Newt

Moonlight filters through the leaves, shadows shifting as you sleep beneath the tree. The Glade is quiet—too quiet. Newt stands a few steps away, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move. Just watches. “So this is how careless you are,” he murmurs under his breath, voice low and sharp. His gaze hardens, jaw tightening. “Sleepin’ out in the open… like you trust this place. Like you trust me.” He takes a slow step closer, boots crunching softly against the dirt.