By the time you'd finished, every boy was speechless. You even risked a glance at Newt, whose expression was a mix of confusion and surprise, but as soon as he caught you staring, you turned away.

    "That's it," you concluded lamely.

    "What... what happened to it?" Thomas asked, horrified. You shot him a glare.

    "I already told you — I don't know. Maybe I did something, and didn't know it?" You turned to Alby for help, but he was staring at the floor, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "Really, I was just worried about, ya know, not dying."

 "Alby?" Newt finally spoke, and you fought the urge to smile. Throughout your whole explanation, he'd been completely silent, and now, you relished the sound of his voice. You knew your newly formed friendship had taken a major blow. He'd probably never want to talk to you again.

 Alby lifted his gaze to you. He looked tired, and maybe a little confused — but far from angry.

 "You said something about a light? A blue light, is that correct?" he asked quietly. You nodded.

 "It was really bright, and it looked like it was coming from the drop off of the cliff."

 "I see."

 "Don't you think we should go back and investiga—" you were cut off as Alby's hand shot up. His face was tinted red, and a few veins bulged from his forehead. It amazed you how he could go from quiet, and what you thought was understanding — to as angry as he was all at once.

 "Don't think you'll be making in decisions, Greenie," he spat. You recoiled, slumping back into your seat. "You'd better not forget, you've broken our number one rule." He turned to glare Thomas, then at Minho. "And you—"

 "Wait!" you couldn't stop yourself from blurting. "It's not their fault! I lied... saying you gave me permission to go out..." you trailed off as Minho flashed you a look that said, stay out of it.

 "Why... in the world, would you want to go out into the Maze?" You could tell Alby was struggling to remain calm.

 "I-I needed answers..." You flinched, realizing just how stupid it sounded as you spoke it aloud. Alby just raised an eyebrow and stood up, pushing his chair back as he did so.

 "Well, you'll obviously have to be punished," he thought for a moment before continuing. "You haven't trained with Winston yet, so we'll just extend your training to a week instead as punishment. You'll start tomorrow." With that, he turned around and made his way to the door.

 "Wait!" you called, jumping out of your seat. "There's something else, about the Maze."

 "What is it?" He growled impatiently, spinning around to glare at you once again.

 "When... I was in there, it was like... well...  " You gulped, trying to find the right way to word it. "I knew where I was going — I didn't once get lost. It felt... really natural." Your voice gradually grew quieter as you finished, to the point where you were sure only Alby could hear. He looked like he was about to say something, but he closed his mouth, spun on his heel, and walked out the door, leaving you to stand awkwardly, staring at the spot he'd just been in seconds before.

 "You should go get something to eat," Newt said sharply, brushing past you as he followed Alby out into the crisp morning. You bit back a reply, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground.

You ate by yourself, in silence. Thomas and Minho had already left for a day of running — and you were left to wallow in your self-pity. Chuck had sat with you at first, trying in vain to start up a conversation, but you ignored him, not at all in the mood to talk. Eventually, the poor kid had given up and left.

This gave you plenty of time to think; why had the Griever not been able to attack you? Why did you know your way so well through the Maze? Why did you know everyone here, when you'd only just met them? These questions bounced around in your aching head, and a throbbing pain started behind your eyes. You'd hoped a visit to the Maze would answer some of your questions — but really, it only brought up more.

Exhaustion hit you like an icy wave, and you stumbled to the Homestead, slipping into the little corner that housed your sleeping bag. You pulled your long sleeve shirt off, and settled down, smashing your face into your pillow to block out the lingering sunlight. The bustle of the Gladers soon faded away, and you enveloped in darkness.

It's begun (Y/N)! You have to get out!

The voiced bounced around you, getting louder and louder with every passing second.

You need to leave!

You wanted to scream. To tell it to shut up. You naughty Girl, it said. You naughty, naughty girl.

 It wasn't the Glader's panicked clamoring that woke you up. It wasn't the thumping of feet that shook the wooden floor you were sleeping on, or the urgent calls that sounded all around you.

 It was the dull, lifeless light that hung over the Glade like a stubborn fog.

 The first thing that popped into your head was that you'd woken up before dawn, and the sun hadn't risen yet... but then, why was everyone up so early?

You pushed yourself to your feet, barely having enough time to flash a passing boy a bewildered look before another crashed into you.

