“What’s the problem?”
“We don’t have enough supplies for the wounded. They sent someone to ask the colonel—”
“Ah.” She got it, I could tell.
“Is she in charge?”
“From the outside, I suppose it looks that way. She’s a bit of a benign dictator, but she’s smart as hell, and she listens to her advisors. I only wish they paid as much attention to her warnings. If so, we’d currently be operating at a higher state of readiness.”
Only a portion of her words made sense to me. “Readiness?”
“She’s been telling us for a while now that the Muties are gearing up for a major offensive—they aren’t the same mindless creatures we’ve been fighting for years. The last time I went out with her, I noticed the same thing. They set perimeters. They have patrols now. And they use scouts.” She paused, her features yielding to a worry that troubled me. “Then at Salvation we saw evidence they’ve mastered fire. What’s next, tools? Weapons?”
“We won’t survive that,” I said grimly.
“I’m aware, believe me. I just don’t know what to do about it. Alone, every settlement will end up just like Salvation. And I’m taking that loss personal … because last winter, when sickness set in here, Longshot came out in the middle of the cold snap to bring us medicine. A woman in your town made tinctures out of herbs, and without her, I suspect we’d have all died.”
“I wonder if she survived the fire.”
“If she didn’t, then the next time the bleeding fever rolls in, we’re done for. Did she have an apprentice, somebody who knew her recipes?”
“I wasn’t in Salvation very long,” I said in an apologetic tone.
“That’s right. You come from the underground tribes.” Her tone still sounded a little skeptical, as if I sprang from some mythical land beyond her reckoning.
And maybe it was exactly like that, as she couldn’t fathom the way I’d been reared, like the night girl, outside the reach of the sun. Even now, it hurt me more than it did normal people, and my eyes burned to the point that I put on my glasses when other people were staring right up at that glowing orange ball like it was the best thing they’d seen all day. At my core, I feared it as I did fire. Maybe it could warm you up and cook your food but it could be deadly as well.
At that point, I caught sight of Fade, who was reeling on his feet. From what I could tell, they had set him to hauling water and dumping out the bloody, dirty pails, rinsing rags, and generally doing scut work. After a hard march like we’d experienced, he must be feeling like the devil. If only he’d let me hold him or stroke his head, rub his shoulders. I knew I couldn’t make all bad things go away with a kiss, but it hurt not to be able to show how much I cared. I’d only recently learned the power of a gentle touch and now that freedom between us was gone.
Tully followed my gaze to Fade, a brow arched in curiosity. “He’s yours?”
Once I might’ve argued or hesitated to claim him. Not anymore. I nodded.
“You seem a trifle young to be married.”
That wasn’t what Fade and I were to each other. Momma Oaks and Edmund had spoken promises in front of the whole town. Fade had sworn his intentions were honorable, which I took to mean he intended to speak those vows someday, but we hadn’t gotten to that point. Still, it was nice to imagine things ending well, more than I’d permitted myself to envision before. Usually, I saw my life finishing on a bloody note, surrounded by Freaks. Until now, I’d always accepted the obligation to make that sacrifice for the good of the whole.
Those rules didn’t apply anymore. I was allowed to want things. More, to strive for them.
Belatedly, I realized she was waiting for an answer. “We’re promised.”
“Ah,” she said. “Well, you should go tend him before somebody else does. I see young Maureen looking him up and down like he’s a sweet she wants to try.”
“We’ll see about that.” I clenched my jaw and picked a careful path through all the pallets strewn on the floor.
Fade was saying in a taut voice, “I’m fine. I don’t need medical attention.”
“But your arm—” she started, reaching for him.
When he jerked out of range before she touched him, I knew a little shock of relief. It was small and wrong, no doubt, but his reaction proved that he wasn’t being difficult. His problem wasn’t something he could make up his mind to get over. What the Freaks had done to him left damage it would take time to heal. I wasn’t glad Fade had been hurt, only that he wasn’t lying to me. I shouldn’t have doubted even for a second. He never lied, even when it would be easier.
“I’ll take care of him,” I said to the girl.
She was my age, or thereabouts, with red hair caught up in a tall tail. Her eyes were dark brown, though, an interesting contrast. Boys would probably call her pretty, though her thwarted expression marred the overall picture. As I recalled, Tully had called her Maureen. After glancing between us and seeming not to like what she read, she stalked away with shoulders set.
