Alby's tour of the Glade had taken over an hour, and you were exhausted by the time you'd finished. Now, you sat, leaning against the wooden wall of the kitchen, trying to ignore the sun as it beat down on you. Alby had told you it never rained in the Glade. Never snowed. In fact, the weather never really changed at all. The sun would rise at the same time every morning, and set at the same time in the evening.

You'd been swarmed with questions from all sides, until Newt and Alby ordered everyone to leave you alone. Now, these few minutes of silence were golden, and you tried to savor them as much as you could, even with the continuing bustle of work going on around you. You looked around at the solid stone walls, a sudden feeling of claustrophobia washing over you.

Pushing yourself to your feet took some effort, but you did, and began striding towards the closest entrance. The wind seemed to add to the eeriness, and a dull echo sounded as you neared the large doors. A cool breeze ruffled your hair, and you brushed the stray strands that stuck to your sweaty face out of your eyes.

It felt almost like... it was calling you. You wanted to go deeper -- to explore it. To see what was waiting out there.

You were now so close to the wall, you could reach out and touch it.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing Greenie?" a voice sounded near you. You snapped out of your trance and turned to see who'd spoken. It was the Asian kid you remembered from when you'd first gotten here, Minho. He was walking briskly out through the doors, into the Glade. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, and his clothes were drenched. He pulled up the brim of his shirt to wipe his forehead.

"I-I was just looking," you stuttered, backing up a few steps.

"Well, I think you've done enough looking for one day," he said, glaring at you. "You'd better run on back to Alby or somebody. You should know no one's allowed in the Maze by now." You cocked an eyebrow.

"Maze?"

Minho let out a frustrated sigh, setting a hand roughly on your shoulder and pulling you back towards the center of the Glade. He smelled like sweat and dust.

You shoved him off, a sudden anger pulsing through you.

"Then, why did you just come out?" you asked loudly, glowering at him. He sucked in a breath, and you heard him mutter something about having a talk with Alby later.

"I'm a Runner, shuck-face! I risk my life, going out there every day, trying to find a way out of this hellhole! You could be a little more grateful!" You were slightly taken aback by his attitude. This was a completely different boy than the one you'd first met when you'd woken up. His eyes were wild, and he was inhaling in large, gasping breaths; at that moment, he looked anything but kind.

By now, a few boys had run over to greet Minho and were clustered around you and him, whispering together quietly.

"Oh, so you think you're better than the rest of us, huh? That you're all high and mighty?" the boy scoffed.

"More so than you."

You were done with this shank.

Reaching forward, you place two hands on his chest and shoved. Hard. He stumbled back, looking at you in disbelief. You knew he was much stronger than you were, but you weren't one to back down from a challenge, and you definitely didn't like this kid's attitude.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered, grabbing your wrist as you brought it down to hit him again and twisting it. You yelped in pain, latching onto his arm with your free hand, and digging your fingernails into the flesh.

"Let go!" you screamed, bringing your knee up fast in a desperate effort to free yourself. It found its mark, and Minho let go of you as he sunk to the ground, clutching his groin and moaning in pain.

A few cheers came from the growing crowd and you felt adrenaline the pulse through your veins.

As you let your guard down, Minho lashed his leg out, tripping you so you toppled into the grass, your head colliding painfully with the ground. He chuckled a little as you let out a groan, your throbbing head beginning to pound even more. When you moved to get your feet back under you, he lunged forward, pinning your arms above your head and digging his knees painfully into your shins, so you couldn't move. You struggled, kicking and trying to wriggle your wrists out of his grasp, but he overpowered you by a longshot.

He leaned close to your face, and you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. It didn't smell nearly as bad as you would have guessed.

"Don't think I'm cutting you any slack just because you're a girl, slinthead," he hissed, spit flying out of his mouth as he spoke. You let out a growl of anger, but still, he didn't move.

"You're... crushing me!" you managed, still thrashing.

