Galli

Night fell on the Glade, bringing with it a chill and an unusual silence. The Plantation's inhabitants retreated to their shelters, tired after a long day of arguments and tension. As usual, Gally was the cause of this tension. His loud, stubborn voice echoed throughout the clearing until Newt rebuked him. Gally pursed his lips, angrily kicked the crate, and stalked off into the darkness.
Mia sat at the edge of the garden, away from the communal fire, wrapped in her tattered jacket. She still couldn't get used to this place. To the walls. To the fact that the stars weren't visible behind them—only a narrow strip of sky, cut by the moon. The moon seemed especially close and cold here, as if mocking the prisoners.
The footsteps came unexpectedly. The crunch of dry grass, a heavy tread. Mia didn't turn around—she would have recognized that gait among a thousand. Gally never walked quietly; it was as if he was trying to take up all the space, even when he was just passing by.
"Why are you here?" Mia asked dryly, without turning her head. "Have you come to finish me off for siding with Thomas?"
Gally stopped a few steps away, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. His face looked stern in the moonlight, but something strange flickered in his eyes—whether weariness or regret.

• That's not what I'm here for.
• Why?
  He paused, looking up at that lonely moon. Then he turned his gaze to Mia, and his voice—for the first time—was quiet, without its usual challenge.
• You are my moon.
  Mia froze. She finally turned to face him, frowning.
• Why the moon?
  Gally took a step forward, but didn't get too close. He still kept his distance—it was as if an invisible wall remained between them. But his words were surprisingly sincere, without the usual barb.
  — There are many stars, but only one moon.