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Wolf of the Wasteland
Wolf of the Wasteland - 7 - Mechanized

Wolf of the Wasteland - 7 - Mechanized

Wolf stood at the top of the sand dune overlooking the dilapidated factory.

She could just barely see the travelers from her sandy knoll.

One of them began to light a bonfire before the sun set while the other three scavenged the dead bodies of the Flesh-eaters for weapons, loot and wearable clothes.

Wolf had never sat with company beside a fire before.

She watched from a far curiously, she knew the risks of traveling with groups.

Wolf looked over at her sword and sheath decoy and placed her sweaty palm against the hilt of the sword.

She grasped the hilt firmly and pulled back.

The sword drew from out of the sand, revealing a thin, single-edged blade of iron.

She tied the metal scabbard to her belt at her waist and secured her sword in it.

Kneeling down on the mound of sand, Wolf licked her chapped lips and whistled a tune.

The raven soaring above descended towards her, resting on her extended arm. It cawed, stretching its wings.

As the tune finished, the sand began shifting beneath her. It poured like water rushing down hill around her feet.

A large metal floor emerged from under the shifting sands, and continued to rise like a sub-marine in a sea of sand.

An enormous mechanical walker lifted from out of the sand, revealing a walking tank the size of a small two-story building with legs.

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The shifting sand below her feet poured off of the giant contraption, lifting her up on top of the enormous bi-pedal machine.

The machine's outer metal shell was round, and crab-like in appearance, and had a large hatch built in on the roof.

The tank stood up out of the sand with both arched legs extended. 

Wolf stood on top, high above the desert below. The winds of the wasteland swept her ashen blonde hair back and tickled her sweaty skin. She could see far down the horizon from up high.

Two long-reaching mechanical arms stretched out from the side of the machine, dusting the remaining sand off the outer shell. Wolf whistled, commanding her tank to move forward. The machine stepped forward one foot at a time until it reached a steady pace following the tread marks away from the the travelers and old factory.

Wolf looked at the group one last time. The four of them sat together at the bright bonfire sharing water and meat.

Wolf turned her eyes to the tread marks down in the sand and then glanced back at the bonfire once more before exiting over the horizon in pursuit of her prey, the last remaining Flesh-eater.

"Let the hunt begin."