Chapter 22

           Ahalfhourpassed.

           NeitherThomasnorMinhohadmovedaninch.

           Thomashadfinallystoppedcrying;hecouldn’thelpwonderingwhatMinhowouldthinkofhim,orifhe’dtellothers,callinghimasissy.Buttherewasn’tashredofself-controlleftinhim;hecouldn’thavepreventedthetears,heknewthat.Despitehislackofmemory,hewassurehe’djustbeenthroughthemosttraumaticnightofhislife.Andhissorehandsandutterexhaustiondidn’thelp.

           HecrawledtotheedgeoftheCliffoncemore,stuckhisheadoveragaintogetabetterlooknowthatdawnwasinfullforce.Theopenskyinfrontofhimwasadeeppurple,slowlyfadingintothebrightblueofday,withtingesoforangefromthesunonadistant,flathorizon.

           Hestaredstraightdown,sawthatthestonewalloftheMazewenttowardthegroundinasheercliffuntilitdisappearedintowhateverlayfar,farbelow.Butevenwiththeever-increasinglight,hestillcouldn’ttellwhatwasdownthere.ItseemedasiftheMazewasperchedonastructureseveralmilesabovetheground.

           Butthatwasimpossible,hethought.Itcan’tbe.Hastobeanillusion.

           Herolledoverontohisback,groaningatthemovement.Thingsseemedtohurtonhimandinsidehimthathe’dneverknownexistedbefore.AtleasttheDoorswouldbeopeningsoon,andtheycouldreturntotheGlade.HelookedoveratMinho,huddledagainstthehallofthecorridor."Ican’tbelievewe’restillalive,"hesaid.

           Minhosaidnothing,justnodded,hisfacedevoidofexpression.

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