Sorry it's late, but here's the chapter!

Also, fair warning but I have exams coming soon (again!) so updating may be slightly hard for me but I do have a chapter ready for next week!

CHAPTER 6:

The girls had decided to keep him alive- something he was overjoyed about- and had decided to abandon Teresa's ludicrous plans of vengeful murder. So, they'd moved on and kindly let him tag along, treating him as one of their own. Still, he kept his distance, just in case and his mind wandered in the silence. The day before he was kidnapped, he remembered Teresa breaking through his mind, the mind link he thought had been permanently abandoned, flaring back to life again.

I'm sorry Tom. I have to do something so horrible to you tomorrow. So terrible. But please, just trust me.

Teresa?

Just trust me, Tom.

TERESA!

Teresa?

Hearing her fade away from him had been painful and he felt an itching sense of unease, an overwhelming curiosity and thirst to fully understand everything going on around him. Teresa's actions, where the Gladers were, why the storms were so violent and why WICKED had such a bang on name.

"Alright?" Harriet asked, smiling a little. She seemed like a strong leader; not unexpected with her strength and wit but she had what Adira lacked- approachability and extroversion. Adira could be defended for the former; she seemed cold but the Gladers knew better than to assume she didn't want to listen to their problems or share a joke. The latter…she was on her own. Extroversion was something she'd never had.

"Fine as can be, I guess," he responded, eyes flickering to the girl's glowy dark skin. Skin goals. Not that he'd tell her. He was surprised she bothered with him. Not exactly the best company compared to Sonya or Emily or Mariam or all the other girls.

"Well, don't be too down," Harriet smiled. Thomas felt bad for not fully reciprocating her friendliness. Smiles were rare, whether you were a Glader or a Stick. But here she was, wasting all of hers on him.

"I'll try. Not like I've been betrayed."

"Stick," Harriet said with an undercurrent of affection, "no need to get crabby."

He rolled his eyes, "I apologise mother."

"If it helps," Harriet continued, ignoring his blatant sarcasm, "at least you know who's to be trusted and who's not. Nothing better than knowing who the enemy is."

"Yeah," Thomas said, blowing out a breath. "You bet I'm never letting that slinthead near me again."

"Don't blame you," Harriet grimaced. Shooting him a tired smile one last time, she trekked on ahead to Sonya, who'd lagged behind slightly. Two best friends. It reminded him of Adira and Newt. Of him and Minho.

And then there was a tap on his back and Teresa was there, her eyes wide and teary, clutching him by his wrists. Pale face, swimming eyes and a trembling lip convinced him of sympathy.

"Tom," she breathed, almost a sob, "I'm so, so sorry. So sorry."

"What? Teresa?"

She shook her head, her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs as she gently guided him into the undergrowth, away from prying eyes.

"Teresa?" Thomas asked again as she stopped abruptly, his tongue suddenly dry.

"Tom," she breathed, "I'm sorry. I really am but WICKED, they told me I had to."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, still recovering from seeing her like the Glader version he had in his head. It was like she'd switched personas, changed to the more sympathetic, kinder, normal version he was accustomed to only to realise the horrors of her actions.

Teresa sniffed before steeling herself, "Look, I'll explain everything once I show you something important, okay? Do you trust me? I promise, it's over now."

Thomas was almost incredulous but the emotion in her eyes stopped his anger like a dam stopped water, "Yeah, Teresa. I do."

She kissed him on the cheek, a feather touch that shouldn't have set his heart racing in his chest like it did. Then she was pulling him through the trees, her pretty black hair swinging behind her like a pendulum. He followed the motion of the strands with unfocused eyes, feeling dazed, out of control. In a twisted way, he relished it.

"Tom," she breathed again, turning around. His heart sank. Gone was the shakiness, the tears and the sorrow, replaced by a cold hard exterior, malevolence shining in the bright blue irises he once loved. He couldn't keep up with the changes. Any trust he had managed to grasp onto dissolved and vanished.

"I wouldn't move a single inch if I were you," she said icily, crossing her arms and Thomas tensed feeling a point press on the back of his neck, "Aris has a spear at the back of your head."

"What the shuck did I ever do to you?" he gritted out, betrayal leaving a throbbing in his ears. She hadn't been lying when she'd said it was over. It was. For him.

"Exist," she shrugged, "Aris has been telling me a lot. Even in the Maze, Thomas. He's always been there for me."

