Outpost Read Online Free Page A

how much distance came thereafter.
    I knew all the rules in the enclave. Nothing here made sense. Everything I thought was right, people told me I shouldn’t even consider. Day after day, they told me I was wrong—that I couldn’t be me and still be a proper girl. I studied Tegan and Fade, considered joining them for a moment, but Fade didn’t meet my eyes and while Tegan waved, it didn’t look like an invitation.
    Heart heavy, I went over to where Stalker sat, eating alone. With a faint sigh, I flung myself down. Girls weren’t supposed to sit like I did, sprawling on the grass. Momma Oaks would complain about the stains on my skirt, but I didn’t care; I loathed these feminine trappings. I wanted my old clothes back, designed for freedom of movement, and tailored so I could strap my knives within easy reach. I didn’t understand why only men fought in Salvation when women could be just as strong, just as fierce about protecting their homes. It was a ridiculous waste of resources, and after growing up down below, where we made use of everything—sometimes four times over—that attitude struck me as completely nonsensical.
    I peered at Stalker’s lunch. The blacksmith didn’t have a wife, which meant he always had simple fare, bread and meat, mostly, sometimes a crock of beans. He watched in envy when I opened my bag and found cold meat, sliced carrot, and a sweet round cake. It was a good meal; nobody could say Momma Oaks did wrong by her stubborn, unwomanly foster daughter.
    “Want some?” I broke the pastry in neat halves without waiting for his answer.
    It was spring, and the school year was almost over—just a month left. I’d heard they tended fields during the summer, growing food to last the winter. Living down below, I’d never imagined food that sprang up from the ground instead of being hunted or found, but it appeared some of the stories Fade’s sire had told him were true. The mushrooms grew, but it wasn’t the same thing; that felt less magical.
    For that season, they needed Hunters to watch over the plants and those who tended them. It was the only time they permitted patrols, a decision I questioned. With me in charge, things would run differently, and we’d sweep the area, killing enough Freaks to make them wary. I couldn’t survive three months inside these walls with nothing to do but pull a needle through cloth.
    “Thought any more about what I said last night?” he asked.
    “About leaving? Not until we know where we’re going. It makes no sense to run off without a plan.”
    It wasn’t just the need for caution, not that I’d admit it to Stalker. In truth, I couldn’t leave Tegan and Fade, even if they were settling in better. There was a bond between the four of us, and we shouldn’t split up, even if Salvation seemed to be doing its best to sever that connection altogether.
    “Agreed.”
    “You still dealing well enough with Mr. Smith?”
    It was a common name, so I understood, but it also referred to the man’s trade. His father before him had worked the same forge, making metal goods for the town. Salvation had been here, in its current form, for fifty years—or so they claimed. Mrs. James reported this was a historic site, dating back to the Aroostook War. I had no idea what that was, but it sounded like a made-up thing. I tended not to listen when she rambled about Salvation’s history. If I decided to stay, then I’d soak it in.
    “He doesn’t talk much.” Stalker paused to eat the pastry, and then went on, “He’s teaching me to turn scrap metal into knife blades.”
    “Sounds like it could be useful.”
    “It’s the only part of this town that I can stand. Well, work … and you.” The trapped feeling reflected in his wintry eyes.
    “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” I muttered.
    It made me remember an awkward conversation I’d had with Momma Oaks, who disapproved of how I’d traveled with Stalker and Fade. That first night, she’d trod from