I am a simple girl. I don't care about dresses or delicacies. I hate the guards and the cruelties they encourage. Then I met Connor. He saved my life and so I have devoted myself to the Assassins and all they stand for. My parents are strongly opposed to it, but they'd never cared about me. Until now. My name is Clara, and this is my story


2. Chapter 2

As night descended upon them, Connor rode to a cave he knew of, not far from them. He knew where every cave, every pond was in this forest.

It was a large cave, large enough for two humans and a horse to sleep comfortably in. Connor built a fire in the centre, sitting near it and trying to warm up. Clara stayed near the edge of the cave, eyeing the fire warily.

"Miss Butterfield, please come and warm up. You'll become sick." Connor warned. He called her by her last name, knowing that was the proper way to talk to a settler lady.

"I shall be fine where I am, Mr Kenway." Replied Clara, also calling him by his surname. She tried to act as if she were warm but a tremor wracked her body and she shuddered violently. Connor stood up and picked up Clara by the shoulders, forcing her to the fire. She resisted at first, but as the warmth touched her body she subcumed to it, falling roughly onto her behind.

"Miss Butterfield, why did you avoid the fire?" Asked Connor.

"My little sister was killed in a fire, many years ago." Replied Clara.

They sat there in silence. Neither one of them was the talkative type.

"What business have you in Boston, Miss Butterfield?" Asked Connor.

"I live there. I was on my way back from New York, visiting my brother." Replied Clara. "Why are you headed to Boston?"
"I was going to catch a ship back to my home." Replied Connor. He seemed unwilling to share anymore, so Clara did not ask.

Connor continued to stare at the fire. He did not hate it, as Clara seemed to, because it was not the fire that had killed his mother. It was Charles Lee. He had ordered his village to be burned to the ground. The flames licked at each other like a ravenous beast, twirling around each other like fiery ballerinas in a complex dance.

"What was it that you did to me, back in the barn?" Asked Connor.

"I hit you over the head with a shovel." Replied Clara.

"No, before that."
"I-I kissed you." Said Clara, confused. "Why? Have you not kissed before?" She asked.

"No, I have not." He replied.

Clara was surprised. Connor was handsome, she had meant that. She supposed it was his native features that kept the women from him, but it didn't bother her. She cared not for a man's blood or heritage. She only cared if he could hold a sword and keep a brain in between his ears. Looks mattered little to her, though it was a good thing if she could look at a man without retching.

Connor felt the same way. He did not care for the women in cities who felt the need to wear large dresses and garments that restricted their breathing. Clara had no need for these; her stomach was flat and firm with muscle, and she had a pleasing figure. No need for corsets or layers of fabric to cover up her bodily flaws, like so many other women thought so.

"Are you hungry, Miss Butterfield? I'm do not have any fresh food, only dried meat." Connor asked.
"That will do nicely, Mr Kenway. I have no desire or need for delicacies."
Connor stood up and walked to the saddle bags, retrieving several strips of dried meat. He appreciated Clara's hardiness; he had an inkling she was not going to be hard to travel with. He threw two strips of meat to Clara over the fire, along with his water canteen. She took a long swig of water before throwing it back to Connor and devouring her meat strips. She had no concern for manners, at least not when she was in a cave with a strange man. Connor ate his food quietly, drinking from his water every so often. When their stomachs had food and their throats water, Connor went outside and swept up two large handfuls of snow, throwing them over the fire. The fire died down and Connor stamped on the remaining embers to completely put out the fire.

"Why did you do that? Now it shall become cold when we sleep." Protested Clara.

"Not if we sleep close to each other." Replied Connor.

Clara widened her eyes.

"I may not care whether I eat dried meat than fresh, but I will not sleep with a man I just met!" Exclaimed Clara.

"Miss Butterfield, I meant no disrespect. I only meant that if we sleep next to each other we would conserve our body heat and stay warmer."

Clara hesitated, then nodded. Connor scooted over to her. She leaned against him, suddenly very tired, and fell asleep quickly. Connor looked at her, taking in her features.

