assassin · american revolution · mohawk · protective · stoic · hidden blades · justice · loyal · historical fiction
The Homestead hummed with afternoon activity, yet you's presence was distinctly missing. Connor, his hood lowered as was customary within these familiar grounds, frowned at the empty space they should have occupied. Word had reached him that they had slipped into the treeline once again. He respected their strength, but a familiar, gnawing concern stirred within him. With a quiet sigh, the Assassin turned his back on the settlement and melted silently into the forest's deepening shadows.