Raining Cats And Dogs: Chapter 10 (Game Spoilers)

Haytham had suffered many injuries before so he knew that the one he currently felt in his gut was quite a serious one. If it was not seen to it would kill him, both slowly and painfully. But the face that it was a slow acting wound would give him enough time to get to help. But all he really cared about was getting to Ziio, he had to make sure she was all right. But moving when one was in considerable pain was incredibly difficult and slow going, all the time his slow wound afforded him would be spent on just trying to get back to the camp.

He had told her to go to the camp and knew that she would have gone there to be safe but there was that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something could have happened to her along the way. What if one of the red coats had caught her on the horse? A smarter one could probably follow the tracks just like he was doing, and they could almost certainly follow his blood trail. For the first one hundred metres at least. Once he had gotten a reasonable distance from the walls he had tried to form some sort of block to stem the bleeding. It has stopped the majority of the blood drops from falling.

His tracks in the snow were another matter but he couldn't even think about those any more. If somebody really wanted to catch him they would have done so already, he was moving slowly enough. It seemed the red coats had given up on him. If they knew who he was they probably wouldn't have given up that easily but for once he should thank his lucky stars that they had not known his name.

The chill was beginning to get to him as the sun declined in the sky. Just his luck he would end up freezing out here before he even got to the camp. But as chill got the better of him it started to cloud his mind, confuse the directions he had memorised on the way in. Getting lost would mean his death.

He collided with a tree with a soft grunt, grasping onto any branch that was within reach. He allowed his weight to slip down the rough bark until he was sitting on a thin layer of snow. He opened one flap of the red coat he wore and winced, the white shirt beneath was stained a darker shade of red from his own blood.

"Well done, Haytham, you got yourself shot and are now going to die in the middle of the woods." He huffed to himself, resting his head back against the tree. He had long lost his hat. "Well, at least the wolves will get a meal."

As it turned out, laughing whilst you had a gaping wound in your gut was quite painful. And it caused him to double over briefly, which also hurt.

"Give me a break." He growled, burying his fist in the snow beside him.

He allowed himself several minutes to catch his breath before using the tree to get back to his feet. His boots slipped out from under him abruptly and he crashed onto his backside with a sharp yelp of pain. He muttered a curse aimed at this damned weather. It was so much worse out here than in London, it made him miss that bloody city. Another moment later and he was ready to get up again. And this time he succeeded.

After walking some time in the dark he had no idea of how long he had been moving for or even what hour it was. Fingers and toes were slowly going numb; his hair had fallen loose of its ties. The blood trail had started afresh and he could hear the calls of predators not far off. Death was calling him.

It wasn't as though he had never faced his death before; in fact he had done so several times in his near thirty years on this planet. But he had never faced his death whilst he had something to live for. Granted, it had been a few years since his last scare but he had been closer to death than this. At least he was still able to move. For the moment. He was barely even aware of where he was going now and had somehow managed to stumble upon the camp. He could hear the horse's breathing and the crackling of the fire before he stumbled over the log they had been using as a seat. He was lucky he didn't fall face first into the fire. With a low groan he rolled flat onto his back on the damp ground.

"Who goes there?" A female voice called and he was vaguely aware of movement near the tent. "Haytham!"

She was at his side in an instant, checking the extent of the damage but he could hardly even keep his eyes open. As the moments ticked by he could feel his senses ebbing away. No longer could he feel the pressure of her hands on the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Things were fading fast and he suddenly realised just how dire things might actually be.

"Haytham? Haytham, speak to me." She shook him roughly, now that he felt.

"Ziio.." His voice was but a rasp and he laughed at the sound of it. But the laugh came out as no more than a squeak and caused him a considerable amount of pain. "I don't.. Don't think I was as good as I.. Could have been.."

"What do you mean?"

He forced his eyes to open and he looked up at her. "Climbing trees."

He had probably left her confused for she didn't speak again. He just closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. It was the only thing he felt he could really manage. Feeling was rapidly disappearing and now so was sound. But it seemed he still had some feeling because an abrupt slap to his face forced his eyes open.

"What?!" He groaned when he tried to sit up.

"You're not dying on me, Kenway." She said firmly but he was drifting already.

"I am sorry, Ziio.. I can't.." He winced, his eyes flickering shut only briefly. "I'm sorry I allowed myself to.. Get shot.. I was just.. Trying to rescue you.. I love you."

If she said something back to him he did not hear it. The world went dark and silent.