Elsie realized they had continued with the tour whilst she'd been musing over her silly shoes. She fumbled to catch up with the topic.

"Most greenies are stuck with the Slicers," Newt was explaining. "At least at first. It's not so bad, really. It could be worse—you could be stuck with the Sloppers, or the Baggers."

None of those positions sounded appealing, and apparently she wore her sentiments on her face, because Newt broke into laughter.

Laughter sounded weird, she realized. Strange. It was like a song you hadn't heard in ages, but you knew all the words. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, really, but one thing was for sure. She was certain it had been a very long time since she'd heard someone laugh. She decided she quite liked it. It put her at ease, unfurling some coiled thing inside her a little more.

"Well, we've never had to put a girl in a job before. Maybe you'll have more of a choice," He brightly mused, shrugging a shoulder. "There's a first time for everything."

Elsie outwardly offered a grin to the blonde-headed chipper fellow leading them around, but inwardly she cringed at the options he had laid before her thus far. Slopper, Slicer, Bagger? None of those were very enticing. She didn't even know what they meant, actually. Maybe she'd try to be in the gardens. She'd never tried her hand at having a green thumb, but now seemed like an opportune moment to give it a shot.

"Onwards, then," he pointed, "The Homestead is a pretty important place. Think of it as a home base, if you want. The rest of us do. It's where the Cooks and the Med-jacks are usually found. It's where we eat and sleep. This whole area's called the Glade, did Alby mention that?" Without pausing to hear an answer, he was off again. "We call ourselves the Gladers. Over there you can see the Builders and the Bricknicks. They're strong physically, but most of them are jerks and a lot of people say they lack in—other areas." He winked at them and it didn't take a genius to catch his drift.

"Is that Gally?" She asked, referring to one of the boys who was currently perched at the top of a structure, his brown shirt clinging to his sweaty skin. His eyebrows were angled like a bird's wings in mid-flight, and Elsie could feel his gaze sticking uncomfortably on her from where he worked. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, but only barely.

"Good, that." Newt's dimples made another appearance as he said, "You're a fast learner. Guess that rules out the architectural aspects of life in the Glade for ya," He lightly joked, and the siblings both smiled at his quick wit and pace. He was definitely more suited for tours than Alby. "No worries, plenty more to do around here. And you'll have to do something, sorry 'bout it, so no funny ideas. It's one of the three rules."

"What are the other two?" Alex asked.

Newt sighed and stepped ahead to walk backwards so he could look them in the face, and she realized that he had a limp which made it more difficult to walk that way than it otherwise might have been. Still, he ignored it and pretended not to notice the extra effort it took. "Like I already said, no slackers are allowed. You gotta do something, and even the nastiest jobs need done by someone. No one is too good for it. So that's rule number one. Second rule is never hurt another Glader. This whole thing is built on trust. If we can't trust each other, there's no balance." He paused to glance between the two of them. "If you do hurt another Glader, more serious consequences will come into play."

"Has that really happened?" She wondered aloud, and Alex nudged her, the signal he used to tell her she was being too blunt.

Newt's face shifted darkly, an expression that seemed strange on his magnanimous face. "It's been known to happen, but only in extreme cases."

"What happens?" She pushed, ignoring Alex's rougher nudge.

Newt locked gazes with her, and with a note of finality, he said, "Nothing good." And with that, he dropped the subject and was onto the next. "Thirdly, you're never, under any circumstances, allowed to go outside the Glade."

That brought her up short. Elsie frowned. "Outside?" Glancing up at the massive walls, her confusion only grew. "What's outside the Glade?"

For the second time, as way of explanation, Newt said, "Nothing good."

As if on cue, two older boys came tearing through a gap in the farthest wall. Then she noticed that not only did the wall have a massive gap, but someone had in fact been outside the Glade.

Elsie turned wide eyes to Newt. "They were outside!" She scream-whispered. "You just said—why isn't anyone doing anything? They broke a rule, right?"

