At length, the trees fell and we lashed them into the harnesses. I took one rope and Hobbs took the other. It was harder than it looked, but the fields were still quiet when we returned. Some men had occupied themselves leveling the top of the hill in preparation for the construction. Others had laid out the supplies that would be needed, including hammer and nails.
It took many trips and half the day before we could start building. Longshot supervised the work, telling men who had little experience in such things how to put the tower together. By nightfall, we had a primitive structure in place, made of raw cut logs, and the first sentry went up to stand watch on the platform.
“Tomorrow,” the outpost commander called, “we’ll start collecting stones. I want fortifications around this encampment in the next two weeks.”
After the evening meal, I sought Longshot. He was savoring a cup of herbal tea, which wafted a sweet, agreeable steam in the night air. Though it was warm during the day, it dropped off cool at night, and I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders as I sat down beside him. Maybe I should have waited for an invitation, I thought belatedly, but he wasn’t the sort of elder who inspired terror. Instead, I felt only a profound and abiding respect. If he ordered me to cut off my foot and feed it to the Freaks, I would obey him, trusting that it would forestall a worse fate.
“Something on your mind?” he asked without looking at me.
“It’s been quiet,” I said instead of what I wanted to talk about.
“You’re not gonna start whinin’, are you?”
“No, it’s smart to establish an outpost here. But I suspect the Freaks are biding their time or maybe rallying greater numbers.”
“You and me both.” He took a sip of his drink. “Now, why don’t you come on out with whatever you need to say?”
“If we’re overrun, these men need to know how to fight better, hand-to-hand.” He nodded, so thus encouraged, I went on, “They wouldn’t welcome lessons from me, but we should be training. You could do it … or Stalker and Fade. They’re both excellent with their blades.”
He allowed: “We do need discipline … and a regimen like that would cut down on the time and energy left for complaints. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
“Thanks.” I pushed to my feet, content that these guards wouldn’t always be so unskilled. That affected me because they were watching my back, and if they couldn’t do it properly, then it increased my chance of an untimely death.
“You and Hobbs have second watch,” he told me.
Disappointment curled through me, because I did wish it could be Fade, but I understood and respected the decision. With Hobbs, there was absolutely no chance either of us would get distracted and neglect our duty. Plus, he was practical and polite, not making a big stink about working with me. Hobbs had my respect.
Mealtime offered no surprises. Everyone was sick of the soup, but it was still edible. As we finished the pot, I realized someone had to come up with an alternative, but since Fade and I had already taken a turn cooking, it wasn’t our problem again for another two weeks or so. By that time, the shoots should be coming up, proving our presence had been worthwhile.
I didn’t mind eating the same thing over and over, though. Down below, we did so on a daily basis and called ourselves lucky to have meat … and on the road, we’d eaten rabbit and fish without much variation. So I had an advantage over those who were used to sheep and venison and the occasional roast bird; I hadn’t been in Salvation long enough to forget that such bounty was a blessing, not a right.
Though I tried, desperately, to sleep, I couldn’t, for fear I would miss my watch. It wasn’t a reasonable worry, but it cast me back in time to the night before my first Huntress patrol with Fade. Tonight, my nerves held the same ragged edge, as if I were on the verge of something exciting and new. Rationally, I understood that wouldn’t be the case. I’d stood watch before. So instead I listened to the guards on duty whispering; they didn’t seem to care if they bothered the others.
Hobbs tapped me on the shoulder when our shift began. I scrambled out of my bedroll with a nod of thanks while the other two guards made their report in low tones. “Nothing moved, not even a jackrabbit.”
“Good news,” Hobbs said. “We’ll take it from here.”
I sat by the fire with Hobbs across from me; we stared in different directions, time passing like it had frozen solid. Hobbs and I didn’t talk because the others were asleep. Most of them snored. Stalker lay nearby, almost as if watching over me, and he kept one hand on his knife. He was right, I suspected; I had more in common with him than Fade, but that was the problem. We were too much alike.
At last our shift ended. Hobbs gave the report—same as the one before, all quiet—and two new guards took over. Afterward, I rolled up in my blanket, lying there while sleep eluded me. I’d just managed to drift off when something roused me. A sound, a smell? I drifted, half wakeful, eyes blurring the dark sky with their slow blinking. Movement nearby reassured me. It should be the guards on watch shifting positions to stay alert, but instead, I had the impression of a dark figure. Shining eyes flickered past, sunken in the ravaged face. It was a visage from nightmares, a Freak seen too close up, only if there had been one in camp, it would surely be dead … or we would be. I must be dreaming.
I sat up cautiously, expecting to find I was suffering from a lingering nightmare, but the camp was still. Too still. The two men who were supposed to stand third watch had fallen asleep. In the distance, running away, I saw that same tattered form, clad in rags. The stink was less than I expected from Freaks, just a trace of rot, but the fact that a Freak had slipped like a shadow into our camp? That wasn’t what concerned me most.
No, big trouble came in the form of the flaming brand the creature carried.
“Wake up!” I shouted, kicking the guard who should have been our sentry.