Sighing, the fifteen year old Andy Rowen stood tall on the ground covered with dead leaves and rotting plant life. A soft breezed brushed it's gentle hands through her light chocolate brown hair as she breathed in a heavy breathe. She narrowed her bright green eyes, watching the horizon as the large orange sun rose from it's slumber. The garbage crunched under her feet as she shifted her wait to her right leg. The crisp morning air felt good on her pale skin as she shoved her hands into her back jean pockets, feeling the cool metal of her throwing knives in them.
She watched as the dark sky slowly turned into a nice light blue, with just a hue of orange. Andy eyed the machete fastened to the belt loop in her jeans, then slowly let her gaze hover behind her, where the others were. Shaking her head, she swiveled her head back to the sun rising over the hills. Andy herself, was standing on a small hill, with a gentle incline. Sighing, Andy gently traced the outline of the machete tip as the wind rustled through her hair. She could hear the moaning zombies at the bottom of the hill, prying to get up the hill. She simply rolled her bright green eyes, seeing they clearly couldn't climb it.