Newt's laughter cut her off. She reared back, her mouth snapping closed as she watched in confused embarrassment while Newt cackled at her. Alex was grinning, though he didn't fully know why, but he found his sister's goody-two-shoed nature to be amusing in itself. She glared at the pair of them, not fond of being the butt of some joke.

Elsie crossed her arms, and glared at the boys as Newt began to settle, his hand clutching his stomach as he tried to get himself under control. He opened his eyes and peeked at her face, which nearly sent him into another round of laughter.

But her face scorched a bright, burning red, and she promptly turned on her heel to stomp away.

"Elsie!" Alex called out, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Wait, come back. You don't even know where you're going!"

"I don't care! Somewhere less mocking, I hope," She pouted righteously back at them. Newt forced himself to stopped laughing, but apparently couldn't wipe the smirk from his face as he jogged to catch up with her.

"Wait," He said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. A hand that she quickly shoved off, disinterested in anymore ridicule that might come from listening to him. "Wait, I'm sorry! It's just—you greenies are always so… green."

Elsie pursed her lips at him and turned to leave again. "Yes, thank you for that," she clipped, and his hand dragged her back by the elbow this time. He threw an arm around her and steered her over to Alex amicably, a gesture that caught her off guard and provoked a small, unbidden smile to her lips. Still, she tried her best to scowl.

"No offense meant, miss," Newt almost obnoxiously continued. That was a good description of the guy, come to think of it. His actions, behaviors, and words toed the line of being obnoxious without ever actually crossing it. "I think I've explained the rules rather poorly. You shanks can't leave the Glade. The Runners, however, can."

Alex snapped to attention, and just like that, all the focus was off Elsie. She was mostly grateful, but also secretly annoyed that he still had that effortless effect. She wasn't one to soak up the limelight, and he understood that about her.

"Who are the Runners?" Alex perked up.

"Ah, the Runners." Newt's arm had slid off at some point, and he was closer to Alex now, though she didn't recall exactly when that happened. "They're the elite." Elsie could practically see Alex panting; this type of thing played straight into his wheelhouse. "But what you need to know first, is what's out there."

It was Elsie's turn to perk up. They were both on the edge of their seats, hanging off Newt's every word. It didn't seem to register to him—at least, not outwardly. He turned to the walls looking lost in thought, or perhaps lost in memories, and they followed his gaze.

The sun was setting fast, which made it easier to look at the top of the walls—which somehow looked even bigger than the last time she checked. She thought it probably had a lot to do with the growing shadows they cast on the grass, seeming to make whatever was behind them disappear. They loomed overhead and they were so tall she couldn't imagine standing atop one of them without bumping her head on the ceiling of the world.

Newt's voice drew her attention, again. "Out there, it's no joke. Never, ever go out there. You do and you won't come back. I mean it." The mirth had drained from his voice, from his face, and his body. Without humor, his words carried more weight than anything they'd heard since they arrived. She shivered, but it wasn't because of the dying light. "Let me get through this before you ask questions." His eyes flickered pointedly back to her. She did her best not to shy away, and he continued without missing a beat, turning to look back at the walls with his arms crossed.

"It still doesn't make any sense to us. I'll tell you that right off the bat, since I know it'll be your first question. But the walls that you see here?" The siblings nodded, their mouths parted slightly in wonder. "They're not even the half of it. There are hundreds more of them. Thousands, even. We don't exactly know. They make up a maze, and it's the Runners' job to try and map them. That's the only way out of here."

Alex side-eyed her, and she shook her head at him because she knew what he was thinking. She knew he was dying to get out there, to try and help find the way out. Of course he was. But no way in hell, not while she drew breath. She had a bad feeling that only got worse the more that Newt went on. She couldn't let Alex out there if it was as dangerous as Newt made it sound—and it didn't seem like he was there to lie to them.

"The Glade's walls close every night—and if you're left out there, you'll never find your way back. And if the maze isn't enough, there are other things that'll kill you first."

"Things? What things?" Elsie asked, unable to stop herself.

