Once you get to the forest, a cool shade washes over you. A breeze then swings by making you shiver. As you run deeper into the forest, it gets darker. Eventually, you can only see a few steps in front of you. While walking to the nearest tree you see a beetle blade scurry by. Its red eyes cutting through the darkness, watching your every move.
You grab hold of the lowest branch and hoist yourself up. Scaling the tree, you find the perfect spot, a branch surrounded by leaves. You sit on the branch and lean against the trunk. You fold your switchblade back together.
For the next few minutes, you sit thinking about what you're gonna do tonight. Where you're gonna get food, where you're gonna sleep, and how your going to get back to your Glade. But before you can finish planning, a twig snaps. Immediately, you pull out your switchblade. Your back stiffens. You try to slow your breathing down, make it quieter. Holding the switchblade tight, you try to look through the leaves, but you can't see anything. Looking down, you see the top of a head. The hair is a dark sandy blonde.
You jump down from the tree, landing only a few feet away from him. You get up right behind him and hold the small knife to his throat.
"Who are you?" you ask, holding the knife with your right hand and placing your palm against his back, with the other.
"My name is Newt," he says. His voice is coated with a thick accent. You remove the machete located on his back and throw it a few feet away from you.
"Where am I?" you ask sternly.
"The Glade," he answers. At this you stop, confused. Impossible. You're from the Glade. Swarms of thoughts come rushing into your mind. Most of them questions. Newt takes advantage of the moment and elbows you in the stomach. Newt swipes the knife out of your hand as you reach for your stomach.
You look up to see the boy holding the switchblade at you. Few seconds pass... Then, you grab his wrist, he grabs yours. Having no hands left, you slam you foot down on his and bring your knee up and into his gut. He lets go completely, as do you. You dive for the machete. Grabbing it, you stand up. Newt, still dazed, sits up on the dirt ground. You walk over and stand just a few feet in front of him.
"We need to talk."