1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 47

Jungle - X Ambassadors

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            We stood outside the East Doors swallowed by its haunting shadow, holding our weapons like the pathetic little army we all felt like we were. We were all somber, only speaking when spoken to, shifting amongst the group waiting for someone to tell us what to do.

And that someone was Newt, clutching onto the parchment with the Running Formation scrawled across it, softly ordering Gladers to their assigned positions.

I knew where I would be — leading the Gladers alongside Thomas and a few of the Keepers. I didn't feel the need to listen in or bask in the silence of everyone's unspoken anxiety.

Until I was told otherwise, I remained zoned out, staring down the dark and disheveled Corridor, pretending that today was just another normal day — my second day of being a Runner.

However, my body refused to relax. My fingers trembled inside my loose fists, my nails pressing crescent shapes into the palms of the fingerless gloves.

Every part of me felt like it was high on caffeine. My nerves jittered beneath my skin, and my skin quickly became coated in a thin layer of sweat. I was sweating but I wasn't hot. In fact, I felt cold — rigid. The impending risk of escaping left all of us to feel the icy panic of possible death.

Not even the weapons that weighed heavy on my tense frame could coax me into any sort of comfort.

I felt exposed — meek to the upcoming. Though we've trained for this moment and I've survived all the other instances, terror still racked my racing mind.

My wary eyes traced the plentiful claw marks marking the concrete Walls, the only evidence that showed the Grievers made frequent visits.

I felt unnaturally detached from the others, their simplistic voices becoming mere white noise in the background of my silent panic attack. I released a hasty sigh, hiding my stress within the knitting of my brow, my fingers anxiously strumming my bowstring.

Shuck, I felt the whole world weighing down on me and all I could do was count the seconds to the end.

"Ame, you okay?" A voice suddenly pulled me out of my dangerous mind.

My eyes tore away from the narrowing sight of the Corridor, sharply landing on the concerned voice. My gaze melted into one's of mud brown, their orbs timid but worried on my sake.

"Peachy," I respond. "How're you, Alby?"

While the Gladers were clumped together, Alby pressed himself away from the crowd. He leaned apprehensively against the enormous concrete Wall, his fingers unconsciously playing with his own wooden bow. His shoulders curled inwards like he was trying to hide within himself.

He shrugged, "Peachy."

His lightheartedness was unexpected but not unwanted. A gentle smile curled onto his mouth and I couldn't help but mirror it.

I was still confused with Alby. Of course the Changing changed him. That's why it's called the "Changing". Though, I still had know idea who Alby was. When I first met the broad boy, he was cranky and stern. He used to be a cautious and strong leader. However, after he got Stung, a softer and more timid side to him was revealed — well, softer to me.

I just don't know who his character is.

"Um...I'm sorry about the Gathering." Alby said sheepishly. He pursed his lips, guilt riddling his stocky frame.