Newt didn't look annoyed, though. Only somber as he looked at her and answered, his face grim. "We call them Grievers. You don't want me to describe them, and I couldn't anyway. No one who has seen one has ever lived to tell about it. Just, trust me when I say they're the stuff of nightmares. And they won't hesitate to kill you. One sting from them is as good as a death sentence."

She thought he would go on, but he didn't. He stopped, and the silence that stretched was filled with dread, confusion, and most of all, fear. Well, if his job was to scare the piss out of them, he'd pulled it off beautifully.

Elsie wrapped her arms around herself and turned her eyes away from the walls, even as they drew to a loud close for the night. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as the walls moving entranced Alex. Ordinarily, Elsie would be gawking right there with him—but after the explanation that Newt just gave, the last thing she wanted to do was look at those walls for any longer than strictly necessary.

Inexplicably, she realized she already hated them. She resented everything they were, everything they represented. An unnecessarily difficult obstacle course that some sick freaks had pitted them against, since they most assuredly didn't end up here by accident, and it was just as equally assuredly man-made. Only man was wicked enough to think of something like this.

Monsters and mazes. A real life nightmare, and for what? She found she didn't care. At least, not right then, not at that moment. Elsie couldn't think about it any longer. She looked away from Alex's inspired face, and began to head off towards the Homestead. This time, no one stopped her.

That night, the entire Glade had prepared a massive celebration. Actually, she wasn't exactly sure what they were celebrating—no one had said, really, but she got the impression that they used just about any excuse for a party that they could think of. Maybe the garden's doing well, or the pigs are particularly fat this week. She couldn't say. She couldn't blame them either, really.

Elsie sat on a log near the giant bonfire they had ignited. She watched the dancing flames blankly, basically unseeing as they soared. Some kid who fancied himself an artist had stuck what looked to be an animal skull of some kind to the top of the pyre that burned, giving it a slightly ominous appearance.

Her mind was miles away. After the tour had ended, she and Alex had been left mostly to their own devices. The day passed slowly. She'd had a lot of time to reflect, to ruminate on her newfound life.

Her thoughts focused, mostly, on the Glade. The boys were all in good spirits, a bit of a difference from their moods she'd observed during the day. The only other time she'd seen them this colorful, in the short period she'd been there, was when she and Alex popped out of the box.

She doubted they got too much excitement, which explained the excessive celebrations. What else was there to do? What better way to kill time than to drink and gorge themselves on food whenever they could afford to?

She swished the water in her jar that she'd been given when she asked someone if there was anything around here to drink. It wasn't clear, as she was accustomed to. Rather, it was somewhat murky and tasted faintly of dirt and moss. The best she could do was pray that it was sanitary, or that her stomach adjusted to the new minerals quickly.

God, why should she have to adjust to unsanitary water? Why should she have to find every excuse to celebrate anyway? What the heck did she do to deserve being stuck in here—forever, probably! The whole thing felt rigged. Alby had been there for three years, the longest stretch of time of anyone here. How long would she be there before it was over? Would she ever see a horizon again, or would a giant stonewall forever block the view? Would she ever get out, or would she simply die, either from sickness or from breaking the rules?

She was not a rule breaker. She wasn't. But she thought anyone could change, could do uncharacteristic things when pushed beyond their limit. She was afraid of both what she might become while trying to find a way out of this place, and conversely, what she might become if she didn't try. If she just accepted this as her life. She was afraid of all the things that might happen along the way.

Part of it, too, she supposed, was the anonymity and omnipotent presence of whoever did this to them. By that she meant, they have no idea who it was, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. She was pretty sure she would've heard by now if they knew who'd put them there. Someone would've mentioned it. Right? The boys would be very angry and bitter and probably more than willing to bash whomever stuck them there—if they knew. But they couldn't.

Thinking about it objectively, the whole concept was pretty ridiculous. Whoever it was seemed to have an endless supply of youthful boys at their disposal. How did they get them? By force? Had they been kidnapped? Did they trick everyone into participating? Did they volunteer? She couldn't imagine that they would've. Who would sign up for this?

