Tricked (t.m.r.)

1.46 - Tag, You're It

Author's Note: Hi guys! I'm back after wow, 5 years. It seems that's the longest procrastination I have so far. First off, I would like to express my thanks if you're still one of my readers who have been patiently or impatiently waiting for me to update 'Tricked'. Thank you so much for sticking by until today, I am fill with endless gratitude. For the past 3 days I have been working on the previous chapters of the fanfiction that I had written, corrected my mistakes, and added more details into this work of fiction (Do remove the book from your library and add it again if it doesn't refresh). Before you wonder if I would disappear again, I would not for now, not until I finished 'Tricked'. It's time to give it its ending.

~*~*~*

An odd sensation washed over Primrose's features as she finds herself getting nearer to the place she has been calling home for as long as she could remember. There wasn't a feeling of warmth for returning the to glade, but she did yearn for Newt's presence and could not wait to tell him again that she is still alive. She probably gave the boy hope by now, that no matter how many times she gets trapped in the maze, she'll come back alive. Her eyes were left throbbing after the incident where she found out she could somehow disintegrate grievers with the red flashes that she has in her eyes, she wasn't sure just yet how that powerful flash was harnessed and was even less confident on how to break the news to everyone else.

Primrose's mouth dropped open in surprise when she reached the end of the maze that leads into the glade. She checked the time on her watch and was certain the doors were supposed to shut twenty minutes ago, but they remain open and left the glade vulnerable to the attacks of their enemies. She stopped on the last wall and swung herself down with the help of the vines that grew along the walls. It broke under her weight at the sudden unbearable weight, but she was able to land on her feet gracefully. She could see most of the boys, if not all, were running around the glade. They seemed to be moving about like headless chickens and were busy making last minute preparations to defend themselves from the attacks of grievers. Most of them were terrified too and it showed in their actions as they tripped, stumbled, squeezed their eyes shut in prayer, trembled and shievered.

Primrose shook her head, feeling sympathetic towards them. Most of them had not seen a griever in its full form and had been brainwashed into fearing the creatures instead of thinking they could stand a chance against them, in battle, they would likely cower and scream helplessly with no high chance of surviving. No one seemed to take note of her sudden appearance in the glade as they were all busy carrying out the tasks that were distributed to them in a haste, and Primrose began to search for her friends after enquiring where they were from a boy who was shaking too much to sharpen his spear properly.

She couldn't bear to leave him be after speaking to him, and did the work for him before jogging towards the runner's hut.

"Update me. What are we doing?" Minho's eyes widen at the sudden appearance of his comrade and friend. But they didn't have time to celebrate or hug in relief. Primrose was waiting for him to fill her in with a plan, if there was one, and was busy stuffing the smaller knives into the knife case she had strapped around her waist.

"Hide, run, fight." Minho told her briefly as he handed her a bow. "There's no time for ambush. We only can fight the shucks head-on."

A loud crash sounded itself from a near distance away, almost drowning Minho's voice out in the process. Before Primrose could turn around completly to see what the commotion was about, she was engulfed in a tight hug by a boy. A boy who wore an orange undershirt underneath his hoodie, the very same boy who shares a bed with her and the boy whom she was hoping the first to greet her whenever she returns to the glade.