Feral → newt, tmr

The Glade is a blur of activity when Katherine, Thomas, and Minho return from the Maze. The moment they step through the entrance, they’re greeted by a small crowd of Gladers, all buzzing with tension. At the forefront, Newt storms forward, eyes narrowed, his furious gaze locking onto Katherine. His whole body radiates a restrained anger, as if he’s barely holding it together.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?!" Newt’s voice cuts through the chaos like a knife.

Katherine gives a weak smile, though it falters under his intense stare. "Sorry, Newt."

Newt's jaw tightens, and he snaps his gaze to Thomas and Minho. "What's going on out there?"

Before Thomas can answer, Gally steps up, his posture tense and challenging. "What the hell have you done now, Thomas?"

Thomas doesn’t bother with him, his focus entirely on Newt. "We found something—a new passage. It could be a way out."

Newt’s eyebrows lift slightly, the flicker of hope mixed with skepticism crossing his face. "Really?"

"Yeah." Thomas glances at Katherine, then back to Newt. "We found a door. A place I’ve never seen before. We think… it might be where the Grievers go during the day."

The weight of his words hangs in the air for a moment, thick with implications. Chuck’s voice breaks the silence, trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity. "You’re saying… you found the Grievers' home? And you want us to go in?"

"It could be our way out, Chuck," Katherine says, her voice steady despite the nerves tightening in her gut.

"Or it could be a trap." Gally spits out, his usual disdain thick in his voice. "Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual."

Katherine rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. It’s the same old routine: Gally always looking for a reason to pick a fight.

Thomas steps forward, refusing to back down. "At least I did something, Gally. What about you? All you do is sit behind these walls."

Gally shoves a finger into Thomas’s chest, eyes blazing. "I’ve been here three years, Greenie. You’ve been here three days. What the hell do you know?"

"Three years, and you’re still here," Thomas retorts, frustration sharpening his tone. "Maybe it’s time we did things differently."

Gally’s face flushes with anger. "Maybe you should be in charge then, huh?"

Before the argument can escalate further, Teresa rushes into the circle, her face pale with urgency. "Hey, it’s Alby! He’s awake."

The group moves as one, rushing toward the Homestead, their earlier confrontation temporarily forgotten. They find Alby sitting on the edge of his bed, his back turned to the doorway. The air is thick with a kind of dread, an unspoken fear gripping everyone.

"Has he said anything?" Newt asks, his voice low.

"No," comes the reply from Frypan, standing by the door.

Newt kneels down in front of Alby, trying to catch his eyes. "Alby… are you all right, mate?"

There’s no response. Alby stares blankly at the floor, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His breathing is shallow, ragged.