CHAPTER ONE

The boy with the fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his away towards the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witch-like cry. He continued to walk.

His bones and head ached and his heart still didn'tcease to pound with the thrill of delayed horror. He didn't think much of how he got on the island, because he did assume it was an island, but he did recall feeling objectively calm and serene as he saw the early morning blue hues of dusk and pink cloudsrocket passed his window. Now with his feet planted firmly on the ground coupled with the fact that he was relatively unharmed despite his shock and a few bruises on his extremities reality sank in.

The sound of insects just waiting to eat him alive was thick in the air. They hummed and chirped but mostly buzzed sickeningly. He could feel one crawling up his back but when he reached to squash it, it had disappeared. With the elusive bug no longer a worthy distraction he turned his mind to his surroundings. Dew clung thickly to the branches of greenery as he propelled himself further. The golden-coloured boy looked at the sky in hopes for a clue of where he was and which direction he was going. The sky was cloudless and filled with harsh sunlight that beat down upon him. Holding a hand up to block it and squinting just past the trees he could see a mountain on one side but it was not this fact that led him out of the forest but a sound. A sound as gentle and lulling as a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. He followed the sound but forbade any further thoughts. He was clearly out of England now, if the scenery was any suggestion.

He had scrambled out of a jagged scar of land that he knew had been caused by a crash of some sort. He could recall a man with a megaphone who had directed them where to sit when they had boarded the aeroplane. Disjointedly, he thought of how useful it would be to have such a megaphone at that moment right now. The air was thick and wet and hot, and though he was not immediately thirsty or hungry he absentmindedly took stock of the new landscape and of all the potentially edible things. He had never been a large fan of responsibility but he had always had a fondness for common sense and it wasn't often but did happen when even common sense was lost on him.

There were thorny plants at his feet, and the trees were something straight out of an adventure novel. He had a faint rush of excitement at the prospect which flickered out in face of the facts. The tree trunks were rough and grey and often broken while the leaves that crowned it were unbelievably green and sprouted from the tops like feathers of an exotic bird. Scattered amongst the thick shrubbery which were unbelievably dark and green were winding blue-gray trunks that held up appealing looking fruit. The fruits were mild, pastel versions of reds and yellows and lime greens. The reds amidst the greens hang abundant in the trees, reminding him uncontrollably Christmas baubles and memories of presents and parents, but he knew better than to sample them too soon. He wasn't hungry anyway.

The boy was twelve years old, on the cusp of adolescence and striding like an animal through the lush trees that sliced their away across the clear azure sky. His shoulders were wide and he through his age he walked with ease, of someone accustomed to a rather active body. Though sweat rolled down his face and trickling to his mouth so that he could taste the sick saltiness, his body soldiered on with certain enthusiastic energy that would have been lost on anyone else. He wiped off his sweat with the sleeve of his dress shirt, sniffed loudly and wetly before he attempted to tug back his hair damp hair that was utterly drenched with sweat as so to keep it out of his face. His blond strands soon sprang right back in but with their few moments of freedom his blue eyes were wide and encompassing, reflecting the greenery of the forest as he continued to stalk through it.

He paused momentarily, dropping to squat on the fertile ground and pick up a lengthy stick. He did not know what to make of us his new adventure, but thinking of his heroes he knew it was better to be well armed should he come across cannibals or pirates. It fit well in his hand and he used it to knock away brambles and creepers from his path as if he was taming them. He did not show any of the alarm he felt on his face, merely wiped at his perspiration and pursued the sound of the sea which he was sure would bring him answers. He could see the act of waves crashing against a shore and any agitation he had felt had been soothed away as if they had been a shirt to be ironed. Already he couldn't help but to be stunned at the strong colour of blue that this sea was, so unlike the gray, churlish seas of back home.

He climbed over a broken tree trunk and at last escaped through the foliage to face an astonishing view of everything. The sun's brightness was a slap in the face but raising his arm the vividness of the land seemed to jump out at him. The sea met the sky in an extraordinary way, blue and green and purple, and the heat shimmered at the horizon to blend the two. A mile away he observed an irregular coral reef, pink and a division between the lagoon and rougher waters. Next to the splash of bubble-gum pink coral the sea seemed utterly green but still he felt as blue as it ought to be. He didn't want to release the scene but he forced his head to turn and observe the palm trees that bore large, furry coconuts that he had read contains sweet milk. He filed it away and with one last glance he nodded to himself in confirmation.

