter, as to be seen by his eyes alone. As the Assassin raised the mask, the Templar’s eyes grew five times bigger.

Connor tried to see the face of the Assassin down below, but it was to no avail. The only face that he saw was of the Templar, and it was of fear and confusion.

“No… you…” The man struggled to speak, “that… is not pos… sible. You…. are not... an…” the Templar took his dying breath as the last thing he saw was a smirk on the face of his killer.

Poisoned Tears lowered the mask followed by closing the Templar’s eyes, before lifting to foot and walking over to the Creek that too lay on the ground dead. The Assassin repeated the same actions then took a glance over to Connor who was now on the ground closing in infuriated.

“You killed them both, I was sent here only to listen to their conversation, not to take life.” Connor walked to face Poisoned Tears with anger in his eyes.

The masked Assassin, angered by the tone in Connor’s voice, walked up, chest to chest with the Mohawk and poked him over his heart, hard. Gave a violent head shake then slammed a fist back onto the brown coat worn twice.

“You should have told me that you were to kill them.” Connor demanded.

Poisoned Tears turned to leave, Connor gabbed at the Assassin’s arm.

As Connor grabbed for Poisoned Tears, the masked Assassin spun and kicked Connor’s left leg from under him, sending the young Mohawk crashing hard to the ground. Poisoned Tears then walked into the night, disappearing further down the path the Creeks and Templars used to get to the location that Connor now sat in alone forcing down his pride.

Connor lifted himself from the cold hard ground to make his way to have a word with Milagros. He slowly walked up the thin path that would take him back up to the huge landmass, then eventually the village. All the way back to the tribe, Connor could not believe that Poisoned Tears would have treated him in this manner. Was not he a ally? Did he not to have to answer to Milagros just as he? But the one thing that stuck in the Mohawk's head was what the Creek Chief stated.

“The Templars have no idea that he is Cherokee. Milagros told me that the Assassin is, but not who it was, why?” As the possibilities coursed through Connor's mind, he picked up speed and swiftly ran the remainder of the trek. He did not let up until he reached the door of Falcon's Talon.

Connor entered the house in search of Milagros. He did not find the woman in the kitchen, where the now cleaned deer hung. Nor in the large meeting room where the children of Strong Wind played.

“Children, have you seen Milagros.” Connor stated.

The children nodded as they pointed up.

Connor walked to the stairs and began to scale them as he came face to face with the tiny woman.

“Ah Connor, come, I must speak with you.” The woman stated as she passed the young man to descend.

The young Assassin followed as ordered. He followed her until they were outside the home walking down the ally that lead to Midnight Rose's home.

“We are not going to my daughter's. I need to speak to you about the mission, alone. Just over here, in my garden we can speak freely.” the Spanish woman lead Connor behind her home to a rather nice sized flower garden.

Connor stopped at the edge of the garden. As the woman knelt bringing a small knife out of her dress pocket.

“So what did you learn young one?” Milagros asked as the she bent to snip a few roses.

Connor squatted. “That the Templars wanted information on Poisoned Tears. They offered their protection in return.”

The woman nodded, “I see. Did they get what they wanted?”

The young Assassin rose to his feet. “In a manner they did.”

“Meaning.” Milagros finished cutting flowers.

Connor furrowed his brow. “I stayed true to my mission, even though I was not told of the fact that Poisoned Tears would be there as well.”

“Poisoned Tears was of none of your concern. You were to only worry about your part of the mission.” The woman lifted herself from the ground.

Connor nodded, “The Creek Chief knew that the Assassin is of your tribe. He told the Templar of this and not much later, that is when Poisoned Tears killed the Templar and the Creek Brave that was going to be trained into the Templar Order.”

“I see. Which means the threat has been eliminated for now. I trust that you did not intervene with Poisoned Tears' mission.” The woman handed the flowers to Connor.

The young man lowered his head.

