𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘀𝗶𝘅

"Neither do I."

"Nice one, Greenie!" Minho cheers, and I flip him off with my middle finger, making Newt burst out into laughter. I attempt to glare at him, but only end up grinning, which he returns almost immediately.

The rest of the night is spent laughing with the boys I'm sat with, momentarily ridding myself of the visions, the Grievers and the blood — making me forget about the concept that tomorrow will only bring more of that terror.

The stars come out, twinkling up above, and I smile, falling asleep once more in my hammock. I smirk as I remember putting Newt's blanket back by his hammock. Newt is very strange. He has a whole room to himself in Homestead, yet he prefers sleeping outside. I don't blame him. Falling asleep under the stars is the best feeling in the world.

❀

"Greenbean. Wake up," a voice whispers to me. I open my eyes, scanning the shadows for the source of the caller. My eyes fall upon a figure leaning against a tree, his arms folded. Even in the dark, unmistakable deep brown eyes lock with mine.

"Piss off," I mutter at Newt, rolling over in my hammock and trying to block him out. Can't a girl get a decent nights sleep for once?

"Slim it, shuck face," he says, and although I can't see him, I can almost hear the smile on his face. I lay there, my back to him, contemplating whether or not I should block out his voice, or even if that's a choice I can make. It's not, apparently. He just doesn't shut up. "Come on."

I get out of my hammock, glaring at him, careful not to wake the sleeping Chuck in the hammock next to me. Newt nods north, and I follow him through the trees, dodging as he snaps a branch back, almost hitting me in the face. His shoulders shake as he laughs quietly. I slap him playfully over the back of his head, so he slows down abruptly, making me crash into his back. I scowl and push him forwards as he grins at me. "I thought you said that you wouldn't show up every wake up," I snap at him.

"Only for the first two weeks," Newt says, looking back at me and shooting me a small smirk. "Much to your enjoyment, I'm gathering."

"Bingo," I say, rolling my eyes. I want to sleep in. I have half a mind to turn back right now. The sun is rising in the Glade, the navy blue night sky fading lighter and light as we cross the Glade. The cold air wraps itself around me, making me shiver. I smile. Birds tweet gently, a soft melody that only brings me to a relaxed state as I trail behind the sandy blond in front of me.

"You're with Gally today," Newt says. "Keeper of the Builders. He won't bother ya, other than a few pathetic insults, s'long as you don't slack. That shouldn't be a problem, you don't seem like a slacker, much."

"Wow, you've been correct twice today. New record."

"Y'ever stop being sarcastic?" Newt says, slowing so that he's walking right next to me.

"Dunno, you ever stop babying me?"

"S'my job, Greenbean," he says, his lips quirking upwards. "Speaking of, did y'know most shanks have more than one job, round here? See, the Runners always double up as Map-makers. Baggers usually Brick-nicks, but not always."

"Baggers?" I ask. Sounds more like a shopkeeper to me. Shopkeeper? Why do I know this? How do I know this? I must've been to a shop before, though I can't remember where, why or with whom.

"Creepy fellas. Deal with bodies and guard the place, sorta like police."

Furthest thing from shopkeepers, then. Could you imagine? Body-bagged for life. "They sound cheery."

Newt smiles sideways at me as we continue to walk in the direction of Frypans. "If you're unlucky and y'finish work earlier, usually you do the Sloppers work — in hindsight that's probably why shanks don't finish early. Should change that."