!HEADS UP!This is going to be a bunch of one-shots and funny character interactions that I am inspired to write about. So BE WARNED there will not be a solid plot to this nor will it make sense if you try and connect the chapters . . . well some might but it is unintentional. I will give backgrounds, and other things I think about while writing each chapter but hopefully they won't be too extensive. So please enjoy my spurts of imagination!

DISCLAIMER I do not own Assassin's Creed 3 only Lydia and her plot line.

So nothing much to explain here but I will apologies if any are confused with what animal is which even I got a little confused. -_-" Pretty bad huh? Anyways I will reread and edit it if I get serous with this one either because of the readers or my own will (the second one is less likely).

The settler woman dressed in brown baggy pants and a thick heavy coat sits on her horse with her hat pulled down to shield her face from the frosty wind. Thanking the spirits for her three layers of clothes she rides through the forest at a slow pace scouting the best route to take her hidden wagon of goods she plans to sell. Coming up to the top of a hill and a clearing she can see the fort as clear as day, the same goes for the river that sits frozen beside it. Turning her horse she looks for a different route as far away from the fort as possible. Ever since this war has started my route has gotten longer and longer because of all the detours I have to make. Knowing that there is nothing she can do about it she nudges her horse into a canter so that she can find a safe route and then hurry back before the cold night falls.

The ride around the fort was predictable enough but as she is more than half way back to the cave she hid her wagon in she hears gunshots ringing in disarray, and a bell hastily echoing through the forest. The fort was attacked? Her native trained horse paces around in a nervous circle, not used to the gunshots being fired in the distance. "If I had known that you were going to get this worked up over some distant gunshots, I wouldn't have taken you." Pointing her horse in the right direction she yips it into another canter, hoping that the cave she will be staying in is far enough away so the firing won't be heard.

Night has fallen and a fire flickers in a cave shielded by a wagon. Inside are four figures draped with an assortment of animal furs. Two horses, two wolves, and one settler woman all huddling next to the fire gathering as much energy and warmth as they can while the blizzard outside surrounds the cave with its biting wind. The horses sleep laying a neck over top one another's bodies as they huddle on the stone floor and the wolves lay on each side of the woman keeping her in place and warm. All is peaceful as the wind breathes past the cave entrance in a wild rush but wolf ears catch the sound of something else breathing in the bitter cold wind. Perking their ears and raising their heads two low growls can be heard. The rumbling in their throats are just enough to coax the woman from her stiff sleep. As she sits up with a groan and brings the hides around her the wolves stand with their ears down, hackles raised, and growls rumbling in their chests and echoing through the cave. Taking her one shot rifle from under the blanket on the ground she checks to make sure everything is in order in the cave before she steps over to its mouth.

Outside, the moon is bright and the snow has a silver glint to it. Every so often the clouds float by making dark and misty shadows over the white snow. For a split second the air stills and she hears the heavy breathing of a human. Pointing her gun in the direction she thinks it's coming from she steps out into the knee deep snow. Feeling the cold wind slowly seep in through her gloves and scarf. She regrets getting out of her cocoon of warm furs, friends, and fire but a snapping branch breaks her train of thought. Resisting the urge to ask who is there she takes a few more steps into the cold with her friends flaking each of her sides. Coming up on a blob of deep black, the large red and black beasts bear their teeth and bark at the immobile heap before them. Again with her wolves at her side she steps closer and closer still to the now visible body. It is a man, judging by the clothes; his white and blue uniform looking clothes looks like someone from the Patriots side of the war. Inching her way even closer she keeps her barrel trained on his hood and gives it a few good pokes before stepping back. When there is no movement. She pokes again; still nothing. Is this man even alive? Taking a knee beside the body she puts a hand on one brad shoulder and shakes. "Are you alive mister?" Taking her hand away and rubbing her fingers together she finds that her hands are soaked. Brushing her other hand on his back she feels a few ice patches where the material has frozen through several layers of his clothes. "My god!" Putting the rifle strap around her she takes the man up by the arm and pulls him to his knees. "You need to wake up mister. Mister!" Taking a cold hand she lays a few light slaps across his cheek. "Come on wake up, I can't carry you to the cave by myself!" Slapping hard enough to sting her own fingers, the man finds the use of his muscles when he picks up his head. "That's it! Now try and put your feet under you and walk." The weak strength of the man is just enough for the woman to carry him into the cave but just before reaching the bed of blankest and furs he collapses, taking her down under him with a grunt.

