by Norah Wilson
Though the day would be warm, right now with the early-morning breeze, gooseflesh prickled when they left the pond. Maree picked up Kallem’s shirt, the one he’d given her to cover herself with when her dress had been ripped. She handed it to Zophia to dry herself with, then quickly used it to dry her own limbs as her sister dressed. She’d lay it out on the bushes, in the gentle breeze and warm sunshine. It would dry soon enough. In the meantime, her torn dress...
...was mended?
The stitching was rough, utilitarian, as a soldier’s stitching would be. In fact, the long needle and coarse black thread lay on the ground still beside it, as if the chore had just been finished. Kallem must have done this while they’d been playing in the water. While they’d not been paying attention. And he had to have made a fast retreat from the spot when they’d stepped out of the water. He’d granted them privacy, after all.
Maree pulled the dress on.
“You can come out now, Kallem,” Zophia called. “We’re dressed.”
A moment later, he walked out of the cover of trees. Maree touched a hand to the mended bodice of her dress, but said nothing. Nor did Kallem say a word. If he expected a thank you for this—for any of this—he would be sorely disappointed. And it occurred to her, not for the first time, to wonder what payment the soldier expected.
Kallem’s frustrated stare broke from hers. He bent to the rucksack, then sat on the ground as he distributed ‘breakfast’. Spring water would be the drink of choice as long as they had access to it—either here at the source or from their canteens. Maree suspected precious little liquid energy remained in Kallem’s store of rations. They were heavier than the packets of food. He handed them each a protein bar, and took two for himself. That made sense; he had more mass to sustain. Also, they’d be resting here this morning while he went to hunt. At least that was the plan. But Maree was thinking of another plan. She looked down at the needle and thread. She chewed on the dry and tasteless food, sorting it out in her mind.
Kallem stood as he finished his breakfast. “I’ll be no more than an hour. I saw some rabbit pellets back along the way we came. With any luck, we'll have meat soon.”
Rabbits. Maree hadn’t seen evidence of them herself as they’d trekked to this located, but then again, she wasn’t trained to. Kallem was. Though all species had taken a beating from the environment’s degradation, it made sense that rabbits would rebound, given their exceptional reproductive capabilities.
“How?” Maree asked, no elaboration of her question necessary. She knew Kallem carried a gun, but the sound of a shot would attract attention.
“I set out snares earlier,” he said. “As we moved along this way at dawn. Rabbits are crepuscular. With any luck we’ll have one or two already.”
“But I didn’t see you—”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
He’d only been a minute or two out of their sight, to relieve himself or to allow the women to do the same. It must have been then that he’d set the snares.
“Leave the knife, Kallem.”
Zophia’s words surprised Maree. Though of course, her sister was right. They’d need it for protection. And maybe something more. “Yes,” Maree said. “Leave the knife.”
He did not move.
“We may need to defend ourselves,” Zophia said. “Beyond what you’ve taught us.”
Maree watched his stone-still face, then caught his moment of decision. This wasn’t just about protection. Not even close.
Kallem swung the bag around. He unzipped a side pocket, pulled out the knife and handed it to Maree. The butt of it felt warm in her hand. Welcome as her trembling fingers slid around it again. And memory slid back in too. Of how she’d used this very blade to wound the Prophet, and how she still wished she’d sunk the steel deep into his fucking heart.
“I’ll be back soon. Hide in that copse of trees up there.” He gestured to a stand of fat fir trees. “But keep the pond in sight—at least a glimpse of it. That way, you won’t get lost, and you’ll see me when I return.”
“And we’ll be able to see if others venture near without being seen ourselves,” Zophia said.
“Exactly. In the meantime, we don’t need to leave obvious proof of our visit lying around.” He retrieved his still-damp shirt from the bush where Maree had spread it and drew it on.
Reprobates. She knew that was what he was thinking. That’s what all of them were thinking. Or soldiers.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said.
Maree watched his retreat, then she and Zophia moved into cover, far enough away from the pond, yet still able to see it. The ground was damp and cool under the thick and tangled growth. She would have preferred the sun-warmed ground near the water’s edge, but Kallem was right. They had to hide. And they should rest. However Maree had no intention of resting.
From her pocket, Maree pulled out the needle and spool of thread Kallem had used earlier to mend her dress. When she’d picked up her garment from the ground, Maree had carefully scooped these up too.
“Do we have to do this?” Zophia asked, clearly knowing where Maree was headed.
“Yes,” Maree said. “We’ll be safer. The more we look like men, the less danger we’ll be in.” Of course, that would be a harder job for Maree than for her slighter sister. But even with her more ample curves, surely at a distance, the Reprobates would see three men traveling together, not one man and two women.
Sighing, Zophia stripped off her skirt.
With the course thread and large needle, Maree set to work.
Sewing was a skill the women were allowed to develop in the compounds. Considered domestic enough by the Prophet. Harmless enough. But too, in his cunning, the Prophet knew that the acquisition of this domestic skill was a cruel warning to the women of the Holy New Order. When they were no longer of use to The Order, they would be cast out the gates. If they were lucky—if they survived the soldiers’ hag hunt that first night—they would eventually sew quilts for the young females in exchange for those scraps of food.
