i know that
if i die, my
only choice is
still defending
★
you shall go west,
and face the one who has turned,
you shall find what was stolen,
and see it safely returned,
you shall be betrayed by
one who calls you a friend,
and you shall fail to...
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It was a beautiful day on the ocean, the ship cutting through the water with ease. The sun was shining brightly, the sky a clear blue. The waves lapped gently against the side of the ship, creating a soothing rhythm as they moved through the water.
The Gladers were restless, their eyes scanning the ocean and the horizon for any sign of land or trouble. They had been traveling for days now, their minds filled with worry and uncertainty about what lay ahead.
Thomas stood on the deck of the ship, his eyes searching the horizon. He could feel the tension in the air as the Gladers waited anxiously for any sign of land or danger. He knew they were all feeling the weight of the unknown, the feeling of being in the middle of the ocean with no idea of what lay ahead.
He took a deep breath, trying to push away his worries and focus on the task at hand. But he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.
Minho approached Thomas on the deck, a frown on his face. He looked out at the horizon, his expression focused and intense.
"Hey, Thomas," he called out, his voice low. "Can we talk for a minute?"
Thomas nodded, turning to look at Minho. "Sure, what's up?" he asked, his voice equally low.
He could tell by the look on Minho's face that whatever he had to say was serious.
Minho sighed, his eyes still focused on the horizon. "I've been thinking," he said, his voice low and intense. "About what we're heading towards. We have no idea what's waiting for us when we reach land."
He turned to look at Thomas, his expression serious. "I'm worried, man. We're flying blind out here, and I don't like it."
Thomas nodded, his expression serious as well. "I feel the same way," he admitted. "We're heading into the unknown, and we have no idea what we're up against."
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "But we don't have a choice, Minho. We have to keep going. We have to find a place to settle, somewhere safe."
Minho's expression darkened further, his eyes glinting with determination. "I know, I know," he grumbled, his voice low. "But that doesn't make me any less worried. We could be walking into a trap for all we know."
He took a deep breath, trying to control his agitation. "I just have this feeling, man. Something's not right, something's waiting for us. I can feel it."
Thomas studied his friend, seeing the worried look on his face. "Minho, I understand your concern, I really do," he said, his voice calm. "But we can't let fear control us. We need to be smart and cautious, but we can't let it paralyze us."
He paused, taking a deep breath of his own. "We're in a tough spot out here, with no idea what we're heading into. But we've made it this far, we've survived worse. We can handle whatever comes next."
