Thomas had come early that morning to wake you — though there really wasn't any need since you had hardly gotten a wink of sleep that night, too worried and excited to sit still long enough to fall asleep. As soon as you heard footsteps sound, you'd slipped quietly out of bed, and let him lead you back the way he'd come.  

 "You're sure Alby approved of this?" Minho asked skeptically, as he, you, and Thomas made your way across the deserted Glade, towards the old shack that housed the Runner's equipment. Thomas shot you a glare, but you ignored him and scoffed instead.

 "Of course. He told me I could come out for a day, and prove myself." You hoped you sounded more confident than you felt.

 "Alrighty then, as long as you're sure you can handle it." The Runner pulled out a set of keys and began to rifle through them, stopping when he found the one he was looking for, and reaching out to shove it into the rusty padlock that kept the door locked. It swung wide open with a click, and you hesitated before stepping in.

 The room was a pool of darkness, and you could barely see three feet in front of you.

"Take this," Minho called from somewhere in the room. You heard the whoosh of something being tossed in the air, then blinding pain, as the flying projectile smacked you in the head.   "Ow!" You hissed, bringing a hand up to caress the throbbing spot on your forehead. "What the hell Minho!" The boy sniggered, and muttered a quick sorry, not sounding at all sincere.

 "It's a torch," Thomas's voice sounded behind you, and you felt a tap on your shoulder. He brought it down to your hands, making sure you had a firm grasp on it before letting go.

 "Thanks," you muttered him gratefully, feeling for the switch. You found it, and pushed, flooding the room with light.

 "That's better." Minho turned the second one on and brought it up to his face. "I'll get your supplies. Thomas, you take her to pick out a few knives."

You felt Thomas's hand on your shoulder again, and you brought the beam around to shine on the ground in front of you, pausing a second to push a few stacked boxes to the side.

 "Put it over here," Thomas told you, pointing to a spot on the ground a couple meters away, revealing a small trapdoor that had been hidden in the far corner. You followed your guide over and took hold of the handle alongside him — straining and pulling as hard as you could.

 "Hurry up, ya shanks!" Minho called. "We need to get going!"

The door popped open, and Thomas lowered himself slowly down the rickety, old set of stairs with your torch, motioning for you to stay up.

 "Take the boxes I hand up to you," he instructed. There was some shuffling, then a large crate was shoved in your face. You grasped it and slid it up and over onto the floor beside you. You repeated this two more times before Thomas reappeared, and helped you rip off the lid to the first box.

 You aimed the weak light of your torch inside, and your eyes widened a little as your gaze landed on of the many glinting daggers.

 Some were older, and covered with rust — and some looked brand new, reflecting the light back at you like a mirror with their polished blades. "Pick a couple," Thomas told you, reaching over to take the light from you again.

 You ended up choosing one short knife, with a slightly rusted blade, and a rubber handle, and a longer sword-like one, with a metal grip. Minho had given you a pack, filled with food, spare clothes, among other things. He'd told you snidely the spare clothes were boy's since you were to be the first ever girl Runner. You'd just taken the supplies and shot him a fierce glare.

 Now, you stood at the entrance of the Maze, Thomas on one side, Minho on the other.

 "We'll go slow for ya Greenie," the Keeper said with a wink. You responded with an eye roll and turned your attention back to the towering stone walls. "We have a few rules," Minho had told you as you started. "One, don't die, and two, get back before the doors close." You nodded in the affirmative, focusing mainly on keeping pace with him. "Right, let's run."

 With that, Minho let loose a burst of speed, leaving you scrambling to catch up.

 It had been roughly two hours since you'd first started your run, and, by now, the job had lost some of its glory. You were drenched in sweat, and you had to wipe it out of your eyes every few minutes to keep it from blurring your vision. Thomas was breathing steadily beside you, and Minho was a little ways ahead, glancing back every so often to make sure you were keeping up.

 By the time the boys had called a lunch break, you felt like throwing up and shakily sat down, using the wall behind you for support.

 "How do ya like the job?" Thomas asked, amusement glinting behind his weary eyes. You were too tired to speak, but flashed a thumbs-up and gave your best effort at a smile. "You're not doing bad for your first day, and the fact that you're a girl."

 "She's just slowing us down in my opinion," Minho muttered, biting into his sandwich.

