𝑰𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑩𝑳𝑬 to sleep. Emis hated it. She wanted so badly for her eyes to close and to fall under, wiping her mind blank so that the dreams could paint themselves back. But she couldn't do it.
It was as if the Glade had worked up a kind of frenzying energy. Night had long fallen, deep black streaked across the sky. The pale stars were washed out by bright, burning firelight. Lights Out was a lost cause. No one could drift off.
She lay still in her hammock. Her braid was tucked uncomfortably behind her back, but she made barely any notice. She was concentrating on other things.
Like the dream. She was so sure it wasn't a dream. It had to have been a memory. A signal. Something reminding her of what was on the outside. "Remember me." He had said. And she did. His voice was familiar — it triggered something in her. Relief. Told her everything was going to be okay. But that was about it. She sighed aloud, shifting her head so that the braid came untucked and staticky.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She turned her head to the side. Newt came to sit on the hard ground next to her. He brushed his trousers off, long legs splaying out in front of him. "You look like you're thinking very hard." It wasn't a question.
"Mmm." She turned back to face the sky. "I was."
"About?" He prompted. She heard him budge himself closer. She smiled.
"It was a dream I had. Earlier, by the willow."
"Oh?"
She sat up, ignoring the back and forth motion of the hammock as she threw it off balance. "Yeah."
"Was it a good dream?"
She shrugged, thinking of the cool airy voice, and the mask. "Yes and no." She settled. He nodded in consideration.
"Well. At least there was some good, yeah?" He grinned at her.
She smiled back. "Yeah. Guess you're right."
There was a pause. It was filled with the sounds of the evening; buzzing insects, crickets, crackling fires. Hushed voices. And underneath all of that white noise, she could hear his breathing. It wasn't shallow, but it wasn't slow. It was like his whole body had become alert.