“Thanks,” Fade said.
“You have to let me.” This time, I was prepared for his reflexive recoil.
“I know.”
I was about to suggest privacy when the runner returned, laden down with boxes. So the colonel is generous in times of need. That was a good sign for the refugees, I thought. Fade followed me when I collected the necessary supplies from the stockpile the girl had brought, just enough to tend his wound. Others required attention, and as I strode toward the back wall, Tegan went back to work.
Kneeling, I set down the salve and bandages, then beckoned Fade. He sat beside me, his expression grim. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”
“Just … be quick,” he said.
Hope
“I can do better than that,” I answered, as an idea struck me. From what I understood of his problem, being touched made him remember everything the Freaks had done to him and the pain came back, along with the shame and revulsion.
“What do you mean?”
“Think about the best thing you ever felt, the moment you were happiest. Fix that in your mind and don’t let it go.”
Fade studied me, a frown gathering. “It’s not that easy.”
“Try. It can’t make things worse while I bandage you up.”
“True enough.” With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. “Do it.”
For the first time, he didn’t flinch when I touched him, but I still did the job quickly, cleaning, smoothing on the ointment, then wrapping up the wound. He pushed out a breath as my hands dropped away. His gaze met mine, something new present in his dark eyes—hope.
“Was that any better?” I asked, sitting back.
“Incredibly, yes. I mean, it wasn’t good, but I could stand it. The memories flickered at the edges, and I kept shoving them back with that one bright moment, like you said.”
“What did you—” I cut the question, fearing the answer.
But Fade knew what I was going to ask. “The night after the cherry blossom festival. Holding you, kissing you. When you said you loved me … that was the happiest I’ve ever been.”
My heart compressed. “Love. Not loved. Nothing’s changed.”
“I have.”
“Not in any way that matters to me. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but even if I can never touch you again, it won’t change how I feel.”
“It won’t come to that,” he said with sudden determination. “I’m not letting the Freaks get the best of me.”
Deep down I was delighted to hear him say that. The Fade I knew didn’t accept defeat; he’d always fought—and won—against unbeatable odds. But I didn’t feel like I could put a limit on him or say the way he was acting was wrong when I hadn’t suffered the same pain. I could only stand by him and offer a shoulder, whether he took me up on it or not.
“I’m glad.”
“It will take time,” he warned. “I can’t wish this away. Believe me, if I could, I would.”
“I know. And we got by before, just thinking about touching.” Or I had, anyway. I hadn’t been bold enough to stroke his hair down in the enclave, but I’d spent a lot of time watching him and wondering what it would be like.
“The thinking might do me in,” he muttered.
It took me a few seconds to process what he meant, then heat washed my cheeks. So he missed it, too. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing.”
“I was dreaming about you. When they took me.” Since he was talking about it—when he’d said he would only tell the story once—that had to be good. “It was warm and lovely, and I half roused, thinking you were coming to me in the night. Since Frank was there, I was afraid to make any noise, afraid we’d both get in trouble. I was wrong, and then it all turned to pain.”
“I should have heard something,” I said, clenching a fist.
“Don’t blame yourself. You weren’t on watch.”
“But I knew there was a problem with the sentries. I could’ve stopped it. But I think you were right … neither of us can change what happened. We can only move on.”
“You know what bothers me most? I didn’t smell the one that took me. I’ve gone over every moment, and I should’ve scented the Freak. Why didn’t I?”
“We all should have,” I said, frowning. “But there was no stench the night one of them crept in and stole our fire, either.”
“So what does that mean?” Fade asked.
“Nothing good.” I was too tired to speculate this evening.
I didn’t bother asking where we could sleep. Answers might require waiting longer than I could stay awake. My body demanded I get prone at once. If I didn’t listen, I’d collapse, and though I might not be a Huntress, I didn’t want to be seen as weak, either. So I found a quiet corner near the back wall, away from the wounded clustered in the center. Fade and I would be fine on the floor with a roof over our heads; we’d slept in worse places.
“Rest well,” I said softly, and Fade replied with the first real smile I’d seen in days.
