Of course, as soon as Thomas slammed open the door to the hunting lodge, he ended up with a musket levelled right at him. Fucking hell on the high water.

Petite, the blonde woman was slim of frame. Her lovely, full mouth, tangled, golden hair and bright, cerulean eyes didn’t hurt none too much either. But no matter who it was, Thomas never took too kindly to anyone who had him at the business end of a musket. And this one didn’t look none too afraid it use it. Nope, not judging by her venomous expression of glee and the tight set of her square jaw.

The swipes of what he could only assume was black war paint slashing along her cheeks was right unsettling. Her black and white striped cloak tossed about her shoulders appeared woven of coarse, homespun wool. Combined with the duo of feathers fastened along the crown of her head, she appeared more savage than Connor. That certainly was a feat in and of itself. Like Connor, she also dressed in a more masculine manner. Beneath the cloak, she sported a black leather tunic edged in white. It matched her tan buckskin breeches, which were stitched up along the sides, and her tall, black boots. About her waist were a trio of belts sheathed with a couple of daggers, a small golden tin and her powder horn. They were in turn lashed about a white, fur sash. She also wore black leather gloves and matching leather gauntlets. He honestly couldn’t tell if they bore those mystifying hidden blades, similar to Connor’s.

Then again, his eyes were trained on the barrel of the musket aimed straight at his heart as she roughly bellowed, “Who in the bloody ‘ell is this lobcock?!”

“Fuck off, ya crazed cun-”

“Hickey-”

“This blasted ‘lil shit started it!” he barked at Connor as she strolled up the stairs behind him, having finished stabling her horse out back.

The blonde hellion dangerously leered, “Oh, and I’ll be fuckin’ ecstatic to end it too, ya sonofabit-!”

“Peace, Emily,” Connor raised a hand of placation and nodded at Thomas. Ignoring his incensed expression, she swiftly added, “We are allies, Thomas and I.”

Frosty gaze narrowing with suspicion, Emily curled her lip and sniped, “Ya sure, hon?” Gaze sweeping over Thomas like a hunter toying with her prey before pouncing, she snorted, “He be a handsome ‘nough lout, yeah? But I still don’t be likin’ the cut ‘o his jib.” Cocking back he hammer of her musket, she derisively spat out her chewing tobacco onto the floorboards. It barely missed Hickey’s boots, causing him to jump back and fix her with a malevolent glare, even as he kept his hands raised in surrender.

“Ya be outta ya blasted mind, ya poxy wench!”

“First off, ya blaggart, it be ‘Emily Burke.’ Or ‘Calamity Mily’ if ya know me. Which ya fuckin’ don’t,” Emily smirked, poking her bayonet into his chest in warning when he attempted to sneer out a retort. “Secondly? Shut yer filthy mouth, boy, ‘n consider yourself lucky. If Connor weren’t traipsing up ‘ere with ya, I’d have blown yer brains out some couple a hundred yards back there when I first spotted ya,” she jerked her head in the direction of the open door of the cabin. “In the meantime, good to see ya, Con!” she shot a vulturine smile at the Assassin. “It’s been hella long since we be meetin’ out here on the Frontier.”

“Too long,” Connor nodded. “If I may ask, where’s Caleb?”

“Oh, him?” Emily chuckled, though her finger didn’t falter from the trigger of her weapon. “I wore ‘im out plenty last night,” she winked, “So much so that I’m ‘fraid the bed took a sound ‘lil beatin’.”

“I…I see,” Connor immediately blushed and swallowed down her embarrassment.

Emily let out a crude guffaw. “Forgive me, girlie. I be forgettin’ ya be a green as a saplin’, poor dear!”

“Seriously,” Thomas muttered next to Connor, “Ya’d think she’s been livin’ in a cave all this time.” However, he hastily shut his mouth as both Emily and Connor shot him a sharp glare of admonishment.

Fuckin’ Assassin women, mate.

“Anyways, it took me sharpshooter ‘bout half the day to go gettin’ ready,” Emily snickered before her expression fell to serious again. “Headed out ‘bout an hour ago. I was cleanin’ up a bit before catchin’ up with ‘im. We’ll be headin’ back to the outskirts ‘o Boston, as per usual. Gotta keep them rural roads all safe ‘n whatnot.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Thomas testily asked, “So, ya gonna get rid ‘o your musket pointed at me heart already or wot? For fuck’s sake-”

“He’s got a right foul mouth on ‘im, that much be true,” Emily cut him off, ignoring his curse, “So much so that ya should have been beaten as a child.”

“Oh, I’d love to give ya a right proper beatin’ right ‘bout now, ya mingy git!” he snarled.

“And I’d like to see ya try!” she sneered right back.

“Miss Burke,” Connor chided.

“Fine, fine,” she huffed. Gaze darting back and forth between the other two, she chortled, “Frankly, I’m shocked ya haven’t knifed ‘im through the ribs yet. Or,” she glanced down at his crotch, causing him to slightly wince, “Though his man bits. Judging by that lewd ‘lil glint in his eye, somethin’ tells me he’d miss ‘em more ‘en life it very self, eh, Thomas?”

“Balmy ‘lil bitch,” he hissed, though not loud enough for Emily to hear.

Somehow, Connor picked up on it easily enough, for she shot him a look of reproach as she murmured, “Do no tempt me.”

Seeing Thomas roll his eyes as Connor stubbornly crossed her arms, Emily threw back her head and cackled. On the other hand, she finally lowered her musket. Dropping the butt of it to floorboards, she causally leaned on it while running a quick, gloved hand through her flaxen locks. “So, what brings y’all out this way?” she asked with genuine curiosity, “Specifically, the city boy?” she sent a feral grin at Hickey. “He seems rather outta his element and too far outta town from ‘is usual foppish pursuits.”

