*Do their Part*

"Hey, Chuck!" I greeted as the grinning kid plopped down next to me on the bench. I was munching slowly on a sandwich, my mind wandering aimlessly.

"Hi, Rowan. How's your day going with the med-jacks?"

I shrugged, swallowing a mouthful. "Alright, I guess. I'm trying out the Slicer next. Doesn't sound very pleasant."

Chuck's face contorted in disgust. "It ain't! Chopping up animals all day? Pretty gross, y'know?"

I chuckled. "Yeah."

"So what do you want to do?"

I pondered the question, already knowing the answer, but unsure of the outcome. Would they let me?

"I want to be a runner."

Chuck gagged, almost choking on his sandwich. "A runner? Are you serious?!"

"Mmm-hmm," I hummed, ignoring his incredulous expression. "What's wrong with that?"

He swallowed and his shock subsided. "Well, I, uh, suppose not. If you want to risk your life in a maze full of killer slugs, I'm not going to judge you." He shrugged and I smiled.

"You worried about me?"

He scoffed. "Of course not! Well, maybe, you are my friend after all."

I smiled. "Okay."

I finished the rest of my lunch, ocassionally chatting to Chuck, and returned to my duties. I was to head to the Bloodhouse, where Winston would share with me the methods of Slaughtering. Great. I just hoped my stomach was prepared to handle this.

I knocked on the door to the barn-like building and cringed at the whoosh of a blade slicing through the air and then slamming into something soft with subtle pop.

"Um, Winston?" I called, receiving some odd looks from the other Sloppers.

A stern-looking teenage with a face riddled with acne shot me a furious glance and beckoned me over.

He looked friendly.

"Rowan, right?"

I nodded, gulping nervously.

"Grab a knife. We'll start with the best part first."

My heart sunk.

~

He made me skin animals. Skin them! I could feel my mouth filling with bile at certain points, my throat burning, my stomach flipping. But I always managed to hold it down and eventually got through it without throwing up once.

Winston didn't seem extremely proud of the outcome, but I was.

I spent the rest of the day feeding and tending to the animals and allowing my stomach to settle.

I certainly did not want to end up with that job.

I hadn't seen Newt all day, and I wondered if he was perhaps still upset about Minho. I missed him. It was strange, but I felt a profound longing to be with him.

That night, as dusk approached and the Runners returned from their duties, I found myself walking about the deadheads again. It was a quiet, secluded place; I found myself often wandering there if I was in the thoughtful mood.

"What you doing?" I heard a soft voice in my ear, making me yelp with a start.

"Huh?!"

Newt grinned and slumped down next me. I was leaning against a tree; the bark digging uncomfortably into my back.

"I'm fine," I sighed, trying to suppress my delight at seeing him again. "What about you?"

He shifted, and I suddenly became aware of his leg brushing against mine. It made me tingle.

He shrugged, staring blankly at a grave. "Alright, I guess."

"Minho'll be fine, y'know," I urged myself to speak. He remained silent. "Have you ever been Stung?"

He glanced at me in surprise, and I felt his gaze linger on me for a moment longer in the dusk. "No," he said quietly, shuffling some more. "Which job d'you like best so far?" Avoiding the subject?

"What, out of the only two I've tried? Oh, let me think... ah, yes. I believe slaughtering animals is what I was born to do."

"There was barely a hint of sarcasm in your voice, you know? I'm struggling to decide whether you're being bloody serious or not," he muttered, amusement edging his tone.

I grinned. He sounded adorable when he said 'bloody'.

"Is your job just second in command?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm the keeper of the Fields," he declared. "Everyone has to do their part."