Clara swiped at the sweat that had beaded on her forehead and let out a tight breath; it was humid in the sunlight-lit room. She pressed her forearm over her eyes as she collapsed into a chair in the corner of the Glade's makeshift medical room.

The med room had been built early upon Clara's arrival at the Glade after it became clear how often the people residing in the Glade were injured. Clara, and her box partner Tris, had come up together. They were the second pair of arrivals in the Glade, preceded by Michael and Leo, who had come up together. While Tris spent her time running in the Maze, Clara spent most of her time in the med room or outside in the small garden of medicinal herbs she had managed to curate. 

She had asked the box to bring her anything that could be used for medicine, and now weekly, she received a fresh shipment of small medicines, alcohol swabs, bandages, seeds, and occasionally, blue vials, that all got inventoried and stored in a locked chest that was pressed against the wall; the key was on a string around her neck.

Above the chest was a few rows of shelves, stacked with vials of dried herbs. She also kept bandages and a few threadbare blankets next to them. There were two chairs: the one she currently sat on, pressed in the corner away from the window, and the second was underneath the window where the sunlight and sounds of the Glade streamed in. 

The last addition to the room had been the bed, and as she slowly removed her arm from her eyes, she grimaced at the sight. 

Artie, who had arrived about a year and a half ago, was strapped down to the mattress with thick leather strips. He was going through what they had named the Changing. It was the one thing she couldn't figure out to fix, and that meant that she was now taking care of a glorified zombie. 

Artie was a Runner up until three days ago when he stumbled back into the Glade after being stung by a Griever. Clara had managed to get there fast enough to give him the cure that came in the blue vials, but it meant he would spend the following days in the Changing. The Griever attacks had become more frequent, but thankfully, whoever controlled the box kept sending vials of the cure.

She had recently stuck a leather strap through Artie's teeth. He had clenched his jaw so tight he had chipped a tooth. Even now he bit down on it, every muscle in his body quaking with tension. Blue veins streaked along his exposed torso. 

"Ezra,"

Clara frowned, scanning Artie again. They always moaned names and words in their sleep. There had never been one she recognized. She jotted it down on a paper pad she used to keep track of the injuries-- usually in case anything reoccurred. 

Clara sighed and stood up, grabbing one of the spare blankets and tossing it over him. If it didn't keep him warm, at least anybody who looked in here wouldn't see much.

She slammed the lid to the chest closed and locked it, before tucking the key back under her shirt. She stretched her arms high and moved to the door. Maybe she could convince one of the kitchen staff to give her a snack. 

Clara opened the door and walked down the small hallway and down the stairs. 

She had nearly made it to the kitchen on the lower level when a screeching alarm cut through her thoughts. Clara froze. She glanced at her watch. 10:19 AM. No. That didn't make sense. Every month, for the last two and a half years, the box came up at 3:30 PM. It carried supplies and two Greenies. They had all been male-- with the exception of Tris and Clara. It was routine. 

She turned around and broke into a run, heading through the open door and towards the box. The path to the box had been flattened by many sets of feet. Around her, the normally bustling activity of the Glade came to a halt. About 40 boys had been spread throughout the wide area-- the rest of them running in the maze. The builders had been working on a new storage facility for the excess animals. There were a few boys hacking at a tall tree nearby. Now, all activity stopped, and heads popped up, staring towards the box.

Clara was the first one to reach the box and she stopped, leaning over to glance down. Sure enough, the cables that moved the box were spinning.

Freddy-- the only other person who had shown any kind of medical inclination-- appeared next to her. He was holding a few strips of white willow bark, and a few other plants were tucked into the pockets of the apron he wore across his skinny chest. Freddy had arrived about six months after Clara, and together, the two of them made up the entirety of the Glade's medical force.

Michael arrived as well, huffing slightly. The first member of the Glade had been on the farm, helping with planting carrot seeds. When they had first met, his hair had been shoulder length. Now, Michael's black hair was nearly waist length and braided back. He had dirt on his hands and knees.

