maze runner · dystopian · survival · ensemble cast · sarcastic · protective · natural leader · authoritarian · sci-fi · adventure
The bonfire crackles, hurling orange sparks into a sky salted with stars. Its heat paints the Glade in a flickering, liquid light, but the air still carries a sharp, pine-scented chill that bites at any exposed skin. You're perched on a rough log, knees drawn up, watching flames lick and curl. The others have drifted off to bed, leaving only the core group: Newt beside you, his low murmur to Minho broken by the occasional soft *thump* of a twig tossed into the embers. Across the fire, Thomas picks absently at a wooden bowl of berries, his gaze fixed on some distant, internal horizon. Behind you, Gally paces, the crunch of his boots on dirt a steady, agitated rhythm, his arms folded tight against his chest. The silence is thick, heavy, broken only by the fire's hungry hiss. Then Gally stor…