 "S-sorry!" he exclaimed, not even turning around to see who it was he'd shoved over. You shrugged it off, beginning to plow through the mess of sleeping bags and blankets to reach the Homestead entrance.

 Sure enough, the sun was nowhere in sight. It looked like someone had painted over the entire sky with grey paint, blocking out the clouds, stars. A shadow had fallen over the Glade, and you shivered as a bitter gust of wind blew past you.  

 "(Y/N)!" You recognized Alby's voice and turned to see him running towards you.  "Hey," he panted once he'd finally made it over. All coldness from the previous day was gone, and the air no longer crackled with tension as you stared at each other. It was like the whole Maze incident had never happened. He was... dispassionate

 "What's up with the sky?" you asked, leaning against the doorway. Alby rolled his eyes.

 "Ya think I know? But, get this," he dropped his voice, "The box hasn't gone back yet. We're... supposed to be getting fresh supplies today." You felt your insides turn to ice, and suddenly found it hard to speak. What did he mean, the box hadn't come up yet? What about food, and water? How long would you be able to last without it?

 "What... what are we going to do?" You pushed your millions of questions to the back of your mind — pestering Alby sure wasn't going to help the situation, and you highly doubted he knew much more than you did.            

 "I don't know." Alby heaved a loud sigh. "Thomas and Minho when to go take a look at your little 'glowing square', so, we'll just have to wait until they get back." It was unnerving, seeing Alby at such a loss. He always knew what to do, as a leader — how to handle everything.   

 "I'm supposed to start training with... Winston, right?" you asked quietly, wanting desperately to find something to get your mind off the whole thing. Alby looked slightly taken aback, but only nodded.

 "Yeah, yeah, course. Come on." He still seemed a little fazed, as he led you halfheartedly away from the Homestead, and all the way to the other side of the Glade, where the Bloodhouse stood.

 The thick air was filled with the sounds of different farm animals, as they grazed, completely oblivious to their chaotic surroundings. Sheep, pigs, cows, and the occasional yapping of a dog added to the orchestral bustle of it all; you couldn't help but wonder how you remembered all their names.They were nothing more than another muddied image, floating around in your memoryless brain.

 "Winston's inside," Alby told you, giving you a light shove in the direction of the Bloodhouse. "I got some stuff to do, so you go on ahead." You nodded, knitting your eyebrows together in confusion.

 "Alby," you called softly, glancing briefly at the Maze entrance."Tell me... let me know when Thomas and Minho get back, okay? I want to know what they find." Alby dipped his head to show he'd heard, and you shot him a small smile.

 "There ya are, Greenie!" The voice was orotund, and rang out, despite the commotion the animals were making. "I heard you're gonna be trainin' with me for the next week." The voice belonged to who you could only assume was Winston. Minho wasn't lying about the kid's "monster acne."

 "Y-yeah," you stuttered, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

The boy's face was flushed, and he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. You couldn't help but notice the bloodstains that covered the leather gloves tucked under Winston's arm.

 "We might as well get the worst over with, yeah?" He sounded... almost apologetic.

 "Yes, let's."

 You were a little ashamed to say, the job wasn't as bad as you expected it to be. Of course, it took some getting used to — but it wasn't too hard for you to handle; and this obviously surprised Winston just as much as you.

 "You should consider becoming a Slicer," he'd said, as you ran your hands under the stream of cold water in the back of the building. You'd laughed at the idea, and politely brushed it off.

 "I don't think I'd be cut out for doing this every day," you told him with another light chuckle. The water that spiraled down the drain, mingling with the trickle of red that you were rinsing off your arms made you slightly dizzy — and you didn't think you could stand much longer of being in there. The cacophony of animal noises had grown considerably, and you longed for the taste of fresh air again; all the Bloodhouse smelled like was horse klunk and sweat. It was for this reason, you were so grateful when you heard the excited chatter that announced the Runner's return.

 Outside, you spotted Newt and Alby, jogging over to two forms emerging through the doors. You watched as they met up, and began talking quietly amongst themselves, packing tightly together. A couple times, one of them would turn to glance at the box, like staring at it hard enough would send it back down.

 After they'd been talking for a few minutes, you saw Chuck's short figure run up to them, and yell something unintelligible. They split off, Newt heading towards the Med-jack's shack with Chuck, and Thomas in the opposite direction. Now, you were almost positive they'd found something, and you were going to find out what.