"We are going to have fun on this island," he promised himself and with that he walked towards the water, staggering away from the dark jungle. "We're going to find the others and then we'll figure out what to do." But not now was he is unspoken conclusion which he had ended before beginning merely for the sake of how crazy he'd look if continued to speak his line of thought. The water rippled, looking cool and inviting and the first thing he would strip himself of was his shoes, bending down to undo his laces before kicking them off. He felt the fine grains of golden sand slide between his toes and the rough, slick texture of fallen palm saplings. Cold water greeted his liberated feet and trusting it, he followed the string of blue that framed the shore to where it led him. In the not so far distance he could see an interruption of a seemingly smooth shoreline was a pink platform of granite.

Curious and incensed he picked up his and steadily began to jog clumsily than straight out sprint to the ledge. It was four feet tall and with a little difficulty he managed to claw himself onto the pink rock. He lay sprawled upon the fallen palm trees lazily and looked up at the green leaves of the palm trees that still barely survived on the rock. His body was infinitely more comfortable in the green shadows that the palms cast but he saw fit for himself to strip off his shirt. A gust of wind smoothed his skin and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he let the sound of the surf and the events of the day wash over him. Soon sand had been scattered over his vision and he nodded off.

He was one of those people who could dream in unnaturally bright colours, unlike his father that could only dream in browns and grays. It was fragments of memories that he dreamt of, the first being a rustle of a newspaper. His father was a sturdy man, and a patriot devoted to his duty. His days of leave always started with the rustle of the newspaper as he looked at the latest news of Her Majesty's war. His son had always been unstoppably interested in his father's work so he asked questions of the articles that he did not understand. And his father, not comprehending his son's age, always answered lengthily and thoroughly in language the fair-haired boy couldn't figure out.

Golden whiskers glinting in the deceptive, fleeting winter sunlight as the fire crackled somewhere in the distance in the hearth. His mother's fingers, accompanied with a lovely lilac scent, slid onto her husband's shoulders. Her hair yellow like sunlight, her dress a deep vivid and slender, massaging his muscular neck; pink thick chapped smile and a twitch of his chocolate mustache in agreement of their of hair hanging on her shoulders a reflection of their child's and she spoke mildly of the war, and of her disproval of the American secrecy. This was before she left, of course, and it was wonderful.

Far away a scent of chicken broached the boy's nostrils, a dinner to be shared among them, he sat in awe of his parents as they spoke eloquently and learnedly of things such as, 'Military Intelligence' 'Spies' and 'Traitors'. He always had and would always prefer stories of pirates than of spies, but it had fascinated him greatly. These few times they would let him into their world, a world parallel from another beloved world that contained horses and sugar cubes. All the same there hadn't been any sugar cubes in the academy.

Still, the boy reckoned he knew more than any about the war. Something about Russia and Germany and America. Even the Japanese were mixed up in it. A second world war, his father had said and his son had responded with a grave nod. But all the same the phrase 'atom bomb' came not from his parents or his teachers but from an acquaintance of his from school. It was not long after the Americans had bombarded Japan with the bomb that they had all boarded the plane, the second scattered and resembled memory of his dream.

A man crowing into a megaphone, demanding obedience and getting it from the scared frightened boys that had been kissed goodbye by their parents not more than half an hour ago. Cold and tired they piled orderly into the plane, exhaustedly slumping next their 'partner'. There were no lectures and no time wasted as the pilot began to take off. Unlike the previous scene in his dream, this dream was almost completely gray in colour. The fair-haired boy got the window seat and he used it, watching the world speed up beneath the wheels of the aeroplane and then fall away from the plane all together. A sickening, wonderful tug in his stomach and they had lifted off. His interested faded when all there was to look at was gray clouds and his head had fallen onto his 'partner's and the next thing he knew was that the plane was shaking maliciously. The rest was unknown, a blur, the certain calmness of reasonableness and then crawling out of the wreckage. The next was a slight tweak in his brain.

