Chapter Text
Newt ran, as fast as he possibly could really, but still the Griever gained on him. He was giving Marcus, a new runner that he was training, a chance to escape, but it appeared that the secon monster had gone after the trainee. He didn't recognize this part of the territory as it flew by his vision. It wasn't possible that he'd somehow passed into a different Runner's section was it?
New turned another ivy-covered corner before noticing a piece of ivy on the ground, he siged in relief, he new where he was now. But the relief was short lived at the appearance of another Griever. Newt made a hasty decision, made a turn, and found himself at a dead end. He screamed in frustration as he turned around to face his death. The two Grievers sat side by side, blocking off the rest of the Maze from wall to wall.
“Bloody shanks,” Newt swore breathlessly, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. A lesser man might've just accepted fate as the terrifying combination of machine and monster rolled towards him, but not Newt of the runners. He grabbed his long knife and ran at them, they didn't respond quickl as he slid inbetween the small space between them. His knives scraped each, they screamed as he made it through, losing one knife. He made it through but when he stood he felt light-headed and on fire. He wondered if he'd gotten stung, but didn't bother checking. He just wiped the thick sweat from his neck and wiped it on his pants before taking off again.
He ran, feeling weaker at every step, strongly suspecting that he'd gotten stung. He barely made it to the glade before dropping. Pain had consumed him long ago, but he'd kept going. By the time he fell on his face in the middle of the East door- by the time the black flames that were burning in his nerves took over his sight- he was doing little more than catching himself from falling instead of running. His hand was covered in red. The black goo that was encroaching his vision took over as he laid his head down on the grass of the glade.
He remembered Nothing after that.
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When he next woke up, he was connected to a bag of blood and a bag of a clear liquid. Everything was numb, so he figured that the clear liquid was some sort of pain medication, especially since his thought process felt like it was struggling through water. He tried to call out for someone, but what resulted was muted pain from his throat and an airy noise. His hand struggled its way to his neck where he felt a bandage. Then he raised his leg and saw a bandage around the area from his ankle to his knee.
~Bloody hell?~ Newt thought, his thoughts muddled. He looked around the room, the wooden walls were covered in papers with notes on them, there was a table that had another bag of clear liquid and a myriad of medical equipment that Newt had never seen, let alone seen the Med-jacks use. Sunlight filtered through a window and made the room look golden around him.
“Ah, Newt, you're awake finally,” Clint said, suddenly appearing in Newt's vision line, Newt looked at him before pointing to his neck with what he hoped was a questioning gaze, “Oh, um, yeah, it's a klunky situation. It appears that a spike or something caught your neck. One also got your leg.”
Newt tried to ask a question, but the result was more air and pain. Despair filled him.
“We're not sure.....” Clint scratched the back of his neck and looked sad, “but we think the shucker somehow got your voicebox, but missed your vital arteries and your vital air tube. I don't know how it's possible. But I'm sorry Newt, you may never talk again.”
Newt might have passed out after that.
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:: A Bit More Than A Month Later::
Newt's first glimpse of the new boy was not something he'll quickly forget. Most Greenies looked terrified when the box first opened for them, but this one looked curious. His deep brown eyes gazed up with a sort of intelligent wariness. He looked..... almost attractive. And then he opened his mouth.
The Newbie questioned more things about the Glader's way of life then the amount of things questionable about Frypan's cooking, which was a lot. Alby seemed about ready to lose it when Newt finally intervened, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Alby looked up at him expectantly and raised an eyebrow. Newt raised his own eyebrow, rolled his eyes, and motioned for Alby to wait for the tour by patting the air, holding up four fingers, and pointing around the glade. Alby nodded before impatiently apologizing. Newt turned to the new boy and extended his hand.
“Greenie, this shuck-face is Newt, he's awfully quiet and will put your hand in warm water if you piss him off,” Alby introduced, gesturing to Newt, “He's second in command around here, so if he orders something, it goes unless directly contradicted by me.” The brown eyed boy took Newt's hand, a look of curiosity lighting in his eyes.
“Hi,” he said softly.
Newt smiled down at him welcomingly.
~Welcome to the Glade Greenie.~