Washington's men stood there in hesitation, one boy, a young man in a white hood dressed in blue. He had managed to dodge two volleys before killing the front line of red coats and then killing the commanding officer. One man against that many..? But how could this be?
8th of July, 1783. Connor Kenway or Ratonhnhaké:ton to his people.
Connor sat there in frustation, he had cuts along his back which stung badly but he got over them, thats. thats what had caused the frustation. The meat of the bore he had killed cooked above the wood and the fire below. The smell led through the whole forest but Connor wasn't scared if anyone came. Connor had been summoned many times by Commander Washington but never came to him because he doesn't not want to work for them. He wants freedom and the justice that needs to be done. Connor sat there, just thinking while he spung his tomahawk with his fingers.
Later on, after the fire had eventually ran out of log wood and blew down. The smoke cleared and Connor was in the dark, half asleep. A noise came from the side and then Connor turned around before having a sack put over his head. He swung and jerked but the bag tighted and he ran out of breath. He fell to the floor unconcious as four bluecoated men lifted him up onto a carriage on the road and they road off towards the Boston town. The carriage road quickly through the town, speeding through the town. Connor eventually woke up, he worked himself to sit up. He tried to use his spiritual eagle vision to see where he was but with the sack over his head, he couldn't see anything. A circular object of somesort was pointed to his forehead before the sound of the gun being cocked.
"Don't move Kenway.." said one of the bluecoats but unable to see him, Connor couldn't tell or even assume who it was. Connor reached for his curved knife and he cut his binds without the coach and the bluecoats knowing, he kept his hands behind his back to make it look like he was still tied up.
