Fade shuddered. I started to draw back, but he set a hand on my arm. “Don’t move.”
“I didn’t—”
“I know. I came across the space toward you, not the other way around.”
“Is it awful?” I asked in an anxious whisper.
“No. I want you too much to feel anything else right now.”
I took that to mean he was extremely interested in breeding, a fact I could confirm through our double sets of blankets. “What’s the solution?”
“I just … need a minute. Then I’ll go find some cold water to dunk myself in repeatedly.” The wry amusement in his tone made me smile.
As promised, he rolled away, but without any of the prior repugnance he’d shown before. He was too preoccupied with minimizing embarrassment, I thought. In the brightening dawn, his cheeks were touched by high color, and Fade ducked his head as he crept out of the granary, presumably to find the icy bath he’d mentioned. I lay in my blankets for a few seconds, torn between discomfiture and quiet pride. It wasn’t something a Huntress would be pleased with, but the girl inside me was glad he wanted me enough to seek me in his sleep—and it was more than a physical need, I suspected.
Smothering a smile, I crawled out of my pallet and rolled my blankets tightly, then stowed them in my pack. I checked to be sure I still had the splendid legacy of Longshot’s folio, containing the map of the territories with all his notes learned over long years on the trade runs. Thus reassured, I tiptoed over to Tegan, who was stirring on the other side of the room. As I knelt, she sat up, shoving the dark hair out of her face.
“Let’s find some breakfast,” she said.
I nodded. With quick fingers, I subdued my hair in the braid Momma Oaks had taught me to create, ladylike, but also good for fighting. I tied the tail with a scrap of leather, then trailed Tegan out of the building. She followed her nose to what looked like the barracks from Salvation, only bigger.
Inside, the room was swarming with soldiers, all in grungy green. Some looked more alert than others. All were in various stages of breakfast. There was a food line, and with a puzzled look at Tegan, I joined it at the end. There was a place for us to get plates and cutlery, so we went through, telling men with spoons what we wanted. Most of it looked disgusting, cooked in such huge quantities, and a few items I’d never seen before, especially a dish that was lumpy, white, and brown. It looked filling, though, so I indicated it along with a thick hunk of bread. I also found some apples, so I took one of those as well.
A glance across the room told me no tables were vacant. As Tegan came up beside me, I picked one at random with a few empty seats. The men shoveling their food down didn’t look up as we sat, merely kept eating with a single-minded focus that seemed unnatural to me now. I had gotten used to small courtesies in Salvation, I supposed, as down below, we devoured our meals as fast as we got them, fearing somebody might decide we didn’t merit that much food after all.
Tegan cocked a brow at me. “It must be good.”
“It’s terrible,” one said. “But edible, and we know better than to dally in the mess.”
I repeated the last three words with a question in my voice.
“Short for mess hall,” another man clarified.
That didn’t help me, but Tegan made the connection. “Is this a military facility?”
The question earned her a strange look, but the soldier proved willing to answer. “A long, long time ago, it was just a small town. After the first outbreaks, the army stationed men here, provisioned a base to receive and support survivors.”
“Outbreaks of what?” I asked.
Before the man could answer, a bell went off. I tensed—had my knives in my hands and was on my feet before anyone else at the table responded. Tegan just looked worried, but she still had her spoon halfway to her mouth.
Then someone laughed. “You’re skittish, girl. That’s just the signal that breakfast is over and those of us on duty need to get on with training, the work roster, or patrols, depending on what we’ve been assigned.”
“Good to know,” Tegan murmured, going back to her breakfast.
Once the room cleared out, I said, “It sounds like they know more about what happened than the townsfolk did in Salvation, something more real than religious stories.”
“No history is ever unbiased.”
I considered that, eating a bite of the brown-and-white lumpy food. It wasn’t horrible, but it seemed like it needed something else, so I spooned some onto my wedge of bread, then took an experimental bite. Better.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been a long time, but my mom used to teach me, before people got sick. There were books all over the university, and she read to me, explained things as best she could.”
“And she said history is biased?” I wasn’t positive what a bias was. From school, I knew history was the study of things that happened in the past, but I couldn’t understand what Tegan was getting at. Surely something was either true, or it wasn’t.
“Not on purpose. But people see things differently. So I might see a blue flower growing below an apple tree and write all about the blue flower whereas you might see only the apples. Your account would contain information about the fruit, never mentioning the flower.”
“Because the food would matter to me more,” I said in sudden comprehension. “So it’s not that the people in Salvation are trying to lie. They just include the part of the stories that they care about.”
“Exactly. Since they’re devout people, they interpreted the terrible things that happened in the world as punishment from God for their sins. I don’t think we’ll find that bias here.”
Now I understood. Thoughtful, I ate my breakfast in silence, considering all we might learn in Soldier’s Pond.
First, though, we had wounded to tend.
Verdict
The rest of the day, I helped Tegan.
Not only did the bandages need to be changed, cuts and burns had to be tended. There were broken bones too and once we’d dealt with the long process of treating them, they also needed food and broth. I’d never seen myself as a caregiver, but since Tegan needed my hands, I was willing. I didn’t know as much as she did but I followed directions well enough.
“No, hold that with your left hand,” she said briskly. “Don’t move.”
She was so good with the injured, offering endless patience and kindness. I had less of her natural aptitude, but since I was only her assistant, not the doctor, my skill didn’t matter as much.
By nightfall, I was as exhausted as I had been after the battle outside the Salvation gates.
“How many of them do you think will live?” I asked Tegan.
The room was starting to reek of putrid wounds, masked lightly by antiseptic and healing salve. In some cases, her proficiency and desire to help wouldn’t be enough. I felt sorry for those poor souls because a slow death was the worst kind.
She puffed out a weary sigh. “Half, I hope.”
That was even fewer than I expected. “It must be hard.”
“I wish Papa Doc was here,” she whispered. “He could probably save more.”
“You’re doing your best.”
“It’s not enough,” she said, stalking off.
I didn’t take it personally. Tegan wanted to save everyone but life didn’t work that way, no matter how much I wished otherwise.