Taking a threatening step forward and about to reel off an insult, Hickey was stopped by Connor’s firm hand against to his chest. Lithely moving in front of him, she solemnly said, “General Davenport originally. And now, Eleanor Mallow-”

“That high-falutin’, redcoat bitch?” Emily grit her teeth, expression sliding to murderous as Connor nodded in agreement. “What, her daddy done gone ‘n sent ‘er out a-murderin’ again?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Thomas grunted, “Along with ‘is Hessian dog.”

As the two women fell into hushed conversation over what’d occurred over the last few days, he glanced around and took in the simple, two-room log cabin. One area contained a single bed on an iron frame. The hearth sat a few feet from the foot of it, simple and built of grey stone. The room they all stood in held a crude but heavy stove, a sink sitting over a cupboard and a large larder next to the window. Hanging over the stove on an iron grate suspended from the ceiling were a cadre of cast-iron pots and pans. In front of the larder was a dark, wooden square table and two chairs. Next to it sat a worn out, leather chair that’d seen better days. Due to only two windows in the place, the light was dim, save the flicker of a few candlesticks scattered throughout. Roughly only about 800 square feet of space, combined with the small stables out back only large enough to hold two horses, the house was obviously meant for short stays. Likely during the spring and summer in the hunting season. Thankfully, the logs comprising the place were sealed up pretty tight and seemed to do a decent job at keeping the cold and draft at bay.

“Somethin’ be on your mind, Connor?” Emily tilted her head to the side in question as the assassin slipped into silence.

Glancing back at where Thomas had dropped into the chair and now warmed his hands in front of the iron grate of the stove, she jerked her head for Emily to follow her outside. The two women quickly made their way to the front patio, closing the door behind him. Careful not to lean against the rickety railings of the porch, Connor clasped her hands in front of her and gathered her thoughts. Emily settled for staring out into the drifting snow, humming a little tune to herself. Having known Connor for just over a year, she was used to the other woman’s long bouts of quiet by now.

“May ask your assistance for something?” Connor finally proposed.

“Anythin’ for ya, sweetie,” Emily grinned, giving her an efficient, two-fingered salute from her brow.

“Duncan is back in Boston, as Clipper should be by now,” Connor began. “I need either you or Caleb to inform them to contact William de Saint-Prix as soon as possible, for the Hessian has him in his sights as his next target.”

“Ain’t that a flyin’ shame?” Emily frowned, scratching her head for a moment.

“No doubt.” Looking back at the cabin, Connor declared, “We should prove able to return to the city in the next three days or so. Nevertheless, I would rather ere on the side of caution than leave anything up to chance. Or in case we are delayed any further.”

Pulling out her pouch of coins and counting out a few, she pressed them into Emily’s hand. “In thanks.”

“Well, this’ll be fun,” the blonde pocketed the payment, “It’ll go a long ways to helpin’ with gettin’ me ‘n Caleb more supplies back in Boston.”

“I would rather you join our Brotherhood,” Connor lightly implored.

Letting out a hearty laugh, Emily shook her head to the contrary. “Much as I be likin’ you folks ‘n your outlook, I be the independent sort, through ‘n through,” she shrugged. “Plus, I can’t claim that I be hatin’ Templars for anything more than all sorts ‘o selfish reasons.”

Shaking her head in understanding, Connor replied, “Avenging your father and brother, of course.”

“Ya see?” Emily knowingly said, “We both be orphans of a sort. But you be able to rise above yer past better than I.”

“Hardly,” Connor retorted. “Moreover, you have unwaveringly served the Brotherhood out here in the wild with Caleb. In various capacities and far better than most, I freely admit. Barring any sort of sacred ceremony, you are an Assassin in all but name.”

“‘Tis ‘nough for me, I guarantee ya,” Emily reiterated.

“I will not belabor the point-”

“Then don’t,” Emily chuckled. Nonetheless, she threw an arm about Connor’s shoulders. “I get y’all, through ‘n through. And I swear on my grave that I ain’t never gonna betray ya. Or any ‘o the others.”

“It seems that for now,” Connor murmured, stifling her initial instinct to flinch at the contact, “Your loyalty is all I may ask of you.”

Heading back inside, Emily left the other two to go finish packing her things. Adding more logs to the fire within the stove, Connor withdrew to peruse the larder. It was fully stocked, thankfully.

“Well,” Emily yelled out, clomping in from the bedroom after a while, “This is where we go partin’ ways, hon.” Spinning about in his chair, Thomas stared at the two. Mouth hanging open in disbelief, he was utterly astounded as Connor allowed Emily to freely pull her into an enthusiastic embrace.

“The storm will only strengthen over the night,” Connor clucked to her, withdrawing and dropping her hands to Emily’s arms, “Hence, you are welcome to stay.”

“Eh, it be headin’ north and I’m goin’ south,” Emily waved off. “‘Sides, bein’ indoors for the last few days or so has got me all jittery ‘n such,” she flexed her fingers for emphasis. “Furthermore, I gotta catch up with Caleb. So don’t you worry none ‘bout me.”

“Safety and peace, then,” Connor clasped a fist over her heart.

“Sure!” Emily replied, giving her other hand a squeeze of goodbye. “See ya when I see ya!” she briskly waved, turning on her heel and wandering outside.

“A pleasure, ya demented harridan,” Thomas sarcastically snapped out.

“A pity ‘bout ya, I gotta say,” Emily barely spared him a glance over her shoulder. Gathering up her supplies, she gracefully slung her musket over her shoulder.

“Wot ‘en?” he snarled.

“Yer mother shoulda drowned ya!” she taunted with a brassy hoot.

Before he could get in a word edgewise, the door slammed shut with a rattle.