A Small Salvation

Making A Warrior's Heart Whole...

She had returned the Peterbilt and took off in a Chevrolet when it was all said and done. The pickup was smaller, an automatic, and lower to the ground, but she liked that coziness, that intimacy, for in the end, she wanted to drive with someone friendly, not the cold murderous machine she had piloted previously.

With her lover avenged and his killer slaughtered, the black Amazonian wolf who had laid waste to those cruel raiders had chosen to roam idly. She had heard tale of a settlement out west, and figured west was the best place to head, and the best place to start anew.

She kept the denim and leather of her lover in a suitcase; her way of keeping his memory along, and set out in the road dressed in her Wasteland best. The brown cowboy hat sheathed her piercing eyes, the leather sandals cooled her paws, and a pair of cutoffs and a plaid red crop-top kept her decent.

The black pickup served her well, and without the burden of revenge, she soon found driving as exhilarating as ever. She loved the wind whipping her long raven locks about, bristling along her slender, black-furred body, the engine roaring as she flattened the throttle. She understood why her man had loved driving so, and now she too carried within her that insatiable itch.

It all came to stop with a slam of the brakes, and a body in the road.