“Ah, I see. Tomorrow the two of you shall have a good sparing session. The two of you need to know how to work together while you are here.” Milagros ushered Connor back to her cabin.

Connor hesitated, “I have a question.”

“It is not my place Connor. I'm sure that you will find out very soon.” Milagros entered the home with Connor behind.

The Spanish woman walked into her kitchen to prep the flowers before putting them into a vase. Connor followed her, still being bothered by the fact that Poisoned Tears would have attacked him.

Connor whispered his question to Milagros. “I still do not understand why Poisoned Tears would attack me.”

Milagros spun around, apparently bothered by this bit of news. “What did Poisoned Tears do?”

“Threw a knife at me, but not as before, this time the intention was for contact.” Connor recalled.

The short woman ushered Connor to sit at the table with her, “and what did you do?”

“I defended myself.” The Mohawk replied.

The petite woman smiled, “No Connor, what did you do to cause the knife to be thrown in the first place?”

Connor lowered his head. “I followed.”

Milagros nodded. “You interfered where you were not to. Poisoned Tears did not meddle in your affair I take it.”

“No.” Replied the young Mohawk whose head was still lowered.

Milagros stood, walked over to Connor to place a hand on his shoulder. “There are no worries. I am quite sure that the intention was never to harm, only to warn. I think that you look to much into the situation. Tomorrow you will have your turn to learn much about Poisoned Tears. The way that the Assassin works and thinks. You may come to find that you have more in common than thought. You both can learn form the other, of this I am certain. It is late. I am off to tend to my husband. You my young man, do what pleases you. This is your home for some time to come. My advice, find a certain young girl that has tickled your fancy and let her know what she means to you before it's too late. The days are winding down and it would be a shame to just let those feelings be wasted no? Goodnight Connor, I shall see you tomorrow.”

The woman left the young Assassin sitting at the table as she walked past the children that were now sleeping where they were earlier playing. Connor sat and thought for a moment, until he decided to get fresh air and clear his head before taking himself to bed. He left the cabin in search of peace of mind. He was not able to find it. He walked passed Midnight Rose's home, noticing that there was no light coming from under the pelt, he figured that she must be sleeping. He continued on, venturing into the woods. He heard voices laughing in the distance, they seemed female from this far away. He stayed on the path that would take him to the small stream ahead. He did need a drink of water, thus he pushed on until he arrived at the creek only to find three small girls playing in the water with their mother watching over them.

“You are the man that brings the girl of Falcon's Talon back to be married to Little Tree. I owe you many blessings for the good you have done for my family.” The woman stated as she motioned for Connor to come closer.

Connor obliged. “I only did what was asked, nothing more.”

“You have no idea of why this is so big for Little Tree do you young one?” The woman whose long braids were tied up to rest upon the top of her head asked.

“I am sorry, but I do not,” Connor shook his head as he squatted down by her side.

The woman patted the ground. “Sit child and I shall tell you why the great Falcon's Talon has arranged this union. We Cherokee usually do not do this with our children, but in this case, the rules have been broken for the good of the tribe. You see, back five years ago something very bad happened. My family shamed the entire tribe. My husband and I did something that no Cherokee should have ever have done. He and I killed a brother, even though it was an accident, this is something that is not forgiven in our life here. My husband and I were put on trial and his life was taken and I was cast out with all of my children but one. He was old enough to know that what me and his father did was wrong and was given the opportunity to choose. He chose to stay with the tribe and forget about me entirely. But after time he would seek for me deep in the forest and one day he found me. We spoke about things, and he having a very good head forgave me for this. We have been talking throughout the years as he has always come to visit with me and his sisters. I still do not know how he got Falcon's Talon to make a grand decision like this. I have heard word through my son that with the union of he and the sweet young Midnight Rose, that it represents the forgiveness of the Bird Clan upon the Long Hair. I shall be able to return to my family and be at peace with the rest of the clan. It is something that I have been asking of the Great Spirit for many nights, that I may repay the Bird Clan and he has finally heard my call and grant my wish. And this is something that I do not take lightly young one, no I will make up to Falcon's Talon for the loss of his brother. Now, it is getting very late and I must take my young in before the animals of night begin to hunt.”

