( o8. dodging spoons )

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THE MAZE walls loomed impossibly high above them. Six pairs of boots echoed off the stone as the group moved deeper into the labyrinth, each step carrying them further from the safety of the Glade. Thomas and Minho led, while Ellie tried to memorize every turn, every marker. Behind her, Zart's breathing had grown shallow, while Frypan and Winston remained quiet.

A cold breeze whistled through the corridor, carrying with it a smell that made Ellie's stomach turn – metal and decay, an unholy combination that could only mean one thing. They rounded the corner and there it was: the dead Griever, its bloated body crushed between two massive walls. Metal appendages jutted out at unnatural angles, glinting dully in the fading light. Clear fluid leaked from its mangled form, creating slick puddles on the ground.

"That's disgusting," Zart said, his face taking on a greenish tint as he stepped back.

Thomas moved closer, studying the creature with an intensity that seemed almost familiar to Ellie, though she couldn't place why. "There's something in there."

"You mean, besides a Griever pancake?" Frypan's weak attempt at humor did nothing to mask the tremor in his voice.

"What are you doing?" Zart asked as Thomas took another step toward the creature. The smell grew stronger, making Ellie's eyes water.

Suddenly, the Griever's remains twitched, causing a ripple of movement through its grotesque form. Frypan stumbled backward with a yelp. "Whoa! I thought you said it was dead!"

"Was it a reflex?" Zart's voice had risen an octave, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"You hope," Winston muttered, gripping his weapon so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

Thomas squared his shoulders, jaw set with determination. "Okay, come on. Let's try and pull it out. Everyone get a hand on it. Come on."

Ellie stepped forward with the others, fighting back her revulsion as her fingers sank into the creature's cold, slimy flesh. The metal part they were trying to extract was wedged deep within its body, requiring all of them to get a solid grip.

"All right, ready?" Thomas positioned himself at the front, muscles tensed.

"On three," he called out. "One... two... three!"

The mechanical part gave way with a sickening squelch, sending them all stumbling backward. Ellie's boots slipped in the Griever fluid, and she crashed hard into Frypan, both of them hitting the ground. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, and she caught a glimpse of Thomas starting forward, concern etched on his face. But Minho was already there, his calloused hand extended toward her.

"You good?" he asked, strong fingers wrapping around hers. He pulled her up with practiced ease, his touch lingering just a moment too long. A moment that didn't go unnoticed – she caught Thomas quickly averting his gaze, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, thanks." She brushed off her clothes, grimacing at the slime now coating her pants.

Thomas knelt beside the extracted part, careful to avoid the puddles of fluid. "What the hell is that?" The piece was clearly mechanical, but unlike anything they'd seen before. Gears and wires protruded from one end, and something that looked like writing marked its surface.

"Interesting," Minho said, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied it.

Frypan glanced nervously at the darkening sky, where long shadows had begun to stretch across the maze walls. "Okay, whatever it is... can we take this up back at the Glade? Because I don't want to meet this guy's friends."

"He's right," Minho agreed, already starting to move. "It's getting late."

"Come on."

୨ৎ

Back in the Glade, the familiar sounds of their home – hammering from the builders, animals in their pens, voices calling across the field – helped ease some of the tension from Ellie's shoulders. They found Newt near in the council room, his limp seemingly more pronounced after a long day of work as he leaned against the wall.

"We found this," Thomas explained, holding up their discovery. Griever fluid still dripped from its metal surface, creating small dark spots in the dirt. "It was inside a Griever."

Newt studied it intently, his expression thoughtful. "These are the same letters we get in our supplies."

"Yeah. Whoever put us here obviously made the Grievers. This is the first real clue, the first anything, you've found in over three years. Right, Minho?"

"Right."

"Newt, we gotta go back out there. Who knows where this might lead us."

"You see what he's trying to do, right?" Gally's voice cut through the tension. "First he breaks our rules... and then he tries to convince us to abandon them totally. The rules are the only thing that have ever held us together. Why now are we questioning that? If Alby was here, you know he'd agree with me. This shank needs to be punished."

Newt considered this, his expression grave. "You're right. Thomas broke the rules. One night in the pit, and no food."

"Come on, Newt!" Gally protested. "One night in the pit? Do you think that's gonna stop him from going into the maze?"

"No." Newt's voice hardened with decision. "And we can't just have non-runners running into the maze whenever they feel like it. So let's just make this official. Starting from tomorrow, you're a runner."

"Wow." Gally's disbelief was palpable.

"Gally..." Frypan started, but was quickly cut off.

"No, Fry." At this, Gally left the room, pushing into Ellie's shoulder as he did. Ellie only glared at his retreating figure.

Thomas stood straighter, his eyes meeting Newt's. "Thanks, Newt."

୨ৎ

Ellie's gaze drifted across the Glade until she spotted Chuck sitting alone by the gardens. He was hunched over something in his hands, the evening light catching on his curls. As she drew closer, she saw he was working on a small wooden carving, his knife moving with careful precision over the surface.

"Hey buddy," she said softly, settling beside him in the grass. The earth was still warm from the day's sun, and the air smelled of turned soil and growing things. "What's that?"

Chuck didn't look up immediately, but his hands stilled on the carving. "Just... keeping busy, I guess. Sometimes when I'm working on these, I try to remember... you know. Before."

