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Night Stalker nodded to Alma and set Lex down, patting him on the head. "I'll be back," he stated in serious monotone, then skipped off humming the tune to We're Off to See The Wizard. Lex looked at Alma and the others before shrugging. Wuffles promptly knocked him over and dragged him to Hjalmar, whining. Sitting up, the Sparrow spluttered and looked at Giovanni.

"Is he still lying there?"

Connor went over to where the Italian lay, looking down at him and folding his arms.

"Well, he is not dead and he is not asleep, so, yes, he is still lying here."

"What about girly girl over there?" He gestured to Liz. The man walked over and looked down at her. Finally, he nudged her in the side with his boot.

"She is not dead and is not asleep either."

"Can I kick her?" Lex asked a second before Tarlof strode to the woman and rammed his foot into her stomach, jolting her awake.

"Good morning, rise and shine! Time to get up and get moving again, you ungainly sow," the Creek man growled as he stalked to the horses.
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She groaned as she felt the boot. She sat up, using Hjalmar as a prop. He looked worried at her, and she smiled.

"What a bloody gentleman." she muttered, patting Hjalmar's soft fur in thanks. She shot Tarlof a look, then went to camp to roll up her roll.

Great, passed out infront of Connor. No wonder he's not interested in me.

"Connor?" she called, from her campsite.
"What, girl?" Ratohnhaké:ton growled. Preempting any questions she might have, he went ahead with, "No, I will not scold Tarlof as if he is some child. You are both Assassins; he is a grown man and you a grown woman. Sort it out amongst yourselves. Your fighting was expected and I do not have to thank you for doing so. Also, if you are going to faint, do it on your own time, not when we're about to travel into a battlefield. Have I made myself clear?" Without waiting for her reply, the Wolf mounted up and headed toward the city with the others.
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Rather then stop his vociferation, she took it in. She watched him go, then growled to herself. "Oh shut up you bloody tree-climbing little b*****d. No, you wouldn't thank me for saving your a**. You'd thank your boyfriend. And I did not plan to faint." The woman mumbled. She looked at her horse, looking back as if to go, 'What just happened?'

"p***k. Nice to know he would listen to me." The Scots snarled, mounting up, and took the rear of the group. As if sensing her rider's rage, her horse snapped its teeth towards Connor's, ears flat.
The Swedish woman looked over to Connor. "Then you will do the cleaning up next time. And much pleasure with it Wolf. It was a sight that even I will not forget. Same for you Tarlof. I will not talk to you about the times your feet wouldn't carry you anymore ...."

She sighed. Next time Alma would take care of the Novices.
The bear gave her a pleading look as if he wanted to say, try to be kind with my cub.
Ylva turned to Liz:

"In case you think we do not appreciate your help, it is not so. Just do not boast with that. We look after each other like siblings do, nothing to except thanks for. Do what you are supposed to and you will gain respect. Behave like a spoilt child and you will receive a suitable treatment.
And the only things that prevents me from giving you a treatment as I would give a stubborn Novice is that I would have to do that to Tarlof, too.
Though you should try to do something against weak nerves. Not a pleasant sight, but battlefields are no meadows where pretty flowers grow. And now stop behaving like a child. You are old enough to have a family of your own."
Then she looked to Connor, who wasn't very happy about her comment, but some things had to be said, pleasing or not. Would not have been the first thing on which their opinions didn't match.
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The man rubbed the back of his neck, "....I have a Night Stalker to find and watch over..." Tarlof grabbed his bag and ran to catch up with the crazy Englishman.

"Good luck with that." snorted Alma. The woman shook her head when she heard Elizabeth complain. "Senor, dame paciencia con esta mujer, she sighed, "... O una espalda mas fuerte la mano." she walked over to Lex and wiped the blood off of his nose and cheek, "Mijo? You okay?"




((Lord, give me patience with this woman, ... Or a stronger back hand.))
Lex watched Tarlof scramble away in the direction Joe had gone. His mind still turned over the words he'd heard the woman hiss. His boyfriend? She thinks I'm his boyfriend? That word's even used in this century?

It took him a minute to hear Alma. When he did, all he could do was nod and murmur, "Si, estoy bien, pero..." He licked his lips--one corner was split and bleeding and the tang of copper rang on his tongue. "Su novio? Cree que soy su novio?"

"No eres su novio?" the woman asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Pu-pues," the young man stammered, "no pienso que...pues...que..."

"I will do as you say, O She-Wolf, though it will not be pleasant. I believe you in that. Kanatakon:ha." The two looked up at where the Wolf sat astride his horse, another's reins in his grip. The Sparrow looked between the Floridian woman and the horse before edging over to the horse. Grasping the saddle, he put a foot in the stirrup and took a glance toward the Scotswoman, who still held murder in her eyes. Looking away, he mounted up and took the reins. "The British will not wait for us. We shall move out now." Putting his heels to his horse, Connor began the last stretch of their road to New York, the Sparrow falling in line beside him. The Native man grunted as his horse bucked suddenly, Liz's horse snapping at its hindquarters. Shooting the woman a glare that would have made both Badr and Jameel proud, Lex interposed himself and his horse between the two, giving a clipped "Yallah. Control your mare." to the redhead.