Teresa sent a sickeningly sweet smile over his shoulder and his stomach flipped, bile creeping up his throat. Aris had always been in communication with Teresa? The slinthead hadn't been as trustworthy as they'd deemed him to be after all. How the slinthead managed to gather courage enough to hurt him when he'd seen the terrifying anger of Minho and Adira, Thomas couldn't fathom.

"Walk." Teresa demanded robotically.

Not like he had much of a choice. Stumbling forwards, he silenced the bubbles of anger swelling in his chest ferociously- no way was he dying by the hands of traitors, no matter how much he loved one of them and was growing to like the other. That didn't matter anymore, clearly. No. All the quiet moments of intense fear lessened only by a friend's solid hand didn't matter anymore, saving a friend's life counted for nothing and loving someone was insignificant.

The foliage thickened into a blur of hanging branches and large, overwhelming leaves and greenery that made it hard for him to breathe. A suffocating scent of wet soil burnt his nostrils lightly. Still, Teresa never slowed, her gait fast but relaxed, even while jumping over logs and climbing over creepers. Stumbling behind her, he clenched his jaw as Aris' blade pencilled a dent in his delicate skin, a prick of redness blooming like a flower opening from a bud.

"This is it Tom! The end!" Teresa announced finally, clapping her hands obnoxiously. He looked up, dread drying his words. It was a strange assortment of rocks, piled up so they produced a semicircle of shade and housed a glowing green rectangle of light. Creepers dangled over the front of the cave, many hanging over the lip of the rocks, yet ceasing their existence once they came too close to the green light. Thomas slipped slightly over the damp moss, running his hand through his hair and clenching his fist.

"Come, Aris," Teresa beckoned, laying her arm around his shoulder and resting her head on it. Thomas looked away sharply, a shrapnel of pain shooting into his heart. It hurt more than if Teresa shot him.

Aris grinned at Teresa, his fingers tucking away a strand of ink hair before he was claiming her lips and shattering Thomas' heart in one. He closed his eyes, tired to the bone, hurt beyond measure and feeling like life was an entire joke for the people who were cruel enough to forfeit love.

"If you're gonna kill me, might as well hurry up," he muttered. They didn't listen.

"Hurry up, shuck!"

Teresa broke away first. "Y'know, you're nice Thomas. You are. But sometimes, that isn't enough."

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes, "glad I was of service."

"Quit being a smart aleck," Teresa spat. "These are the last words you're ever going to hear."

She paused, glancing at Aris, "Aris is my best friend."

Those words broke a barrier that he had never known of. Anger, hurt, betrayal and heartbreak swelled like a tyrannical storm and then he was screaming words filled with bitter, raw agony, "I don't care!"

It was painfully obvious he did but he'd never expose himself to her like he once did ever again. Gone was the time of trust and simple affection, the one straightforward good he had in the whole, complicated mess of his life.

"Get in."

No. His first instinct was to run but he knew he wouldn't get far when Aris held a long range weapon in his hand. Self-preservation kicked in as he edged closer and closer to the mouth of the oval cavern, heart thudding in protest.

"Nice and easy," Aris mocked, like he was a dog. And he snapped.

Throwing his elbow back as far as possible, he caught Aris on his side, leaving the weaker boy on the floor. The urge to stomp heavily on his ribs was all encompassing but he needed his life intact first. Teresa swam into his vision, wielding a heavy trunk like weapon, swinging it at his head. He was a goner, he knew that, as Aris stumbled up but he wanted to try. Landing a blow on Teresa's shoulder, he attempted to break free, only to have Aris' hand clutch his ankle and drag him towards the cave.

"Nice try Tommy," he sang as he placed a heavy boot on his neck, aiming the spear at his head. Teresa was humming, a strange, lilting tune that sounded like it had English origins while punching in a code, allowing the door to open with a hiss. With a jolt, he remembered Newt humming the same tune, his face cordial in the glow of the Glade's setting sun and he could physically feel every pore in his body freeze in that moment, basking in the affection he had felt when he'd looked on his open, jovial countenance.

It cost him dearly. Aris pushed him through the door into the smoky green abyss and Teresa bid him a farewell, congratulating him on his death and talking about how he was a sacrifice. Zoning out, his lungs served him the same betrayal that Teresa had.

Fitting, he thought as the green smoke sucked his soul away from him. Fitting that Newt would have been an unknowing accessory to his murder, he loved him so, even in a platonic sense.

This was metaphorical.

