Not At Night

| Two |

A farmer takes care of the land, making sure the plants and trees stay watered and harvested when ready. As well as this they can be split into two sub-classes: craftsmen and cooks.
Craftsmen cover all things building and the cooks, well, cook.

A runner is the somebody, or somebodies, who enter the maze when it opens during the day, the opening times being between nine in the morning and four in the afternoon. Once the door shuts it will not open again until the time it must, no matter how hard you beg and plead and scream and cry, it will remain solid; unperturbed if you will.

• • •

Despite Barney's ominous words the newbies had settled in well after their arrival, with Ross joing Red as a farmer for The Glade and Max becoming a runner with Barney.

"Readys dirt?" Barney had to clarify every time, just in case his steeled mentality had crumbled under the pressure of being a runner.

It wasn't so simple as just run around aimlessly. There were...things in the maze, things beyond whatever even the most imaginative of people could conjure up.

"Well duh." Pale lips pursed in slight annoyance as reasonably slender digits tapped the straps of his pack lightly. "That's why I'm still here."

Max may have seemed angered by the question however it was quickly replaced by an almost childish excitement as they set out, weaving through the twists and turns; their ears listening closely for the grinding of gears and moving concrete.

• • •

"Hey, you don't talk much, do you Ross?" The question wasn't surprising, coming from the ever-talking Red. "Not to anyone but Max, anyway."

Ross seemed to consider for a while before answering, his head tilting to the side like that of a confused puppy. This in turn caused his brown hair to partially fall over his listless expression.

"I suppose..." He began quietly, gazing at the other through half-lidded, hazelnut orbs. "I just know him best, there's something about him that's...familiar."

• • •

"Hey Barney, what's actually /in/ this maze thing?" Max had an aptitude for speaking and running at the same time, annoying Barney to no end. "I mean, what are we looking for."

"Exits, extras supplies and stuff." He was vague in his reply, not given the rookie runner to much to go off of. After all, that would ruin the fun.

These 'extra supplies' were all pretty basic, small knives for slicing their food, various dried meats and sewing materials for making and mending items of clothing.

• • •

Speaking of sewing, that's what Ross was doing. He had a steadier hand than Red so was mending a loose pair of trousers, nimble digits running forwards with precision and ease. These trousers were almost like the stereotypical peasant clothing from our history books.

That being said, now he had started the task, Red had begun to call him 'housewife', causing his brow to furrow in annoyance even further each and every time.

"Done." The newly dubbed housewife huffed, turning his head towards the open fire that was situated just outside the doorway.

That fire had a hardworking redhead sat dangerously close to it, clearly cooking something in a beat-up bronze pot. Saying 'dangerously' he was clearly used to it, his coffee brown hues shimmering with a focused haze.

• • •

Max was proud of his haul. The supply crate would arrive soon, yes, but he was still proud. Despite this the male was puffing with a clear fatigue as he and his 'companion' neared the final home stretch.

"Red's cooking tonight, right?" His words were huffed and slow to come out, like a snail trying to win a race.

Barney could only give a nod in response as they slowed to a brisk jog, approaching the vast gates for The Glade.

First port of call for them: the storehouse. It was where they went to dump all of their gear, be it recently obtained or not, though they were careful in doing so.

After all, in The Glade, supplies were key. Though surprise surprise, there would be a little (well, big) extra with this month's drop.
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690 words