Antidote | A3

c h a p t e r . f o u r t e e n

There was a shuffle of boots on the sand somewhere nearby me. Someone shoving something into a bag. The mechanical beeping of Minho's digital watch.

My eyes fluttered open, my only view the dark green fabric that made up Newt's shirt. My head was still buried against his chest, his arms tight around me, exactly how we'd fallen asleep. The slow rise and fall of his breath tickled my ear.

I lay there for a moment, unable to will my body to move. The last thing I wanted to do was burst this bubble of safety and warmth that I found myself enveloped in.

I was also exhausted. Four hours of sleep hadn't been enough to begin with. After spending half of it pacing and panicking, then to Newt trying to talk me off the ledge... then the kiss... it felt like I'd closed my eyes for five minutes.

"Everyone up?" That was Jorge, somewhere behind me, his voice low and gruff.

"Almost," Minho replied, switching off his beeping watch.

"...Those two?"

There was a pause, and despite having my back to them, I could feel their eyes fall on me.

"...Give 'em ten seconds."

Jorge chuckled at Minho's words, and then I heard their footsteps move off in the other direction.

I found my cheeks weren't even burning with embarrassment this time. After last night, whatever this thing was between us - something had shifted. There was no point trying to kid myself that it hadn't.

Everything in me still protested against moving, but eventually practicality won out. I could hear what was likely every other Glader up on their feet now, and so I rolled onto my back, lightly shaking Newt's arm to wake him as I did so.

He grunted as he blinked his eyes open slowly, shifting to prop himself up on his elbows.

"Morning," he said, squinting through the grogginess. "Or, evening. Whatever."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I feel as under-slept as you do. Sorry. My fault."

He glanced at me sideways, breaking into a sleepy grin. "Worth it."

We began to get to our feet, shaking off our tiredness. We had maybe a day or so until we reached the mountains, a large and plain expanse of desert stretching out between us and there.

Minho was pacing around the group of Gladers, almost like he was rounding them up. When he walked past us, he didn't even stop - just threw us a sidelong glance and smirked.

"Nice of you two to join us."

"Oh, shut it," Newt muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Minho's smirk only widened as he kept walking, reaching the front of the group.

"Come on, shanks," he called out, lifting his hand to beckon everyone after him. "Let's move."

He broke out into a run, the rest of us falling into place behind him. The air had finally had a chance to cool, with now only the moon and stars littering the night sky. No one spoke much as we jogged along.

The mountains ahead grew taller as we went, their jagged peaks disappearing into the dark sky. They loomed, great black shadows against the otherwise flat valley. Ugly and lifeless. I only hoped there would be some kind of path carved out when we got there, something obvious that we could follow to the mysterious safe haven waiting on the other side.

At some point, without anyone really ordering it, the jog slowed to a march. The sun threatened to peek from behind the horizon, washing everything over in a pale blue haze. My legs ached, but otherwise I felt okay. I was just eager to try and close the distance between us and the growing mountains ahead.