by Ann Aguirre
“You made it,” she gasped, then she hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“Edmund and Rex?” I asked.
“We’re here,” my father said.
His lined, dirty face was a welcome sight, so I hugged him too. I teetered on the verge of tears and couldn’t restrain the apology. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save everyone. I tried, but there weren’t enough soldiers and the trip was too far—”
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair, stroking my back.
Momma Oaks hugged me from the other side until I felt warm even in comparison to the hot trickle of tears on my cheeks. Rex stood back, looking beaten down by sorrow; the dead, uncomprehending look had faded, only to be replaced by pain.
“Have you any idea what’s to become of us?” Momma Oaks asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not clear on how Soldier’s Pond runs or who’s in charge. I know Morgan’s second only to the colonel when it comes to town defense. Beyond that…”
“We weren’t here long enough to find out,” Fade put in.
“You must be exhausted.”
Momma Oaks had on her “I want to cook for you and fuss a bit” face but here she was dependent on others for food and shelter. By the twist of her mouth, that reality didn’t sit well with her. I was relieved she was safe, but it couldn’t be easy going from her own tidy home and plenty of food in the cupboards to this. In my experience down below, refugees had few rights, and some enclaves, like the one where I’d grown up, would refuse to accept them altogether, due to limited resources. Things might be different here in Soldier’s Pond, but I had a feeling nobody from Salvation would relax until they heard whether they were welcome.
Knowing she wouldn’t welcome my sympathy, I just nodded. “It was a tough trip.”
“But necessary,” Rex said. “We wouldn’t be here without your efforts.”
Praise made me uncomfortable, gratitude more so. I acknowledged his words with a jerky nod. “I’m going to help Tegan.”
“You should rest,” Edmund protested, but I ignored him.
“I can pitch in too,” Fade said.
The room was a maze of prone forms, laid out with only a little space between them. These cramped quarters reminded me of the enclave, but instead of the makeshift walls built of scraps of metal and tattered curtains, there was no privacy at all. On the injured, I saw each shift of expression, every flicker of pain. It seemed wrong to efface their dignity, after all they’d suffered and lost. Tears trickled down one woman’s face and she was too weak or sad to wipe them away. A stranger did that for her, just before tending the burn on the woman’s right leg.
I drew strength from that kindness. As long as I had two hands, I could work beside my friend. Tegan had to be hurting, just as tired as I was, but she was still on her knees beside a patient, doing what she could to give the man comfort. As I drew closer, I recognized Harry Carter, the man I’d fought beside on the wall. He had a terrible gash in his shoulder and another across his back, plus countless bites. It would be a miracle if he survived; I didn’t know how he’d made the trip from Salvation.
Tegan read my look. “They put him on a litter. He was quite the hero before the town caught fire, I guess. Saved four families.”
Harry’s eyes opened, bloodshot and tormented in his dirty face. “But not my own.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He closed his eyes when Tegan went back to cleaning his wounds. When the astringent trickled into his rent flesh, it had to hurt but I saw no shift in his expression, maybe because the way he felt inside was worse. Wordless, I fell into our old rhythm, handing her things and wiping away the blood before she asked me to. There should be some words that would make things better, but I couldn’t think of any. Maybe a Breeder would have the gentleness to comfort the ravaged sadness I glimpsed in Tegan’s eyes. I worked on steadily.
It was the middle of the night when we emptied Tegan’s bag; there wasn’t enough salve or antiseptic to go around, so Tegan requested provisions from the women who had been helping us. Unlike the ones in Salvation, these females dressed in worn green trousers and they looked every bit as tough as Tully and the colonel. I suspected if not for the conditions surrounding our arrival, I might enjoy my time in Soldier’s Pond. The women debated among themselves before sending a young runner off to ask the colonel if they could tap into their own supplies.
Tully popped her head in, her hair disheveled and her face lined with weariness. “Got everything squared away?”
I had no idea why she was asking me. “Not exactly. But we’ve done what we can for now.”
“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.