"What's going on?" Freddy asked, his large dark eyes bouncing between Michael and Clara.

Clara shrugged, glancing at Michael. He had been voted leader of the Glade multiple times almost unanimously for the past two years-- when they decided they needed someone in charge. Every three months they voted again, and each time, Michael won. Clara had been his unnamed second for each time-- she had the most seniority, second only to Michael and Leo, and wasn't in the maze each day, like Leo and Tris.

She watched Michael shake his head. Clara could detect a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Not sure, might be an error."

Clara didn't believe that, but she knew the thought comforted the boys who were beginning to crowd around the box. Nothing that happened in the Glade was a mistake.

There was a clang, and the ground shook as the box shuddered into place. The piercing alarm ceased and Clara let her shoulders drop from her ears.

Michael nodded to her, and Clara stepped forward with Michael. They each gripped an edge of the box and pulled upwards until the sun was pouring in and they could see inside.

There had been whispers, but now those stopped and a hush fell over the boys. Clara leaned forward to look inside. 

A boy-- with sharp eyes and broad shoulders-- was standing on shaky legs in the centre of the box. He looked the same as every other Greenie. Scared and uncertain, his clothes were the cleanest they would ever be. 

Clara narrowed her eyes, scanning the interior of the box. Where was the second one? There were always two. She looked across the gap at Michael, who gave her a minute shake of his head. He couldn't see anyone either. 

What did it mean if there was only one? That couldn't be right. Maybe the creators of the maze had made an error. 

Clara watched Michael inhale, before jumping down into the box. It swayed slightly. The new boy looked up, and Clara frowned at the defiance in the kid's eyes. It unsettled her. Whenever a Greenie was defiant on day one, it caused problems later on-- usually resulting in their death. 

"Day one, Greenie," Michael said, offering the kid his hand. "Welcome to the Glade."

"Where am I?" The kid demanded, straightening and looking around the box, scanning each of the faces that craned over at him. 

Clara leaned over, bracing her hand on her knees, and offered the kid her hand. He hesitated but took it. Clara pulled him up out of the box, and let him stand near her, staring. She offered her hand to Michael as well, who took it.

Michael came up, and Clara turned her gaze to the Greenie just in time to see him take off running.

Clara raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She had seen this a dozen times. Kid got scared and took off running, only to realize there was nowhere to go, and to turn around like a dog with their tail between their legs.

Loud jeers and shouts followed the Greenie as he ran across the tall grass, heading away from the box. Someone shouted about runners. 

Clara frowned. He was getting close to the doors. If he got out there, they would likely never see him again.

She stepped forward, about to chase him, but halted. The Greenie tripped on some unseen trap and tumbled to the ground, rolling until he vanished underneath the tall grass.

Clara rolled her eyes as a few boys jogged forward with a few others, most likely to put the new kid in the slammer. 

"Why is there only one?" Charlie's voice was sharp. "That's not natural. Something is wrong with the Greenie."

Clara took a deep breath. Charlie had been the boy she had helped recover from a concussion in her first month in the Glade. He had been nice enough until a griever sting six months ago, which left him confrontational and prone to fights. Clara dug her fingers into her pockets, narrowing her eyes at Charlie. 

"Get back to work," Clara spoke, loud enough for her voice to carry. The boys followed her instructions, returning to their stations.

Clara waited until all the boys had begun moving before she whispered to Michael. "Sometimes I wish I had never bandaged that boy's head."