The trees that curled out of the ground had started of gray in his mind's vision before suddenly becoming bright scarlet. They crawled further into the sky, scribbling past the white clouds like Jack's beanstalk. A thud filled his brain and the red trees contracted into time to it like veins. All he could see was red. He opened his eyes and nearly became sick. Choking down his emotions as he had been taught in school and by his parents he could only try to breathe through the pain. His heartbeat, though erratic, had begun to slow down and he felt his lids slide down.

He laid there for a long while, simply melting into the rock and absorbing the surf, until the sun had moved so that the trees no longer blocked it. It invaded his vision, turning his closed eyes red so he could not rest easily enough. Drowsily he propped his elbows on the rough and sandy rock than pulled his entire body up. Distantly he wondered how long it would take for his father to discover the news that the plane had crashed and how much longer it would be until he found he and took him home. Despite his assurance that he would have fun in the silence he couldn't help but at the very least think of such things.

"No," he berated himself. "I can figure it out later. There's plenty of fruit and –" He slung skinny, boyish legs over the side of the pink platform and peered into the water. The little pool that was framed by the rock was home to abundant seaweed that grew fiercely and beautifully on the bottom and on the sides of the granite that had turned into the sea. Bright pink coral, the exact shade of a sunset, also sprouted every which way. Brittle and vibrant they appeared as if a cloud had been hardened and placed in the pool. The boy's bright eyes soon found out what he sought, they were small but glittered silver and wonderful in the sunshine. " . . ." he concluded weakly.

He sat up straight again, pulling his knees to his chest and frowning he bit his knuckle in consideration. He turned to look at the sky which had quickly turned from late morning to afternoon. He did not know how long the day was in such a place but he could place a safe bet that evening would come too quickly, bringing night in its stead. His hands went to his trousers and undid his belt. He stood natural in the heated light and walked over to the ledge, trying to estimate how deep the water was. His father, a commander in the Navy, had taught him how to swim when he was five so after he decided it was safer to slide in than to dive he held no hesitation. He sat right on the ledge, his legs dangling and brushing against the cold water.

It bit his toes in the unexpected cold; it had been much warmer as he had been walking alongside the shore. He sucked in a breath and slid inside the water. Water droplets splashed up to greet his face and twinge his senses as the soles of his feet hit the sand and rocks below. He scooped up large portions of water and crashed it onto his hair. The salt trickled down his face and into his mouth but his scalp sighed with relief and gratitude at the change in temperature. He splashed his body as well and felt content as his lethargic mind, still sluggish from his nap, considered how to tackle the problem of catching some dinner.

Taking care so not to cut himself on the rocks and coral he walked patiently and subtly towards the school of fishes that swam not far from him. He found himself waiting a long time for the shimmering creatures to approach him, the new fixture in their world. He knew he only had one chance to snatch them, and that if he failed they would swim away. So he waited. He still wasn't too hungry, and had never been after sleep and he had more often than not skipped breakfast altogether. His mother had, perhaps wrongfully, always given him a meal before rest than after but it turned to help him today as he could concentrate well.

He waited until the fish were bumping against the sides of his legs, tickling his ankles with their little sucker mouths and their undisguised curiosity. He was in a bent position and he could see everything that was going on beneath the water that was remarkably still despite being in direct contact with the open sea and perhaps even ocean. He chose one fish to give his focus to and his eyes never broke from his shining silver back. He took a breath and with one last glance at the treasured blue sky that was steadily mottling green and purple with the oranges and yellows of an approaching sunset he desperately tried to grab at the fish.

It hadn't been that the fish had been too fast, though it had been, or because he found his hands and a completely different position then where he had intended, to the left and a bit bent and distorted beneath the ripples. It had been because of nerves. He didn't even know what to do with a fish once he had caught it, and his fingers had trembled slightly at the thought of it. He didn't even have a fire, he would have to eat it raw at the very most. It wasn't as if he was hungry anyway, too much.

He stood up straight and stretched comfortably, the school of twenty or thirty which had spooked in his attempt to snatch one of the bigger ones were slowly and tentatively coming back to him. He watched in silent awe as the colours of pink and light reflected from their jeweled backs. He wasn't hungry now, he knew, but undoubtedly he would be later and when it was too dark to see any fish much less catch any of them. But he had run out with whatever little patience a preadolescent boy could contain.

