Outpost (Razorland 2)

Her breath caught; and her face dimmed with remembered pain. “The girls who were born into the Wolves didn’t question their roles. They didn’t try to run. So they weren’t punished.”

I nodded. “It wouldn’t occur to a female Breeder in the enclave to protest her situation, either.”

“They haunt me,” she said softly. “The two cubs I lost. I was only thinking about getting away so I could protect my little one like my mom did me. But instead, they beat me until—” Her voice broke and she curled her hands into fists. “I know why they did it—to break me so I wouldn’t fight them anymore.”

“They shouldn’t have hurt you,” I told her. “There were ways to hold you that wouldn’t harm the unborn brats.”

Tegan swiped away a tear. “So your people wouldn’t have beaten me for trying to escape?”

She wanted reassurance that I came from better folk than Stalker. When I first met her, I’d thought that the enclave would punish anyone who treated a girl that way. But that was reflex, wanting to think the best of them. With the benefit of time and distance, I realized something; safety only applied to those who were born among us and who followed the rules blindly. Just witness how they treated Fade and a Builder named Banner. At first, I’d envied her apparent closeness with Fade, but then the elders killed the girl over her quiet discontent with their leadership; they made an example of her and framed it as a suicide.

Terrible things happened down below too.

So I couldn’t lie to her. “If we found a female in the tunnels who was good only for breeding … if she fought that role, the Hunters would’ve cut her throat and left her for the Freaks. The enclave wouldn’t have wasted resources training her. So, no, we wouldn’t have beaten you, Tegan. My people would’ve killed you.”

Her breath caught. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t end up down below.”

“It is, actually.” Because it was unlikely she’d have survived the tunnels long enough to run into one of our patrols. It still amazed me that Fade had done so.

I could see her struggling with the revelation, hands clenched on the edge of the counter where we’d stacked the doctor’s clean implements. “But … you’re not like the rest of the Hunters, then. You protected me.”

“That was after I left the enclave.”

“So you’re saying you’d have killed me. You, Deuce.” Tegan met my gaze, her brown eyes begging for a denial.

I was about to destroy all her illusions. “If Silk ordered me to. I’d have felt bad about it, but I would have obeyed. Back then, I thought they knew more than me. Until a certain point, you know only what you’re taught.”

With a pained wrench, I remembered the blind brat who had come from Nassau begging for help. Fade and I carried him back with us to College, but once the elders heard his message, they had no further use for him. I hadn’t wielded the blade that slit his throat, but I gave the boy to the Hunter who did. His death could be attributed to my silence—and so I couldn’t let her idealize me. Though I’d learned better since I came Topside, it didn’t mean I was a good person or instinctively kind. In fact, I had spent years battling the idea that I was too soft to make it as a Huntress. In many cases, I saw compassion as weakness.

“Is that why you like Stalker?” Her expression twisted as though the words left a sour taste in her mouth.

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “I understand him. We share common goals.”

“He’s like you,” she said then.

“More than you are,” I admitted. “Stalker and I came up with other ideas of right and wrong, different from what I see in Salvation. And, yes, the enclave did a lot of things that I’d fix if I could. At the time, I didn’t know any better … but I’m teachable. I think Stalker is too.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to befriend him,” she muttered.

“I don’t expect you to. You two have history … bad history. He reminds you of the worst time in your life.”

“So do you,” she said softly.

Oh. That hurt, more because it was an unexpected blow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. Is that why—”

“It’s easier to be around the other girls. They didn’t see me at my weakest. They don’t know everything that’s happened to me, and I’d like to keep it that way. I hope you won’t tell them either.”

“Of course I won’t. And I won’t visit again, if it bothers you.” I kept my face still and calm, my Huntress expression, and it didn’t reveal any of my pain.

In Salvation, it seemed like I had nobody but Stalker and Longshot. Fade didn’t talk to me unless I needed saving. The brats at school thought I was crazy and they treated me accordingly … and now this from Tegan. At least you’re safe, I thought. At least you have enough to eat.

“I need some time. I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I just—”

“Want to settle in?” I suggested, not showing how I felt. “Make new friends?”

She nodded, visibly relieved. “I’m glad you understand.”

“I do. I’ll be going, then.” And I wouldn’t come back until she came looking for me. Not out of injured pride, either. A true friend would rank Tegan’s welfare above her own loneliness.

She didn’t stop me from leaving. Outside the Tuttle place, the weather had turned as the sun fell toward the horizon. Light streaked the sky in colors whose names I’d only recently learned. Today it glowed gold and orange with slivers of pink, like a speckled autumn apple. As we’d traveled, we had found a few growing wild, a bit withered, but still edible. A cool wind blew over me, lifting tendrils of my hair from the braids. It would be suppertime soon, and I hadn’t started my schoolwork for the next day.