So, once a month, they chose one from their endless supply of boys, wiped all his memories—usually including his name. He now had no family, no identity, no childhood, and little vocabulary. Launched back into near infancy, the boy was then loaded up in a cart, along with basic survival supplies. Nothing too advanced, as far as she'd noticed… They threw in some food, clothes, and maybe one piece of livestock, and they sent him on his merry way. Up, up in the most terrifying mode of transportation known to man because A: He was blind, because they didn't bother to light the cage, whether by design or lack of choice. And B: Even if you couldn't see, you could still sense being launched mercilessly through the earth to some unknown destination. Would he even stop before he reached the top, or would he crash and die?

Then, finally, they spat him into the Glade. You already know all about that. And the sweetest part of the deal is that the only way out was through an impossibly large maze, which, by the way, was also dotted with terrifying monsters. They were given no advantages at all. And they were left alone. Until they figured their own way out.

Then again, what happens on the off chance that they actually manage to find a way out? It was too much to even consider.

Who would do such a thing? This wasn't fluke. This wasn't by chance. This was very intentional, very intricately planned. It was like they were some mad scientist's lab rats.

"Cheer up, greenie. It's not that bad, is it?" Alby said, moving towards her with a jar full of some sort of amber liquid sloshing in it. He raised it to gesture at where she sat hunched on the log, facing the fire, shutting the world out. If Alby, leader of the Glade, eldest boy and the only one among them who had been there for three years can unironically say 'it's not that bad'… maybe it wasn't.

She looked down at her cup of dirty water, and heard someone nearby scream a nonsensical string of the strange cuss words that these boys have invented. And she realized, yes, actually. It could be just that bad.

Elsie took a deep breath, and let out the most bone-weary sigh she'd ever done before. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just... mulling over the prospects of the rest of my life," she sullenly admitted.

Alby actually scoffed, a genuine smile on his face, and settled on the log beside her.

He let out a long-winded sigh of his own. "…Good that." He said. "It's pretty bleak. The best you can hope to aspire to is… an arguably suicidal athlete who chases shadows every day."

"Every day?" Elsie parroted, disbelief leaking into her voice. Alby nodded, his face twisted smartly. She let out a low whistle. "Those poor sods… It's got to be so frustrating."

Alby's face scrunched in confusion. "Sods?" He said, his mouth curling awkwardly around the word like it didn't fit quite right.

Elsie shifted. "Er, shanks. Whatever."

Alby made a mockingly impressed face, raising his jar of mystery drink to her. "Hey! There ya go," He nodded. "That's better, see? You're already picking up on the lingo. You'll fit in just fine."

Elsie sighed again and toed the dirt under her boot. "Not exactly something I'm happy about," she muttered, and Alby sighed at her glum words. Bringing his mood down, probably. "I mean, I want to fit in. I do. It's just—why should I have to, you know?" Alby looked at her strangely. "I mean—what's the point?"

His eyes tightened again. "See, this is why I couldn't deal with giving you the tour. You expect me to have the answers to these questions, and I don't. And you're not the first one to ask them, either, so quit acting like you're the only one subjected to this life!"

He huffed, shoved off the log, and spilled a bit of his stinking mystery drink on her pants. Elsie sighed heavily and swiped at the new wet spot. Tentatively, she brought her fingers up to her nose and sniffed. She winced and jerked her hand away.

Someone behind her burst into laughter, and she leaned back on the log to peer over her shoulder. Sure enough, Newt was staggering his way to her through his giggles, pointing at her with watering eyes.

"Y-You just did that, didn't you?" He cackled, laughing with reckless abandon like he had done earlier, and she rolled her eyes. Still, she scooted over slightly despite herself.

"You're drunk," She bluntly pointed out, and he nodded, bubbling with more laughter as he plopped onto the log next to her.

He burped, and she leaned away. Charming. "Bleh, this stuff tastes like rotten orange peels, but it'll do the trick." He sloshed it under her nose. It was the same smell as what was in Alby's jar, and now stained in her pants. Rotten orange peels indeed, mixed with what was sure to be some sort of yeast or bread, and bam. You got yourself some hooch.