In his haste he swiped harder and with less control than he had the previous time, completely missing the fish though he batted a few with his hand. With his unrestrained motion he lost his balance, stumbled and nearly fell. He cursed loudly when his leg scraped against some of the pink coral that was quickly becoming stained red with his blood. He felt ill and looked to the sky for answers. Time had passed hours in minutes again and it was evening and the action of the sun setting was turning the sky crimson. As quick as he could, and his heart pulsing in his brain, he staggered out of the sea and onto the platform.

He bent over and slid his pants up his legs, feeling the rough and sticky discomfort of wet skin meeting dry material. He grabbed his shirt and used it to bind up the scrape his haste had caused him, he didn't feel like watching it bleed. Ruffling up his blond hair to rid it of some of dampness he picked up his socks and shoes and walked on further.

Beyond the platform was a little pool landlocked in the sand that would have been perfect for swimming and had it been lighter out he certainly would have gone. He felt a little shame for not being able to catch the fish but he knew there was some trick to it anyway so he didn't let it bother him too much. Right now he knew he had wasted too much time on sleeping and dreams and that he had to soon find shelter from whatever creatures lurked in the forest.

Red skies had been washed away with gray and he felt apprehensive as he wandered back into the jungle. Every vine that hung on the trees surely was a snake waiting to slide down and wrap around him. He found himself two trees that leaned into each other to crisscross into a protective x-shape that could serve him well as a shelter against the elements and the animals of this foreign world. Planting his feet firmly in front of trees, he pivoted around to assess the food situation. A tree not far from his new shelter bore many bright yellow fruits which he reached up to pick.

"Don't eat those," a voice cautioned. It was clear though tentative, high and sounded like it was very rarely used. "Some of the littluns had plenty of it and they all got diarrhea." The voice was attached to a fully clothed body that belonged to a dark, vivid little boy who almost managed to look civilized past his long hair. He appeared to be within a year give or take of Ralph's age, it was hard to tell with his size which was significantly shorter. He was dressed in what the fair-haired boy recognized to be his school uniform minus the hat that looked to have been lost.

"Thanks then," he said, releasing the fruit and feeling surreal.

"We got some good fruit back at our camp." Shy dark eyes appraised the stranger past a fringe of thick black hair. "Roger's been trying to start a fire, and I think he might be able to. You should stay with us for now." Thin lips smiled with both wariness and welcome and the other one felt a full on grin spread across his face.

"My name is Ralph," the golden boy offered, observing the other with a little hunger and a lot of surprised. It wasn't that he thought he was the only one, but that he felt that he might be so such human eyes staring right back at him was a little unnerving though much welcomed.

"Mine is Simon," Simon said softly, tugging on Ralph's sleeve as he turned to lead up towards the mountain.

"You were on the plane, right?" Ralph asked. "I was near the bathroom, I got the window seat." Ralph followed Simon in trust, not knowing quite where they were going but the direction. It was Simon's slightness but mostly his easy smile that had Ralph's trust put in him and allow him to be led by the boy without demanding too many answers.

"I was by the wings," Simon confided. The trees thickened then separated, Simon brushing away the various vines that fell into their path.

"Where are we going?" Ralph asked after a while.

"Jack Merridew, he's the chapter chorister and head boy, set up camp near some water we found not far from here. It's a river. Merridew and some other boys are going to go exploring tomorrow," Simon offered. Soon Ralph found that walking with Simon was much like walking by himself, with the same degree of comfort. Simon's lips were always ready to stretch into a pleased and pleasing smiling when addressed but Ralph didn't feel the immediate need to. Steadily he did.

"So Merridew's sort of, chief then?"

"Yea," Simon replied. "You weren't in choir."

"No, I can't sing at all," Ralph grinned. "You were?"

"One of the sopranos," Simon confessed, flushing rosily at the slight embarrassment. "But Merridew can go higher than me even. But he's a tenor." The jungle span about a bit at this point and the two hushed to concentrate on jumping stone from stone across a small stream.

"Hang on," Ralph requested and Simon nodded and smiled in acquiescence. Ralph dropped to his knees, trailing his hands into the cool water to wash away the flavor of the sea. "Do we know if this is an island yet?" He cupped his hands and brought up blessed water that he had forgotten that he needed to his cracked lips.