Wiggling her way out of the icy man's shoulder wasn't as challenging as she anticipated. Setting him upright and dragging him over to the wall of the cave she grabs a spare blanket beside the fire. Taking care not to injure the bloodied man even more she takes each article of clothing off one by one. My god freezing and injured what in hell's name did you get into? She takes a rag and dips it into a pot of warm water she had boiled some time before she laid down. Careful not to hurt him she cleans the bloody wounds as best as she can. Most of his own blood is on his face the rest of the wounds from his torso down are all browses. Laying him down next to the fire she covers and takes off the last of his cloths and sets them with the others splayed out by the fire. Finally able to see his face she drinks it all in. His lips are thick for a man and his nose is round. His skin is dark, even for someone in the winter, and his black hair almost touches his shoulders. Spotting the braded beads on the side of his face she takes them in her hand to find what tribe this native comes from. But a brush of his cheek on her hand distracts her. Placing her palm fully on his cheek her blood stops. "He is so cold." Feeling the panic creep into her gut she lays her head on his chest to hear that the thumping in his chest is steady and alive. Reaching for his hand she takes it to see that there are splotches of white all over his hands and creeping up his arms. Placing a hand over his bare chest she feels little warmth and realizes that he is shivering. "Dear god I am blind!" Jumping into her wagon she searches for a pair of pants that would possibly fit the meaty man. Being careful not to look or touch anything she would regret later, she pulls the pants on him. Sighing with the relief of a successful mission she covers him again and stands up. "Now . . . I have to warm him up." Standing there for a few seconds watching him shiver she talks to herself. "Because the only way to warm someone the fasts is to share body heat . . . under blankets . . . why am I doing this? I don't even know this man!" She is pacing on the other side of the fire now biting the ends of her fingers trying to decide whether to help this man any further. What if he is from a neighboring tribe of the Oneida? I still don't want to do this with someone I haven't even met, let alone talked to! He has to be a on the Patriot's side his clothes say that it all. What if he is the reason there were gunshots at the Loyalist fort? Taking another good long look at the native laying in her own bed she rakes her brain, her common sense and conscience. Her brain and common sense scream at her to keep him as far away as possible. He could kill you! But the small voice in the back of her head seemed to speak louder than both the others. But what if he dies? Would she be able to live with herself after that?

"It's settled then." Taking off two of her layers of clothing she gets another blanket from the pile beside the fire. She lays the blanket over top the bear pelt and then crawls under the covers careful not to let in too much cold. Once under the thick and heavy pelt, she turns the man onto his side and presses her torso to his; resting his forehead on her collarbone. My god I can feel his cold chest through my shirt! No wonder he is still shivering. Trying to pull him closer she calls for the wolves to lay on either side of them hopefully causing more warmth. There is nothing more to do now but sleep and pray he survives the night.

The night passes and by morning the native is holding the settler woman in his arms. With his arm pillowing her hand and her breathe lightly whispering over his cheat both on edge people seem at peace for once. After taking a deep breath the woman lets it out nice and slow making the native shiver from the sudden warmth. Pulling the woman closer, the native opens his eyes with a sigh. The blurred cave seems normal enough so he closes his eyes while breathing in the scent of pine trees and cool stream water. His first reaction to the warmth he holds in in his arms is to draw it nearer but when he looks down to see a brunet settler woman he jolts backward trying to gain as much distance as he can. The back wolf behind him yelps as the native lands on her and rushes over to the horses with a snarled on her lips and teeth bore. "Yotahala! What is it girl?" The woman sets up to see the native farther back in the cave hunched down ready to fight the beast in front of him. "AH, NO! No, no, no." Jumping up from the warm blankets into the cold air she hugs the wolf around its neck putting her body in between the native and her friend. Rubbing its large furry ears she begins calming the large beats in their native tongue. "Shh shh Yotahala it is fine, it is fine, he has none of his weapons and doesn't know where they are. It is ok Yotahala do not attack." The second wolf takes its place beside his companion and their pet. The native stands straighter hearing her words and trying to figure out what tribe she could possibly be from. Speaking loud a clear he asks her a question in his own native tongue.

"Who are you and why am I here?" She stopped rubbing her friend's ears and froze. She doesn't know what he said but she does know that it is the language of the Mohawk tribe. Both wolves begin growling again sensing their human's distress in her tense muscles. Reminding herself that she has another loaded gun in the back of her wagon she stands and turns at the same time to face the native. She takes a defensive step back between her fury guards. Trying to keep control of her breathing she puts a hand on each or the wolf's head. "Can you understand me?" Taking a step forward triggers the wolves to stand on all fours and the woman to jump a little bit from either the wolves or the native. She doesn't really know. She doesn't like the way the blood pumps through her veins. Pure adrenalin rages through her screaming for her to run.

