Feral → newt, tmr

The three of them walk in silence through the dimly lit, claustrophobic tunnels, their flashlights bouncing off the damp, rotten walls. The smell of decay hangs thick in the air, making each breath feel heavy, the scent seeping into their bones like a cold grip.

"Why are you helping us?" Katherine's voice cuts through the oppressive silence, sharp and questioning as she swivels her flashlight around the narrow path ahead of them.

Brenda doesn't slow her pace, her footsteps echoing off the walls. "Trust me, it's not my idea. Jorge seems to think you guys are the ticket to some 'safe haven.'" She glances over her shoulder, her expression guarded. "A place where the sun doesn't burn you, where the Flare is nothing but a distant memory. Supposedly, the Right Arm's been taking immune kids there for years."

"The what?" Thomas frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Brenda sighs, continuing to walk, the distant flicker of her flashlight casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. "You know, paradise," she says, her voice distant. "A place safe from the sun, free of infection. At least that's what Jorge says. And he wouldn't be risking his life if it wasn't something worth chasing."

Katherine listens, her thoughts dark. The thought of a safe place-a real one-tugs at her heart, but it's quickly tempered by the faces of the others. Newt. Minho. Frypan. Teresa. Aris. Chris. Where were they? Had they already escaped? Or had WCKD finally gotten them? The thought makes her stomach churn, her grip tightening on her flashlight.

"And you know where that place is?" Katherine asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

Brenda shakes her head. "No. But Jorge knows someone. A guy named Marcus. Used to smuggle kids up into the mountains. If Jorge made it out, that's where he'll be taking your friends."

Thomas frowns, his jaw tightening. "If he made it out?"

Brenda laughs, but there's little amusement in her tone. "You two ask a lot of questions."

Katherine glances at Thomas, sharing a glance that only twins can. Their bond has always been unspoken, their connection something deeper than words could ever explain. They'd always asked questions, always searched for answers, never content with blind trust or the unknown.

"We're twins," Katherine says, her voice steady despite the fear twisting in her stomach. "You can't expect less from us."

Brenda chuckles softly, shaking her head as she turns back to the path ahead. But as the sound of her laughter fades, the tunnels fall into an even heavier silence. The flicker of flashlights feels like tiny beacons in the pitch-black darkness, cutting through the oppressive void. Then, a sharp, echoing shriek tears through the air, its sound chilling, distant, but unmistakable.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," Thomas mutters, his voice taut with tension, as he swivels his flashlight toward the source of the noise.

Brenda's steps falter for a second, but she keeps moving, her pace quickening. "Yeah," she says, her voice quieter, more subdued. "They'll be full-term here."

Katherine's breath catches in her throat. Full-term. It's a word they'd heard too many times, a word that sent a shiver down their spines, raising every hair on their bodies. Their hearts pound faster as they move deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels.