Horde (Razorland #3)(2)

“How’s that possible?” Tegan demanded, looking offended.

“They’re animals,” Stalker answered. “They have keen senses like a wolf too, and they notice anything that doesn’t match the Freak stench.”

“That’s how I was able to—” I cut myself off before I said rescue Fade, knowing it would be hard for him to hear.

Too soon. Deep down, I wanted him to appreciate what I’d done, what I’d risked for him, because there weren’t any limits on how far I’d go for my boy. But his black eyes flashed; he knew even if I didn’t speak the words out loud. With a sinking heart, I watched him turn away to lay his bedroll with exaggerated care.

“Able to what?” Tegan asked.

Stalker replied for me with unexpected tact. “Sneak past some Freaks. Deuce rubbed herself with their parts—blood and worse stuff—until she reeked. They didn’t notice her, though most of them were sleeping.”

Some was a massive understatement. That was our first sight of the horde, sufficient to slay everyone in Salvation, and then sweep onward to pillage any surviving settlements. The memory swept over me, Freaks awful and staggering in their numbers, and armed with fire they’d stolen from our outpost. I battened down my alarm, knowing I wouldn’t do the townsfolk any good if I panicked.

“That’s ingenious,” Tegan decided. “And disgusting.” She cocked her head, thoughtful. “Does that mean they don’t see particularly well?”

“I have no idea.” To the best of my knowledge, nobody had ever studied the Freaks. Anyone who got near one chose to dispatch it instead, for obvious reasons.

“I’d like to find out,” she murmured.

While I wished Tegan luck in her quest for knowledge, I preferred killing them. “It was dark … and like he said, most were asleep. I wouldn’t count on them having impaired vision.”

Stalker sat down opposite me, his icy gaze layered. The kiss he’d given me the night before felt like a weight, one I needed to displace before I could be worthy of Fade, who would hate it even more when I told him that I’d kissed Stalker freely in order to get him to promise to run back to Salvation to warn them if Fade and I didn’t make it back.

At this point, however, we had more important things to worry about, so I set those matters aside, as Stalker said, “I’ll take first watch.”

“Second,” I murmured.

The others claimed third and fourth respectively, which would grant us all a decent amount of sleep. Fade handed his timepiece to Stalker to make it easier to tell when the two hours were up; once Fade and Tegan would’ve argued at Stalker guarding the encampment alone, but both of them merely rolled up in their blankets as the sun rose higher. I was tired, so I dropped off immediately, and I dreamed of Salvation burning while Momma Oaks wept, and Silk, the lead Huntress down below, shouted at me that I was a Breeder, not a Huntress. Jolting awake, I rolled out of my blankets onto the sun-warmed grass and lay squinting up at the blue sky threaded with white wisps. Clouds, they were called. Supposedly, this was where rain came from.

Not realizing anyone else was awake, I wondered aloud, “Of all the people in the enclave, why couldn’t I keep Thimble in my head? Or Stone?”

My friends from the enclave might not have kept me from making the long walk, but I had fond memories of them. Thimble used to make us things even before she was officially a Builder, while Stone protected us both. I wished I could dream about them instead of Silk, who had put fear into everyone under her command.

“I don’t know,” Stalker answered. “But I think about this one cub all the time. He followed me everywhere. But he didn’t have the heart to take power. He died young.”

“What was his name?”

“Rule,” he said. “Because he always followed them.”

It sounded like the Wolves’ naming traditions had been similar to ours, though they focused on a personal trait, not a naming gift. Quietly, I said as much, and Stalker nodded.

“The leader christened our cubs. At eight winters, we earned our names.”

“How?” It was odd to think they had traditions other than capturing trespassers and stealing girls from other gangs, but by the way his face tightened, he didn’t want to talk about it, so I added, “Never mind. You should get some rest.”

“Thanks. It was all quiet.” He handed me Fade’s watch as he rolled into his blankets.

I pushed into a cross-legged position and served as sentry while the others slept. As I had done down below, I entertained myself with studying Fade, but the activity had more meaning now that I’d stroked his hair and kissed his mouth. The ache those memories roused in me were fierce as a rainstorm, thunder booming in my heart. With sheer discipline I looked away from the curled crescents of his lashes and the quiet curve of his lips. Those hours passed with only the quiet chatter of birds and the scramble of small creatures in the undergrowth. We had chosen a shaded spot, beneath a stand of trees, where the grass was soft and the light filtered through the foliage overhead to dappled green.

I was sleepy again by the time I woke Fade, but I was still alert enough not to do it by shaking him. Instead, I knelt beside him and whispered, “Your watch.”

He roused instantly, one hand on his knife. “Anything?”


“No trouble so far.”