the last few days have been harsh, from escaping, to Newt giving Winston the gun to end his life. The scorch has been brutal, the days horrid and the nights even worse. It’s made your hopes of the right arm slither away each passing hour. You don’t know where you are, a fire warms the night air as no one speaks. You move beside Newt, his eyes drawn away from everyone

“Hmm” he mutters, his leg stuck out in front of him, everyone else is a bit away from you