There it was again. The random vocabulary—no idea where she learned it, why she knew what it meant, how it seemed to stick in her head while more important information (like how she ended up there) didn't… She sighed, wordlessly taking the jar from him.

His eyebrows shot up as he watched Elsie slowly raise the glass for inspection, staring down into the amber liquid and spotting a bit of soggy bread still swimming in the bottom. Lovely.

She did well not to wrinkle her nose, like she'd done when they first came out of the box and she caught wind of their fertilizer. A thought occurred to her and she paused just before she touched the jar to her lips.

Newt spotted the expression on her face and sighed in exasperation, apparently having been impatiently waiting for the moment she took her first sip to cheer. His fists flopped back to his lap in disappointment and he gave her a dejected pout. "What?" He knowingly groaned. "So many bloody questions…"

"Who made this?" She lifted the jar and swished the liquid, watching as a piece of squelchy bread swished around the bottom of the jar.

"Frypan, of course. No clue at all what it is, really." Newt crossed his ankles and propped his hands on the log. "So don't ask. Really. I beg of you, have mercy."

She crookedly smirked at him and raised an eyebrow as she peered back down at the liquid. "It's called hooch," She informed him, obviously catching him off guard as his head snapped around to look at her.

Finally, she took a drink. The liquid was tepid at best, and definitely had not been properly filtered. It might as well have been filtered with sweaty gym socks, for all the flavor it had, and what little detectable fruit was in it had obviously gone rank while it fermented. She sputtered, and nearly gagged as a bit of mushy bread gunked up the middle of her tongue. Then, she took a longer swig, surprising them both, and she waited as the strong burn of alcohol numbed her tongue to its taste. Only then did she stop and proceed to scrape her tongue free of mushy bread, spitting it into the grass.

She felt warmer now, thanks to the hooch, and her head was lighter. Suddenly, being here didn't seem so bad after all. Alby was right. It wasn't quite so… damning. She'd been dramatic.

Newt opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him. "Where do you sleep?" She blatantly asked.

Newt's eyes bugged, and his nose and cheeks dusted bright pink. His reaction was cute, but confusing, and it wasn't until she replayed the question in her mind that she realized why he looked about ready to fall over and die of embarrassment. "Oh!" She choked out before he could say a word. Her face felt very hot, and she looked anywhere but at him as she rushed to explain. "I just meant, no one's told me where we sleep, that's all. That's all!"

"Right, that's good, because for a moment there I thought you were coming onto me," He easily breezed, and it took a bit longer than usual for her to register that he was joking. Once she saw his good-natured smile, she knew she was in the clear, and she breathed out a laugh of relief as Newt continued. "Wouldn't that be awkward? I'm a wanted man, you know."

"Oh?" Elsie struggled to keep a straight face, soaking up the easy banter that developed between them. "What with all the women in the Glade?"

Busted.

"I meant before. I was a wanted man before."

"So you can remember that far back?" She tilted her head and some of the humor was sucked from the conversation, but his smile never fell as he persevered.

"Yes, definitely." He stubbornly persisted. "So you just remember that next time you try to hit on me. It's a loooong wait."

"Right," She shrugged, trying to mimic his good-natured way of saying things. She didn't quite hit the mark, but the efforts were appreciated as he beamed at her.

"Right, well, to answer your question, most of the newbies sleep in hammocks in the Homestead." He pointed over to an area that was covered. "Alternatively," He added, drawing out the word carefully, "There are a few beds, too, but only the privileged have earned a bed."

"There's a weird sort of hierarchy going on in the Glade," she observed, and he nodded in agreement.

"But it's worked out so far." He left that open ended, and it almost made it awkward. But, Newt being Newt, he quickly remedied that. "You could sleep out here, I suppose. It doesn't ever rain so there's no risk of illness, knock on wood." He knocked on the log and quickly rambled on, though she was still stuck on the part about no rain. "It'd be nice to sleep under the stars, I bet. If you want, you can do that. There's not a lot of beauty here, but the night sky just about takes the cake."

