m<a class="postlink" href="https://kayliesreflections.blogspot.com/2014/03/anaya-rowe-project-submission-6-i-think.html">http://kayliesreflections.blogspot.com/ ... think.html</a>m(Anaya's story so far)<br/><br/>Anaya tossed another short branch onto the campfire and wrapped her arms around her knees. The desert night was quiet and despite the trauma of the day past, she felt her mind unwinding just a bit. Even if the world had gone to shit, this was her first taste of freedom in several very long months. She tilted her head back and let the dry, gritty breeze pass over her face and ruffle the soft tendrils of her hair. For just a few moments, she determined not to allow herself to think of the day, the weight of sudden leadership thrust upon her, of the decaying corpses, the stench, the warden, the girls, or anything else. The air may be oppressive out here too, but the air was free.<br/><br/>She heard some of the girls stirring and knew that those who had managed to fall asleep did so restlessly. Their minds would not so easily forget. Anaya had made it a practice to forget and to shut away feelings she did not want to feel. They were not so lucky. Thirteen girls, including herself, and all of them delinquents that most of the world had hidden away in Whitefield Detention Center for Delinquent Youth.  They were fortunate to have broken out of the building with all the staff dead.  She would much rather strike out on her own, but for the moment it was more prudent to remain in a group. They did not yet know what dangers they faced and there was some truth to the phrase, 'Safety in numbers.' Besides, she couldn't carry the water cooler and other gear herself. Her tongue felt thick again and she took a precious sip of water from her bottle and rolled the liquid around her mouth to saturate every crevice. Night-time in the Arizona desert. It was not her first night out here and it would not be her last. She would plan what to do later and fill in the girls at dawn. For right now, she was just going to relax and enjoy the soft hiss of sand as it sifted over the rocky ground and brushed at her skin like ever-moving feathers.