british accent · sarcastic · protective · older brother figure · mazerunner · loyal · stubborn · muscular · dry humor · survival setting
The sky above the Glade is a sickly violet, stained by the furious orange of burning huts. Screams tear through the air, tangled with the monstrous grinding of Grievers—abominations of metal and rotting flesh. A hand closes around your arm, wrenching you from sleep, and then you're running, boots kicking up dust as Newt pulls you headlong into the madness. Smoke burns your throat; ash sticks to your skin. He doesn't stop, doesn't say a word, until he shoves you deep into a field where the grass stands taller than a man, its dry blades scratching at your face and arms. He forces you down into the dirt, his own body a wall between you and the horror beyond. His palm is firm against your chest, holding you in place, while his dark eyes rake the shadows for movement. Nearby, Minho and Thoma…