He shrugged, a moody twist to his beautiful mouth. “Not really. But he doesn’t try to be my dad.”
Quite unlike Momma Oaks, who’s determined to be my mother.
Fade didn’t protest when we stopped at the smithy for Stalker. Neither boy suggested we invite Tegan. She wasn’t a fighter when we made the trip, and it was ridiculous to imagine she’d want to get involved in the summer patrols. But I missed her. While she preferred the company of normal girls—she wanted to forget what she’d been through—there were no females that I considered friends in the same way. Yet sometimes being a friend meant letting people do things that hurt, like putting distance between you, just because it made them happy.
The town was laid out neatly within the protective walls. This site had been rebuilt three times, I remembered, one of the few history lessons that stuck with me. A real war had been fought nearby, and then the fort fell into ruins. They uncovered the site, some two hundred years ago, and rebuilt it as it was before. I didn’t understand the reasoning but Mrs. James claimed it had to do with respecting “our” cultural heritage. Since I was descended from those the world hadn’t cared to save, I suspected her pride didn’t apply to me.
We passed through the town in silence, lifting a hand now and then in greeting to those who recognized us. The women fell silent when they saw me coming, eyes avid for some new offense to report later. White-washed buildings showed neat and tidy in comparison with the ruins we’d traversed to find this place. I still didn’t understand the trade principles that governed Salvation, however. They used wood tokens to symbolize the value of goods and services. The boys and I had none, which meant we depended on our foster parents for every little thing. I hated it.
Single men who didn’t have homes of their own stayed in the barracks on the west side, near enough to the walls that they could post more guards if necessary. Since I’d been in Salvation, it hadn’t been; standard numbers had been sufficient to discourage Freak incursions. I should have felt better about that. Maybe I was just one of those people who couldn’t rest easy unless things went catastrophically wrong.
Whatever the reason, I couldn’t rid myself of this foreboding. The problems we’d seen from the changed Freaks would reach Salvation in time. It was only a matter of whether it was sooner or later.
Not surprisingly, Stalker and Fade didn’t speak; they shared a core of deep-seated animosity, but they both seemed determined to fight at my side this summer. Deep down, I understood I could only have one partner. Part of me didn’t wholly understand that. Why couldn’t I be friends with both? They each brought something different to the table, and their combat styles weren’t the same.
This isn’t about fighting, a little voice said. But, unfortunately, it went away as fast as it came, and left me feeling foolish.
We found Longshot playing cards in the barracks; he had his sleeves rolled up, exposing weathered forearms. Even now I found his age marvelous and astonishing. With good food and fresh air, I might live that long too, provided the Freaks didn’t get me. Which made my forthcoming request even less comprehensible when you got right down to it, but I had been reared to protect others. I felt less than whole if I wasn’t living up to my own inner expectations. You could take the Huntress out of the enclave, but it didn’t lessen her need to fight.
“Kids,” he said with an inclination of his head.
That was what they called brats in Salvation. It was also the name for the offspring of the animals they kept for milk. That seemed more offensive to me than the word “brat,” but evidently not according to Topside sensibilities. They also didn’t like it when I called people Breeders, even when they had young.
I picked up Longshot’s cue. “I heard you need a team.”
Two bushy white brows went up; he played his role well, as if I hadn’t forewarned him two weeks ago. “Is that right?”
“They’ll be planting soon,” Stalker said. “And you’ll need people to protect the growers.”
“And then later, the fields,” I added.
Longshot tilted his head. “I’m aware of that.”
“We want to be on your team,” Fade clarified.
“All three of you?” The older man feigned skepticism as his gaze brushed over me in my long, full skirt. “Can you shoot?”
I shook my head. “But there are no walls out in the fields anyway. You’d have an advantage if you chose people experienced in hand-to-hand.”
“And that’s you?” His tone grew quietly amused.
That might’ve bothered me if I hadn’t grasped his intent. Longshot couldn’t afford to seem too willing at first, and I knew how I looked in this dress and Momma Oaks’s braids, my Huntress scars hidden from the world. My gaze swept the barracks, where a number of guards watched us with equal measures of hilarity and impatience. Talk would only take things so far.
At random, I pointed at a young man who looked capable. “I’ll prove it to you. Let’s step outside. If I can’t bring him down, I’ll forget this whole idea.”
There was a reason I was fighting for the honor of our group. The guards saw me as the weak link. While they’d consider letting Stalker and Fade join the summer patrol, I had to establish my skill before they’d take me seriously.
The guard I’d singled out gave an incredulous laugh. “I don’t wrestle girls.”
“That’s not what I heard, Frank!” someone cracked.
A hot flush flared in his cheeks. “Shut up, Dooley.”
Longshot shoved back from the card table. “I don’t see what it’d hurt, as long as you promise to abide by the terms.”
There was no way this guard had trained as I had or earned the same combat experience. Down below, Hunters blindfolded us and taught us to fight according to what we could sense with our ears and noses. Eventually I got good enough to detect an incoming strike by the movements around me. So I could beat him easily.
Keen to show them what I could do, I turned my back to Stalker, who knew what I wanted. He unfastened the top two buttons on my dress, which I hauled over my head. The men in the barracks gasped, except for Stalker and Fade, who both realized I was always ready to fight beneath the feminine paraphernalia that Momma Oaks foisted on me. With knives strapped to my thighs, I was fully clothed in pants and the tunic I’d carried from down below.