"It doesn't rain?" She frowned, and Newt blinked to track backwards in the conversation.

"Er, good that. Another perk if you ask me." He nodded.

Elsie looked back down at the grass that protruded from the ground.

"You know, I have to ask," Newt suddenly admitted. "How'd you know this was called hooch? We've been callin' it Frypan's Saucy Sauce for months."

She couldn't help but giggle at the name. "I dunno, I just knew." Newt frowned at that, contemplating her response before apparently accepting it. She hesitated before she spoke, but Newt had a way of making her feel like she could say just about anything because he was so easy-going. "Ever since we got here, I've been thinking….I mean, I can't stop thinking about how this whole thing is probably rigged, ya know?"

Newt stilled, focusing on her. "Yeah." His voice was quiet. "Shucked up, ain't it?"

She humphed. Then, encouraged by the fact that he didn't seem to shrink from the risky conversation, she forged ahead. "I mean, there's no rain. But the grass is green, the vegetables grow, and there's that," she nudged the jar of water at their feet, knocking it over and letting it spill into the miracle grass. "So I guess my question is, is there a natural water source nearby?"

"Sure." He jerked his chin towards the woods. "There's a stream near the graves."

Elsie paused at the casual mention of graves, and noted that they were apparently located in the woods before continuing. "If it doesn't rain, how is the natural water source replenished? How does the grass continue to grow? How do the trees survive? Where does the water come from? This whole thing, literally, is being controlled."

They sat in silence as Newt contemplated her words. She watched Alex getting on with the Builders, though there was notable distance between he and Gally.

"Bloody hell, I guess you're right!" Newt realized beside her. She didn't comment as he continued to digest what her words implicated, probably knowing even better than she did. "Buncha Alexed up wankers, aren't they?"

"Exactly," she confirmed. "Alexed up wankers." Apparently her American accent was too much to handle, because as soon as the words left her mouth he was doubled over.

"I mean, don't they have anything better to do?" He continued, gasping for breath.

She split into a grin despite how serious the topic should've been. "I bet they'll freak out if we get close to solving the maze."

"They'd probably throw a Griever out, just to keep us away from the exit."

"We would never know!... We're living a real life version of Pac-Man."

Until that precise moment, she had no idea that she remembered what Pac-Man was. What surprised her even more was Newt's doubling over, apparently very aware of what Pac-Man was as well, and very amused by the comparison. She didn't know how they knew what that was. She didn't know how she could randomly remember stuff like that, and just by pointing it out, apparently it could spur the others to remember as well.

They continued laughing, she guessed because it was the only reaction they could have. It was the only thing they couldn't take away. Anything more, and frankly, she doubted she'd have much of a will to live. If she took everything she realized seriously, she wasn't even sure how'd she make it out of there alive.

Their laughter died down, and they sat in an increasingly awkward silence. Newt had been an almost endless well of good-natured banter, ready to jump in at any moment with a quip to lighten the mood. But even though they'd laughed a second ago, apparently her words had given Newt a little more to think about then she realized, and his gaze was distant. He stared at the walls and almost seemed to forget she was there.

Elsie leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. She sighed, drawing Newt back to the present. He shifted and side-eyed her, wiping a hand down his pants as he dispelled whatever dark thoughts had invaded his mind. He cleared his throat and looked over the rest of the camp.

"Your brother seems to be adjusting well," He observed. The better than her went unsaid, and she followed his words to Alex.

They both focused on him, watching as he and Gally spoke. Their voices didn't raise but their postures changed. Gally pointed at a nearby circle of sand, something which she hadn't realized was used for anything until just now. It still wasn't quite making sense to her. She knew it meant something important when Newt sat up straight from his relaxed position on the log.

"What is that?" She asked, glancing down at Newt's carefully guarded expression before looking back to her brother. She slowly rose as Alex followed Gally to the circle, but it wasn't until he jerked his head to the side and shook out his arms that she realized what was happening.

Her brother was about to fight Gally. She launched herself off the log and stomped towards them, ignoring Newt's calls behind her.