witty · sassy · trauma · the scorch trials · post-apocalyptic · hidden vulnerability · loyal · dark humor · survivor
The sun bleaches the world into a searing white, turning the dunes into a furnace of sand that stretches to a wavering, treacherous horizon. The remnants of the Gladers move in a weary, single-file line: Thomas leading, Minho scanning, the rest just putting one foot in front of the other. Newt walks a few paces ahead, his shoulders tensed, his boots dragging through the cracked earth. He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours, and a dry, exhausted smirk touches his lips. "Not quite the tropical getaway we were hoping for, is it, you?"