As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, those words echoed in my ears and I feared to my core that Stalker was right.
Bigwater
Tegan came to visit me a week later, and I felt glad of the break, as I was mending with Momma Oaks.
Of us all, my friend had changed the most in Salvation. She hadn’t been as pale as Fade and I had to start with and her skin was naturally darker than Stalker’s. Months after our arrival, her complexion took on a coppery cast, which complemented her dark curls prettily. She wore them piled on her head in an intricate style I couldn’t hope to replicate, and she had on a new yellow dress that Mrs. Tuttle had commissioned from Momma Oaks.
I wondered if Tegan felt ready to resume our friendship. I’d missed her. Since Fade and Stalker wanted to kiss me, I couldn’t talk to them about certain things. With my foster mother’s blessing, the two of us fetched drinks and snacks, then went out to the swing. For several moments, only the squeak of the chain filled the silence.
In the distance, I heard men arguing, though not angrily, followed by the peal of children’s laughter. Salvation had a different atmosphere from College’s. Down below, it was tighter run—and there was less time for casual conversation. With our limited resources, however, it had to be that way. Here, people talked to each other more for the sake of it, exchanged news and tidbits of gossip without fear of censure.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when…” She trailed off, knowing I’d understand what she meant. “I just had so much to think about. First, it was my leg, and once I got better, there was school. I felt like I had to focus on fitting in, and—”
“I don’t.” Apart from my fellow guards, people had made that clear.
“You make your own rules. I respect that, but I’m not you. I want folks to like me. I love it here.”
“I don’t expect you to walk my path,” I said.
She smiled. Over the past months, she’d put on some weight, so she no longer looked fragile. Clearly her foster parents had been feeding her properly, but despite their care, Tegan limped more than Thimble—and the thought of my old friend sent pain shooting through my chest. I didn’t know what had happened to her or Stone, and maybe I never would. However, Tegan would get better as her leg healed; it wasn’t a permanent disability. She was already stronger than she had been.
Ruthlessly, I put the past where it belonged and asked, “Are you still working with Doc?”
She nodded. “I’ve learned a lot. He says I have a real knack and I might be able to take over doctoring someday.”
“You don’t mind dealing with sick and injured people?” That required a fortitude I didn’t possess.
“No. It makes me feel good, actually. With Doc’s help, I’m learning how to make a difference.”
At the school back in the ruins, I remembered Stalker yelling how she had no useful skills. He couldn’t say that anymore.
“How does Mrs. Tuttle feel about it?”
A faint sigh escaped her. “At first, she wasn’t wild about the idea. She said certain parties wouldn’t approve, but Doc thinks it won’t do any harm.”
It sounded to me like Salvation could use some shaking up. New blood with fresh ideas might be just what the town needed. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine healer.”
She went on, “Anyway, I just didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten what we talked about. Or the fact that I wouldn’t even be here, if it wasn’t for you.”
“Fade too.” If he hadn’t carried her most of the way through the wilderness, Tegan wouldn’t have survived. Stalker had taken a turn too, but I doubted she cared to be reminded that she owed him even a small portion of her gratitude. On the scales between them, it was inadequate for what she’d endured with the Wolves. Disquiet shivered through me.
In Tegan’s place, I would’ve fought until I died. Nobody would’ve touched me while I still drew breath, so there wouldn’t have been any unborn brats to lose … yet I would’ve died. Her path of quieter resistance led to survival through suffering. Tegan wasn’t a Huntress, so according to enclave rules, she would’ve likely been a Breeder if we’d found her, because as Stalker had judged, she had no skills and no visible defects. Yet in the enclave, Breeders didn’t fight their roles.
Tegan had. That meant her mother had taught her that she didn’t have to bear young for the benefit of the group. Such freedom seemed foreign … and irresponsible. Down below, no one ever hinted that my own desires could be more important than the good of the whole. But that didn’t make Tegan mistaken; it meant the Wolves punished her. And that, I did believe, was wrong. So far as I could tell, nobody had invented the perfect system, and it was awful to hurt people who disagreed with you. That enclave had done it too. The Wolves should have turned Tegan loose when they realized she wouldn’t conform.
“You’re quiet,” she said, breaking my thoughts.
“Just thinking.”
Her eyes widened. “Sounds serious.”
“Nothing I want to talk about,” I answered, figuring she didn’t either.
Maybe she read the truth in my face because she accepted it without question; Tegan broached another subject instead. “I know you think the other girls are dumb, but you might like them if you gave them a chance.”
I couldn’t imagine that being the case, but I agreed because it would please her. “I’m sure they’re fine.”
Unfortunately, that concession opened the door to something else. Tegan’s brown eyes brightened and sparkled. “Justine is having a birthday party today, and I asked if I could invite you.”
I recollected that Justine was a girl who loved making sport of me when I read during class—and she often sent boys to harass me at school—so this was the last thing I wanted to do, but Tegan seemed set on the idea. She’d trusted me enough to follow me out into the wilderness, though, so I could attend this party for her.
“What’s a birthday?” I asked.
Tegan blinked at me. “The day you were born. You celebrate and people give you gifts. When my mom was alive, she threw a little party for me.”
That idea seemed outlandish. “Why would people give you presents for something that was none of your doing?”
It wasn’t like earning a name. I’d gotten gifts on my naming day because I survived for fifteen years, long enough to deserve them. That, I understood. This tradition made no sense at all.