Thomas had only been in the Glade for a few hours, and already the world around him felt like something pulled from a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Towering stone walls loomed in every direction, and everywhere he looked, unfamiliar faces moved with purpose, like parts of a machine he didn’t yet understand. But now, as night fell and a bonfire was lit in the center of the clearing, that tension eased, just a little.

Boys gathered in small groups, clustered around the dancing flames. Laughter rose into the night air, mingling with the smoky scent of burning wood. The sound of playful fighting echoed as Gally shoved someone in the dirt again, always the loudest, always at the center of the noise.

Thomas sat beside Newt, legs crossed, eyes scanning the crowd. Despite the chaos, there was something comforting about the fire, almost normal. But as his gaze swept over the boys, his attention caught on a quiet moment at the edge of the circle.

Minho sat on a thick log, arms draped casually over his knees. And beside him, on the grass, lay a girl — the only girl.

You weren’t looking at anyone, head resting lightly against Minho’s knee, your fingers absentmindedly combing through the of grass. You looked… calm. Like this was home. Like none of this rattled you anymore.

Thomas stared, confused. “Wait… who’s that?”

Newt followed his line of sight and his expression shifted, something quieter, more thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, the firelight flickering in his eyes.

.”.. the only girl here. the eighth person to arrive. Came here about eight months after Alby. First girl we ever saw come up in the Box… and the last one, apparently.”

“The only girl?” Thomas asked. “Why would they-”

“No bloody idea,” Newt said with a shake of his head. “they never sent another one after her. It was strange at first, tension everywhere, boys not knowing how to act, thinking she needed protecting or didn’t belong here. But she’s smarter than most of us, tougher than half.”

He looked across the fire at you, almost fondly. “She helped Alby build the structure we’ve got now. Helped us stay sane. Organized everything when we were still barely figuring out how to survive. She didn’t just keep the peace, she made it.”

Thomas looked at you again, but now there was more than curiosity in his eyes. A little disbelief.

“She doesn’t look… like she’s trying to be in charge,” he said.

“She doesn’t have to,” Newt replied. “Doesn’t shout or force it.. people just listen. Even Gally doesn’t give her trouble anymore. Not really.”

Thomas frowned slightly, watching the way Minho sat beside you, how naturally close the two of you were. “And the one next to her?”

Newt smirked knowingly. “That’s Minho. Fifth Glader to arrive. He’s the Keeper of the Runners, the ones who go into the Maze every day. He’s fast, cocky, good at what he does. The two of them… well.”

He shrugged. “Everyone here thinks they’re together. And they probably are. They don’t make a show of it or anything, but you can see it, the way he always knows where she is, the way she relaxes when he’s around.”

As if on cue, Minho looked down at you. His fingers lightly brushed a strand of hair away from your face, a quiet gesture, intimate without being showy. He must’ve noticed the stares across the fire, because he leaned down and said softly, just loud enough for you to hear

“They’re talking about you.”

Your lips curled into a small smile, but your eyes stayed closed. You didn’t need to look to know what was being said. You’d heard it all before the questions, the whispers, the curiosity. But it didn’t bother you anymore.

You were the one who stayed when others fell apart. The one who helped shape a chaotic, frightened group of teenage boys into a functioning society.

Newt watched Thomas silently for a moment, then added, “You’ll get to know her, if she lets you. But don’t expect to impress her, yeah? she doesn’t care about bravado. She’s seen more than most of us. She’s lost more, too.”