Later, I patrolled with Hobbs, checking the outlying fields for damage. The rest of our squad kept in touch via hand signals Longshot had devised; they were simple, like need help, all clear, and immediate danger. We noticed signs of rabbit infestation, nibbles at the green shoots, but no hint that the Freaks had been here since we found the severed heads on poles. Hobbs was a trustworthy companion who kept his mind on his business and didn’t waste time with inessential chatter.
“It’s time to get the growers out here,” Hobbs said. “They’ll spread stuff to drive away pests, discourage weeds, and nourish the plants.”
“If they gave us the supplies, we could do it. Lessen the risk.”
Hobbs was already shaking his head. “The growers spend their whole lives studying the best ways to do things. If we try their methods and the crops fail, we’ll be responsible for people starving.”
Put that way, I decided I’d rather perform escort duty too. Maybe Tegan would come out with the growers to take care of the pests. I missed her and my foster parents more than I’d expected. I had put down roots in Salvation, though I didn’t love all of the rules. One day, maybe I could do trade runs with Longshot, if I wasn’t destined for a permanent role in the town guard. It was a dream worth keeping close.
As we returned to the outpost, I saw the site with new eyes and realized it was starting to look official; Longshot forced the men to work even when they weren’t drilling. Consequently, a low stone wall surrounded the tents, set up around the watchtower with an area set aside for exercise and training. Not bad, I thought, for such a hurried effort. The men glanced up as I went past, but most had grown used to me. At least, they no longer muttered just out of my earshot or made rude gestures they knew I could see in my peripheral vision. Likely Fade’s temper had something to do with their courtesy. He might be young, but he could slit them throat to thigh before they found their knives. It didn’t bother me much; people—like the girls at school—usually disliked me for reasons more compelling than my gender.
Hobbs made our report to Longshot, who nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll send a runner to town to get the growers out here to tend the crops.”
“Glad it’s not my job,” I muttered.
Longshot flashed me a smile. “Me too. From what I can see, your skills tend toward killing things.”
The boss called a briefing thereafter. “We’re starting furloughs tomorrow, as promised. I’ll draw lots to see which squads go first. Then you can vote amongst yourselves as to who goes first. You’ll go off duty in pairs, understand?”
That sent a wave of excitement through the camp. Many men had families in town, and they weren’t used to being away from them. As for me, I longed to see Tegan and the Oakses, but I could wait. To my surprise, our team came up in the second round. My crew appeared delighted with our good fortune; the other guards liked Hobbs and Frank well enough not to complain too loudly.
Just before dark, the last patrol returned, carrying an unexpected boon. They’d shot a deer, already field dressed and cut into manageable chunks of meat. It smelled delicious roasting on the fire, and everyone was glad to wait a little longer to avoid more hard tack and dry meat. I joined the food line near the end, and took my plate over to where Frank sat, devouring the juicy venison with obvious relish.
For a few moments, we ate in silence while I tried not to notice Stalker and Fade arguing on the other side of camp. Their faces bore twin scowls, and Fade had his hands curled into fists. Now and again, they glanced at me, which made me think they were fighting about me somehow, but they weren’t speaking loud enough for anyone to overhear.
It isn’t my business, I told myself. I wouldn’t go over and intervene.
“What are you going to do in town?” Frank asked, distracting me.
“Take a bath.”
He laughed like I was kidding. “I’m gonna eat all the cake I can hold.”
Sweets were off the menu out here, so I could understand his craving. I listened with half an ear as he yammered on about how well his mother cooked. While I watched, the boys concluded their argument and Fade wheeled away to queue for some roast venison. The blond boy followed with a surly expression, chin up in a way that said he was spoiling for a fight.
Stalker hadn’t been pleased with our plan of inaction in regard to the Freaks. I didn’t blame him. The Huntress in me fought the urge to resolve the threat, but I respected Longshot’s orders. Yet that village in the forest bothered me—not just because it meant Freaks were acting counter to my expectations.
“This seat taken?” The question came from the man I’d guessed least likely to seek my company, Gary Miles. We had tangled twice, first with his stupid joke about me, and then over his failure on watch. Consequently, he’d loathed me ever since. Miles had a rat-faced look with a long, pointed nose and a nonexistent chin. Graying hair fell in lank locks down to his shoulders, and he reeked like a bucket of vomit. None of us smelled great, granted, but he didn’t even do spot washes.
I didn’t want him to join us, but I couldn’t conceive a way to refuse without being churlish. So I said, “Suit yourself.”
“What are we talking about?” he asked, once he made himself comfortable. His smile showed brown-stained teeth, some broken and black at the roots. There was no way around it; the man made my skin crawl, almost as bad as the first time Fade and I came upon a Freak feeding in the dark.
“What we’re going to do when we get our furloughs,” Frank answered.
Miles tightened his mouth into a bitter white line, but the look was gone before I could be sure of it, replaced with false friendliness. “Isn’t it lucky you get to go so soon?”
“Longshot drew for it,” I pointed out.
His amiability cracked. “And you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, puss? There’s no fool like an old fool. We all saw how you stood by him, exchanging soulful glances, while we busted our asses to learn fighting techniques that we’ll never use.”
Surely he wasn’t implying I garnered special treatment by breeding with our commander? That was utterly disgusting—not because Longshot was old and horrible, but because he’d never do something so blatantly unjust and immoral. I eyed Miles with open dislike; he had a mind like the latrine he’d dug for punishment.