Hawks and Eagles

The Hawk Dreams

There was the brief glimpse of the sun, the knickering of a breathless horse, and the clattering of stampeding hooves. The wind tangled the tresses of your hair, whipping up the cloth of your hood and tunic, an earthiness of cypress, sand, and sweat. Your eyelids slipped over your vision as your body crumpled to the side, your head falling back to peer up at the endless sky of faded blue.

Altaïr's arms braced around you, his words muffled, "You will survive this."

You couldn't be certain of anything, the world felt too much like a dream, as Altaïr pulled taut the reins and skidded the quivering steed to a halt. It screeched and reared backwards, panting and gasping for air, but Altaïr balanced both his weight and yours masterfully. The horse steadied and calmed as he led it towards a small home, towards another horse posted in a fenced in pasture.

He leaned your weight into the hard muscle of the horse's neck as he jumped from the saddle to the ground. Altaïr carefully pulled your boneless body against his chest, your legs tossed over his arm. He kicked open the gate of the fenced pasture ignoring the man that stepped out of the small hovel to investigate.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"I am taking your horse." Altaïr was unflustered, hoisting both you and him onto the new steed, your legs dangling over the side and your body pitched against his chest. He spurred the beast until its pace quickened out of the gate and onward towards the road.

"Wait! Hold on!" He shouted after you both but the horse was already speeding past him, the dust and dirt kicking into a fierce cloud.

The rhythm of horse hooves and snarled breathing continued, picking up as if it hadn't even ended. "We are nearly there." Altaïr looked down at your listless expression. He pulled up your hood, ensuring that it protected your face from the wind and the heat of the sun. "Hold on just a moment longer."

You leaned sideways into him, your cheek into his firm chest, but as you grew tired your head and body toppled backwards, Altaïr's arm the only thing keeping you from falling off. Even with your hood up the sun basked you in her glory, heat flourishing across your face in a harsh caress. An eagle soared high above, its wings silently beating as it cast a shadow over the both of you, darkness spillling over your vision. "Altaïr..."

"Almost," he assured. He called out to the horse, spurring it faster, its breathing becoming harsher as its hooves beat entrancingly across the hard skin of the earth. Drums, pounding and pulsing, your thoughts began to lull you into a harsh dream of racing horses and eagles screeching.

There was the sudden scream of a woman, a familiar scream that you had painfully endured as a child, a nightmare that repeated itself every night. They were the screams of your mother as she was cut down, her arms around you quaking and her hot tears pooling onto your cheek. She muttered words against your ear, a comforting lullaby before her warmth fell away, her soothing touch no more.

Your body froze and your eyes locked onto your father, too afraid to move and too afraid to breathe.

Your father shouted her name, distracted for too long and speared with a sword from behind. He crumpled to his knees, face distorted with agony and sorrow, but he didn't stop fighting. He held the sword firmer, spinning upwards onto his feet and sweeping the blade until it severed head from neck. He staggered towards his next target, reckless and desperate to defend his family and home. They fell silently and quick until their bodies littered the floor and their blood pooled at your feet, and endless sea of white and red. Your father tried to approach you but he dropped to his knees before he could, his eyes softening and his smile cringing.

It was then that the hooded figure approached, going down onto one knee before your father, his words too soft for your ears to understand. Your eyes peeled away from your father's anguished face to the hidden blade sinking deep into his chest. The stranger slowly rose to his feet and turned towards you, each of his steps paced and deliberate, his hands reaching up to flick back his hood. He was stern, expressionless, and cold, young but somehow battle-hardened. "Come with me, child. There is nothing we can do for them now."