Without another word the woman lifted herself, gathered her children and wandered deeper into the forest.

Connor arose, walked over to the water's edge to kneel down and cup water into his hand. He took his fill as he heard a noise of something walking toward him. He lifted his head to see Midnight Rose closing in from the other side of the stream. He held down a smile as she carefully stepped on pebbles to keep from getting wet. Connor watched her as she passed on the left side of him. He thought that she continued walking past him as if he did not exist. Until he felt the heat from her body as she knelt beside him over his right shoulder to take a drink of water as well. Connor sat all the way down on the ground, as he studied the young woman. Her hair was wet an she smelled very sweet. The smell that her skin was giving off was of honey. She did not look over at him, only gathered more water with her hand to take another sip, then began to lift herself to leave. Connor grabbed her arm, making the girl loose balance and sit down next to him.

Midnight Rose finished bathing and headed back to her home. On her way back, she noticed someone knelt down drinking from the stream that laid not far from her cabin. As the moonlight hit the hood that rested on the man's head, she knew that she could not resist the opportunity to get a drink of water. Midnight Rose hastened her pace, but not too much as to seem anxious. She hopped rock after rock to pass the stream as she continued to stare at the man that drank water from his hand. Connor finally lifted his head to watch her as she walked closer and closer to him. Midnight Rose then acted as if she did not notice his presence as he watched her. She peered from the corner of her eye to see if he continued to watch her as she passed by his left shoulder. He did not move his head, so she circled around him to lower herself down next to his right side to take a drink of the very cold water. She felt his stare as she drank from her hands. Midnight Rose decided to leave since Connor seemed to not be in a very talkative mood. She began to lift off her knees when a hand grasped her arm, making her fall back down almost into Connor's lap. Midnight Rose begged in her mind that the moon would be hidden suddenly behind a gross amount of clouds to hide the heat that she knew had to be showing on her cheeks that only became hotter as Connor now spoke so softly.

“You have bathed, but your skin his hot.” Connor spoke to Midnight Rose whose head was lowered.

Midnight Rose had not the strength to face Connor until she felt his hand caressing her arm, no he was not, it was her imagination, he was just feeling that her skin was warm to the touch.

Connor stared into the eyes of Midnight Rose as he unwillingly was caressing her arm with his thumb. He stopped as he became embarrassed, “How is this.”

Midnight Rose pursed her lips and pointed to Connor and then placed a hand upon her chest.

“Yes,” replied Connor in knowing exactly that she would show him.

The two lifted themselves and Connor let Midnight Rose guide him to a small pond, in which a waterfall kept the water level full. The two walked closer and Midnight Rose motioned to him that this was the place. It was a very quiet area, in that the only noise heard was the water falling from above them into the water below them. Connor walked down the hill that lead to the area in which Midnight Rose had been earlier. Midnight Rose did not move, she only watched him lower himself into the clearing that sat lower than the rest of the surrounding area. Connor bent down to touch the water that was indeed very hot. The temperature made Connor shudder.

“I see. Thank you.” Connor stated.

Midnight Rose understood what he was saying in that he was going to stay and bathe, so she smiled, turned and headed back to her home to rest for the night.

Connor watched as Midnight Rose left him to bathe in privacy, even though he had to admit it, he was glad that she did not stay, for he would be too embarrassed to disrobe and bathe naked in front of her. He shook his head, placed all his clothing on a large rock and walked into the water not knowing of it's depth. He ventured toward the waterfall to find that well before the middle of the pool, the water level was very low, and he could swim forward until almost directly by the falling water that he now stood under, enjoying the liquid heat that fell onto his body.

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