"Not yet, but I bet if you asked Merridew he'd let you explore with him tomorrow," Simon offered. His gaze passed peacefully over Ralph in the blue light. He kept quiet for a while but then burst out, "I think it's an island. Everything's an island, really, just some are bigger. But I don't think there are any other people on here but us from the plane."

"Not even cannibals?" Ralph grinned up at his new friend before resuming slurping up the water he so craved.

"I'd like to think not," Simon smiled weakly, his eyes swiftly s canning the forest. Ralph got up and they continued to walk where Simon led them. Darkness was setting in fast but they could still see everything with decent clarity, it was at the point where the evening and twilight met with the result of a gentle glow washing upon everything.

"Wait, so Merridew's chief? Where are the grownups?" Ralph asked suddenly.

"Died in the plane crash, I expect. Maybe fell out. Or it was, now we're on our own." Simon's voice was fragile but his words were full of meaning and chilling. Remembering his promise to himself, he decided to remedy the atmosphere and perhaps even extend his promise to include Simon.

"No grownups!" he crowed enthusiastically, and translating his emotions into actions he stood on his head to his new friend's delight. Simon laughed pleasantly and Ralph was similarly pleased. As they walked further into the thick trees Simon stroked Ralph's arm shyly and they had to laugh again.

"Hey, what's wrong with your leg?" Simon suddenly piped up seriously.

"Scratched it on some coral when I was trying to catch some fish," Ralph explained. "It doesn't hurt much and it isn't too deep. Can clean it tomorrow and I'll be fine soon enough."

"Too bad we don't have any medicine. But we'll be able to make nets maybe out of the vines and stuff here, and I think there are some sort if animals that we could catch on the island anyways," Simon said.

"Plenty of trees and branches we could make into spears, maybe even try to spear the fishes," Ralph noted, taking a deep breath in the twilight air. The foliage was thicker, smelt sweeter here and the words came easy. "How much further?" he asked but his reply came with no pleasant voice but rather a rustle of leaves and a pained grunt. Simon was on the ground, his eyes shut tight and his body twitching terribly. His face was taught and all colour had been wrung from it. Ralph dropped to his knees and grasped his friend's shoulders. "Simon!" he exclaimed but Simon would not stir and darkness was quickly approaching.

In a panic he ran down the hill and arrived at the dark silvers stream, dropped to his knees and scooped as much as he could into his hands and as carefully as he could he raced up the hill and dumped the water on Simon's face. There was a moment of stillness and horror where it appeared that Simon's eyes would never open but in the next second the dark-haired boy blinked and gasped, spluttering.

"Sorry," Simon wheezed, using his weak and trembling arms to pull himself into a seated position. He lifted one hand as if to wipe away the water but the other arm buckled so he gave up on that endeavor. He breathed heavily, his expression carrying the promise of passing out again if a strong breeze suddenly blew against him.

"Why are you sorry?" Ralph was scared and upset at the unexpected event and Simon's apology for something that clearly wasn't his fault. A red flush scrawled onto Simon's pallid face and ducked his head so that his coarse black hair fell into his eyes.

"Sorry for worrying you," Simon mumbled. "Least this one was short. I'm always throwing faints," he explained. "I did at Gib, and in Addis and at matins over the precentor."

"Is it some medical thing?" Ralph asked.

"Doesn't matter," Simon said, struggling to get up. "It is who I am now, there's no cure or anything. I can take medicine and stuff, but it doesn't really help much." Ralph held out a sturdy hand that Simon took, and he pulled the still shaky boy to his feet. Simon wobbled a little but he had strength enough to dry his face with his fairly wet shirt. "Thanks though. We're nearly there. Just up this hill."

"How'd you lads decide on this?" Ralph could see that the small ashen boy did not wish to speak of the happening and he was willing to change the subject for him. "Think there was enough time to explore the island today; I even had enough time to dream at the beach."