Not too far away in the hazy future, Newt would kill him by leaving Thomas with a gun in his hand, sobbing over a familiar dead body, a haunting English ballad plaguing him for eternity.

Thomas passed out.

Maybe he was dead.

The first thing he'd felt when he'd woken up was intense cold, almost unbearable. Shivering, he banged on the doors, the cold metal numbing his fingers to icicles. The cage like structure had been filled with green gas, yet now it was harmless looking, just an ordinary metal container that he'd almost died in. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Help!"

It was a miracle he was alive. Whatever that smoky green gas had been, it was not a sweet perfume intended to soothe one's migraines. Nevertheless, after all the beatings and scrapes and bruises that had accumulated over the last few days, the injuries had healed and his normal skin tone was visible again, replacing the purple blue colouring.

He was ready to scream again and marvel at the tenacity of his lungs when a hissing sound filled the room and a crack of light filtered through. The door was opening. Relief coursed through him as he scrambled up, only to cripple under Teresa's illuminated figure.

"Round Two?" Thomas spat but he realised she was crying. Then she was hugging him and a vile repulsion crept up his body, a force he could not bear to ignore.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she wept, loud, guttural sobs that shook him. "They said they'd kill you if I didn't do it. I had to but I'm so, so, so sorry!"

This narrative seemed familiar. He pushed her away, clearing his throat and avoiding her teary eyes with an iron determination. The Betrayer. She was destined to do this to him, maybe. He didn't know what was right anymore.

"Maybe," he started, moving outside, "maybe you should explain."

Teresa nodded frantically, wiping her tears away with a determination to stay calm and redeem herself. "Of course, of course."

"I told you to trust me and that I'd do something horrible to you and I did, I know I did. But it was an act, Tom, everything was fake."

She smiled and he frowned, "Forgive me if I say I need time to process what happened."

Teresa nodded solemnly, as if she understood the storm of emotions he'd been subjected to and it irritated him to no end because she didn't. She didn't know how it felt to have your floor whisked away from underneath you and leave you ina constant loop of dread. "I'll tell you everything I know. I won't leave out a single detail."

Aris came out of nowhere, his face pulled into a grimace of sincere apology, a stark change to the evil boy he'd transformed into. It seemed strange to see the akward, soft boy again, so different to the monster he had been. It could've been a bad dream.

"Sorry, Thomas."

"You slinthead," Thomas muttered, somehow unable to muster enough energy to yell a few choice words and run a way up the slope to encourage the pair to move. "Coulda told me you two were talking all that time."

Aris gave him a sheepish half shrug, glancing at Teresa, "How about we walk? We only have a few hours till we're meant to be at the Haven."

Thomas flicked his watch on- slightly under six hours. Not too bad, he assumed. He'd been invalid for a while, which explained his healed body and lack of time.

"Let's go then."

"Right, we aren't far now."

Minho was grim with the continued absence of Thomas and the worrying pallor of Adira's face as the minutes ticked by and her brother was lost to the world. They were very near the top of the small hill like structure that gave way to a massive expanse of flat, dry land where the Safe Haven was supposedly located.

"Good," Kasper grunted.

Newt muttered a weak cry of congratulation before resuming a good pace. Minho slowed a little for her, grasping her hand as comfort that could never eradicate her pain, no matter how much he willed it too. Still, he tried because his support meant everything in the dark hole of her misery.

"We'll ask the girls there," he whispered, his thumb drawing out slow, soothing circles. "And we'll do everything to get him back."

"I know," she whispered back, her gratitude drowned by the haunting image of Teresa's cool indifference. "I know. But it's been days, Minho. And their group got smaller."

Minho nodded, his eyes heavy with well-hidden concern. Still, they both knew that worrying was pointless. Once they reached the plain, they could question and take action. Thomas wouldn be nothing less than plain angry if he saw them moping for him. The guy had a martyr complex, or an inferiority complex depending on how you saw it- pretty shucking ironic to Minho when the shuckface "basically tells us Gladers what we gotta do."

Newt seemed to catch the last word she'd said and he sighed, a forlorn expression casting a dark shadow across his face- he missed the presence of the younger boy and it felt like his kidnapping had stolen more than just a person. A piece of his hazy past had been ripped from him, a small part of the puzzle he was trying to glue together. "Tommy boy better be fine and dandy once he's gets his shuck butt over to the Safe Haven. Otherwise, there'll be fighting."

"Ominous," Minho snorted and she glanced at the grey hue of the sky. Perfect description.

"The weather agrees."

