Outpost by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online

taught me that not all contact had to be martial, and now I missed his mouth on mine.
    “What are you doing?” That wasn’t the question I intended to ask.
    “Currying this beauty.”
    I gathered that meant using the brush, but I’d never heard Momma Oaks talk about currying anything, so it must apply only to animals. Sometimes I felt I’d never learn the things other people took for granted. Even Stalker, who fit here no better than I did, understood things instinctively about Topside.
    “We’re going to talk to Longshot about summer patrols,” I said bluntly.
    Fade arched a brow. “Who’s we?”
    “Stalker and me. You too, if you’re interested.”
    “Haven’t you seen enough fighting?” His tone made it seem like there was something wrong with me, like I should be glad to do nothing but attend school and sew with Momma Oaks.
    “It’s what I was raised to do. It’s what I’m good at.” I squared my shoulders, determined not to let him make me feel bad, even if my behavior disappointed him.
    His next words filled me with hope. “You’re still my partner. I won’t let you go out there without someone you trust.”
    And I did trust him, no matter the problems between us. Some of my inner ice melted. “Come on then.”
    “Just let me tell Mr. Jensen where I’m going.” Fade strode away through the stable, and a low argument rumbled between them. It didn’t last long.
    “Do you like him?” I asked a few minutes later as he fell into step.
    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