The summer sun bore down on the highway like an oppressive dictator. Wisps of heat rose from the black to further the cause. People hid inside their air conditioned cars so they could flee from the humidity. Car after car sped away and towards a cooler haven. No one wanted to be in the heat, except for one, a young woman with a battle axe slung over her shoulder.
The heat did not appear to bother the young woman. Even though she was directly in the sun's gaze, she showed no signs of distress. Only a few stands of hair that were plastered to the back of her neck revealed that she was sweating. That morning she had pulled her long blonde hair into two braids with the express intention of avoiding that predicament.
She marched on onwards, eyes fixed straight ahead. Humming an old battle hymn, she propelled herself forwards. With each step she took, her heavy combat boots shook dust up from the ground. The laces to the boots had vanished almost a year ago, so now the tongues flapped with each step.
Not stopping, she quickly switched the axe to her other shoulder. After rolling the tense shoulder to release the pressure, she shoved her hand in the pocket of her denim shorts. Her whole body was tense, determination to keep moving pressed down on each muscle.
Then, up ahead, she saw something. It was an old sign, just a sheet of metal with florescent words telling her to turn around and return to the city. Now, it was covered in layers of graffiti. None of it stood out, just your ordinary amateur propaganda. "The end is nigh" "War is coming", the sort of garbage sprayed across the metal by bored teens late at night. None of it meant anything.
Except one phrase, a phrase put up by people like her. "Faith is Freedom"
Elle was on the right road. (C)