"Damn, it's stormy as shuck. Looks like we'll get a repeat of last time."

"What, you almost losing all your bloody hair? Absolutely golden moment, that would be. Seeing Minho bald, finally. Hilarious."

"You are not getting hit by lightning or I swear to shuck, Minho."

"Alright, alright, sheesh woman! Why the threatening?"

"She'll get you before the elements do, Min. I'd watch out if I were you."

Minho grinned at her disapproving glance, lacing their fingers together, "Would you really? Really?"

"No doubt about it," she deadpanned, internally laughing as the mirth in his dark eyes drained and was replaced with exasperation.

"This is your fault, Newton!" he accused, turning to the guffawing blonde. "You're a bad influence!"

"Me?" he gasped dramatically. "Says the one who created an entire new vocab so you could swear."

"I swear, you're never letting that go! It was beneficial for everyone anyway."

"I think that's subjective Minho."

"Ad!"

"It's true, babe. Hate to burst your bubble but life's tough."

"Speaking of tough," Newt said, returning to the seriousness they'd momentarily lapsed out of, "we're up on the flat plain now."

"Hurrah," Frypan muttered, too tired to really cheer but still grateful for flat ground. It meant they were closer and their calves could calm themselves from the burn they'd been subjected to.

"You can say that again," Minho murmured, before glancing at his watch with alarm. "Pick up the pace shanks otherwise we ain't getting a cure."

"Unacceptable," Brenda inputted and it would've sounded hostile had it not been for the half grin on her features. There had been a learning curve to her humour but once everyone got past it, her dark jokes only elicited genuine laughs instead of uncomfortable chuckles.

Adira nodded, "We're with you on that one."

The walk on was easier than it had been on the slope and they set off on a quicker pace, making up for lost time. She somehow gravitated towards Brenda, so that the two girls were walking next to each other, a sense of understanding flowing like gold. Being the only females in an all male group wasn't easy. Sometimes it could be alienating, awkward and lonely. She'd felt the strange feeling of never truly fitting in, never being able to relate and over time the discomfort had decayed into a more comfortable security welcomed by the fact that they loved her regardless. Perhaps Brenda would reach the same conclusion. Maybe she already had. Her charisma- although, admittedly peculiar- had captured approval and trust from the group. She envied her smoothness.

"Hey," Brenda greeted, her dark eyes flickering to her tense form. She'd been observing the blue eyed girl with keen interest, partly because she was the only other female in their group and partly because of her air. It hadn't taken her long to decipher that she was a figure of importance within the group, a symbol of respect and bravery. Essential. But despite the overwhelming admiration she demanded, she was flawed and human and she wore it proudly at times, shamefully at other times. Brenda admired her. But she also saw her as a fellow struggling human, not a superhero.

"Hi," Adira replied, a little guiltily. She hadn't really taken the time to get to know the girl although there had been plenty of time to do so. Deciding to make conversation, she spoke first.

"Do you remember much before the sun flares hit?" She hoped her bluntness wasn't taken rudely by Brenda but it had been the first substantial question that had popped into her mind. Not a fan of small talk, Brenda deduced, pleased. She didn't like it either.

Brenda paused, a faraway look enveloping her young, tough face. "Sure, some bits. I was little when they happened, so not a lot of detail, I don't remember much. Just...heat and lots of light and screaming."

"I remember my family though," she continued and Adira was surprised she bothered talking on. "They were good to me," she shrugged. "That didn't do much for them though. Flares wiped 'em out."

"I'm sorry," Adira said sincerely. Brenda waved her hand dismissively.

"It's whatever. I got lucky though. Me and my brother. Our family, the extended at least, all lived in India. We used to live there too- I was born there but we moved to Canada when I was one so we were high up north. The rest of them… incinerated probably. Never heard from them since, anyway."

"That's shucky," Adira muttered. "You had a brother?"

Brenda's face contorted into an expression of so much pain, Adira could feel tears welling up in her eyes. It was look of grief and harshly forced acceptance, a contradiction that pained her.

"Yeah," Brenda said, swallowing harshly. "I did. Dunno what happened to him, or where he is."

Adira looked away, her brother's absence intensifying, "What was his name?"

"Aarav Patel," Brenda said, the name leaving her lips with so much longing that she was sure the words were stuck to her lips, pulled away forcefully by her curiosity. "He was taken by WICKED, I think. Who knows? It's what I regret the most. Not being able to look after him when he needed me to step up and be the big sister."