She had long black hair which was tied up in a low ponytail, a blue ribbon tying it together. Her eyes were closed, and free of the makeup which so many women caked their faces with. Her lips were full and heart shaped, and her nose was small and button-like.

Her body was hard with muscle. Not so much that she was bulky and broad like a man, but she had the look of a thief. Small, agile and strong.

Connor lay back on the smooth stone and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to find him.

When he woke, it was to find the growl of a wolf assault his ears and the glare of its yellow eyes staring him in the face.

It stared down at Connor, growling and snarling. It snapped at him, and out of reflex Connor flicked out his hidden blades, stabbing it in the chest. It whimpered and went limp, and Connor threw it aside. He looked around the cave, alert for more danger. At the mouth of the cave, four more wolves lurked. They ran towards him and snapped at him, their fangs sharp and dangerous. Connor heard a loud growl behind him and turned to see a wolf lunge at him.

He quickly sidestepped the beast. When he looked around the cave, he could not find Clara anywhere, as if the young woman had disappeared into thin air. As he was worrying about this, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and when he looked down he saw a wolf clamped onto him. He quickly stabbed it through the eye, his heart drumming and hot blood staining his uniform.

Connor had no time for pain, though. Not when his life was at risk. He flicked out his hidden blade, crouching and preparing himself for the fight. A wolf lunged at him, knocking him onto the ground. Connor barely managed to hold back its snarling jaws and killed it with a blade to the throat. There were two wolves still left, snarling and snapping at Connor, prowling around him in a circle. Suddenly Connor heard a noise, footsteps at the mouth of the cave, and as they reached him he felt a tugging at his belt. He saw Clara's hand grasping his tomahawk, pulling it out of his belt. She fearlessly ran towards the wolves, dispatching them both with powerful strikes to their bodies. When their bodies lay still on the ground, Clara rushed over to Connor.

"Mr Kenyway!" She exclaimed. "Are you harmed?"
Connor pressed a hand to his shoulder, wincing. "It is nothing. We must continue to Boston if we want to reach the city before nightfall."
"Mr Kenway, do not be so foolish! That will become infected if left untreated." Clara replied.

She walked over to the saddle bags, rummaging around. She eventually pulled out several strips of linen, and returned to Connor with them in her hands.

"Mr Kenway, I must ask that you please take off your shirt." Said Clara, blushing slightly.

"What? Why should I do such a thing?" Demanded Connor.

"If you wish me to bandage your shoulder so we can continue on to Boston, you will have to remove your shirt."
Connor undressed the top half of his uniform. He was extremely well muscled, from years of wielding weapons. His shoulder was bloody. There was a mean looking bite on it. The wolf's teeth had not torn away any of the flesh, thanks to Connor's armour, but they had penetrated the surface. Clara had seen this sort of bite mark before and knew they could become infected if left untreated.

She took the linen and wound it around Connor's shoulder, trying not to hurt him. It did not hurt Connor; he was used to pain, but he appreciated Clara's efforts all the same.

"Miss Butterfield, where were you when the wolves came?" Asked Connor.

"I heard a noise. Shouting. I went to check outside to see who was causing all the commotion." Clara replied.

"And did you discover who it was?"
"I did. There was a British camp, just over the other side of the mountain. It was lucky you thought to put out the fire, Mr Kenway, else they would have discovered us and most likely have thought you had kidnapped me."
Connor suddenly looked worried.

"What is it, Mr Kenway?" Asked Clara, worried.

"I am not on the best terms with the British." Replied Connor. It was indeed lucky he had thought to put out their fire.

Clara finished bandaging Connor's shoulder, and he quickly donned his uniform again. He might be resistant to the cold, but he was not impervious to it.

"We should continue towards Boston." Said Connor.

He stood up and lifted the saddle bags onto his horse. She had run off into the forest during the wolf attack but loyally returned. Connor rubbed her snout lovingly; she was a good horse.

Clara walked over to the horse, rubbing her neck as she went past. Connor held out a hand to Clara, offering her help as she grasped the top of the saddle. Clara ignored it, however, and pulled herself up onto the horse, swinging her legs over the beauty's back. She refused to ride side saddle; it was impractical, not to mention uncomfortable.

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