𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 ➪ Olivia had been having dreams of a mystery boy ever since she arrived in the glade a year ago. She never thought much of it, she figured it was her brains way of convincing itself there was something, or someone out there for her;...
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THE SOUND OF flames were heard through the air as a handful of boys threw their sticks they had just lit on fire into a bigger pile of sticks that were balanced against each other, creating a bonfire. Everyone cheered as they watched the sculpture of sticks be swallowed by the fire, making everyone's face light up. Nights like these were Olivia's favourite. Everyone always had a good time, it was almost impossible to feel anything but good.
Everyone cheered, "Gladers! Gladers! Gladers!" Olivia smiled at them, watching as everyone began to do their own thing. Some people were hitting their 'drums' while someone did cartwheels and flips, some were toasting to each other and some were just simply talking.
"Hey, I'll be right back." Newt told her before walking over to the Greenie, who was sitting against a log, facing away from everyone. "Hell of a first day, Greenie." He chewed on his food. "Here." Newt handed him a bottle full of liquid. "Put some hair on your chest." Newt nodded when he took the bottle out of his grasp.
He took a sip, but immediately spat it out and coughed at the intense taste, making Newt laugh. "Oh my God, What is that?" He handed the bottle back to the blonde. "I don't even know. It's Gally's recipe. It's a trade secret." He looked at the liquid before looking over at Gally, who was tackling another boy. "Yeah, well, he's still an asshole." The Greenie mumbled. "He saved your life today." Newt looked at him. "Trust me, the maze is a dangerous place." He took a sip.
"We're trapped here, aren't we?" The Greenie watched the walls, as if he was waiting for something to happen. "For the moment." Newt nodded. "But, see those guys, there, by the girl?" He turned around and pointed. "Those are the runners. And that guy in the middle there, that's Minho. He's the keeper of the runners. Now, every morning when those doors open, they run the maze, mapping it, memorising it, trying to find a way out."
"How long have they been looking?" The Greenie watched the girl laugh at something Minho had said. "Three years." Newt sighed. "And they haven't found anything?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "It's a lot easier said than done. Listen." Newt pointed at the sky and stayed silent for a few seconds. "Hear that? That's the maze changing. It changes every night." He referred to the distant rumbling. "How is that even possible?" The Greenie said lowly. "You can ask the people who put us in here if you ever meet the bastards." Newt chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.
"Listen, the truth is that the runners are the only ones that really know what's out there. They're the strongest and fastest of us all, and it's a good thing too because if they don't make it back before those doors close, then they're stuck out there for the night. And no one's ever survived a night in the maze." Newt gulped and took another sip of the drink. The Greenie looked over his face.
"What happens to them?" He asked. "Well, we call them Grievers. Of course, no one's ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they're out there." The Greenie could see that Newt was getting tired of talking about the maze, so he changed the topic.