"Wherever he is," she started, her fingers cold, "I hope he's fighting."

Brenda grinned a tiny smile, "He was always a fighter. Mad smart too, I miss him randomly spouting facts. Even when he was tiny, you could tell he was clever."

She turned to her then, determination in the clench of her fists, the sincerity in her eyes pummelling her insecurities and fears, "And so is Thomas. He's smart and he has more self-preservation than anyone else. I saw him in the Underground so you know I'm not saying this cos I wanna wipe that frown away."

Adira stared at the complete reassurance in her figure and she found solace in Brenda's faith, more so than any other word of comfort she'd received from anyone else.

Teresa started explaining once they were clear of the foliage and the perilous slope, allowing them to rest a little easier with the distant converging congregations of people in their sight.

"That night we got back, Adira left our room. I thought she would, you know, with her and Minho," she paused and Thomas nodded. "Anyway, some people came in the middle of the night. They were wearing these green and yellow suits with goggles, like the protective clothing for nuclear workers."

"Must have been nice waking up to that."

Teresa snorted, "Scared the crap out of me. I tried to call for you in your head but the connection was broken. So they took me away and some people, I think the Creators, talked to me and told me what I had to do and that Aris was in on it as well."

"After that, they put me in Group B and told us what we had to do- y'know, run around for two weeks and get to the Safe Haven so we could get the cure. We didn't see you guys cos we were moving in the Underground," she paused again, slowing her pace, tired. Thomas was unrelenting and urged her on.

"Yeah, the Underground," he added. He didn't want an explanation of what they were; he'd been there.

"How d'you know about them?"

He turned back, before facing forward again. "Brenda and I got separated from the other Gladers. She took us back to them by the Underground tunnels so we got quite familiar."

Teresa's face tightened like he knew it would but he found that there was not an ounce of pity in him. Perhaps his word choice hadn't been the best but it was too late to go back now.

"So, everything was controlled and planned," she continued and he ignored the hurt in her voice. "Meeting you in that building, getting weapons and confronting you. It was planned."

"WICKED said they'd kill you if I didn't do it Thomas. I really didn't have a choice. I'm sorry, I am but the alternative was worse. They said that I had to make you feel betrayed."

"Shucking worked," Thomas snorted sharply and Teresa quietened before her hand gripped his elbow, forcefully stopping him. He resisted the urge to snap at her and yank his arm away.

"Good," she said, "they won't kill you. I did what I had to do to save you Thomas and I wish it was nicer but it wasn't and I'm really, so, so sorry."

"What do you want?" he asked, feeling his normally subdued temper flare up. "Us to be happy again? I'm sorry Teresa but can you blame for being slightly annoyed right now?"

"No, Tom, never. But I want you to know I'd never have done that to you if there hadn't been a reason!"

Thomas sighed, shaking off her grip, "Alright. I get it. Not much of a choice for you. Let's run now, yeah?"

Pasting a cool grin on his face, he acted like everything was right and fine so she'd lay off his back, stop drilling the mantra of apology into his brain. If they delayed their journey, it only meant he was separated from Minho, Newt and Adira for longer and that was proving detrimental to his mood.

"Okay," Teresa agreed, her returning smile unsure. "We'll do that."

"Great," Thomas said, "let's go."

The wind whipped around them like a taunt.

"Thomas!"

Thomas looked at Minho's smirking face, his eyes shining with relief and his exhausted face turned up into an expression of such sheer joy, Thomas felt quite touched. Then Adira was in front of him, roughly pulling him in for a hug that lasted all for two seconds before she moved back and glared in Teresa and Aris' direction, spitting vehemently onto the sand. Newt patted him on the back, giving him a rare, genuine smile.

"Glad to see ya Tommy, very glad," he whispered, in his quiet affectionate way that made Thomas feel loved and cared for.

"The shuck did they come with you for?" Minho asked, imitating Adira's scowl. Teresa and Aris shifted on their feet, guilty. "Shucking traitors."

Thomas sighed, a storm of contradicting arguments swirling in his mind like a whirlpool, "It's complicated. But they're on our side."

Adira glared harshly again before she shook her head, "Do what you want but they're shuck strangers to me. Sorry not sorry Thomas."

Minho shrugged, "Gotta agree with that one. Figured it'd be a long story anyway."

"Why are we here anyway?"

Minho smirked before yelling loudly, over the beating of the wind, "Move outta the way!"