He is a killer. She can tell by his posture and if anything, by all the blood on him that wasn't his. Taking another step back and sliding her hands down her beast's fur. She plans to sprint for the gun in the back of her wagon but he speaks before she can clench her muscles to run.

"Do you understand me?" A small wave of relief washes over her cooling her blood. Nodding her head she doesn't take her eyes off him, almost regretting ever taking him in in the first place. "You brought me here?" Another nod and a silent pause, "Thank you." She finally brakes her gaze and looks at the ground and then back up into his eyes. They were sincere and he knows that he would have frozen to death if not for her. Now she hops he isn't good at lying.

Crossing his arms over his chest with a shiver she huffs out a small laugh. "Get back under the pelt. You'll freeze again if you are not careful." As he moves to the covers he looks around the cave in search of something and they land on his white robes. "They aren't dry yet. I have a shirt if you want." He doesn't see any harm in having no shirt as long as he stays under the blankets but Achillies mentioned that the settlers found that it is offensive or gives the wrong impression. So, he nodes his head and she steps up into the wagon calling her wolves to lay by the horses that are still sound asleep. There is a bit of rustling before she steps back out again and hands him the plain cream shirt. Sitting up and taking it from her he sees a pendent hanging from her neck that wasn't there before.

"What tribe are you from?" Pulling the shirt over his head he doesn't see her quickly stuff the native wood work, feathers, and the leather cord down her shirt.

"I am not from a tribe." She is back up in the wagon with a bundle of clothes before he can open his mouth again. Seeing his chance he checks his clothes to see how damp they are. With a slight cool wetness he decides they are as dry as they will get in this cold, damp cave. So he warms them up over the fire before putting them on.

The settler woman steps out of the wagon fully clothed in her thick winter wear of furs and heavy coats. Setting a bucket down full of feed for the horses she looks up in time to hear steel slide and the glint of a blade. Her light gasp is heard by the man dressed in white robes. His hood moves but she doesn't see his face. Another click and metallic slide makes her jump and his sudden step forward makes her reach for her riffle and train it on his hooded face. "Don't you dare move." The man looks up and with his hood shading his eyes. "Tell me what you are." Her blood is blazing again and I her breath wants to leave her lungs in short gasps. Calm Lydia, just keep calm.

"I am nothing you need to concern yourself over." Taking a step to the mouth of the cave she pries the hammer back griping the rifle harder.

"Don't. Move!" It is no secret that she is terrified and he stops hoping she won't fire and alert the perimeter guards a ways outside the fort.

Lifting his hands up to his shoulders with his palms facing her, his shaded eyes look into her frightened ones. "If you let me go now you will never see me again."

Her scoff makes her hands tremble and her shoulders quiver with adrenalin and fear. "I don't believe you." Why should she anyways?

"I will make certain that you will never see me again."

"Yea, you will only sneak up and get me behind my back." Gesturing to his hidden blade he turns his head slightly to the side and it hits her. "My god . . . I-I know you- . . . Get out, now." The adrenalin is gone and now she struggles to keep the panic attack from showing.

The assassin drops his hands to his sides. "You don't want the reward?"

"I am not daft. Now, leave!" Side stepping out of the cave the assassin's eyes never leaves hers and the settler woman's barrel never leaves his chest. Following him around the corner of the wagon she doesn't relax until a little while after he has disappeared into the trees and snow. Taking a few shaky steps back she falls to her knees and drops her rifle. Short gasping breathes burn her throat with cool air and her shaking body is paralyzed by the thought of being in the same room with that assassin. My god I barley mad it out of this alive. He won't let me live for long though. Maybe I can convince him to let me finish my trade and take it back home before he silences me. Warm pressure rests agents her side, slowly but surely pulling her out of her fear infested thoughts. "Ohní:ta', oh Ohní:ta' what am I going to do." Her arms wrap around the red wolf's thick neck and she rubs her face into his thick fur. "Ohní:ta' I have met my fate. That man will surely find me again and he will kill me because I have seen him." Feeling the tears in her eyes she thinks for a moment. When was the last time I cried? Deciding it has been too long she tightens her hold on the beast and sobs into his fur letting the cores hairs dry her tears.

A/N: Sooooo . . . Yes . . . No . . . Maybe? What do you think? have any of you guys read anything like this before? (or at least how the OC and Conner first meet) review and tell me please!

Thank you thank you!