Alby retied his hammock to his pine tree. He built the hammock using some canvas he found in one of the boxes. It turned out better than he anticipated. Of course, his hammock was constantly falling down. Less so now, but that didn't stop Alby from craving a bed surrounded by walls and a ceiling and not hanging from a tree.

Not that his tree was to blame for his hammock problem. The pine was sturdy. His knots that held up the hammock were a different story. The knots rarely lasted more than a few days, probably due to both his skill and flimsy, makeshift rope. His survival skills as a whole were subpar. If the supplies hadn't been in the Box…He pursed his lips at the steadily diminishing food. The Box had been returning weekly with a random assortment of supplies. However, in the last two returns, the Box hadn't contained any food. He glanced at his dwindling food supply. Even with his rations, he only had a random assortment of raw vegetables and some salted meats.

He gnawed his lip. Food was constantly on his mind. There were no food sources in the Glade, except for some plants that had the potential to be poisonous. He picked some berries his first week here. He didn't die. He became severely sick and spent the next few days curled next to his tree and clutching it in support. He may have also named the pine Jujuba during his fever. He felt he was excused. Being a sickly, lonesome person excused most actions. But at least he wasn't dead. Yet.

He was, however, extremely put off from testing unknown plants. Alby had been hoping that a previously forgotten skill would come to him overnight.

No luck.

Alby could barely manage a fire and salvaging food was out of his area of expertise. He knew that seeds grew plants, obviously. He even attempted to grow a miniature garden. He had no idea if the seeds took. He planted them at the end of his second week, but there was no sign of life. He bit off a groan. He wasted that food for nothing.

The Glade had one stream. One fishless stream. Alby had thoroughly explored the Glade and could confidently say that no animal life existed except for the random red beetles. His gaze shifted towards the Maze, not that he knew much about the Maze except that it was a maze. His Maze exploration had been lacking. He never went more than a few minutes away from the opening. There was a slight possibility that the Maze contained animals, but if those animals were the source of the screams at night, Alby was more than happy to keep his distance.

He didn't care if it was cowardly to avoid the Maze. He'll work his way out there.

He patted his tree after giving his knot a satisfied tug. He glanced at a pile of logs nearby. One of the tools that the Box supplied was a hatchet. He originally cut off a few branches to test his fire-making abilities. He was better now than when he first started. Not that that was saying much. However, for the past six days he had a new task in mind: attempting to construct a livable structure that wouldn't collapse on him overnight. He would get the hang of it. Eventually.

His last basic design failed. To be fair, all of his last designs failed, even his tipi fell apart. He had nothing to keep the logs in place besides mud and his makeshift rope. But, like many things, Alby knew shit about making rope. So the skinned tree bark rope he used probably did more to reassure his mentality that the shelter would hold rather than actually reinforce the shelter.

The sun was high in the sky while Alby wrestled the logs in place. The shelter he managed to build so far didn't immediately roll away and fall apart, which he considered a success, but didn't have a roof. Also there were a lot of gaps in the wall. The sun glared in his eyes as he surveyed his shelter. He was close enough to Jujuba that the branches offered some protection from the sun. It would be shucking useless against the rain, but Alby had been here for thirty days and there had been absolutely no rain. He used water from the stream to water his garden. A large leaf he found had been his substitute bucket. It wasn't the most effective method, but it worked. Or possibly it didn't. His garden still had yet to resemble anything besides dirt. But if there was no rain, was a roof really necessary?

A shrill bell rang echoed across the Glade.

Alby jerked away from his shelter. The bells still managed to scare him. At least now he was used to their jarring announcement. He nearly clunked his pants the first time the Box reappeared. Alby gripped his hatchet and wandered towards the Box. Despite the routine Box arrivals, the Glade was never to be trusted.

He studied the Box for a moment longer before spying some supply boxes. He squinted, but couldn't identify if the boxes contained food or possibly more canvas. He didn't know what they wanted him to make, but he had a shuckton of canvas. He spied a hoe. Alby smiled and swung the lid open.

A fist flew through the air and struck Alby hard across the face. Alby flailed and sprawled on the ground as a blur shot out of the Box. A boy went into a defensive stance. Alby gawked at the glaring boy. His heart thumped. Someone else was here. Alby took in the newcomer's tan skin and dark hair. He wasn't alone.

Alby gasped as a foot connected to his kidney, brutally tearing him from his thoughts. Tears sprung to his eyes as he grasped towards the flurrying limbs. His fingers connected to something.

He yanked.

A slam and a grunt soon followed. Alby rolled over to tightly grip the newcomer.

"Who they shuck are you?" Alby wheezed.

The boy narrowed his eyes at Alby and effortlessly pushed Alby off him. He opened his mouth and froze.

Alby dropped his clenched fists, looking down at the boy awkwardly. "You don't know your name do you?"

The black-haired boy's gawk quickly turned back into a glare.

"I didn't know my name either when I first got here," Alby offered. "Wherever 'here' is…"

The newcomer's eyes widened. His gaze flinted briefly at Alby's makeshift shelter, but focused on the large expanse of walls. Wordlessly, the boy began walking towards them.

