A MAZE RUNNER TRILOGY
"And one day someone walks into your life,
a total stranger, and they become so important
to you. And while you're only known them such a short time,
you feel you're loved them for a lifetime."
#1 Ranking for #TheMazeRunner
#1...
❝ sometimes, it's not about remembering every detail. ❞
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ılı.lıllıılı.ıllı ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; ( TROUBLE cage the elephants ) & ( I AM NOT WHO I WAS chance pena )
PUSHING THE TENT FLAP ASIDE, Madylin stepped out of the tent, letting the curtains drop back into place. She caught a glimpse of long black hair and blue eyes disappearing towards the side of the tent. Teresa. What was she in a hurry for?
The air outside was cool, a relief to the suffocating atmosphere she'd just escaped. She breathed it in, though it didn't quite ease the tightness in her throat. Though now, she felt much more exposed, and the evening breeze did little to settle the heat rising in her neck.
The camp spread out before her in lines and clusters, tents set up, fire pits ready to be lit, people's belongings out and about. Something about the camp almost gave the feel of the Glade, feeling more homey than what she experienced in WICKED and the place Jorge ran.
She scanned for someone she could stand next to without thinking too hard about what to say.
Aris and Elizabeth were easy to spot. They stood close by the laundry line, heads tipped toward each other as if sharing something too small for anyone else to hear. Beside them, Harriet and Sonya were inspecting a washing board, Sonya gesturing animatedly with her hands. Elizabeth's pale blonde hair caught the fading light, turning it almost gold, and something in Madylin's chest pulled tight. It wasn't envy. Not quite. The way Elizabeth stood next to Aris, like nothing in the world could break them apart, was more like witnessing a language she'd never learned.
Near the edge of camp, where the sand started to curl in the wind, Fitz swung a mallet into the ground, setting stakes. His forearms tensed with each swing, sleeves rolled to the elbows, dirt already smudging his knuckles. Vince stood beside him, arms folded, pointing out where the next one should go. A third figure moved with them, a girl with short, dark brown curls tossed by the wind. She was intensely familiar yet impossible to place. She watched Fitz with the girl for a moment; their choreography was almost as if they knew each other so well that they didn't need words.
Madylin shoved her hands into her pockets and crossed over. She stopped a few feet from Fitz, waiting for him to notice her. He did, barely pausing his swing.
"Welcome back," he said. His tone was lighter than the last time she'd heard it.
"Thanks," she rocked on her heels, searching for the right thing to say. "Mind if I join you?"