"Well we couldn't find each other, yeah?" Simon muttered, concentrating on the words. "Mostly what we did was try to find each other." Ralph noticed that he had extended his arm in case the boy suddenly fell and that Simon pretended not to notice. Simon seemed to contain a large amount of pride for that but he did gift Ralph with a grateful smile, his fingers gently tapping Ralph's wrist. Ralph let his arm fall and knew that Simon was recovering quickly enough. "That's what I was doing. Merridew sent me out to explore a little."

Even though Simon was obviously accustomed to such attacks, and was recovering quick enough Ralph found fault in his leader. "But if he's head chorister and you're in the choir he should've known that you're small. If there was some beast you wouldn't be able to properly fight it."

"You wouldn't be able to either," said Simon, his words suddenly brave though he had to look up at Ralph to see properly. "Anyway, I wasn't meant to be alone, it just ended up like that. But nothing happened so it's alright."

"You found me," Ralph argued. "What if I was a weirdo, or an adult or someone that could hurt you?" Simon smiled widely at that.

"You wouldn't hurt me, even if you were an adult; you couldn't." Simon was smiling again; his expression was calm and understanding to the extent that it nearly annoyed Ralph for being so sure. But Simon wasn't smug, but overall pleased and Simon, being so amiable as he was, could patch up any friendship with his smile even after such a terrifying fit and his attitude of wisdom. So why then, Ralph thought secretly, did Simon seem so completely desperately focused on Ralph, geared and tightly wound as if he was prepared for Ralph to run away or hit him?

"Well if I was a weirdo then?" Ralph did not want to give up so easily. "Like, what if I was someone who'd been stuck on this island for a long time and just killed visitors for no reason?"

"Well you wouldn't be you, would you?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. I said, instead of finding me," Ralph felt weary, finding himself in a circle with Simon at the edge. Simon soon corrected the feeling as effortlessly as he could breath.

"No you didn't," he argued. "But alright then. I suppose I'd be killed. Still, that's not Sam's fault. I could have just as easily met someone wicked named Ralph." Simon grinned cheekily and was forgiven his trespasses. His eyes widened, focused and recognized. "Alright we're here. Merridew!" It was nearly completely dark and only one person was up. Ralph could see the whites of his eyes almost glow in the darkness.

"Merridew's asleep over there, I'm trying to make the fire," a deep, boyish voice stated. His black eyes were intense but they left the two boys alone in exchange of two small pieces of wood he held in both hands.

"Still?" Simon asked. The eyes squinted in a glare but the owner of them made no reply, and Ralph could hear the friction of wood on wood resume. Simon's voice stumbled timidly in a backtrack, "I mean, the time you spent it's –"

"Over there," the boy in the darkness gestured again to a red-haired boy that was curled up against a tree with a spear stuck in the ground at his side.

"Merridew," Simon whispered, shaking the boy's shoulders. The boy started and grabbed his spear, his eyes wild and darting furiously.

"What," he hissed. "Did Roger get the fire going?"

"No," Simon murmured. "But I found someone."

"Oh," Merridew replied, his entire body relaxing with the news. "Bring him in front of me so that I can see him." Simon took Ralph's right sleeve between his fingers and tugged him so he stood before the chief. Ralph posture was defensive and he too sized Merridew up best he could when the other boy was sitting. But Merridew didn't sit much longer but rather stand up, in an obvious way to intimidate or at least compare himself with the group's new edition. "Right, so what's your name?"

"Ralph," was the reply. The other boy's height was not much different and from their distance of a foot or two he couldn't really tell which one was minutely taller. Merridew, as his name was, carried a commanding air that Ralph had recognized in his own father so he knew when one actually deserved such an air. His face was serious and even in the little light that they had Ralph could recognize that he had an ugly and serious face. Merridew pondered Ralph with equal attention then seemed to come to a conclusion.

"You're fit enough, you can be a hunter," he decided, not without arrogance. His chin jutted out and Ralph felt that his own face was subconsciously mimicking the expression. Simon watched on with amused fascination, before walking off to sit by Roger, the boy that was attempting to start the fire.

"Is there even anything here that we can hunt?" Ralph asked. He gestured behind himself to Simon who was quietly watching Roger work. "He told me most of the day you tried to find the rest of the kids so you didn't have any time to really see anything."

