Kiss Me, Connor Kenway

Strange Beginnings

It was September in New York. The golden leaves of autumn were beginning to fall on the ground, preparing for the cold winter to come. The smell of the decaying leaves was present once you stepped near the forest. I stand at the gateway of New York and turn around to look at my once well known home one last time and I knew as I looked back how I would miss its comforts and securities. I'll miss the people, the markets and even the simple, wandering strolls I used to take. I then reluctantly looked towards the frontier and felt an indescribable fear wash over me. A fear that I have to now rely on myself, alone and with no experience on how to survive outside of the city.

I forced myself to take the first step, my exposed feet pushing me forward, but still, the overwhelming fear gripped at my heart. My legs were practically locked in place and hardly wanted to move and all I could focus on in front of me was the path that guided me into the unknown. The road in front of me was well lit by the late afternoon sun, but I knew it would not stay like this for long. A wind gushed towards me, my brown hair whipping back and away from my face, as if nature was telling me to turn around. I huddled in my shawl and pressed forward.

I am a young woman of sixteen years and I'm being forced out of my home due to my father's death two years ago and the British demanding me to pay impossible taxes. In his dying words, my father left his shop and all of his fortunes to me, but the day I began to continue running his general store, I was slowly losing business and the money my father left for me only lasted so long, so I had no other choice but to hand over my childhood home to the King. Men would come in and haggle prices that weren't fair and even young boys would try to trick me into selling me unfair prices because they knew they could. They knew I was desperate to sell everything and anything. On top of that, I have no where near the knowledge my father had about business strategies and techniques. I only knew how to be a good aristocratic woman, nothing more. I kept begging the British taxmen that I would have their money and for them to have mercy on me, but they refused my pleas and told me to leave my home, whether I'm sixteen or not. With no fortune left over to entice possible suitors, I was now a pauper. I used the last of my coin to buy a few more rations of food, but I could no longer survive in civilized New York, so I must turn to the wild frontier and face my doom in becoming a begging, old maid for the rest of my days.

When the town learned that my father died and saw that the business under my control was failing, the other salesmen focused on their business and didn't care to help me out what so ever. They were all jealous of my father's success and how well he did for himself, so they wanted to make sure that they would never have that kind of competition ever again, so no hand was ever stretched towards me, no friendly advice ever given, it was just me to fend for myself.

As I came back from my thoughts and took a moment to look around, I saw I was a good distance away from New York now. Seeing how my world was to my back, I felt tears starting to prick at my eyes.

I'm so sorry, father, I thought. I have failed you and your business. I tried so hard for you, and I did last longer than I ever thought I would, but still. Your daughter is a failure. All of your life's work was for nothing. I let out a sigh of shame and knew if I kept on this line of thought, it wouldn't do me any good. I tried to distract myself by looking around where I was and attempted to enjoy the sights of the forest. The leaves fell to my feet and brushed up against them. I felt the cool dirt under my feet, with an occasional stepping on a rock that imbedded in my foot, making me stop to wipe it off.

I was so ill prepared. How could I possibly live without basic things like shoes or equipment such as a knife and rope and other essential tools. I let out a sigh as I tried to think up of ways to sustain myself. Perhaps I could try and catch fish in the river with my bare hands and gather some wild fruits and vegetables and roast the meat over the fire. Oh God, look at what I've been reduced to. I'll look like a wild animal, a feral creature desperate to survive, finding any means to live off the land. Perhaps I could try and trap small game and sell them so I can get enough money to purchase some kind of hunting materials.