Michael snorted in response and stepped forward to help take the new kid to the slammer. Clara watched him leave, before returning to her own work. If the new kid's reaction was any indication, he would fit in just fine-- partner or not.

~~~

Michael must've let the new kid out of the slammer. 

Clara could see them now. She was crouched in the small medicinal garden outside the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, and she found herself relishing the shadows that were beginning to stretch across the Glade, bathing herself and the plants in cool air. 

The runners would be back soon. Clara looked behind Michael and the Greenie, to the northern door. She couldn't see them yet, but a quick glance at her watch told her they would be here within ten minutes. The doors closed in twenty.

She turned her focus back to the plants, pulling out a few stubborn weeds that continued to persist amongst her wild ginger. The dirt was sun-warmed, and she reached over to grab the small watering can, pouring a sprinkling over top. She'd have to fill the can from the pond soon.

"Clara!"

Clara turned to look in the direction of her name. Michael was approaching with the Greenie. The Greenie still seemed nervous, his eyes darting around everywhere, but at least he didn't seem like running. 

Michael leaned on the small wooden fence around the garden and gestured for the Greenie to come closer. Clara straightened up.

"Clara, this is Ezra," Michael spoke, gesturing to the Greenie. "Ezra, this is Clara. She's in charge when I'm not around. She's also our doctor, so be nice."

Clara rolled her eyes and frowned. That was the same name Artie moaned this morning. She scanned the kid. There was nothing threatening about him, and it was a common enough name. It was likely just chance, though she couldn't deny the slight feeling of unsettledness that buried in her stomach. "It's a good thing you're always around."

"We only have three rules here. One, you pull your weight. We don't have the time or resources for freeloaders," Michael turned back to Ezra, whose gaze was bouncing between the two of them. "Two, never harm another member of the Glade. The punishment is banishment. Three, you stay inside the Glade and do not leave. No one survives the night in the maze."

Clara nodded her agreement. It had originally just been the first two rules until one member had left the Glade and gotten trapped overnight. The Grievers left his clothes at the doors when they opened. The only people who were allowed to exit were the runners.

The last rule seemed to unsettle Ezra as if there was something he wasn't saying. His jaw was working, his eyes narrowed.

Michael looked back at Clara. "Say, have you seen Freddy?"

Clara frowned at Michael. Freddy's box partner had been a runner, and gotten taken by Grievers in broad daylight. That had only been a few months ago. Clara could sense Michael's motives. He was going to get Freddy to show the new guy the ropes, and hopefully, they would get on.

"He's in the kitchen getting food for Artie," Clara responded. She looked at the Ezra. The new kid would be a good fit for Freddy. Quiet. "Tell him to just leave it and I'll take it up."

Michael nodded. "Thanks, we'll go find him."

~~~

It had been just over fifteen minutes, and already, Ezra was causing trouble. 

The runners were all back-- thankfully. Clara had waved to Tris and Leo as they appeared. They were in the map room now, writing down the structure of the maze today. 

Near the edge of the Glade, approaching the Northern door, Clara could see Freddy trying to convince Ezra not to approach. She set down her apron over the fence to the garden, and jogged towards the northern door, ready to intervene. 

Ezra was getting uncomfortably close, and the doors were going to close any second. Freddy was great, but he was gentle and small. Clara began to run. 

Unfortunately, Charlie made it there first. With a firm shove, Ezra was knocked to the ground, once again vanishing beneath the grass. 

Clara could hear shouts as she approached. Ezra was pushing back up, his hands in fists as if he were going to fight Charlie. 

"Charlie," She shouted. "Back down. Now."

Charlie fixed her with dark beady eyes but did as he was told, stepping away from Ezra. Clara halted next to Freddy as a boom echoed through the Glade. 

The doors began to move. The wind rushed out of the massive mossy stone halls and into the Glade. The few hairs that had fallen out of Clara's braids blew into her eyes and she shoved them back. Sparks flew upwards from the scraping stone.

It had been so long, and she still got a sense of claustrophobia every time the door closed. 

A resounding boom ricocheted through the Glade, and Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. They were safely sealed in for the night. No members were left in the maze. Soon, the echoing of the maze shifting and the screams of the Grievers would be instilled in her bones. 

