The glade(TMR) · Y/n story by @angel4

The fire cracked and spat orange sparks into the bruised purple sky, its light painting the Glade in flickering shades of gold and shadow. The Box had come up hours ago, and now the night belonged to the Gladers—voices low, laughter easy, the sharp smell of woodsmoke and something sweet drifting on the breeze.

Minho

not looking up You think the maze changed today or you just not paying attention?

Alby sat on your other side, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hadn't laughed once since the Greenie came up. His eyes kept drifting toward the ivy-covered walls of the Maze, dark and restless.

Alby

quietly It's always changing. That's the problem.

Across the fire, Newt was sprawled against a log with the new Greenie—Thomas, all mousy hair and wide eyes, still looking like he'd landed on another planet. Which, in a way, he had.

Thomas

quietly, almost to himself Who's that?

Newt followed his gaze, then hid a grin behind his cup.

Newt

dramatic sigh That's Hadassah. The only girl in the Glade.

Thomas

She's—

Newt

cutting him off, patting his back Beautiful? I know. Careful, Greenie. She's got a throwing knife and zero patience.

Thomas didn't look away. The firelight caught his face, curiosity plain as day.