"Mom and Dad?" The words felt strange in her mouth, like speaking a language she'd once known but had mostly forgotten.

He nodded, finally meeting her eyes. In the fading light, he looked younger somehow, more vulnerable. "Do you ever... do you get any memories?"

Ellie drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she considered his question. "Sometimes," she said finally. "Little things. The sound of Mom laughing – I can't remember what made her laugh, but I remember the sound. Dad's hands when he'd work on something, all calloused and strong. But it's like..." she traced patterns in the dirt beside her, trying to find the right words. "Like trying to hold onto water. The harder I try to grab it, the faster it slips away."

Chuck turned the carving over in his hands, his thumb running over the rough edges. She could see tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. "Do you think they miss us?"

"Every single day," she said firmly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. He smelled of wood shavings and earth, familiar and safe. "Just like I'd miss you if—"

A sudden commotion cut her off – shouts erupting from across the Glade. They both looked up to see a dark figure sprinting across the grass, moving with desperate speed. The new girl, her dark hair streaming behind her as she ran straight for one of the tallest towers.

Before anyone could react, she was scaling the structure, moving with a grace that seemed impossible for someone who'd been unconscious just hours before. Her hands and feet found holds in the wooden framework as if she'd done this a hundred times before.

Immediately Ellie and Chuck made their way over. Dodging spoons, and rocks as they skidded to a stop. It wasn't long before Minho and Thomas joined them.

"Chuck, what's going on?" Thomas called out, rushing over from the direction of the map room.

Chuck's grin was immediate, despite the tension in the air. "Girls are awesome."

The girl had reached the top now, her silhouette stark against the darkening sky. "Leave me alone!" she shouted, grabbing loose items and hurling them down at the growing crowd below.

Ellie watched the scene unfold, a knot forming in her stomach as more Gladers gathered. A spoon whistled through the air, catching her temple with surprising force. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate.

"Son of a—" she snarled, taking two quick steps toward the building. Blood pounded in her ears, but before she could reach the structure, strong hands caught her from both sides. Newt's grip was firm on one arm while Minho secured the other, both holding her back.

"Chill out Ellie," Minho muttered close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. She could hear the barely suppressed amusement in his voice, which only fueled her anger.

Newt's expression was caught between concern and entertainment as he watched the girl above them. "I don't think she likes us very much."

"What do you want from me?" the girl demanded, brandishing what looked like another eating utensil.

"We just want to talk," Thomas called up, his voice gentle in a way that made something twist painfully in Ellie's chest. She'd never heard him use that tone before, and the fact that it was directed at this stranger made her want to punch something.

"I'm warning you!"

"Take cover, y'all!" Frypan yelled as more objects rained down. The gathered Gladers scattered, ducking behind whatever shelter they could find.

Thomas took a careful step forward, hands raised in surrender. "Hey, it's Thomas! It's Thomas!" His voice grew softer, almost intimate. "I'm gonna come up, okay? Okay, just me. I'm coming up."

Ellie jerked away from Newt and Minho's loosening grip, unable to watch anymore. The concern in Thomas's voice, the way he looked at the new girl – it all made her feel sick in a way she wasn't ready to examine. She turned sharply, her boots kicking up dirt as she started to walk away.

"Is she coming down?" Newt's voice carried across the Glade.

"Um... Hey, listen, you guys just give us a second, okay?"

"All right. Come on," Newt gestured for everyone to move back, though his eyes followed Ellie's retreating form with understanding.

Ellie was already storming toward the Deadheads, where the trees grew thick and dark. Her temple throbbed where the spoon had struck, adding to her foul mood. Footsteps crunched in the leaves behind her, steady and purposeful – she didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"You know," Minho's voice carried that insufferable knowing tone she hated, "for someone who claims not to care, you're doing a pretty bad job of showing it."

"I don't care," she bit out, still walking. A branch snapped under her foot with satisfying force.

"Right." He caught up to her easily, his Runner's stride matching her angry pace. "That's why you're out here having a tantrum instead of watching the show like everyone else."

She whirled on him, leaves scattering at her feet. The fading light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across his face. "I am not having a tantrum."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning against a nearby tree with casual grace. "Could've fooled me."

"Don't you have something better to do?" She crossed her arms, hating how defensive she sounded.

"Nah," he settled more comfortably against the tree trunk, crossing his arms to mirror her stance. "This is much more entertaining."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." His expression softened slightly, dark eyes studying her face. "But I think we both know who you're actually angry at."

"Minho," she warned, her voice dropping dangerously low. A cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the distant sounds of the Glade.

"Fine, fine." He held up his hands in surrender, though his knowing smirk remained. "But you might want to work on your poker face. You're about as subtle as a Griever in a china shop."

Movement at the edge of the trees caught their attention. Thomas and the girl were making their way down from the building, heading in their direction. The girl walked close to Thomas's side, no longer throwing things but still tense, like a cornered animal ready to bolt. Thomas's hand hovered near her elbow, ready to steady her if needed. The sight made Ellie's jaw clench.

"Hey," Thomas called out, looking between them with slight confusion. His eyes lingered on the space between Ellie and Minho, something unreadable crossing his face. "I think we can help Alby."

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