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❝ This is a product of who we are. ❞ _______________________________
Aife could feel her legs aching as they stepped through the rubble, their shoes occasionally slipping on the dirty rocks. She was exhausted. They left not long after their conversation back at the old cabin, not wanting to sit in the room and feel useless any longer. Also, they needed to meet Thomas and Brenda. Aife would never admit it, but she was worried.
This boy changed her life completely, he freed her, and now he would be gone without her even being able to thank him. Which she rarely ever did.
She wasn't ever this concerned back in the glade, but she barely had anyone now. The gladers were dropping like flies, and she wanted to save them all. She kept her face in a hardened expression as she held her head up high, her eyes narrowed as she led the group up front, along with Jorge next to her, seeing as he was the one who was taking them to their destination.
Aife had her right hand on her belt, and her left arm was swinging loosely by her side. Occasionally, Jorge would glance over at her, and Aife knew it, she just didn't say anything. He was observing her actions, and how she reacted to certain situations.
She reminded him so much of Brenda, the girl he thought of as a daughter, they were just so similar. The way that she closed her self off, and was able to look after herself, truly impressed him.
She had been through so much at only the age of sixteen, but then again, they all had. She had arrived in the glade at the age of thirteen. She grew up with all of the gladers.
Aife could remember the first day she was sent up so vividly, just like she could remember all of them. Her hair had curtain bangs, having been grown out from the old thick ones she had that were covering her forehead, though, she didn't remember that. And she had more meat on her bones, now, she had more muscles, and she was more slim.
Deep down, Aife wished that she could go back to that day, so she could do it all over again. It was all so simple. Yes, it was torture, but she would do anything to live through it once more.
"We're almost there," Jorge spoke, earning a low groan from Minho, who was panting heavily as he struggled to keep up. No one else responded, they simply kept walking as the sun began rise and beam onto their already glistening foreheads.
They could still smell the lingering stench of the rotted flesh that the cranks had hanging off their bones, it was almost engraved in their minds. Aife wondered if that had happened to their parents. She would have asked, but perhaps she didn't want to know the true answer.
