Hawks and Eagles

Dancing Hunters

Damascus was a large city, far larger than the one you had grown up in. Its walls were like those of a great fortress, rising up around the innumerable towers and minarets that peeked high above the flat rooftops and domed mosques. You suddenly missed al-Rahman, a small and simple city but still full of beautiful structures and gardens that you had grown to love and adore. You wonderd if Damascus had flourishing gardens painted with a variety of flowers, filled the with the chatter of song birds.

It was late evening when you reached the cliffs overlooking the city and by the time you reached its gates it was night. Altaïr leapt off of the back of his horse with so much ease and grace you were beginning to think he was showing off. He handed over the reins of both steeds and motioned you towards the stables, wordlessly walking away from the city.

"You know I don't like horses," you muttered under your breath, tugging cautiously on the reins. Thankfully the large beasts followed behind you, the clattering stomps of the hooves chilling you down to the bone. You could ride one, sure, and you could probably race one but... they still unnerved you.

You left them with the stable master, kindly giving him your thanks before seeking out the Assassin you were supposed to keep an eye on. You gawked at the row of guards at the gates who were watching cautiously as everyone walked passed. You caught a glimpse of the white and red robes of Altaïr and worked your way through shambled market stalls to hear the pleading sounds of an older man.

You sped up, heart quickening when you realized guards were hounding a priest.

Altaïr was quick and fierce, his hidden blade sinking into the spine of one of the three guardsmen. He parried off the other two. It was easy to sneak up behind one, to grab hold of the back of his tunic and throw him into the closest building. His skull slammed against the hard edge, knocking him unconsciously into the dirt.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" The old man, a simple priest draped in white robes bowed and kneeled before Altaïr, the last of the guards dead at his feet with a deep wound in his chest.

"Think nothing of it." Altaïr raised a hand, to halt the man's praises. "I need a way into the city. You can accomplish this, yes?"

"Yes, yes, of course." He began to walk along the path. "This way, come."

The two of you followed the priest towards a group of men, all of them garbed in white, their hushed whispers ceasing as you approached. The monk told them of the rescue and they agreed that sneaking you into the city would be easily accomplished, your dark robes posing the only difficult task. They handed you a large white cloth and Altaïr, with surprising gentleness, helped layer it over your dark vestments. He hooded it over your head, fingertips sliding down the rim to join it together.

"Come, we will sneak you into the city." They bowed their heads and pressed their hands before their faces. Altaïr copied the motion, merging into the center of the group, eyeing you to quickly follow. You clutched onto the cloth around you, bowing your head as you walked beside Altaïr, a step behind him in hopes that he would overshadow you from the view of the guards.

It was a tense moment when the guards kept their eyes on the group, slowly backing away to let the monks pass. The group entered into the quiet courtyard.

Once inside, Altaïr's hand found the curve of your spine and drew your attention to him. He stepped before you, slowly removing the white cloth as your eyes examined parts of his face that the hood allowed. He too, in turn, was examining and taking in your features.

"Thank you, again. If only there were others half as brave." The old priest bowed his head once more, gathering into his arms the tapestry that Altaïr handed over.