 "He's gonna make us get moving once we've finished, so eat slow," Thomas whispered, flashing a mischievous smile your way.

 You soon finished eating, and begrudgingly got to your feet, disregarding any help offered to you.

 "Let's just finish this," you'd muttered, starting off once again at a light jog, then forcing yourself to pick up the pace so the boys didn't get too far ahead. You were in good shape, but, despite your best efforts, the guys were just naturally faster; they had to stop every so often to let you catch up, before continuing.

 Every twist and turn you made, felt so natural. It took you a while of running to bring it to your attention — but once you realized it, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

 Sometimes, Minho and Thomas would disappear momentarily, but you'd always know immediately which way to go; like it was all mapped out in your head.

 Eventually, you couldn't bear to take another step, and you let yourself drift away from the two Runners. It was such a relief to walk after jogging for so long.

 You reached into your pack to grab your water bottle and took a long-needed swig. By the time you were satisfied and put it away again, you were far behind, though, strangely, you weren't the least bit worried. You broke into a much slower jog than before, turning corner after corner, and not hitting a single dead end.

 Now, the ivy that clung to the crumbling stone walls was beginning to thin out a little, and the walls seemed slightly higher and more thickly built. You'd considered calling out for Thomas and Minho to see if they were nearby, but decided against it; the little nagging in the back of your head becoming stronger with every step. You sensed something... lurking around here, like it was watching you, but every time you swung around to check, it would dissipate into the long shadows cast by the Maze walls. It was unsettling, to say the least.

 A loud crack sounded, like a twig being snapped under someone's boot. You twisted around, frozen in place, your eyes wide and searching. Nothing.

Your stomach did somersaults and you felt sick, dreading something would pop out from one of the narrow tunnels without warning. This, only made you run faster, and almost allowed you to forget momentarily just how tired you were.

 Then a screech.

 It was high pitched and gurgling, sounding like a cross between the kind of engineered clunk a machine makes, and a roar that shook you from head-to-toe. The scraping of metal against stone echoed closer and closer.

 Shuck.

 It appeared in front of you, standing with its eight spider-like legs spread out, looking like it was ready to pounce.

 A Griever.

 The bulbous body of the thing glowed a dingy blueish green. It had no face or anything signifying a head — but it had a mouth; gaping and full of rows and rows of sharp, mucus-covered teeth. Rods extended out from random parts, looking like they were just shoved into the bubbling mass of machine at the last second. Some had clean-cut swords and blades attached to them; some had giant claws, whose purpose you didn't care to consider.

 The thing let out a low growl, and you shrunk away. It was at least three times your size, resembling a large horse or two. You held your trembling hands out in front of you and you inched slowly backward.

 One step forward and another blood-curdling hiss from it, however, stopped you in your tracks.

 "So, you're one of the famous Grievers, eh?" you managed to speak out, behind the huge lump that had formed in your throat. You were surprised at how hoarse your voice was — though it wasn't shaking as much as you would have expected it to.

 It responded by taking another step towards you. You knew your time was running out before it decided to just pounce instead of just standing there.

 "I-I'm not—" you were cut off as it suddenly leapt forward, clearing the small gap that had been separating you in one quick movement. You let loose one, short-lived scream, before breaking into a sprint.

 It amazed you how much faster you were able to run if you were doing it for your life — and just how speedy Grievers could be. Based on how Thomas described them, you pictured it to be a big slug, hardly capable of the speed it was exerting now.

 You would barely clear a turn before the monster caught up, smashing into the spot you'd been in only moments before, then letting out a disgruntled shriek as it missed.

Throughout your whole experience running the Maze that day, you'd known exactly where to go; what turns to make, and when. But, in the chaos of the situation, your mind had drawn a blank as you were running for your life — which turned out to be absolutely crucial as you smacked hard into the wall of a dead end.

 "Shuck it!" you exclaimed angrily, smacking the hard wall with one hand as if it would magically open a secret passage that would allow you to escape. You would've beat yourself up over it, but common sense told you you'd already be dead by the time you'd get to go back and reflect on your bad decisions.

 So this was what it was like knowing you were going to die.

 With a jolt, you remembered the knives Minho had given you before you'd ventured out into the Maze — but you didn't have time to even reach for your pack before the Griever descended upon you.