"We're going to explore the island tomorrow, me and a few other boys, you can come if you want," Merridew decided. "We already know there's plenty of food, and birds, so we'll be able to find some sort of meat. I think there's some wild pigs on the island too. We just need some weapons and I think we'll be able to sharpen some sticks and make them into spears."

"I don't know how I feel about hunting though, my dad took me once and I didn't really like it," Ralph said. The truth was the deer that he had shot had haunted his dreams for months afterwards. The rush of fear and excitement he had gotten in no way could undo the guilty conscious and sleepless nights.

"Well like I said, you come with us tomorrow and if we come across something, if you still don't want to hunt you don't have to all the time. Me and my choir can hunt."

"Even Simon?" Simon's eyes shot up from Roger's sticks and widened in the darkness.

"What, the little one there?"

"Yea, he has fits and stuff." Merridew turned his eyes to Simon who shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. Merridew knew him, his range was mostly limited to soprano but he sang well. He also fainted through one performance a year ago. Merridew recognized that the new boy held some sort of liking for the Simon so he needed to maneuver carefully with the subject. He wasn't sure yet if the new boy could be welcomed into his group, but it was better to play safe with him for now.

"Well, I guess he can come with us tomorrow. If he causes us any trouble he can just catch fish and pick fruit I suppose. Watch the littluns maybe. But most of us," he seemed to warn Ralph. "Most of us are hunters, alright? If you don't like it you don't have to always but when I say you have to, you have to."

"But there's tons of kids in choir," Ralph complained.

"When I don't want to hunt with tons of kids," Merridew shot back. Silence hung suspended though the sound of twigs rubbing together never ceased. Ralph felt vaguely pleased and he and Merridew smiled at each other with shy liking. Suddenly there was a spark of light and a whoop of barely contained enthusiasm. "What was that?" Merridew cried.

"He's nearly done it!" Simon exclaimed excitedly. It was completely dark out but in less than ten more seconds Roger had started the fire again. Simon piled on leaves and bits of wood to help nurture the fire and following his example so did Ralph and Merridew. Within five minutes a large fire was roaring and the rest of the boys were stirring awake.

Roger's face was dark and sweaty with his efforts and the heat. "Not doing this again though," Roger cursed. "It's too much bloody trouble." He massaged his hands best he could and held them close to the fire so as to see how he could pull out his splinters. The littluns curled up close to the fire and the rest of the boys abandoned the trees they had slumped against. There was a gentle lull of chatter dancing through the night that reminded Ralph of the sound of the sea, but he knew there were more important matters than relaxation.

"Well who will?" asked Ralph. "We need the fire for when it gets cold, and to cook things, and to, and to – well, a signal fire, isn't it? How'll they find us if they don't know that there's someone on the island?"

"We don't even know if it's an island yet," Merridew cautioned in a glare. "But fine. Who wants to keep the fire tended?" There was silence and Merridew stood up to his full height, still not that different from Ralph's own. "Come on now, don't you want to eat some nice cooked meat?"

"I'll keep it tended," Ralph said.

"Only if you don't like hunting," Merridew shot back at him before assessing the rest of his troop. "Simon, youcan keep the fire tended tomorrow while you're," to Ralph. "Exploring with me." He had decided and Simon made no argument. "Samneric can keep the fire going as well, just for tomorrow." Samneric, twins, groaned in dismayed unison at their new chore.

"'Ow are we going to make a fire?" they groaned.

"Rub two sticks together," Simon spoke softly, glancing cautiously at Merridew as if afraid to speak out of turn though Merridew paid him no mind.

"And tomorrow we'll hunt, we'll figure out the size of the island and what's on it and everything."

"What are we going to do for shelters?" Ralph asked. "We can't stay here and just lean against the trees when rain comes, and it rained before we dropped in you know so we need to build something. I don't think there's any caves so we'll need to build huts tomorrow."

"But we're hunting tomorrow," Merridew argued. "And you can't hunt, keep the fire tended and build huts all at once." The fire had cast magnificent burgundy shadows on their faces, creating awesome silhouettes and making animated, flickering shadows on the ground.

"Fine, tomorrow we'll hunt but –" Ralph turned to a few fit boys that looked like they could concentrate on something for more than a minute. "You lads, you should start gathering wood so that we can starting building huts the day after tomorrow." The boys sat up straight. A few boys made sounds of protest but one nodded sternly at what he was charged with. Merridew felt he needed to do some ordering around himself.

