Gladers choice | TMR | Thomas | Minho

Chapter Nine

The morning sun cast warm, golden stripes through the slats of the homestead, a stark contrast to the previous day's rain that had confined the Gladers indoors. Lyra's ankle throbbed dully, a reminder of her recent fall during a run gone awry. She shifted cautiously, testing its flexibility and relieved to find the swelling had subsided overnight.

Around her, half of the Gladers had already departed for the day, leaving a quiet that was punctuated only by the occasional murmur or the rustling of packing supplies. Newt's absence was palpable; his authoritative presence sorely missed, especially with Minho off navigating the maze as the lead runner.

As she shifted, a pang of disappointment struck her when she noticed Minho's absence. She knew the Runner schedules were rough, but she had hoped he might be there. Her ankle throbbed dully, a reminder of her recent fall, but it was healing faster than expected. She missed running, despite the horrors she'd faced with the Grievers.

Beside her, Thomas and Chuck slept on, their breathing steady and oblivious to the tension that had settled among the remaining Gladers. Lyra sighed inwardly, grappling with conflicting emotions. Her distrust of Thomas stemmed from a memory that still haunted her—a glimpse of him during a Griever attack almost a year ago. She couldn't shake the suspicion that his arrival heralded something unsettling, something that threatened the fragile peace they had carved out in the Glade.

As Thomas stirred awake, Lyra's gaze sharpened, her expression guarded. "Sorry," she muttered tersely, her apology laced with remnants of the hostility she felt towards him.

Thomas blinked sleepily, his voice hoarse with sleep as he murmured, "It's okay," before pushing himself to a sitting position.

Chuck followed suit, stretching with a wide yawn. His eyes flicked between Lyra and Thomas, sensing the tension that hung in the air but not fully comprehending its depth. "Morning," he greeted cheerfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

Lyra managed a small smile for Chuck's benefit. "Morning," she replied, her tone warmer towards him but cool towards Thomas.

Thomas noticed her discomfort as she tested her ankle, and as he rose to his feet fully, he instinctively moved closer. "Here," he offered quietly, extending his hand towards her.

Lyra hesitated for a moment, weighing her pride against the practicality of accepting his help. Ultimately, she sighed and placed her hand in his. The moment their hands touched, an electrifying sensation shot up her arm, startling her. It was as if a current of energy had surged through her, awakening nerves she hadn't realized were dormant. Her breath hitched involuntarily, and she glanced up at him quickly, but his expression remained earnest and steady.

She couldn't understand it. Why did his touch affect her so strongly? She wanted to pull away, to maintain the wall she'd built between them, but his touch was warm, grounding her in a way she hadn't anticipated.

"Thanks," she muttered, averting her eyes as she rose to her feet with his assistance. Confusion swirled within her, battling against her resolve to keep her distance. Why was he being so kind? Why did his touch make her feel something she couldn't name, let alone understand?

Chuck, ever oblivious to the undercurrents between them, clapped his hands together. "Alright, breakfast time!" he announced brightly, setting off towards the communal dining area.

Thomas nodded in agreement, subtly adjusting his pace to match Lyra's as they followed Chuck. The Glade bustled with activity around them, but Lyra's thoughts were focused inward. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not when the fragile balance of trust within the Glade hung in the balance.

As they walked, Lyra took in the surroundings, trying to find solace in the familiar sights of the Glade. The sun had dried the ground, leaving only faint traces of the rain that had caused such disruption the day before. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the fresh scent of wet earth lingered in the air. She watched as a group of builders repaired a section of the wall, their coordinated movements a testament to the efficiency and resilience of the Gladers.