Alby caught the boy's arm on reflex. "You can't go out there."

The boy snorted and yanked his arm away.

"You'll die. You can't die. You just got here," Alby protested, keeping pace with the new boy. He can't let the boy die. He can't be alone again. The boy had to trust him. His brow furrowed. No telling how he would have reacted if him and the new boy switched places. "The inside is a giant maze. The walls close at night. You do not want to be in the Maze at night, trust me."

"What happens at night?" the boy mumbled. Was that a slight tremor in his voice? Good.

Alby stopped in front of the boy. "You'll hear after the sun goes down. Trust me. You want to be in the Glade at night. If you want to check out the Maze tomorrow, be my guest. But you're not going anywhere today."

"You think just because you were already here, you can order me around?" the boy snapped. "You can't tell me what to do. I'm not going to sit here and turn this place into a home. I'm leaving. And I'm leaving now."

Alby bristled as the boy brushed by him. "You think that I want to be here? You think that I've been sitting here for a month, twiddling my thumbs? I want to survive. If the Maze is so easy to solve, do you think I would still be here? You want to ignore my advice, greenie? Then your death is not on my shucking conscience. You know nothing. Don't look down on me just because you're a stubborn shuckface. Go ahead. Die. See if I care. They'll send another boy up eventually. He'll probably actually want to survive this place." Alby turned and stalked away.

Alby didn't look back until he reached Jujuba. The boy was standing in front of the opening, looking miniscule next to the looming walls. Alby played with his hatchet nervously. He had been hoping that his reverse psychology would cow the newcomer. He glanced back at the north opening again. The black-haired boy vanished.

He whacked a nearby log with his hatchet.

First human contact he had and he let the boy get killed.

Shuck.

Great track record so far.

He ran fingers through his hair, pacing around his pine tree. He could go after the black-haired boy. He couldn't have gotten far in the Maze. He grimaced at the grass. Except the Maze had stone floor and Alby couldn't track on dirt, let alone stone. Alby could listen for the greenie. The Maze tunnels amplified sound, many nights in the Glade proved that. He frowned. How noisy would the silent boy be?

Alby sighed against the pine. He shouldn't go into the Maze. It was getting dark and the Walls would close soon. It was too risky for him to attempt to save the new boy. He swallowed back bile. It wasn't worth throwing his life away for a boy that didn't heed his warnings. He closed his eyes, attempting to will away his self-loathing.

He forced himself to move on.

Alby opened his eyes and immediately grimaced at his handiwork. The hatchet went deeper into the wood than expected, which he supposed was a good sign. Alby's eyes drifted to the Box. He needed to unload the supplies. The Box didn't leave until all the supplies were taken. It was both convenient and terrifying. He used the disappearing light to unload the fresh supplies and place them neatly around Jujuba. Alby busied himself by gathering the shorter pieces of wood next to his pine tree and stacking them together in his fire pit. He concentrated on making a fire, ignoring the groan of the Walls as they slammed shut for the night.

He inspected the new supplies under the flickering light of the fresh flames. There were more tools and Alby was oddly pleased to find a bucket, but nothing exceptional caught his eye.

He rolled the bucket towards him and stopped as something spilled out. Rope. Alby grinned. Rope would solve some of his reoccurring problems. He could tie his hammock up, reinforce his shelter, use it as a marker in the Maze…

"You're really excited about rope, Alby," the new boy said, arching his eyebrow at him.

Alby jerked. "You're back."

"I didn't actually go anywhere," the boy shrugged, "not in the Maze, at least. I thought I'd give it some time before I went out there."

Alby grinned. "Good choice. Glad I could help."

The new boy scoffed. "Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Wait. How did you know my name?"

"Shot in the dark," the new boy said. Alby frowned at the new boy. "Unless there's another Alby around here that carved their name in the Wall."

"Oh, yeah, that," Alby said sheepishly.

The boy's face remained expressionless. "Yes that. And you try to come off as so clever. Forgetting that people could read, getting excited over rope…"

"You'd get excited over rope if you've been wanting it for weeks and trying to make rope out of shucking tree bark."

"Why didn't you just make rope out of canvases? You have plenty."

Alby pursed his lips at him. The new boy gave a small smile.

"And what does 'shuck' mean?"

"Shuck if I know."

"You're not helpful."

"I'm not trying to be shucking helpful, shuckface."

"You realize I'm the only other person you have to talk to around here."

"You realize that I've been here for a month and you need me to survive around here, greenie."

The new boy examined Alby's rickety shelter and his fallen hammock. Alby fought the rising heat of embarrassment. The new boy leaned over and briskly tied the hammock to the tree. Alby leaned forward to frown at the knot the new kid used. The boy tugged out the makeshift rope harshly. The new knot stayed.

"I think our relationship can be mutually beneficial," the boy said, "and don't call me 'greenie.'"

Alby glanced at the knot. "You tying a knot doesn't make you god. As soon as you tell me your name, you'll stop being 'greenie,' greenie."

"My name is Minho, shuckface."

Alby spread his arms wide. "Welcome to the Glade."