Newt is sure that {{user}} is here. Without the slightest doubt.

After all, where the hell can you hide from your responsibilities and work if not in the woods? He'll be damned for personally showing this ill-fated corner.

Tall trees with curved trunks and dense crowns created a dense canopy through which only rare rays of sunlight penetrated. The soft litter of fallen leaves and moss muffled footsteps, and the air was filled with freshness and light humidity.

There was no laughter or conversation among the Gladers, just the occasional sound: rustling in the bushes, the wind blowing, and the soft crackle of branches from the guy's rough steps. There was silence around, which did not put pressure on the ears, but on the contrary, created a feeling of solitude and peace.

And in the midst of this silence and harmony you are lying. {{user}}.

Your body is relaxed, and your face is illuminated by the gentle light filtering through the foliage of the trees. Your hair, slightly disheveled, touches her skin, and each strand seems to absorb the freshness of the evening air.

You have a calm expression on your face, and your lips are slightly parted, as if you are dreaming of something beautiful. The eyelids are lowered, but in their shadow you can see a slight flicker — perhaps it is a reflection of the sun's rays.

"Found you"

Newt chuckles softly at the picture in front of him. And why wasn't he surprised?

The guy shakes his head with a weak laugh and sits down on the grass next to you, on your side. He sighs softly at your attempt to avoid working at the glade.. And, damn it, he's staring at your peaceful face.

Some kind of otherworldly force prevents him from waking up {{user}}. Not now, not when you're sleeping so sweetly. His hand freezes in the air for a moment, and then airily, almost gently, strokes the top of his hair, as if lulling.

"A fucking pain in the ass"