𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 - 𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘛𝘏 𝘊𝘜𝘙𝘌

12 ~ bread crumbs

Lottie

At this point, I was questioning if I was immortal. Somehow, the Cranks didn't kill me last night. I woke up in the same position I passed out in: curled in a ball at the foot of a tree. There was no sign of danger anywhere. Instead of the screeches of Cranks, I heard birds chirping. The sun was shining pleasantly.

Despite my cheerful surroundings, I couldn't help but feel anxious and unbearably alone. Hours must have passed since the attack. My friends were long gone, and I wasn't sure how I was going to find them again. The only thing I had to aid me was my bag, which managed to stay on my back as I tumbled down the steep hill.

I faintly remember my friends calling for me last night, and my inability to respond. That, at least, gave me some comfort. They'd certainly be trying to find me, they wouldn't leave me for dead. I supposed I would just climb back up the hill and try to catch up with them.

If I were to do that, I couldn't waste any time. I sprang to my feet, ignoring the pains that erupted all over my body as I did. I began to climb up the hill, and when I reached the top, I stopped. I didn't have Thomas's compass; I knew we were supposed to go north but I wasn't sure where exactly that was.

Then I noticed something odd about one of the bushes surrounding me. A large branch had fallen off of it, but it seemed very fresh. The leaves were still bright green, and the place it had fallen from looked quite clean and new, as if it was cut.

I looked a few yards ahead, and saw the same thing on a different bush; the same green leaves and the same fresh cut. I was instantly taken back to my time in the Maze with Minho, learning how to keep track of the turns we took. We would slice bits of the vines off the concrete walls and leave them on the floor for us to find later.

I smiled triumphantly. It must have been Minho who cut the branches. He knew that I would see them and follow them. He quite possibly might have saved my life with the idea.

I began to run; if I had any hopes of catching up with my friends, I would have to move fast. This is what I was trained for, however. Those many months running marathons in the Maze had built me up. I felt as if I could run forever, especially with the motivation that I currently had.

I think my body wanted to help me in any way it could, because I hardly felt fatigue, thirst, or hunger. All that mattered was that I kept going. That was all that ever mattered, really.

I think, if Newt was in his right mind, he would be proud of me. God, I missed him. I missed his fluffy hair. I missed his warm eyes. I missed his unconditional love. I knew that those things were probably not a part of him anymore. He was probably really sick by now, and halfway to insanity. But there was still hope for him. If our plan worked, I would have my Newt back. It had to work. I don't know what I'd do if it didn't. I don't know if I could handle losing Newt, especially after all my previous losses.

At this point, all my faith relied on Annabelle being able to help us. I knew she wasn't dead. I think I would feel it if she was. And somehow, I have a feeling that she knows something. She knows how to fix Newt, and part of me thinks that I know, too. Or I used to, before the Maze. I think if I could just remember one memory, one simple memory, I could find the answer to everything.

I tried to think back to other memories that had come back to me, and what caused them. Of course, the Changing. Funnily enough, I found myself wishing that I could be Stung by a Griever, so that I could remember more, but I didn't have the means, the time, or the mentality for that. My other memories would come when I was asleep, usually after something traumatic. Perhaps the next time I slept, I would receive some memories. I could only hope.