Hope

David looked down on the small valley from his hillside camp, down at the sprawling mass of bodies. Small fires flickered here and there, spluttering points of light dully illuminating the couple of thousand refugees, or rebels, or whatever they were. Most of the time, they were both. Those who had been prepared or were lucky scavengers rested in tents, while the rest slept on pallets or the hard dirt. Little grew in this harsh soil but a few brambles, stubbornly refusing to die. These people fit this place well, David thought. Repeatedly refusing to give in to punishment, abuse and starvation. Perhaps in future the brambles would be able to reclaim this arid ditch, soften the soil for trees and flowers to come.
   These people worked as one, sharing resources as best they could and marching together to Emerate, the last free city, which, for all anyone knew, was nothing more than a myth. Surely, they said, if Emerate had ever existed, then the Corporation would have found it by now. Found it and razed it to the ground. But the rebels pushed on, clinging to what little hope they had. Hope was all they had left. 
   David knew he should be getting some rest so he could think clearly tomorrow and lead the people--his people--further east.There was a faint glow on the horizon, and though it could be merely a trick of the light--Cayn knows how often that had happened--something about it made him almost certain it was what they were looking for. 
   He watched his followers for a minute longer, and then ducked into his tent and lay down to sleep.