"Next time," Charlie hissed at Ezra. "I let you enter."

~~~

Clara swirled the nasty concoction around in a jar. The amber liquid sloshed against the side, and she couldn't help wanting to choke on it-- it tasted foul, but had a pleasant warmth that radiated through her chest.

There was a loud thump as Tris flopped next to her on the log bench, sprawling along it, kicking her legs into Clara's lap. Clara feigned annoyance and disgust, poking at Tris' ankle. The girl grinned. Her necklace shone in the firelight. 

"This is your brew, isn't it?" Clara gestured the jar towards her.

Tris laughed and nodded. "I've been switching up the recipe. I added some special spices. Do you like it?"

Clara paused, taking a dramatic sip. She could feel the liquid crawling down her throat. She paused, trying to figure out where she had tasted those flavours. 

"You have ginger in here don't you?"

Tris nodded, her eyes eager. "Do you like it?"

Clara shook her head, laughing. "It's fucking disgusting."

"I know," Tris let out a barking laugh, pushing herself up so her feet were no longer on Clara's lap and they were shoulder to shoulder. "It's so nasty. I don't know how these fools are drinking it."

Clara followed her gaze to the boys. The sun had disappeared behind the towering walls that surrounded them, leaving only the massive bonfire to illuminate the Glade. Normally, when it was quiet at night, Clara could lie awake and hear the maze shifting, the grievers moaning, and-- if she was lucky-- she would catch the chirping of crickets.

Any sounds now were drowned out by the rough off-tune singing and cheering that echoed upwards as the boys danced around the bonfire. 

Clara set her jar down on the rough wood next to her and crossed her arms. Her exhaustion must've shown in the weary lines of her face because Tris scanned her with that concerned look she got and Clara nearly groaned.

"How's Artie doing?" Her voice was quiet, although most of the boys were too drunk to hear them anyway. Clara could hear the faint guilt in her tone. After all, Artie had been one of her runners.

Clara shrugged. "He'll be fine. They always are. Just hard to watch and deal with." She gave Tris a weak smile. 

The truth was, Artie's changing was going worse than any others she had seen. The last few had been hard, but Artie didn't appear to be recovering yet. 

"I just wish I could help," Clara murmured. "What use is having all this medical knowledge if I can't use it for the one thing that threatens us most?"

Tris nodded, and wrapped an arm around Clara's shoulders, crossing her legs. "Truth is, I'm beginning to think there isn't a way out. That whoever put us here did it for the laugh and isn't coming back."

"You're shit at pep talks."

"The point is," Tris interjected, waving her hand to silence her. "I don't think we should give up. Sure, shit sucks, and it's hard, and you can't heal the scary monster attacks, but I think we are supposed to be here doing something. You're doing good, Clara. We are going to make it out of here, together, and I am going to prove to you that you are a good enough healer."

Clara smiled, and gently nudged her. The gesture was enough communication between them. They settled into a comfortable silence for a few moments before Tris spoke again. 

"Is that the Greenie?"

Clara followed her gaze to Ezra. He was arguing with Charlie again, and Clara nearly stood to intervene, but noticed Leo on his way and settled back down. She nodded. "There is only one this time."

Tris hummed. "I heard that. I thought they were just being dumb."

Clara shook her head. "It's weird. All we get is two boys, every month, for two and a half years."

"Ten bucks says the next one is two girls." Tris grinned at her. They had this deal every time greenies came up in the box. So far Tris owed Clara about $300. 

Clara rolled her eyes. "It'll be two boys. It always is."

"Maybe it's just a mistake."

"You were the one who was just crowing about being put here for a reason," Clara responded, tugging at the thin rope holding the key. "Besides, the box was early."

"Early?" This was enough to finally surprise Tris. They both looked at Ezra just in time to watch him get knocked to the ground by Charlie. "Maybe everything is finally going to change."

~~~

Hello lovelies! 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please feel free to vote and comment, I love hearing from you all!

Until next time,

Indigo