• Trial One: The Maze •
||𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑|| Blake was said to have tamed the vicious robotic creature, Seven. She was granted the nickname Griever Tamer. But was the creature ever really tamed? Or was it just a distraction, a way that WICK...
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"This better be good," Minho said, threat filled his voice, but his eyes showed curiosity.
Newt leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. "Get on with it, Greenie."
"Okay." He handed a knife to Minho and Blake, then pointed at the wax paper. "Start cutting rectangles, about the size of the Maps. Newt and Teresa, you can help me grab the first ten or so Maps from each section box."
"What is this, kiddie craft time?" Minho held up the knife, and stared at it with disgust like a child would with a piece of broccoli. "Why don't you just tell us what the shuck we're doing this for?"
"I'm done explaining," Thomas said, annoyance filling his voice. "It'll be easier to show you. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and we can go back to running around the Maze like mice."
Blake turned towards Minho. "He's right, Minho. Let's just get'r done."
Minho signed, obviously frustrated. Blake just shrugged. "Sorry if the rectangles aren't perfect-my head is a bit wack at the moment."
Thomas nodded. "Just try your best."
The knife reminding her of that small memory of that guy. She wasn't sure if it was her father or brother. Both she couldn't remember very well but knew she had. She let the feeling pass focusing on the important task at hand.
"Teresa," Thomas said. "Can you help me a second?" He nodded toward the closet. The two of them disappeared into the dusty little room.
Blake had only cut about six sheets of paper out. She turned her head to see Minho had cut about twenty sheets of paper, making a very messy pile as he threw each new sheet on top.
"Minho!" Blake hissed, causing an oblivious Minho to turn his head toward her. "You're making a mess. At least try to be a bit more organized."
Minho rolled his eyes with a smirk, continuing to cut and make a mess. Teresa and Thomas came back with a handful of maps. Thomas came over and grabbed a few sheets, then he sat down and held one to the light.
Thomas grabbed a marker. "All right, everybody traces the last ten or so days onto a piece of this stuff. Make sure you write the info on top so we can keep track of what's what. When we're done, I think we might see something."
"What-" Minho began.
"Just bloody keep cutting," Newt ordered. "I think I know where he's going with this."
Blake thought she did too.
They got to work, tracing from original Maps to wax paper, one by one, trying to keep their lines as clean and correct as possible while hurrying. Blake was a bit behind but she blamed that on the effects from the Changing; her body still hadn't fully recovered after three days.