The crowd parted like Minho had been Moses and Thomas focused in on the tiny orange flag stuck on a stick in the ground. Marching up to the tiny stick, he squinted to read the almost incomprehensible blur of black letters- the Safe Haven.

"Are you shucking serious?" Thomas asked rage forcing his volume to rise. Minho shrugged.

"It could be worse," he said. "At least we're all here and ready to go."

"Looks like the Flare's working away already. It's a shuck stick Minho. A stick."

"No one here's blind, Tommy," Newt interrupted. "But they can't just bloody leave their precious subjects here. There's a reason. It's all planned, least, I think."

It made sense, especially with the haunting repetition of Teresa's words earlier. Adira nodded absentmindedly, her elation at seeing Thomas gradually dissipating into nervous anticipation.

"So, you've talked to the other girls?" Thomas asked Adira and she shook her head stoutly.

"Only Harriet and Sonya. They were telling us about you, actually. Then we saw you and we didn't speak anymore."

"Social," Thomas commented and she gave him a dry look.

"Speaking of social," she said, looking behind his shoulder, "you have an eager visitor. I'll leave you two alone."

It was Brenda, her short hair whipping around her, the curtains she'd cut blowing over her eyes. She reached him in sharp, long strides, one fist clenched beside her, the other playing with a pendant strung around a piece of string on her neck.

"You're back," she muttered, a lopsided smile curving up the left side of her face. "Took you long enough."

Thomas shrugged, "Loads of people wanna kill me. So sorry I took long."

"Forgiven," Brenda replied instantaneously, her eyes flashing with something he couldn't tell. "So, that's Teresa?"

Thomas had been dreading the meeting of the two girls but Brenda's expression let him breathe easier. She didn't seem hostile, only curious and on guard and he was grateful for that because she knew how he was feeling; drained and eternally tired, definitely not in the mood to separate fighting people.

"Yeah," Thomas muttered, internally grimacing as Teresa marched up to them. He didn't want to deal with the subtle bickering and her odd sense of entitlement to him. It made him feel trapped like the blades of Group B's swords were pressed into a tight triangle around him.

"Hi," she introduced robustly, "I'm Teresa. You must be Brenda."

"That's me," Brenda replied, her expression light, almost mild with forgotten kindness, "the half Crank destined to go insane. I'll be biting fingers off for fun, give a few days. Good to meet you."

Teresa looked mildly awkward and Thomas groaned aloud as he spotted a determined Adira come up to the small group and by extension, Minho and Newt.

"Hi?"

"Slim it," Adira instructed shortly. "I don't trust that shank so I'm supervising."

Teresa rolled her eyes, "Look, I had to do what I had to do, okay? I'm sick of apologising for it."

"Are you shucking me?" Minho spat and Thomas scoffed, turning away from the blue eyed girl. She was "sick of apologising"? He was sick of the blatant manipulation he'd been put through. She'd been doing it since the Maze after all, talking to Aris and pretending she was like the rest of them.

"Look, Tom—"

"I think it's best you stop," Brenda interjected calmly, blocking Teresa's desperate attempt to follow Thomas and he felt an infinite gratefulness for Brenda. She disappeared into the whipping sand, heading to Jorge with a significant glance at a hopeless Teresa.

"That was unnecessary," he pointed out as Adira glared behind her.

"Go get beat up again then, Thomas," she snapped, losing the composure she'd tried to salvage when the traitors had returned. That was not a good sign. Minho noticed and he flashed her a look that encouraged her to erase the fury cracking through.

He sighed, "Look, I'm not all buddy buddy with her, alright? I haven't forgiven her and I don't think I will for a long, long time."

She looked less mollified than he had hoped for but it was better than outright rejection. Frowning, they turned to Minho and Newt.

"I'm just thinking that this is shucked," Newt was saying, gesturing flamboyantly, Minho nodding like a maniac in agreement. "These WICKED people haven't given much reason to make 'em seem like lovable cuddly bears but for heaven's sake, they could maybe give us a bit of shelter."

"We're exposed," Minho muttered, his fingers twisting in a weird pattern to rid him of anxious energy.

"No good here," Adira said. "If something doesn't happen in a half hour, people will be frying like Fry's bacon."

"Don't say it like that," Newt complained, scrunching up his nose in disgust and she patted his back in consolation. He grinned, a small secretive inflection on his face that comforted her for no other reason than simple relief.

She expected Minho to add something but he was on his feet, eyes wide in horror.

"What in the shuck is that?"