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


3. Chapter 3


"How old are you, Miss Butterfield?" Asked Connor as they trotted along.

"I am seventeen. But you should not ask that to ordinary women; they would not like to be questioned about their age. It is a sensitive topic to women who value youth and beauty."
"And you do not value those traits?"
"I value anyone who has a brain inside their skull and arms strong enough to lift a sword or a bow. I value loyalty and smarts, not appearances and riches and dresses."
Connor nodded thoughtfully. He quite liked this woman.

"But how old are you, Mr Kenway?" Asked Clara.
"I am also seventeen." Replied Connor.

This surprised Clara. Though Connor did not look very old, he acted very mature. She supposed events had happened in his past that had changed him; much like Clara herself.

Suddenly Connor stopped. He could hear men shouting, coming from not too far in front of them.

"Stay here." Connor said to Clara. She nodded, and sat back in the saddle, stretching her neck. She was not alarmed; she could easily escape most situations.

Connor leapt from the horse's back to a branch above them. He pulled himself up, continuing through the trees until Clara was almost out of sight. He peered through the trees, looking for the source of the voices. He found it almost immediately, a large British encampment. It was obviously a fairly recent development, as Connor had passed this way not a month ago. The paths between tents were worn and muddy. He headed back to Clara, who was patting the horse's neck. Connor jumped down from the tree, rolling to absorb the impact when his feet met the ground.

"We should be able to bypass the British if we keep quiet and avoid their patrols; it should not be too difficult." Connor told Clara.

She nodded, and the two of them set off, trotting parallel to the British camp. They kept as quiet as possible, as did the horse who knew from her owner's behaviour to not snort or make noise. She was a smart horse.

Connor strained his eyes and ears, on the lookout for any patrols. If he was to be caught by the British, it would be disastrous, especially since the death of his father.

Connor had no choice. His father had to be killed, and Connor was the one to do it. It would have been nice to perhaps get to know his father, but "nice" is a luxury Connor had never had the fortune to know. He had killed his father, an evil Templar. He did not regret it; but there was a part of him that would always wonder about Haytham Kenway.

Connor jerked out of his thoughts, scolding himself for drifting at a time as urgent as this. Luckily nothing of importance had transpired during those few seconds, but as an Assassin he always had to be alert, always on the lookout for danger.

"Mr Kenway, up ahead." Whispered Clara, pointing in front of them. In the snow was a troop of seven men with guns in their hands. They were a patrol group, and Connor's heart beat faster. Had they been spotted?
The men were laughing, just as any man would to pass the time in the cold, wet snow. It appeared they had not been discovered.

Clara and Connor kept quiet. Connor quietly dismounted his horse and lead her through the trees, slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements.

"Oi. Did you 'ear that?" Asked one of the guards loudly.

They all looked up and around, searching for the source of the noise. One of them pointed at Connor and Clara.

"Over there." He whispered.

All the men slowly and quietly headed towards them, weapons raised.

"Miss Butterfield, you must trust me." Whispered Connor as he climbed the nearest tree. He tossed his tomahawk down to Clara, who opened her mouth in outrage – for how dare he abandon her at a time like this – but he did not stray further than the same tree he climbed up. He positioned himself above the soldiers, waiting for the right opportunity. He was not sure he would even need harm the soldiers, for Clara might be able to talk her way out of the situation. The soldiers reached her.

"Madam, you are in an unauthorized zone." Said one of them.

"Oh, am I?" Asked Clara using the sweet voice she first used on Connor. "I did not realize. If you would point me in the right direction, I would continue on my way." She said with a charming smile.

"Madam, I am sorry, but you'll have to come with us. A woman should not be out in this horrible weather." One of them said slyly.

"Oh, well that is very gracious of you, but I really must be getting along."

Clara urged the horse forward, just a walk.

"Madam! I'm afraid not. You will come with us back to our camp." One of them said, grabbing her ankle.

Connor knew it could not get any better from here, so he leapt out of the tree, landing on a guard and stabbing him through the neck with his hidden blade. The guards leapt at him and suddenly a fight ensued. Clara leapt off the horse and swung the tomahawk at a guard, and Connor killed another with his blades. Together they surely would have killed all the guards if it had not been for one who slammed the butt of his gun into the back of Connor's head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and unmoving.

"Mr Kenway, get up!" Exclaimed Clara, knowing she could not kill all these guards without his help. They picked her up by the waist and carried her back to the camp.

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