I ran through town, ignoring the whispers. A few women pointed at how I lifted my skirts. “Does that girl ever walk like a normal person? I can’t imagine what they were thinking when they took her in.”

I ignored them as I always did, though it hurt, each word like a stone hurled at my back. When I opened the front door, Momma Oaks murmured about me catching cold. Then she asked me to lay the table, and I did so without complaint. I found it fascinating how many different tools people used to eat a meal Topside. Food was scarce enough down below that we raked it off our plates as fast as we got it, and nobody carried extra weight, as people sometimes did in Salvation. That seemed marvelous, that people could pack on enough flesh to withstand a hard winter.

Edmund joined us and Momma Oaks took my hand, as she did each night. “Creator, bless and keep us. Guide us to live according to your laws and to appreciate your blessings.”

The first time she did that, I wondered aloud who she was talking to, and she explained that she was addressing a being who lived up in the sky and watched over us. Though I didn’t like to insult her, I thought her god had done a terrible job keeping his people safe. Given the current state of the world, it seemed far more likely the Freaks were his favored creatures.

My foster mother served us all. As I ate, I made polite conversation over roast meat, fresh bread, and vegetables. “How come your son never comes to see you?”

Edmund and Momma Oaks froze. Their expressions said my idea of courteous didn’t match theirs. Pain flashed across her features, echoed in a spark in her eyes, and then she dropped her gaze to her plate, apparently unable to respond.

But I didn’t understand why it was wrong for me to be curious. I’d been living in their home for over a month; it seemed unkind that he hadn’t come to check on his sire and dam. For all he knew, I was a dangerous maniac who might murder them in their sleep.

Then Edmund cleared his throat. “Rex has his own affairs to tend. He’s busy.”

“Oh.” That sounded like an excuse. It was more likely they’d argued, but as I wasn’t part of the family, I didn’t push for the truth.

Silence reigned for a while. I had made them sad without meaning to, and so I feared asking another painful question. Eventually, once I cleared my plate, there was a sweet, which tasted as good as the canned cherries Fade had shared with me in the ruins. The dessert jolted my memory.

“What is it?”

“Taste it.” Fade dipped his finger into the tin and offered it to me.

I couldn’t resist, though I knew better than to let him feed me like a brat. Sweetness exploded on my tongue, contrasting with the warmth of his skin. Shocked and pleased, I pulled back and dipped two of my fingers into the tin in a little scoop. This time I caught more than the sauce. A round little red thing sat in the curve of my fingertips. I ate it without hesitation, two, three more scoops until I was sure I had red all around my mouth, and I didn’t care. He watched me with amusement.

“How did you know it would be so good?” I asked.

His smile slipped. “I had some with my dad, once.”

These days, Fade wasn’t around enough to share anything with me; an ache curled through me like a metal hook. There had to be some way to fix things between us. A question from Momma Oaks drew me before I could decide what to do about Fade. After dinner, I cleaned up while my foster parents talked quietly in the other room. Fractured words reached me in fits and starts.

“—maybe we should tell her. She feels left out,” Momma Oaks whispered.

“… no point. It doesn’t pertain to her.”

With determination, I closed my ears and stacked the clean dishes in the cupboard, then strode into the doorway. “May I take a light upstairs?”

“Do you have homework?” Edmund asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then by all means.” Momma Oaks got the lamp from the far table and offered it to me. “Careful. Don’t knock it over and don’t burn yourself.”

“We had torches,” I told her, in case she thought fire was new to me. If they protected their young like this all over in Salvation, it was a wonder the brats could find the schoolhouse on their own. “I’ll be fine.”

Edmund nodded. “Good night, Deuce.”

I ran up the stairs, the lamp casting crazy shadows along the walls. In my room, I buckled down and copied the passage that Mrs. James had assigned. Then I was supposed to write a page about what I’d just read. That took far longer, so I skipped to sums, which I found easier than reading. This was a useful skill, since it could be applied to inventorying supplies. That finished, I went back to my stupid essay and rambled about what the words meant. The teacher wouldn’t like it, and she’d probably read my paper aloud to point out all the mistakes.

I’d survived worse. The brats could mock me. Women could whisper. There would be bad memories, more nightmares, and the threat of Freaks outside the walls. I’d endure, no matter what.

Once I felt sure my foster parents were asleep, I dressed in dark clothes and slipped out the window. No bells tonight, but I needed to talk to Longshot. He’d be guarding the wall in his usual spot. I clung to the shadows, pausing twice to avoid detection, and then I clambered up the ladder. The moon shone on his white hair, so I recognized him straightaway. He cradled Old Girl in his arms; on my arrival, he didn’t shift from his study of the darkness.