(AN: Haha I wrote this at like. 2am. But take my Lord of The Flies genderbend, whatever.)
"C'mon! We have to build these shelters!" The familiar, weary voice rang through the beach. Janet sighed. She wriggled her pale toes in the sand beneath her, enjoying the warm, gritty feeling passing over her feet. She could feel the sun beating down onto the island relentlessly, and shifted uncomfortably at the sting starting the grace her freckly shoulders.
Build shelters, build shelters, build bloody shelters. It wasn't that she didn't like Ruth. She liked Ruth very much, in fact. But at this point, she sounded like a broken record. Besides, they needed meat. That's why the ginger was in charge of the hunters of course. Though, she had pictured the hunting life being a little more adventurous. And successful.
As if on cue, she heard the weary, yet still light and aloof voice ring out from across the beach. "Janet! Is the fire still going?" She craned her head to glance at the fair girl, giving a little shrug. Some hair slipped from the grip of her hair slide, falling in front of one eye and enveloping it in orange.
Ruth rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "Well, go and check, you dolt!" A little blush rose to the gingers cheeks as she turned her head the other way, getting up. She knew that the girl had meant it in the most affectionate way possible, but couldn't help feeling mocked. And Janet Merridew wasn't about to be mocked by the likes of her.
She liked it up on the mountain. She could see the entire island from her spot, watching the little ants that were Ruth and the others work diligently, and the littleuns mucking around in the sand, extra tiny little ants. There was a small breeze blowing at such heights, cooling off her stinging red skin. She touched her scarlet arm and winced. She wasn't cut out for life in the heat.
She took a glance at the fire offhandedly. It was small, smouldering, giving off small wisps of grey smoke that curled up, before dissolving into the blue sky. She sighed, not for the first time, and fetching a dry stick from nearby, chucking it into the glowing pile. Ruth and her bloody fire. She sat herself down, her legs crossed, and stared out into the blue sea. More hair blew into her face, courtesy of her bloody useless hair slide, and she took it out with an irritated grunt, throwing it off to the side. A mass of ginger fell across one eye. It didn't matter all that much. Meant it showed less of her face.
She started to pick at the dry grass, picking a delicate little pale blue flower and spinning it between her finger and thumb. It's a pretty little thing, but it's fragile, and useless in every sense. Not like Ruth, she thought, but then told herself to stop it. She took another look at the flower, before carefully treading it between the braided pieces of red hair.
She picked a few more, and a few more, threading them in her hair delicately. Must have half a damn meadow in my hair, she thought. She wondered if they look pretty, but found she had no motivation to find a mirrored surface to check. She sighed through her nose and fops onto her back, staring at the sapphire blue sky blankly. She decided that she would take them out before she made her trip down the mountain. She probably looks a right nonce, all these flowers in her hair. It was not befitting of a hunter to look all pretty. Besides, what's the use in trying? She knew that she would never be pretty.
"Janet? What's taking you so long?" She didn't realise she had been asleep until she heard that all too familiar voice, coupled with fast footsteps, making a soft sound in the grass. The ginger opened one eye and looked up, and was met with a tanned face and a mop of fair hair blocking out the sun's rays. "Huh?" Ruth pursed her lips together, and held out a hand to her. "Come on. There's still work to do." Janet made a face, before gripping the fair girl's hand, pulling herself off the dry and scratchy grass. "Any luck with your shelters?" She asked in a groggy voice. Ruth merely shrugged in response, before looking over at the girl with a small frown.
"What're those? In your hair?" Janet suddenly remembered the flowers and coughed, a blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks and covering her freckles. "I- uh- saw them here and thought they might help me blend in with my hunting!" She put on a smirk, proud of her less girly and more adventurous and impressive version of the story. Ruth simply shrugged once again, studying her closely. "They look pretty. They match your eyes."
The ginger's grin faltered and a new blush rose to her cheeks. Her mouth fell open a little, much like a goldfishes, before she finally croaked out, "Really?" The other girl laughed lightly, a laugh that vaguely reminded Janet of little bells (like a fairy's laugh. Perhaps Ruth is a fairy, she thinks in wonder) and nods. "Yeah. Your eyes are pretty, has no one told you that?"
The freckled girl's mouth swung shut, a deeper blush rising to her cheeks. Not only had someone called her pretty, but she called her pretty. Unlike Janet, Ruth was rather, um, attractive. In Janet's opinion, she was rather gorgeous, with her browned skin and fair blonde hair with a slight wave. In a way, she was everything the ginger was not. And yet here she was, complimenting someone like her. It felt almost scandalous.
"The sun's setting." She's snapped out of her thoughts once again by that voice, and she turns just in time to her turn away from her, heading for the downwards slope of the mountain. Janet watches her for a few seconds, before she swings around, smiling at her. "C'mon, you dolt!" Janet grins and runs to her side, waving her arms about dramatically as she describes to Ruth how she will catch a pig, and slit its throat, next time.
She thinks she'll keep the flowers on.