As if he'd suddenly had a change of heart, the weight was lifted off you, though you knew it was because someone was dragging him away, rather than him getting up on his own. You sat up, letting out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"What's going on here?" You recognized Newt's voice through the crowd. Evidently, he had been the one to lift Minho off of you. He froze when he saw you sprawled out on the ground. You smiled sheepishly at him.

Minho leaned over and whispered something to Newt, who raised an eyebrow, not tearing his gaze from you. You huffed, knowing Minho probably took no blame for your little brawl. You let your mind wander, creating horrific scenarios for your punishment, the each one worse than the last.

The tall boy limped over to you, and you couldn't help wondering what exactly happened to his leg that resulted in his permanent injury. It wasn't huge, just subtle enough that it was hard to notice, but it was definitely there.

To your surprise, he held out a hand, and you took it gladly. He pulled you up with such strength, it almost knocked you off your feet once again, but you steadied yourself and turned to him.

"Getting into fights on your first day?" he asked, making no effort to hide the disapproval in his voice. You opened your mouth to argue.

"He-" but Newt held a hand up to silence you.

"I don't want any excuses, Greenie." It stung a little when he said that, like addressing you by your real name was a privilege that had been revoked as a result of your actions. You heard Minho stifle a snort of laughter, and Newt turned around to shoot him a glare, before turning back to look you square in the eyes. "We don't tolerate fights around here, especially with one of our most valuable Runners." You looked at the ground, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Newt continued, his voice softening slightly at the sight of your expression: "Go see the Med-Jacks and get those bruises tended to. We'll decide your punishment later." Your heart sank down to your feet when he said punishment. Newt spun around and stalked away, leaving you to stand by yourself in the dissolving crowd.

On his way back, Newt reached out and grabbed Minho roughly by the shoulder, dragging him towards the Homestead.

A few people paused to clap you on the back, or mutter a "Congratulations," before dispersing back to their assigned jobs.

You hung your head and trudged back to where the Med-Jacks dwelled in the old, wooden shack, for the second time that day. They didn't seem that surprised to see you walk in, and they quickly ushered you into an empty bed.

Unlike when you were first here -- and the place was almost dead -- it was full of boys, talking and laughing noisily. You caught sight of Jeff, kneeling at the base of one bed while he carefully wrapped a bandage around some boy's bloodied arm.

You remembered Alby's tour, and how he told you about the Slicers, and their constant injuries. Most of them sounded completely reckless.

"Back again, are you?" You looked up to see Clint standing in front of you, his hands on his hips.

"Y-yeah," you muttered. He looked at you, obviously waiting for you to elaborate, but when you didn't, he just knelt down and got to work.

The pack of ice he'd told you to hold on your swelling cheek stung, but you were just grateful for a distraction, your mind continuing to go back to Newt's punishment. You could have never imagined how scary he could be when he was angry -- and you guessed that was why he made such a good second in command.

Clint came back a while later, giving you the "all clear", and you left reluctantly, making your way down the rickety old stairs, grasping the railing for dear life. They moaned and lurched with your every step, to the point where you were afraid they might collapse under your weight.

As you stepped outside, the sun momentarily blinded you, and you looked away quickly, shielding your eyes with one hand while they adjusted. You started out the door but was shoved back as something hard bonked right into you. You yelped in surprise, glancing up to see none other than Newt. He acknowledged at you but didn't smile.

On any other occasion, you would have been overjoyed to run into him, as he was one of the few nice people in the Glade, but him being here, now, could only mean one thing.

"We talked it over," he started, leading you back out of the shack and into the light of the setting sun. It cast eerie shadows everywhere, and you rubbed your arms up and down in a weak effort to warm them up, as a strong gust of wind blew past you. "It's not too bad since it's only your first day. I convinced the guys to cut you some slack." You shot him a grateful smile.

"What is it?"

"Just one bloody day in the Pit, and no dinner." You nodded. A punishment was a punishment, but this didn't sound too bad.

"That it?" Newt let out a long sigh, and your hopes plummeted.

"Minho's part of it too, ya know. You were both in the wrong."

Your eyes widened, and you silently prayed he wasn't saying what you thought he was saying.

"He'll be in there with you."