With skilled hands, Maree turned the skirt inside out, folded it and measured it with a practiced eye. Then, with Zophia’s help, she made the necessary cuts with the knife. Finally, she began to sew. Her fingers moved quickly, and the work was soothing. Around them, unseen birds sang and insects began to buzz. It was almost peaceful. When she was finished, Maree realized that Zophia had dozed off. She gave her a poke.
Zophia came awake quickly. Taking the makeshift pants Maree handed her, she pulled them on, then rolled her eyes. “A little big, aren’t they?”
“I had to let the waist out so you could draw them on and off over your hips. Use the drawstring to tighten them.”
Zophia found the sturdy tie Maree had fashioned from the extra material and cinched the waist tighter.
“How do I look?” She pirouetted daintily, making Maree laugh.
“Perfect. Now rest some more while I make my trousers.”
“After I’ve helped you make the cuts.”
Maree removed her dress and reached for the knife. First, with Zophia holding the bodice and Maree holding the skirt, she cut the skirt away. When they’d cut the skirt to Maree’s satisfaction, Zophia curled up with the quilt and dozed off again. Suppressing a yawn, Maree set to work once more. It was a quick job, and rougher than the one she’d done for her sister, but as she drew the pants on, she decided it was effective enough. Yes. At a distance, they could pass for men. Except for their hair….
“Oh no, you don’t!” Zophia sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Pants, fine. But you’re not cutting my hair.”
Zophia loved her long hair, and in truth, it probably pained Maree just as much as it did Zophia to have to cut those beautiful locks.
“But we have to,” Maree pleaded. “We can grow it back again when we’re safe.”
“We can just tuck it up. Or better still, braid it and pin it up. You do mine, then I’ll do yours.”
“No, Zophia. It won’t
be—”
“Are you going to force this? Force me? Is that the price I pay? Is this what we’re seeking out here, Maree?”
Maree’s heart sank with Zophia’s words. How could she force her will on her sister, after the life she’d led herself? After having been forced continually to submit to the will of another?
She couldn’t.
She dropped the knife, moved to where her sister sat on the ground and began separating her red hair into strands. “God, you’re stubborn, Zophia.”
“Family trait.”
Maree worked steadily, twisting, braiding and pinning up her sister’s hair. They each had little bundles of hair pins in their dresses, and Maree used both to finish Zophia’s hair. She braided tightly, and though the job was nothing fancy, at a distance it would pass. Especially with the pants, she’d look like a young male at first glance.
“There are no pins left for you,” Zophia said. She raised a hand, about to pull some pins from her own hair.
Maree stopped her. “No need.”
She picked up her knife with a steady hand and grasped a clump of her own hair with the other. Before she could make the first cut, there was a loud snap in the woods.
Someone was coming!
Someone was close.
Chapter 9
KALLEM PULLED the dead rabbit from the snare, carefully coiling the twine and stowing it in a pocket of his cargo pants.
As dawn had approached and he’d started scouting for a campsite, he’d realized they were traveling through perfect rabbit habitat. So he’d set out five rudimentary snares along the way, knowing he’d be able to come back and check them. Three of them had paid off. They would eat well today. His rations, which were intended for one, were running low.
As he lashed the third carcass to the first two and fixed them to his belt, he fought the desire to head straight back to camp. The women were as safely stowed as he could make them, and their safety would be better served by him scouting further afield than by going back.
Forcing his feet to move, he started off in a south-westerly direction. Best to make sure no soldiers were on their trail before he circled all the way around to scout forward.
As he moved all but silently through the forest, his mind flashed back to his cold dip in the pond. Not that bathing in icy water was anything new. But feeling female eyes on him as he did certainly was. Despite the temperature of the water, he’d gone instantly hard. It had taken some time—and a hell of a lot of concentration—before he could safely turn and exit the pool without betraying himself.
Afterward, it had taken every bit of discipline at his disposal to keep him from likewise spying on the women as they bathed. He would have had no compunction had it been just Maree, but not with the child present. So he’d picked up Maree’s dress instead and mended it with needle and thread from his kit while the girls washed each other’s hair with the bar of soap he’d given them, then fell to playing in the water. The quiet sounds of their voices and the splashing of water were a torment, but one he savoured somehow.
And Maree’s reaction when she saw he’d mended the bodice the Reprobate had torn…. She hadn’t thanked him, as he’d expected. Instead, her eyes had raked him scathingly.
Unless…had his well-intentioned action only served to sharpen the memory of her near rape by the Reprobate? Had he handed her fresh humiliation at the reminder of her helplessness?
His throat ached with strange emotion at the thought. What a complicated creature she was!
And beautiful. God, she was beautiful. No wonder the Prophet had chosen her. Though it wasn’t her beauty that kept him calling her back to his bed again and again. The Prophet could have his pick of all the women, some considerably younger and more lusciously endowed. Occasionally he did avail himself of those younger fruits. But Maree was the only constant, and Kallem knew why. It was her spirit. Her fight.
And the Prophet’s determination to crush it out of her.
Gritting his teeth, Kallem consulted his compass and adjusted his direction.