He bedded down a small distance away, just out of arm’s reach, and I rolled up in my blankets, facing him. His familiar features comforted me. Over my time at the outpost, I had developed a soldier’s ability to turn off my brain and snatch sleep when I could, but it was a light doze. I roused at a touch, and half pushed myself upright, expecting to see someone who needed my help. Instead, I found Fade pressed up against me, still wrapped in his covers. I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, startled by the urge to cry, just from the welcome pressure of his arm across my waist. It meant everything that he was drawn to me like this. There were problems in his waking mind, but when he dreamed, like he’d said, it was of me. I couldn’t resist. Gently, I touched his hair, stroking my fingers through the tousled strands, and he puffed out a contented sigh. It wasn’t enough to wake him.
I drifted off happier than I had been since before they took him. Drowsily I decided the last time I’d felt this good was the night of the festival; it was my golden moment too. In the morning, I woke to light slanting into my eyes. Fade was still wrapped around me, sleeping, and I didn’t stir, even though I needed to for various reasons. I feared waking him and seeing the conflict in his eyes.
I braced for it; and when he shifted, bumping against me, I was surprised by what he must be dreaming. Or maybe there was no mental aspect needed. For all I knew, males might wake up in the morning, ready to breed. I had little information on such matters, but as he moved, my breath caught. I had no idea what to do, whether to encourage him or wake him before he really craved what was currently impossible for all manner of reasons.
“Deuce,” he whispered drowsily.
That made my confusion better, more worthwhile. “I’m here.”
His hand drifted to my hip to pull me closer, and I didn’t struggle. From the angle of the light, I didn’t think anyone else was awake. That didn’t mean I should encourage this, but it felt so good to be close to him. Love surged through me in a drowning rush; it took all my self-control not to wrap my arms around him as tight as I could and beg him not to go away again.
Stay. Stay with me. Just like this.
But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn’t come true unless you worked for them. I’d learned that about the world, if nothing more.
Fade nuzzled his face into my neck, his lips warm on my skin. My heart pounded like mad, and it was an effort to remain still and soak up whatever affection he offered in his sleep. I touched a fingertip to my tingling mouth, wanting a proper kiss. Maybe if I’m slow and careful … I warred with myself about the right way to manage the moment, whether I should wake him.
In the end, selfishness won. I threaded my fingers in his hair and shifted back until his lips were near mine, our breaths mingling. His eyelids fluttered, then he pressed in. It was a delicate butterfly of a kiss, as if he’d never touched me before. Then possibly his dream changed and the flavor of the kiss did too. It gained layers and heat, hunger and ferocity. Dazed, I responded in kind, thinking this was what he wanted in his secret heart and had been afraid to show me. I was swept away by his need, then it became mine, until the moment he woke—and remembered.
Fade shuddered. I started to draw back, but he set a hand on my arm. “Don’t move.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know. I came across the space toward you, not the other way around.”
“Is it awful?” I asked in an anxious whisper.
“No. I want you too much to feel anything else right now.”
I took that to mean he was extremely interested in breeding, a fact I could confirm through our double sets of blankets. “What’s the solution?”
“I just … need a minute. Then I’ll go find some cold water to dunk myself in repeatedly.” The wry amusement in his tone made me smile.
As promised, he rolled away, but without any of the prior repugnance he’d shown before. He was too preoccupied with minimizing embarrassment, I thought. In the brightening dawn, his cheeks were touched by high color, and Fade ducked his head as he crept out of the granary, presumably to find the icy bath he’d mentioned. I lay in my blankets for a few seconds, torn between discomfiture and quiet pride. It wasn’t something a Huntress would be pleased with, but the girl inside me was glad he wanted me enough to seek me in his sleep—and it was more than a physical need, I suspected.
Smothering a smile, I crawled out of my pallet and rolled my blankets tightly, then stowed them in my pack. I checked to be sure I still had the splendid legacy of Longshot’s folio, containing the map of the territories with all his notes learned over long years on the trade runs. Thus reassured, I tiptoed over to Tegan, who was stirring on the other side of the room. As I knelt, she sat up, shoving the dark hair out of her face.
“Let’s find some breakfast,” she said.
I nodded. With quick fingers, I subdued my hair in the braid Momma Oaks had taught me to create, ladylike, but also good for fighting. I tied the tail with a scrap of leather, then trailed Tegan out of the building. She followed her nose to what looked like the barracks from Salvation, only bigger.
