In my Blood

CHAPTER 19 - The Scorch

I awake to the sunlight beating against my eyelids and an aching knee.

I'm the first one awake; whoever was on watch for the hour must've fallen asleep. I roll my eyes in slight annoyance, however as long as we're all safe, that's the only thing that matters. I look around, and find myself lying down with my head on Newt's stomach, his hand resting on my shoulder as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep, his eyelids flutter every few seconds and his mouth hangs slightly open and pouted, like a sleeping child. His messy hair falls into his eyes in blonde waves, tousled from the constant fidgeting last night as we all struggled to fall asleep.

I see Thomas shift a little to my left, his eyes opening slowly, adjusting to the light filling the cave. He lifts his head, looking around, and smirks once he sees me. I shoot him a questioning look, before realising that he's got his eyes locked on me and Newt. I hastily sit up, a blush rising to my cheeks.

We hear a rustling noise coming from the mouth of the cave. A crow pecks at Thomas' bag, searching for a morsel of food. Thomas abruptly stands up, flapping his arms at the bird and yelling. The commotion causes everyone else to wake up, blinking confusedly as they take in their surroundings and remember what happened last night. Minho moans and closes his eyes again, putting his head back against the wall.

"You had to wake us, didn't you?" Minho complains.

"Sorry, guys," Thomas sighs. "It's the bag with all of our food in..."

At hearing the word food, I perk up a little, and notice the emptiness I feel burning inside my stomach. Newt rubs his eyes sleepily, and sits up beside me.

"(y/n) should have some," he suggests. The rest of the group nods in agreement.

"I'm not having all the food..." I mutter. "We don't know when we'll find some more. It could be days, weeks..."

"(y/n), you're practically starving," Fry argues with a light-hearted tone. "Eat."

Thomas rummages around in the pack, and brings out a flask of water and some bread, passing it all to me. I feel guilty, but I must admit, I can't remember the last time I had some proper food. It's only then when I feel an itch on my ankle, a gnawing sting. I bite my lip as I curiously pull my trouser leg back. I inhale a sharp breath. A bite mark. 

Minho catches my eye.

"What's that, (y/n)?"

I shake my head, mouth falling open. "I-I don't know... I mean... I got tackled by a Crank, but I never thought that it..." My breath shakes. "That's a bite mark..."

Newt and Thomas crowd around, inspecting my ankle. They call for Winston to come over. He looks at the bite, and then lifts his shirt up. We all gasp. His stomach also has bite marks, and scratches, and it's... grey. Torn apart. Veins crawling from the bites with an angry infestation. I look between his stomach, to my ankle. My ankle is swollen, but not grey or black. But it's not pretty. Deep teeth marks hole into my skin, dried blood plastered to my trousers. 

I drag my eyes up from the bite mark to look at my friends' faces. They're wearing worried, confused expressions that must mirror my own. I feel an aching lump rising in my throat. Everyone's hard stare is fixated on my bite. Everyone except for Newt, who gazes at my face with glassy, unblinking eyes and his mouth hanging open slightly. His brows are stitched together in clear worry. I meet his eyes with mine and notice that they soften and grow watery. I stare back down to my ankle, unable to look at his face. I know that if I do, I will just cry, and that won't achieve anything good right now. 

We all sit in silence for a minute. Aris is the first to break the silence. "So, let's just... keep going. And we'll see... we'll see how we get on."

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