AC3: Fear Not, Young Dove

VI: The Execution

My writer's block is terrible. It's embarrassing. GAAAAHHHHHHH. *flails arms while running in circles*

I was reading previous chapters and I now realize how much editing I have to do now >:U

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It would have been amusing, watching Richard fall off his bed from your restless self tugging his sleeve impatiently, if you weren't frantically rushing to New York. He stil had no clue what your intentions were, nor why it had to be so late at night. It might've been so dark that an owl wouldn't be able to see without stumbling past a couple of branches. If that was possible. It was also extremely quiet, despite the sound of hooves against the dirt roads and occasional sounds of frightened elk and deer.

Once you had reached New York, horse profoundly worn out and Richard still confused as ever, you had your hand on your chin as you paced back and forth. By the time you arrived here in the big city, it was already morning, and you blamed yourself for not arriving faster. Richard had assured you that the frontier was massive and it'd be impossible to arrive any sooner. Especially due to the fact that you were spurring your horse as quick as you could.

"Whatever." You spoke, almost seeming as you were already giving up. "I guess I can't help it. I shouldn't be forcing you to help me. You should get to an inn." You picked out a few gold pieces and offered it to him, who declined it. "I'm serious, Richard. I shouldn't have dragged you off your bed like that." That time you lightly chuckled, knowing it would be best not to keep things too serious, or else you would possibly faint from excessive pressure.

"I'm fine, [Name]. Stay safe, now. Wouldn't want you captured by the redcoats now."

"Hah- I should be the one saying that to you, Mister 'Redcoat-Magnet'."

He chuckled. "Very funny."

You gave him one last smile before he headed in the opposite direction in search of a tavern. You sighed, adjusting your tri-corn to your comfort and slung your musket behind your back. Here goes nothing.

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You were sad to say that you've made no progress in the past hour and a half. New York wasn't exactly your small know-every-single-person town. Retiring to an inn was your last resort, and you decided now that the best thing to do was wait and let things happen overtime. You ought to run into her soon enough, right? Knowing your luck, that was not likely. But it was worth a shot, no?

It was raining the next day, gray skies, and a melancholy feeling to the city. You were drenched, your hair and clothing freely absorbing the raindrops that fell. The day was slow, just like the day before. That is, before you heard shouts and rabble coming from a throng of colonists not too far away. A simple stroll was all you wanted. And you got the annoying bickering of rioters. You had no problems with their ideas and thoughts, just not as much their determination.

When you turned right from the street you were on, it took you aback. There were far more people than you expected. No, they weren't rioters, there seemed to be a public execution taking place. This attracted your attention. You casually made your way over, blending in with the crowd. It was nearly impossible for any citizen or being to know of your former affiliation with the British just by looking at you, but it was important to be taking precautions.

"Brothers. Sisters. Fellow Patriots. Several days ago we learned of a scheme so vile, so dastardly - that even repeating it now, disturbs my being." Of course. Who else would it be but Charles Lee and Connor up on the scaffolding? You mentally sighed, pondering how Connor was getting himself out of this issue. "The man before you plotted to murder our much beloved General."