𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦, thomas (tmr)

Chapter Seven

"I'm worried about Newt."

She brought up the topic to Nick and Minho one night at dinner, both looking up from their meals to stare at her. The leader looked confused, glancing to Minho who seemed to share the same concern as the girl.

"Why? What's up with Newt?"

Clara couldn't believe Nick hadn't noticed. To be fair, he had been quite preoccupied with Runner business lately, and the fast stream of tragedies recently hitting the Glade.

"He doesn't eat with any of us anymore. He's distancing himself."

Minho nodded to confirm, his fork trailing the food on his plate as he added that, "I keep trying to talk to him. He just fakes a smile or tells me he's too tired to talk."

Nick looked thoughtfully at Minho's glum expression before turning back to his food. He seemed to be mulling over their words carefully.

"So what should we do?"

"Make sure he can't cut us off." Minho decided stubbornly.

Nick nodded in agreement. The pair watched as Minho made his way away from the table, took up the usual plate waiting for Newt on the kitchen counter, and disappeared up the stairs of the Homestead.

They shared a glance, and as Clara dragged her food around her plate, Nick realised that she was deeply concerned about Newt. Reaching out, he let his hand rest over hers, and gave her a soft smile.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, okay?"

There was no sense of triumph when Clara was proved right to be worried. All the girl felt was devastation when Alby staggered into the Glade hours early, with a barely conscious Newt in his arms.

Alby was struggling, tears spilling down his face as he tried his best to not jolt Newt. The blonde was letting out small yelps of distress as the other made his way further into the Glade, yelling out to try and capture anyone's attention.

Clara was first to reach them both, trying desperately to stop Alby's tears as she looked to Newt. His face was relatively fine, only a little dirty and dusty, like his chest and arms; except from a few scratches. And then she caught sight of what was causing him pain.

His leg.

Bent at an odd angle, it was bruised black and blue already, swelling at the knee. Blood was smeared along the entirety of it, still spilling out from a wound Clara hadn't yet identified the place of.

Clint was next on the scene, alongside a Gardener Clara didn't recognise that was filling in for Jeff as he was sick. They carefully took Newt from Alby's arms, carrying the injured boy on a stretcher to the room set up for more serious injuries.

They hadn't used that room yet. Clara was hoping that they'd never have to.

The girl usually would've raced off to the room after Clint, but something unknown was keeping her grounded in her place, to talk to Alby. The boy in question was furiously wiping away his tears, as if he was ashamed to be seen so upset.

"Was he Stung?" Clara asked firmly, although her voice wobbled furiously at the possibility of yet another friend dying. Especially that friend being Newt.

Alby shook his head, tears still brimming at his eyes when he croaked out, "I think he jumped off one of the walls."

And Clara decided that was worse.

She managed to swallow down the sob rising in her throat as she told Alby to go get some rest, and not to worry about his Map for the day. There's no way he'd be able to focus, not with Newt's state.