Free Outpost by Ann Aguirre

to me.
    With a determined air, I focused my attention on Longshot, who was giving a few last-minute instructions. Then the others fell in, two by two. It was a more formal procession than I was accustomed to, but I learned the value of the order soon enough. In contrast, the planters were in utter disarray when we arrived. They were men and women both, chosen for their gifts in tending green and growing things. Unfortunately, most of them were not suited to life in the wilderness, and they found even the prospect of the short journey to the fields trying.
    “We’ve mislaid a whole bag of seed,” a small man whined, twisting his hands together. “It was put back in storage at the last harvest, and now it’s simply gone.”
    With a dark look, Longshot left us while he went to sort the situation. As the man in charge of trade runs, he also took responsibility for the town resources. He looked older than usual this morning and mightily tired, as if herding these growers was more of a burden than he wanted. But he’d been doing this work for better than twenty years, a fact that never ceased astonishing me—and so he did it well, with the expertise born of long experience. In the enclave, elders only lived to be twenty-five or so, withered through some combination of factors I didn’t understand.
    I found the chaos fascinating, as people had seldom argued with the elders down below. Here, there were two women haranguing Longshot about the misplaced provisions, something about rodents and dry goods. I was trying not to laugh when Stalker came up beside me. His presence killed my humor quick because guilt sank its fangs into my gut and wouldn’t shake loose. Possibly, I had given him reason to think I felt strongly about him … in ways that led to kissing. Sneaking out to meet him, where we’d talked about our mutual misery and contemplated the idea of running away together—how I wished I had never done it. I should have stuck to sparring. Those nights felt like promises broken now.
    “These past few nights, your window has been latched,” he said softly. “What am I to take from that, dove?”
    I didn’t fear his anger, but I would regret losing his friendship if it came to that, because he had proven to be fierce, loyal, and steadfast. Nonetheless, it was time to stop avoiding this talk. “I can’t meet you at night anymore.”
    “Why not?”
    Surely he knew, but he wanted to make me say it. “I—”
    “Stop sniffing around.” Fade set his hand on my shoulder. “She’s with me.”
    I stole a glance at the other guards, but they were too busy watching Longshot’s argument to pay attention. Thankfully so. I’d die if I forfeited their respect over such a ridiculous issue, over jealous boys and feelings.
    “That true?” Stalker’s face seemed oddly frozen under the scars, yet beneath the ice, he gave the unmistakable impression of pain.
    I hated this, but I nodded. He squared his shoulders and wheeled away, heading to join the guards. Laughter followed, so he must have made some joke. If there was one thing Stalker was good at, it was adapting to new situations. He had to feel like he’d lost his only ally in this town but he wouldn’t show it.
    “You enjoyed that.”
    “I remember what he did to us,” Fade said. “And what happened to Pearl because he dragged her out, hunting for us. I set it aside because we needed his blades on the journey, but he’ll never be my friend.”
    I saw things in less immutable terms. Raised in the gangs, I’d be a submissive Breeder. Considering where he came from, Stalker wasn’t as bad as he could be—and he showed willingness to learn—but Fade would never share my point of view; and it seemed like a bad idea to provoke him when we’d only just gotten close again. So I let Fade revel in this moment without chiding him.
    To my relief, Longshot tracked down the missing seeds in short order and at last the final wagon was ready to go. The distance wasn’t