They treated their young differently in Salvation as well. When the first Huntress changed everything, she wanted an acknowledgment of her achievement … and so the distinction remained, unlike the Builders and Breeders who had always been both genders. Most of our titles there were neutral with the exception of Huntress, and we retained that one because in the early days-before we realized females could fight as fiercely-only male Hunters protected the enclave. Now I lived in Salvation, where the buildings were sound, white-washed, and clean, where men had their work and women did different tasks. It had been a noisy place, full of echoes, soft moans, and whimpers in the night. Once, I’d walked on broken stones and hard cement, deep in the belly of the earth. Each blade of grass felt heavenly beneath my feet. It was a warm night, bright moon patterning the ground with silver. Following him, I leapt to the branch of the tree and then swung down into the quiet yard. If I didn’t look forward to our nighttime matches so much, I’d latch it, but only those fights made me feel like a Huntress these days. Stalker slid out the open window, the same one he’d climbed in a few moments before. Respecting the teacher’s sensibilities, I did wear long-sleeve blouses to school to hide my Huntress status. They could pry the latter from my cold, dead hands. Savages raised me in a cave, to hear them tell it, but as I’d informed Momma Oaks, I earned my scars and blades. Most of those came from women who dropped by the Oakses’ house to whisper their disapproval of my heathen ways.

With minimal fuss, I dressed in Huntress attire and strapped on my weapons, which I hadn’t permitted anyone to take, despite complaints of how “inappropriate” it was for me to carry them. So we trained in secret these days, no daylight matches.

It hadn’t taken me long to figure that I wasn’t a normal girl-at least by Salvation standards. Most seemed designed to discourage unauthorized breeding, and they didn’t like it when I went off to spar with Stalker. Belonging to no one, we had to make sure we didn’t wear out our welcome or anger the townsfolk by flouting their rules. He wasn’t just checking my reflexes in spite of our precarious situation.

“What are you doing here?” It was the middle of the night, but he loved his little tests. “Good work, dove.” Stalker’s grin flashed in the moonlight. People took reputations seriously, and mine was already bruised, due to my insistence on being myself. Momma Oaks would skin us both if she caught him in my room. While Stalker recovered, I rolled to my feet and scowled. Before my attacker realized I was awake, I knocked the knife away and tumbled him over my head. Though I’d grown accustomed to sleeping safely since our arrival in Salvation two months ago, I’d lost none of my edge. I woke to the cold kiss of steel on my throat.

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