Fifteen minutes later, as he was coming around to the southeasterly point on his circuit, he froze. Voices. Male voices.
Soldiers or Reprobates? Or heavily armed traders, perhaps. There was a certain amount of commerce between settlements, mainly swapping females of breeding potential. Genetic diversity had to be maintained. If only the breeders and offspring of breeders of one community bred amongst themselves, the subsequent issue became more feeble instead of stronger.
Kallem’s hand automatically checked the pistol at his belt, drawing reassurance from the cold metal. But it was his knife he drew as he crept closer. The pistol he would use only if he had to. No point alerting every Reprobate within earshot to his presence unless he needed to.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to.
They hadn’t posted sentries. They didn’t have to; they were Reprobates. They were without doubt the most frightening animals in their world. Soldiers ignored them unless threatened, and lone wolf Reprobates cut a wide berth around a pack like this. True, there were confrontations between packs occasionally, but not often. Territories had been carved out long ago and boundaries were respected, for the most part.
Kallem dropped to his belly and crept closer. The smell of cooking meat reached his nostrils, making his stomach rumble. Good. It would take the men a while to eat their meal and break camp, if indeed they planned to. Time enough to get back to the women and put some distance between them.
The women would be disappointed, he knew, that they had to move out so quickly. They’d traveled most of the night, as was Maree’s preference, and they needed rest. Yet he knew they wouldn’t complain when he pushed them to march again. Knew they would gather up their things and follow him. They would know as well as he that they couldn’t tarry here. Not this close to a Reprobate encampment.
Kallem’s passage back through the forest was faster this time, though he did complete the sweeping arc to satisfy himself that no worse threats lurked ahead. By the time he made it back to the cluster of firs in the midst of which he’d sequestered the girls, the day’s heat had begun to make itself felt in the sweat that trickled down his back and made his shirt stick to him.
As he made his way through the dense thicket, he heard nothing. For a panicked moment, he thought perhaps they’d left, forging on alone. He wouldn’t put it past Maree. She would get herself killed without him. Her sister too. The headstrong foo—
The prick of a blade at his back cut his thought short.
“Move and this blade goes into your spine.”
Kallem smiled at the sound of Maree’s voice and put up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Well done.”
The blade was withdrawn and she stepped back. He turned to see her stow the knife in the waistband of her pants.
Wait a minute—pants? Where had she gotten them? They weren’t his. Wrong color. Besides, his rucksack was on his back.
He lifted an eyebrow. “What’s this? Did you assail a passing Reprobate and steal his pants?”
“Of course not.” She tilted her chin. “I made them from the skirt of my dress.”
Ah, yes. He could see it now. Could see also a glimpse of bare flesh between her shirt—or what used to be the bodice of her dress, he realized—and the new pants. “You’re handy with a needle.”
Zophia stepped out from behind her sister and Kallem’s eyes widened. She too now wore trousers, and Maree had passed along to her the shirt he’d leant her. It hung loosely about her small frame, swamping her. But the real transformation was her hair. It was gone!
Zophia laughed at his expression and took off the wide band she’d tied around her head. Beneath it, her hair had been plaited and pinned close to her head in a flame-colored circlet.
“Good thought,” he said. “Put some dirt on your face and you could pass for a malnourished boy. Though I wouldn’t count on it putting off the Reprobates altogether. You make far too pretty a boy.”
Zophia’s e
yes widened. “They would molest a boy?”
Maree made an exasperated sound. “Damn you, Kallem! Why’d you have to tell her that? She was just beginning to feel some measure of—”
“Safety?” He met her angry eyes. “That’s a luxury she can’t afford out here. Some of those Reprobates prefer boys. That’s what landed a good number of them outside the gates of civilization.” At her expression, he softened. “Still, it’s much safer to travel as males than as females. It’s a good idea, really. I should have thought of it myself.” His eyes fastened on her own hair, a glorious mane of burnished chestnut. “You should do the same with your hair so you can tuck it up under a cap.”
“I had a different plan in mind for mine.”
She took the blade in hand again and he suddenly knew what she intended.
“No, don’t!”
She grasped a handful of hair and began sawing through it with the blade. He watched in horror as she dropped the hank of hair to the ground.
“Maree!” Zophia’s voice trembled with shock.
“Hush, Zophia.”
Her beautiful hair! Kallem suppressed a moan. Now he’d never sink his hands into all that silken glory. Never gather fistfuls of it to hold her still while he ravished her mouth. Never feel the thrill of it trailing across his chest, and lower… The pang of loss he felt stunned him.
His stomach clenched as he watched her grasp another piece and hack through it. This time, she could not suppress the grimace as the sawing motion tugged at her roots.
He held out his hand. “Give me the knife.”
“Too late! There’s no going back now.” Despite the tears of pain in her eyes, her smile was victorious.
“I know. But if you hold the hair, I can saw through it for you without yanking half of it out by the roots.”
She blinked, surprised by his offer. “You would do that for me?”
“As you pointed out, there’s no other choice now. Give me the blade. Quickly. We need to get moving again.”
She blanched, but passed the knife to him. “Soldiers?”