Chapter Text
The mission was supposed to be short and simple: slip in, meet the contact, collect a document, and slip out again with all who slumbered being none-the-wiser. Their informant would meet him in the small settlement of Or-du-nord, choked on three sides by dense wilderness and pressed against the frigid Hudson River on the fourth. Barely a skeleton crew of a guard. An errand more than an actual mission, but Liam had been adamant that any experience was good experience- and he couldn’t rightfully complain. Anything that got him away from the Homestead was worth it.
Shay should've known better than to put any stock in Liam's half-baked reassurances, however. Scaling the outpost’s walls had been straightforward, his training thus-far with the Brotherhood and a youth spent at sea scaling the ropes had made him nimble and cat-footed. He slipped from roof to roof with quiet ease, pausing only once behind a chimney to avoid the sole lookout’s keen eye. Deep shadow clung to all the nooks and crannies between scattered buildings- an Assassin's best friend as he’d learned, cast from the full moon’s silvered touch. He soon found the man he’d been sent to meet, waiting for him in a dead-end alley. That should’ve been the first sign of trouble- in retrospect.
The cowardly snake was good. Shay saw no signs of the ambush before its jaws had already snapped down on him; and he found himself desperately clashing blades with too many redcoats all at once. He managed to catch the traitorous bastard in the back with a bullet, and bought himself a heartbeat to turn tail with another from his offhand pistol- but there was no time to reload. He ran, the document he'd come to collect tucked roughly inside his coat. Was it even worth it now? He had no way of knowing if the bastard had given him false reports, but if he made it back to the checkpoint- when he did, Liam was going to get a piece of his mind. Errand run, his arse!
Shay was quick to ditch stealth and improvise. The guards now knew to be looking, and the rooftops were too open, too well-lit to hide him. He opted instead for chaos, hoping the distraction would be enough to buy him time to get to the woods. He'd wait out the watch and meet with Liam, who was likely keeping an eye on the situation through a spyglass, safe and sound in his hidey-hole across the harbour. A messy out- but one nonetheless. Shay charged straight through the front gate of the outpost, slamming into the two men on duty with a breathless prayer for their souls and the smooth double sshink of well-oiled hidden blades to the base of the skull. He didn't wait to hear the bodies hit the ground, taking off at full tilt towards the scattered-few haggard houses that stood by the dock. He wasn't the fleetest of foot out of the Colonial Brotherhood’s recruits- but he was crafty. He twisted through the gap of a missing plank in a beaten-down fence, raced down the narrow alley beyond, and launched himself up to the roof of a two-story saltbox by way of its dilapidated porch. Shouts chased him up- but they were far back enough that he figured he could take a breath to plot his next course. Redcoats weren’t generally the type to try and scale a house up after him- the thought alone would’ve had him chuckling if he had the air or humour to spare.
His lungs burned and Shay could've sworn on God that his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest. He paused for barely a step in the end, sucking in a breath to try and ease the rush of adrenaline- but the sharp BANG of a musket had him ducking down with a bitten-off curse and fleeing once more. The second shot almost sent him flying off the roof, whistling past his ear as he lept for a barn. He was close, copper fouling his tongue with every harsh breath and focus narrowing in on a haypile beyond the building. If he could just make it to the end of the barn- the woods stood tall and stony silent just a step further, promising safety in the shadows.
But as they say, third try's the charm.
The next bullet hit Shay’s shoulder clean and square, pulling a strangled wheeze from his throat that was more shock than pain. He missed his next step, the impact sending him stumbling right off the side of the barn. Mercifully, he’d had the sense to fall in the haypile’s general direction- somewhat. He knew he'd be feeling the rough landing later- hell, he felt it now, white-hot burning down his arm and stinging from a dozen other parts that weren’t none-too-happy, but he couldn't afford to stop. Even on an ankle that felt a little too tender, he was up and running before he could even suck in a breath. His luck hadn’t abandoned him yet, not entirely, and he clung to it with two white-knuckled fists. He’d be damned if he died here, damned if he let one of the Brotherhood’s errands do him in before he ever had to chance to do more-
So Shay ran like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, sticking to the shadows and dense-packed trees until he couldn't hear the heavy footsteps of armed soldiers behind him. Then he ran some more, until he was light-headed and wavering on his feet, wounds aching something fierce as the rush of action finally wore off. His clothing felt sticky and wet around his shoulder, and he really did not want to think about how much blood he'd lost- or how much he'd lose still, before the night was over… but with that grim thought in mind, Shay finally slowed and stopped. He wavered immediately, and he was forced to lean heavily on the trunk of an old tree at the edge of a small clearing, chest heaving and head low. Still, instinct had him scoring the bushes with as much attention as he could muster, tiredly tapping into his second sight. Only once he was satisfied that no danger lurked in the underbrush did he limp forward, all but collapsing on a downed log with a hiss and a spat curse. He dared not relax, but the weight off his wounded foot was a welcome reprieve. His ankle was definitely sprained- hopefully not broken or else he knew from experience it’d hurt a hell of a lot more- but it stung something fierce and felt tight in its boot. The swelling would be a pain to deal with but… priorities.
