The First Glader

11

George moved around the Glade with an exaggerated softness that everyone pretended not to notice. Nick cut strips of cloth for blankets. Alby rebuilt the corner posts of the goat pen, pausing every few minutes to glance toward the shelter.

Hours later, Newt finally stepped out.

He stood in the doorway, small and thin in the morning light, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair stuck up in soft curls from sleep. He blinked at the open space like it was too much to take in.

Ada rose from where she was repairing a water bucket. "Hey. How're you feeling?"

He hesitated, then walked over. "Bit better, I think."

"You look steadier," she said.

"I don't feel it."

George appeared beside them like he'd been waiting for the cue. "Welcome back to the land of the awake!"

Newt jumped. George startled at his own success, then immediately looked guilty. "Sorry—sorry. I'm being quiet. I'm being so quiet."

Newt's lips twitched. "That was quiet?"

Nick snorted from across the camp. "Unfortunately, yes."

Alby wiped his hands on his shirt as he approached. "You hungry?"

Newt hesitated. "A little."

Ada nodded toward the cooking fire. "Come on. We'll get you something."

Nick ladled porridge into a bowl and passed it over. Newt sat on the grass beside Ada, taking small, careful bites.

George flopped down across from him. "So, Newt," he grinned, "any memories yet?"

Newt lowered his spoon. "Just... flashes. And a voice." His expression tightened. "A woman, I think. Saying something. But I can't hear the words."

"That's normal," Nick assured him. "It'll either come back or it won't. Doesn't change anything."

Alby nodded. "We got you. That's what matters."

Newt's gaze dropped to the bowl in his lap. "Thank you. Truly."

Ada studied him for a moment—his quiet manner, the way he sat small without meaning to, the apology in everything he did.

"You don't have to thank us for every little thing," she said gently.

He looked up, cheeks slightly pink. "Feels like I should."

George leaned back on his hands. "Nah. We're a team here. You don't owe anything."

Ada added softly, "You're one of us now."

Newt stared at her for a heartbeat too long, something warm and fragile flickering in his eyes.

The porridge was finished, the bowl set aside, and Ada stood.

"Come on," she said. "Time to show you the Glade."

Newt rose carefully.

They walked together—Nick and George drifting behind them, Alby shadowing the group at a distance like quiet security.

Ada showed Newt the garden rows, the cooking area, the water barrels, the pig pen. He took everything in with quiet focus, always a little closer to Ada than the others. When a goat bleated loudly, he jumped again, instinctively reaching out toward her elbow like a tether.

She slowed for him.

"You'll get used to the noise," she assured him.

"Everything feels... loud," he admitted. "Loud and... too open."

George, trying to be helpful, said, "It's not so bad once you realize nothing out here is trying to kill you."

Ada shot him a look.

George winced. "Right. Shouldn't say that."

Newt blanched. "Trying to kill me?"

Nick smacked the back of George's head. "Ignore him."

Newt swallowed hard, wide eyes darting. "Something inside is, then?"

Ada placed a grounding hand on his arm. "You don't need to worry about that today."

He nodded, breathing steadier now.

They reached the eastern edge of the Glade.

Where the Maze towered.

Newt froze.

The walls loomed high above them—cold stone, thick with creeping vines, shadows pooled beneath the massive doors that stayed shut until nightfall.

Newt's breath hitched. His hand curled in the fabric of Ada's sleeve without him realizing it.

"This is the Maze," Ada said quietly. "We don't go in unless we're trained. Not yet. Not for a long time."

Newt stared, jaw trembling. "It's... massive."

Nick stepped up beside him. "Yeah."

"How do you—" Newt swallowed hard. "How do you not run from it?"

Ada didn't answer right away.

Instead, she knelt and picked up a small rock.

She tossed it lightly from hand to hand.

"When I first came up," she said, "I wanted to run every day. Away from the walls, away from the unknown, away from everything." She set the rock down again. "But running doesn't help. Understanding does. Preparing does. Staying together does."

Newt watched her with the intense, frightened focus of someone clinging to every word.

Then he whispered, "Aren't you scared?"

Ada met his eyes. "Every day."

Newt exhaled shakily. "You don't look it."

"That's because I don't get to be."

For a long moment, the Glade was quiet. Even the birds seemed to hush.

Newt finally asked, in a voice very small, "Will I ever stop being scared?"

Ada rested a hand lightly on his back.

"Yes," she said. "Not all at once. But piece by piece. And you won't be doing it alone."

Newt's lip trembled—not from fear now, but something like relief.

George, unable to handle the emotional weight, blurted, "If it helps, I cried for like the first two weeks."

Nick sighed. "George."

"I'm being honest!"

Newt let out a small laugh—tight, shaky, but real.

Alby joined them at last, nodding at Newt. "You'll be alright. Especially with her." He jerked his chin toward Ada. "She knows this place better than any of us."

Newt turned to Ada, eyes wide and earnest. "Then... I want to learn from you."

Ada blinked.

She hadn't expected that.
But somehow it felt right.

"You will," she said softly. "I promise."

Newt nodded, looking back at the Maze.

Still scared.
But now—less alone.

And that made all the difference.