"Tommy!"

Newt, Thomas thought. Newt, is that you? He searched for him in the darkness, hoping to catch a flash of his friend's blonde hair. Newt, I never –

"Thomas, you slinthead. Wake up!"

Thomas blinked open his eyes to see Gally. The boy's black hair had grown out to cover the majority of his scarred face, making it more bearable to look at without him feeling so guilty. "Wha-?"

"You get enough beauty sleep?" Gally's eyes narrowed but despite the scowl on his face, his brow furrowed from what appeared to be concern. "Minho took out a patrol this morning to cover the East border, said something about suspicious activity. The sun's about to set and the shucks haven't come back yet."

Thomas sat up and looked around the hand-made hut of branches. He hadn't remembered coming here to take a nap. "How did I-?"

"You don't remember, do you?" Gally snickered.

Thomas sat himself up and ran a hand through his hair. He felt a bump. "If I remembered, I wouldn't be asking," he responded with more patience than he had ever expected to give the obnoxious boy.

"Hit your head out on a hunt with me this morning. The forest and mountains are nothing like that maze of yours," Gally reminded him. "It's not all about running anymore."

It had nearly been three months since their group of 200 had escaped WICKED and the bombs of the Right Arm through the Flat Trans. Minho had become the group's new leader with little to no protest from the others and hadn't hesitated on setting order to the chaos. He had organized food search parties (accompanied by Frypan, of course), a building committee out of the remaining builders from the Glade and Group B and a security detail. To his surprise, Gally had become Minho's unofficial second-in-command. Back in the Glade, the two had constantly been at each other's throats but now the two shared enough mutual respect to tolerate each other and work together.

"Did you organize a search patrol yet?" Thomas asked.

"Yep." Gally offered him a hand up. "And you're in it. So wipe the sleep out of your eyes and let's go. We don't have much time and the others are waiting."

Thomas blinked in surprise. Gally's change of attitude toward him still caught him off guard sometimes. "Thanks," he muttered, taking the boy's hand. Gally nodded and let go as soon as he was on his feet then turned to head out into the clearing. He followed, feeling slightly disheveled.

Gally led him to a group of three other boys, one whom he recognized to be a Glader but the other two were completely unfamiliar to him. He supposed it would take more than three months for him to learn everyone's names and memorize their faces. "There's a lot of ground to cover and not enough daylight to kiss our eyes so we'll go as far as we can then make camp for the night. Charlie, what are you muttering about? Have a problem with my plan?"

Charlie, one of the non-Gladers who was probably a year or two younger than the both of them, flinched and looked down at his feet. "N-no, Captain Gally."

Thomas glanced at Gally in disbelief but the boy just flashed him a guilty smile and shrugged. "All right, let's go find our shuck-head leader."