Inside, the room was swarming with soldiers, all in grungy green. Some looked more alert than others. All were in various stages of breakfast. There was a food line, and with a puzzled look at Tegan, I joined it at the end. There was a place for us to get plates and cutlery, so we went through, telling men with spoons what we wanted. Most of it looked disgusting, cooked in such huge quantities, and a few items I’d never seen before, especially a dish that was lumpy, white, and brown. It looked filling, though, so I indicated it along with a thick hunk of bread. I also found some apples, so I took one of those as well.
A glance across the room told me no tables were vacant. As Tegan came up beside me, I picked one at random with a few empty seats. The men shoveling their food down didn’t look up as we sat, merely kept eating with a single-minded focus that seemed unnatural to me now. I had gotten used to small courtesies in Salvation, I supposed, as down below, we devoured our meals as fast as we got them, fearing somebody might decide we didn’t merit that much food after all.
Tegan cocked a brow at me. “It must be good.”
“It’s terrible,” one said. “But edible, and we know better than to dally in the mess.”
I repeated the last three words with a question in my voice.
“Short for mess hall,” another man clarified.
That didn’t help me, but Tegan made the connection. “Is this a military facility?”
The question earned her a strange look, but the soldier proved willing to answer. “A long, long time ago, it was just a small town. After the first outbreaks, the army stationed men here, provisioned a base to receive and support survivors.”
“Outbreaks of what?” I asked.
Before the man could answer, a bell went off. I tensed—had my knives in my hands and was on my feet before anyone else at the table responded. Tegan just looked worried, but she still had her spoon halfway to her mouth.
Then someone laughed. “You’re skittish, girl. That’s just the signal that breakfast is over and those of us on duty need to get on with training, the work roster, or patrols, depending on what we’ve been assigned.”
“Good to know,” Tegan murmured, going back to her breakfast.
Once the room cleared out, I said, “It sounds like they know more about what happened than the townsfolk did in Salvation, something more real than religious stories.”
“No history is ever unbiased.”
I considered that, eating a bite of the brown-and-white lumpy food. It wasn’t horrible, but it seemed like it needed something else, so I spooned some onto my wedge of bread, then took an experimental bite. Better.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been a long time, but my mom used to teach me, before people got sick. There were books all over the university, and she read to me, explained things as best she could.”
“And she said history is biased?” I wasn’t positive what a bias was. From school, I knew history was the study of things that happened in the past, but I couldn’t understand what Tegan was getting at. Surely something was either true, or it wasn’t.
“Not on purpose. But people see things differently. So I might see a blue flower growing below an apple tree and write all about the blue flower whereas you might see only the apples. Your account would contain information about the fruit, never mentioning the flower.”
“Because the food would matter to me more,” I said in sudden comprehension. “So it’s not that the people in Salvation are trying to lie. They just include the part of the stories that they care about.”
“Exactly. Since they’re devout people, they interpreted the terrible things that happened in the world as punishment from God for their sins. I don’t think we’ll find that bias here.”
Now I understood. Thoughtful, I ate my breakfast in silence, considering all we might learn in Soldier’s Pond.
First, though, we had wounded to tend.
Verdict
The rest of the day, I helped Tegan.
Not only did the bandages need to be changed, cuts and burns had to be tended. There were broken bones too and once we’d dealt with the long process of treating them, they also needed food and broth. I’d never seen myself as a caregiver, but since Tegan needed my hands, I was willing. I didn’t know as much as she did but I followed directions well enough.
“No, hold that with your left hand,” she said briskly. “Don’t move.”
She was so good with the injured, offering endless patience and kindness. I had less of her natural aptitude, but since I was only her assistant, not the doctor, my skill didn’t matter as much.
By nightfall, I was as exhausted as I had been after the battle outside the Salvation gates.
“How many of them do you think will live?” I asked Tegan.
The room was starting to reek of putrid wounds, masked lightly by antiseptic and healing salve. In some cases, her proficiency and desire to help wouldn’t be enough. I felt sorry for those poor souls because a slow death was the worst kind.
She puffed out a weary sigh. “Half, I hope.”
That was even fewer than I expected. “It must be hard.”
“I wish Papa Doc was here,” she whispered. “He could probably save more.”
“You’re doing your best.”
“It’s not enough,” she said, stalking off.
I didn’t take it personally. Tegan wanted to save everyone but life didn’t work that way, no matter how much I wished otherwise.
As I came out of the granary, I ran into Stalker; he had fallen in with the scouts and went out regularly with them. He didn’t look as if he’d rested much, his bones sharp beneath his skin and dark circles cradling his eyes. He jerked a nod, then moved to push past me. I stayed him with an abortive movement, not quite touching him. I suspected by his taut expression that there would be no more quiet moments between us, and that was for the best. False encouragement would be wrong when my heart belonged so completely to Fade.
“What?” he demanded.
“I just wondered what you saw out there and what the trip from Salvation was like.”
“Awful. I had no idea if you were safe, if I’d ever see you again. And this time, I didn’t even get a kiss good-bye.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He had to know I was looking for concrete information about the terrain and the number of Freaks.
“Forget it,” he said. “The colonel is waiting on my report.”
It wasn’t hard to read his mood. “That’s not the only reason you’re hurrying off.”
Stalker eyed me, his mouth flat. “I get it. You’d rather have him, broken, than me whole. If that didn’t clarify my chances with you, nothing would. But you can’t have what you want either, Deuce. I can’t be your friend, feeling like this. Give me some time, and then…” He shrugged. “Maybe. No promises. Just … leave me be.”
“Take care of yourself,” I said softly.
He strode off without looking back, shoulders straight. At least his leg’s healed. Part of me was glad it was over—that he’d finally given up. The rest felt bad that I’d hurt him and given him the wrong signals out of ignorance. Sighing, I went to the mess hall, where they were wrapping up dinner; I was among the last to be served, then I spotted Momma Oaks and the rest of my family across the sparsely populated room. I wove through the tables and sat down with them. They all looked a little better than they had the night before.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked, regarding their official status.
Edmund shook his head. “There’s a council meeting this evening to decide our fates.”
“They wouldn’t just turn us away,” Rex said, but he didn’t sound as sure as he wished.
I didn’t reply since the enclave made a practice of exactly that. In all the years I lived there, they’d made one exception—for Fade—and only because his will to survive fascinated them, the way he’d lived feral and alone, bereft of protection or support. That implacable core made me admire him more, even as I promised myself I’d always be there to fight for him. It was time someone did.
“It sure is strange here,” Momma Oaks whispered then. “They don’t pray before meals, did you notice? And the women go around dressed like men.” She aimed a look at me, as if she’d just realized something. “Is that how you felt when you first arrived in Salvation?”
I smiled at that. “Yes. But if I adapted, you can, too. I don’t think people here mind that you have your own customs.” But that brought a question to mind. “How come you don’t know more about the other settlements? I can tell none of you have ever been here before.”
My mother looked shocked at the idea. “Of course not. Longshot handled all contact with outsiders. It’s been our policy for hundreds of years to limit our exposure to worldly ways.”
“It was supposed to keep us safe,” Rex whispered.
Edmund’s shoulders slumped a little. “Yes, we believed that by conforming to the covenant the original settlers made with heaven and by living plain, simple lives, God would spare us from the trials that plagued others.”
“So … Longshot kept Salvation from being … sullied?” I wasn’t sure that was the right word, but my parents nodded, so I must be in the vicinity.
“He acted as a buffer, handled all of our trade runs and when trappers and traders came to town, he did business with them outside the walls,” Rex added.
That much, I remembered; I just hadn’t known why. “But if you were so worried about bad things getting in, why did you let the four of us stay?” Before, I just thought they were kind folks in Salvation. I hadn’t realized they were so insular. Now I was genuinely curious.
Momma Oaks answered with a quote from the book Caroline Bigwater used to haul around. “‘Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.’”
“You took us in because we’re young,” I guessed. “You thought we’d learn your ways.”
Edmund smiled at me. “That’s not why we welcomed you, Deuce, only the official town policy on strangers.” Then his face fell. “Or it was.”
“Don’t think about it,” my mother whispered.
Drawing in a breath, Edmund rubbed Momma Oaks on the shoulder. “We can build a life here, if we’re welcome. Surely even soldiers need good shoes.”
I glanced down at the worn, poorly made boots that most of the men were wearing. “I’d say they’re crying out for you here.”