The sun had risen high in the sky by the time you'd reached the base of the mountain. Minho had called for a break and you gladly collapsed onto a rock, wiping sweat off your neck and head. Newt sat a few feet away, and you made sure your back was to him before settling down.

"There's a tunnel through the mountain!" Minho's yell echoed like he was calling down a long hallway. "We'll take it through the rest of the way." He jumped down from his perch, landing with a crunch on the ground and sending up a spray of rocks and dirt. "Try to get some sleep! We set out in a few hours!"

You balled up your sweatshirt and stuck it between two smaller rocks, then settled down on your side, still painfully aware of Newt not far away.

You were both physically and emotionally exhausted, and sleep came almost instantly, settling over you like a dark cloud.

You awoke to snickering, and hot breathing on your forehead. Cracking open your eyes, the first thing you noticed was what looked like a dirty shirt in your face, moving up and down slowly. Almost like it was... breathing.

All at once, you understood, and let out a surprised yelp that woke the person sleeping next to you.

Newt, of all people, was curled up beside you, his chin almost resting on the top of your head, your face by his chest. As soon as his eyes snapped open and he'd taken a few seconds to access the situation, you jumped away from each other. A few boys were standing around you, laughing and pointing. You must have turned ten different shades of red, and slapped the ankle of the boy nearest to you.

Once everyone had settled down and eaten breakfast, you started up again, hiking over large boulders and steep slopes to reach the cave entrance. Once every boy (and two girls) was accounted for, the group pushed forward into the tunnel.

A few Gladers had flashlights and pulled them out to shed the tiniest bit of light. For the most part, the weak beams didn't even make a dent in the shadows, but it helped to soften the uneasy feeling building up in the pit of your stomach.

Footsteps.

Muttering.

The occasional string of curses when someone jabbed their shoulder into a sharp rock.

For the most part, the walk was uneventful. You stubbed your toe at some point, and walked it off until the pain ebbed away.

You were actually starting to feel a little more comfortable with everything -- everyone -- when a sudden cry of surprise broke the comfortable silence.

"Cranks!" Minho shouted, and you immediately made a break for the front of the crowd, pushing past a few boys as you went.

"Where?" you panted once you reached him.

A loud, broken scream sounded from a little ways ahead.

"Does that answer your question?" Minho asked sharply, pulling you back a few steps. "We're probably gonna have to fight through them!" He turned back to face the crowd of boys. "Alright, you shanks! Grab a rock and charge! We still have to get through these suckers, and we're pretty much out of options!"

You scrambled to find a sharp rock, feeling along the walls on either side of you until you broke off a loose chunk of stone. You felt the rusted sword press into your hip where you'd tied it, but even the thought of stabbing someone with it, no matter how past the Gone they were, made you feel sick. If you were lucky, you wouldn't have to use it at all.

The first Crank came staggering around a corner, and Minho stepped forward, you close behind him. Unlike the Cranks you had met at the party underground, these didn't even produce words, just a long wailing sound that rattled your eardrums and made you want to rip out your hair. Minho tacked it in one swift movement and bashed it on the head with his rock. It screamed and fell to the ground. When it tried to push itself back onto its hands and knees, you brought your piece of stone down on top of its head and recoiled as a sickening crack signified you'd broken through bone. It fell, unmoving, onto its stomach and you stumbled back.

"There are more," Minho muttered. You nodded, not caring if he'd seen you or not. A few boys, including James, pushed forward, and you were swallowed up, unable to see above their heads.

There was another round of blood-curdling screams, cracks, and thumps as the Crank was beaten to the floor. You moved forward, clutching your rock tightly with both hands.

Only a few more Cranks attacked before there was silence again. The narrow tunnel smelled like sweat and dust, but no one was too shaken up to continue.

This was how you were living now.

After another two hours or so of walking without any disturbances, you let your rock clatter to the ground and roll away. Your feet hurt from walking, your arms from hauling around that big piece of stone.

The boys had drifted back into a broken, single file line, you suck in the middle between a boy with brown hair and a big nose, and Newt.

You watched his back as he walked, how his arms swung lazily at his sides. He would turn his head every so often to look back at the rest of the boys, and you would avert your gaze to the ground and stuff your hands in your pockets.

You wanted him to talk to you.

You wanted to talk to him.

At least work up enough courage to look him in the eye.

"Newt-" you blurted without thinking. Newt's head snapped back and he stared at you. Your face burned with embarrassment and you looked at the ground again, still unable to meet his steady gaze.

"What?"

"I-I just want to say sorry." 

He looked at you curiously, which was the last thing you would've expected from him. "What?"

"I know you're... mad, and-"

"What gave you that idea?" He asked suddenly, and you stopped mid-sentence.

"What?" 

He smiled. Actually smiled, and shook his head. "What bloody reason would I have to be angry with you?"

"I thought-"

"I know it wasn't your fault, yeah?" 

You nodded slightly, trying not to gape at him.

Was he really not mad?

"I-I guess."

"You explained everything, and I forgive you for that. End of story."

"O-oh."

Newt had moved over enough for you to walk next to him. You could feel how close he was and it suddenly made you nervous.

What was wrong with you?

"I just... I don't know. I didn't know what to say to you," he said after a long moment of silence. The both of you were now talking so quietly, you had to strain to hear the other. "And I'm not even going to mention earlier." He laughed, a sound that, a few days ago, you thought you would never hear again.

"I missed you guys," you said, finally looking up at him. He smiled, and you let yourself really look at him. His clean jaw and cheeks. His kind, tired eyes. The patches of dirt and blood that he hadn't bothered to wipe off his face. You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck.

Instead, you returned his smile and kept walking.

"I missed you too."

A few more hours of walking and two food breaks later, you could see the light at the end of the tunnel. You blinked, blinded for a split second as the orange light bled through your closed eyelids.

The boys switched off their flashlights and packed them away in the sheets. You'd laughed when you realized they'd had the same idea as the girls. Though, according to Minho, both experiments had been completely identical, except for the fact that almost twice as many girls had come out of the Maze.

Minho had told you about Jorge and Brenda (who you learned was pretty close to Thomas) and traveling through the Scorch. When you'd told him the girls had traveled mostly through tunnels underground, he'd snorted.

"You run into any freak storms?" he'd asked. You'd just raised an eyebrow and shook your head. "Wow, maybe you girls really are smarter."

You stepped out of the cave, blinking and rubbing sand out of your eyes. The wind had picked up considerably, and you shielded your face with your hands.

"Let's hope it's not another one of those bloody storms," Newt said grimly. From what Minho had said about their first storm -- and how he'd caught on fire -- you really didn't want to experience one yourself.

"Keep going!" Minho called above the wind. It pulled at your hair and clothes like it was trying to rip them from your body. You pushed your hair to your neck and tucked your sweatshirt hood tighter around your head.

Once everyone had stepped out of the cave, you pushed forward, Minho leading the way back out into the open expanse of desert. And when you were able to open your eyes enough to get a glimpse of what was around you -- and the Safe Haven -- your heart sank to your feet.

Sand.

Sand and sky. That was all anyone could see for miles and miles.

Sand.