Fire and Liberty

Chapter One

A/N: Cover art made by tattah.art You can check out her art and commission from her here: https://tattah.carrd.co She's incredibly talented and such a kind and wonderful person~!

The heat of blood against your fingers was a blissful contrast against the harsh cold of the northern winter. But the warmth only told you two things: the first was obviously that you'd been wounded and the second was that you were still alive. Sometimes in the frigid cold when your body grows numb and still, it's hard to remember that you're alive. It's harder yet to remember that you're human and not an animal.

You had tracked your prey for weeks and it had been a silent, lonely hunt. They usually were. You could go days without seeing another living soul out there on the frontier. And when you did finally bump into someone, you kept quiet and went on your way. You didn't want them to know your name or why you were in the area. You especially didn't want them to know your profession. They needed to forget you were ever there to begin with.

You trudged through the snow and not even the thickness of your breeches or the leather of your furs could keep out the cold. It seemed to seep past every layer of cloth, through the thinness of your skin, and down into the core of your bones. Even the breaths you took were brittle and icy.

You pulled your hand away from the wound, peered down uselessly at the blood that pooled out of it. It was that moment you accepted your fate. It was then that you realized you weren't going to reach the nearest town in time to seek help. You were weeks away from the largest town and you couldn't recall if you passed any homes along the way.

You gritted your teeth and slipped your eyes closed. It wasn't even the worst wound, either, that was the irony of it. You had sustained far more horrendous wounds. But they had been patched up with expertise moments after receiving them.

You placed your hand back over the sticky and thickening goo, pressed the leathers and furs across it in the hope to slow the bleeding but... God, you knew it wouldn't help. Your heart was pounding from the laborious trek through the snowy woods. It was killing itself. You were bleeding out faster by the second and you would die there alone without anyone aware of your condition.

Who would go back to Boston and inform the others? Would they notice you hadn't returned? Would they grow worried about your prolonged absence? Perhaps they might even think you abandoned their cause for your own.

You scoffed at that, a ragged and harsh laugh, coated with a metallic taste that bit at the back of your throat. No, you were too loyal for that and they knew it. They would worry about you... You hoped they would worry about you. You hoped they would send someone because you weren't sure you could even take the next step. The snow felt so heavy against your legs and your bones felt like brittle stone crumbling beneath your weight.

You shook your head wearily, cursing yourself for having been so careless. You leaned your shoulder into the closest tree and slid down its rough and jagged surface. You eased into the freezing snow, your knees against the hard skin of the earth, and you let the tension roll away.

Perhaps you deserved this fate. Perhaps all of the horrible things you did were finally catching up to you. Someone had to do it, you excused. Someone.

You tried to lift your eyes, to look out upon the scenery once more before you really lost consciousness. The sun glinted and glistened across the soft white mounds of snow, the hips of trees casting shadows in the most blissful way possible. In the distance, you could make out the painted horizon of delicate pinks and flares of orange.

You trembled down a breath, the hot blood along your hand cooling. You had little time to process it. There was the crunch and grind of snow beneath heavy footfalls. Wolves, you thought, but their trek was louder than wolves. No, human, you reconsidered as your wavering gaze bobbed across your surroundings.