Dry.

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And we were off again, dragging the whimpering Winston along with us.

The heat was unbearable, as we began to bear the giant collapsed bridge that rested lazily in the sand dunes. We walked on for miles and miles, stopping in any shade at any chance we got, sitting around and feeling sorry for ourselves.

"How much sand do you think I got here?" Frypan asked, pointing at his shoes, under the large piece of concrete that was lodged in a dune horizontally, making a handy shelter.

I shrugged. "I dunno. A sea of it?"

Frypan took off his boot and poured out at least a cup of sand. He smirked and Minho sighed beside him, juggling about the half empty water bottle he held in his hands.

"Where's Thomas?" I asked, emptying out my boots, surprised at how much more I had than Fry.  Minho pointed out into the desert, and Thomas was standing on a small dune, looking out at the barrier of mountains, looking stupidly dramatic. Teresa got to her feet and sighed loudly, which seemed to be a big thing we were doing lately.

"I'm going to go check on him," she said, and we nodded. She walked off and stood with Thomas on the hill, but we were too far away from them to hear what they were saying.

"So she was the only girl in your guys' maze?" I asked, looking at Minho who nodded and got up, then sat back down beside me.

"We never trusted her from the start," he explained. "She came last minute, just when things started to get screwy."

"Ah. Doesn't she seem like the type to be out there running a maze," I said, smirking at the boy and girl who stood in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, but you should see her when she's mad. Once she sacked Zart so hard he actually cried," Minho snickered, making me laugh a bit as well.

"I've done better though," I declared, pulling my hair up into two buns on the top of my head. "You should've seen me in my maze."

Minho laughed. "I don't think I want to!"

I smiled and patted his shoulder, getting up from my spot. "I'm gonna go check on Winston."

"Sounds good," Minho muttered, leaning back in the shade.

I walked over to the poor boy, who laid thin and frail under the concrete shelter, his chest rising and falling quickly and desperately. I sat beside him and brushed the hair out of his face. His brown skin was littered with black veins and sores. His eyes were closed shut and his lips were pale, and slightly parted.

"Hey Winston," I whispered, and I saw his bloodshot eyes open slightly, and shift over to me. "You doing okay?" His eyes closed again, and his lips moved, very slightly. I leaned closer to him, and tuned out all sounds, to try and find out what he was saying.

"Thank...you..." Winston trailed off, and I smiled, although I was confused by his thanks. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I murmured back, taking off my backpack, to grab a water bottle. Just as I snapped open the front pocket, Winston suddenly scrambled to his knees, knocked me backwards, and ripped my backpack from my hands. When I got off my back Winston had dumped all the contents of my bag onto the sand and wrapped his hand around my gun, so tightly, his knuckles were white. His wide eyes shifted to me when I stood and I saw a small tear trickle down his dusty face as he raised the gun to his forehead, cocking it.

"No!" I screamed, and I lunged at him, smashing, head first, into his chest. I felt our bodies collide with thump, and to add to the chaos, I heard a sickening bang of the gun going off. Quickly I untangled myself from the crazed boy, and searched our bodies for a wound, but we were both fine. Sort of.

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