((Yes, I'm fine, but... His boyfriend? She thinks I'm his boyfriend?

You're not his boyfriend?

We-well, I don't think that...well...that...))
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She said nothing, but nudged her horse's back legs. It stepped back, as if careful of each step. She raised an eyebrow as if going, 'Yes?'

"Come on, then." she said simply.
Ylva nodded to Connor. Their little dispute was settled. But she swore to herself, that this was enough diplomacy for this month. Far enough diplomacy.
Her eyes flicked to Lex and Alma. "In case your patience grows thinner faster than mine does, feel free to ask for some ropes sister."
She stretched while she undid her hair and made a new braid. "Tell me sister, is there any news from Behlil or Kara? The last thing I heard from her was the note about that Italian novice, but from what I have heard so far he has seen no sign of any of them. Hope nothing is wrong in Boston."
"The Italian Novice is almost underneath your horse's hooves, She-Wolf," said the Wolf, looking down amusedly at where the woman's mount stood. Beside him, Skandar shifted in the saddle, giving the woman a sidelong look. Ratohnhaké:ton glanced over her way to see what she was doing. He frowned slightly and shifted to his own tongue, "Remind me, Ylva, to teach this girl how to direct a horse as well. She's liable to have her neck snapped as she rides now." He smiled at the woman. "Or you could give her a few pointers with a rope and your horse."
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She heard something in a foreign tongue, and tried to ignore his glares. Was is because of how she made the horse move? Her father taught her that, the ways to move a horse in all directions.

...Jerk. she thought, but returned the glares with a smile.
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spread out your wings and learn to fly


He stood watching the group leave and shook his head. "Ora non è il momento di lavorare da solo ...." He nodded and walked behind them, trying to keep them in his sight as not to get lost. Following them he smiled, realizing they were all going to the same place, why, he didn't care, he was just happy to know where he's going for once. He adjusted his mask trailing behind them and quickly climbed to a tree, moving from branch to branch to keep them in his sight.

((Ora non è il momento di lavorare da solo= Now is not the time to worl alone.))


to a new world, to a new world...
With: Them...
Feeling: Bored
Thoughts: I just want to get out of here.
Out Of Commentary:
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"...Elisabeth, why does it look like you are about to take a s**t?" Alma frowned as she mentioned the woman's forced a smile and attitude. She then looked up at the moving branches, "Is anyone going to tell the man that he does not have to go through the trees, that he could just ride with us?" she shook her head and smiled as no one spoke, "Or not."
Shaking his head at Alma's words, Ratohnhaké:ton continued on between Ylva and Skandar, Wuffles running ahead and then running back to the horses as Hjalmar nudged Liz's horse along from behind before trundling up to walk beside the Swedish woman's mount. The bear chuffed and looked up at the Italian, grumbling in displeasure as a mound of snow was showered down on his head.

The Sparrow was sure his a** had completely frozen solid by the time they saw the lights of the New York City nightscape below them. A smile, hidden by the darkness, spread across his face. For a moment, he thought of racing down and riding down to see if the stores his friends owned stood even now. Then a hand descended on his shoulder, rousing him from his reverie.

He looked over at Tarlof as the man nodded to him, the rest of the group having reunited during the long ride. His first real bout in this era and all the Assassins would be in it together. Heh. That's almost weird.

When they finally stopped on the island to make camp near where Washington's little army was stationed, he looked around, half expecting to see Husam sharpening his sword, Roland and Elena bending over to see one of Stephen's newest designs. Instead the others were settled around the fire, the newcomers. At least, the people who were new to him. He chose the first watch himself, settling in to let his mind wander.

I keep thinking about them. His fingers drew swirls in the snow. All the old Contadini, the new ones. I don't know what to call this group I'm in now. The swirls branched out, became more intricate before curving back upon each other to form a knot. They're not the Contadini. Not peasants, not really. They're different. They're the ones whose land this is. Another thought made his stomach clench. Do they know the old words here? The familiar words rang in his mind, the centuries-old words of greeting and parting, the Assassin maxim, the three tenets of the Creed that had bound his actions for so many years.

Skandar blinked as he looked down at the snow, finding by the light of the moon that the swirls had taken a different form, become the swift strokes and points of Arabic:

Nothing is true; everything is permitted. Do not harm the flesh of the innocent. Hide in plain sight. Do not compromise the Brotherhood.

"Are we brothers still, all of us here?" he murmured to himself, the white vapor of his words drifting up to disappear in the still night air.
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"Alma, Ylva, and Elizabeth look like sisters to me." said Night Stalker as he placed his chin on top of the young man's head. "Skandar, lookit." He took a deep breath, "Who are," the letter R puffed out from his lips, "You?" then the letter U. "Oh--" he held up mushrooms, "I found these on the way over, who should we test out on the shrinking side or the growing side first? And on who? I say, Tarlof."

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