Treating the jagged hole in his shoulder in the field with one good arm wasn't easy, especially so when Shay was still on high-alert and twitching at every sound in the night- sluggish though his reflexes felt. The moon cast enough light to see- at least as well as he could, tending to the wound in his back without anything close to a clean line of sight. An eternity passed, or so it felt with every motion down to the twitch of a finger shooting more pain through his frazzled nerves- but soon the sailor was gingerly shrugging his coat back on over a packed and bandaged arm. He could do nothing for the bullet still stuck somewhere in his flesh, but at least now he wouldn't bleed out.
…Probably.
Shay heaved a deep, shaky breath. He scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting the exhaustion threatening to pull him under. God, what an awful night- and it wasn’t done yet. He was steeling himself for the walk back to the meeting point, fantasizing about a warm meal and a good swig of hard liquor to temper his pain. Any kind of a carrot to keep him going, at this point. He could only really be thankful for the tempered late-summer air, otherwise he’d be chattering his teeth to chips on top of everything else too.
“Liam… you better be waiting for me. I'll have y'er head if I get atop that cliff and ya ain't-”
A branch snapped behind him.
Shay whirled around, too slow. Something massive lunged out of the woods, eyes burning hellish red. He barely had time to process, let alone dive out of the way. The Beast slammed into him and fell atop his chest with all the force of a landslide, snarling horribly. Pain exploded from his head- it had bounced on the hard ground upon impact- and shoulder, and he couldn't breathe- couldn't see. He was being crushed to death, and icy shards of panic spiked down his spine. Blindly, Shay struck upwards with the hidden blade on his good arm- once, twice-
Claws bit into his ribs, shredding cloth and flesh alike. Shay’s pained cry was reduced to a wheeze, feeling as if his own ribs were choking the life out of him.
This is how I die.
Shay flailed weakly, fighting the thought that flashed through his mind. The beast growled an awful thunder that made it hard for Shay to think, shaking his bones and gripping his heart with dread. It was so close that its rancid, rot-sweet breath was hot on his face and neck, so sickly it made his stomach turn. The beast was poised to strike, wicked teeth inching closer and closer, thick rivulets of pinkish drool dripping from its maw.
But desperation is a powerful force.
With all the strength he could muster, Shay drove his hidden blade upwards one final time. It found its mark in the monster's jugular before it could move to snap its jaws around his neck, and it reared back with a screech that made his ears ring. Hot blood splashes across his face and torso but he could breathe. He could rinse the acrid tang out of his mouth later, if he made it out of this-
He dragged himself to his feet, unsteady and blinking the blood from his eyes. It watched him, prowling along the edge of the clearing as nothing but a shadowed smudge in the night. Shay couldn't quite make out whether it was bear or wolf- but nothing should stand as steady after such a wound. The dread in his chest thickened, cloying his throat and threatening to steal what little air he managed to suck through blood-soaked teeth. He couldn't run. A hand hovered over the pistols at his side, clenching his jaw and setting his shoulders.
He wasn't about to die without a fight. He hadn't gotten into Liam's assassin business just to meet his maker by the teeth of some wild animal-
It snarled again, the sound carrying an unnatural gurgle now. Shay had to swallow back his doubt. He drew a pistol, slow and deliberate so as to not provoke another charge. Aimed it right between those hellfire eyes, searing them into his nightmares.
The gun clicked. The sound seemed to bounce hollow around his skull, a yawning horror splitting his ribs asunder. No bullet flew from the barrel, unloaded previously in the back of the snake who’d double crossed him. Some delirious part of him swore he’d never tell a soul he’d forgotten to ready his weapons- the embarrassment would utterly kill him. The thought almost made him laugh.
He was so fucked.
“SHAY!”
He jerked, out of it enough that the call of his name broke his focus from the Beast. Liam crashed through the undergrowth, trailed by a half dozen of their allies. Relief washed over Shay with all the dizzying strength of a rogue wave. Liam had been watching- thank god almighty, he could kiss him!
But a flash of red in the dark brought the tight knot of fear back to his belly like a cold shower.
“Liam-!” he barked the warning with a harsh rasp, and his friend stopped short. “There's-”
The Beast was gone when he looked back. Shay shuddered, forcing himself to sharpen his attention into his second sight and frantically scour the forest. There was nothing. As quickly as it had appeared the thing had vanished. Nothing so big should’ve moved so silently- least of all something wounded. Shay forced a step forward, his instincts telling him to take Liam, and the men, and run while he had the chance- but he couldn’t. Not with such a vicious creature on the loose. None of the settlers were safe–
He managed only one step more, then his knee buckled, and all at once everything was swaying on its axis. The colours of the world smeared together in a murky cloud as his vision blurred dark at the edges- oh his head was pounding-
“-at did you see- Shay!” Liam's shout chased him down, and Shay could only trust he’d be caught before he hit the ground.
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