"Yeah, and the littluns, you be watched by Maurice, okay? Stay by the sea and catch some fish or you won't get any meat if we come across something," he said. "Alright, is that it? Can we all go back to sleep now?" No one made any response so Merridew nodded in satisfaction. "Alright then. We sleep." Everyone complied with ease, sinking back to the ground and resting their heads.

Soon it was only Roger, Simon and Ralph still sitting up. Roger was staring transfixed though with a little disdain at the fire he created, still distractedly picking at his splinters and kneading his hands. Simon too stared into it, the shine in his eyes flickering along with the flames. He turned his eyes to Ralph and Ralph stared back. Though Ralph could see that Roger was darker than most and that Simon could turn pale as a ghost when he had a fit, the day outside had burned him into a deep tan that glistened with sweat caused by the heat of the fire.

He wore the remains of shorts and his feet were bare like Merridew's. The coarse mop of black hair was long and swung down, almost concealing a low, broad forehead. Beneath his fringe Ralph saw the eyes that were so bright they had deceived Ralph into thinking him delightfully gay and wicked through his shyness. They looked undeniably troubled now and he didn't bother to smile as he and Ralph exchanged gazes. Simon glanced at Roger pointedly and Ralph stood up and walked away from the fire. Simon followed, tiptoeing over the bodies with considerable control after his attack.

"What'll we do if there are people living here?" Simon posed the question. "Will we have to do any fighting?"

"I dunno," Ralph said. "We're British though, so we'll be fine. British always rise to the top of affairs in savage countries." He found himself quoting his father and he found the words longer and more impressive than he was usually accustomed to.

"And supposing there are no natives? Will we build a charming villa, and plant a lovely garden round it, stuck all full of the most splendiferous tropical flowers? Farm the land, plant, sow, reap, eat, sleep and be merry?" Simon's voice was less mocking, more desperate almost edging on hysteria.

"Course not. We don't have any tools," Ralph said, trying to interject a bit of humour to calm his dark-haired companion down. "Not even a knife . . ."

"What if we stay here forever?" Simon asked him with his soft voice. They stood on the very cusp of the camp and in the darkness the sound of the trickling stream was loud enough to cover up their whispered words. The clouds had long since departed and Ralph could see the stars dotting the skies in ways he had never seen before, even in the countryside. His math teacher had once broached the subject of infinity and staring at the stars in the knowledge they were infinite he felt extraordinarily small and warm.

"We will if we don't keep the fire tended. I read a book and they had to make a fire so that passing ships could see the smoke and see that there were people on the island. All we have is sticks, they had bows, but we can make do. Besides, I think that's what Merridew's looking for anyway, ways that we can stay here." As he spoke Ralph stared into the sky, into the dotted abyss and he leaned his arm against one tree.

"And you're wrong, we have a knife. Merridew has one. So be careful around him," Simon requested. "He didn't like it when you told the other boys what to do. He's always been in charge but until he's done something wrong, don't correct him or order the other boys around. I'll listen to you and I can get a few other boys to also do it and he doesn't need to know. But if he doesn't like you . . . just don't order the other boys around him."

"I didn't order them –"

"Merridew's used to being the only leader apart from the teachers. Just trust me on this," Simon requested, his eyes serious and they darted back and forth before adding, "I don't think he'll ever want to leave here."

"What?" Ralph asked incredulously.

"Ssshhh!" Simon berated. "Just, watch him carefully tomorrow. I'll keep the fire going with plenty of smoke, don't worry. But please, don't trust him yet."

"Did he beat you up or something?" Simon was nearly a foot shorter than Ralph himself so it wasn't impossible for Merridew to hurt the smaller, physically weak boy. But luckily Simon only laughed, low and surprised with a faint flavor of delight.

"No, no," Simon grin faded quickly with his next words. "He's never been mean to me or anyone at school I don't think, just very bossy is all."

"Then what's the problem?" Ralph asked, confused.

"Well," Simon started, his eyes wide and star clustered. "We're not in school anymore, are we?" He turned his head to stare at the clouds. They breathed in the slightly cool night air, fresh and unlike anything they had ever smelt. The humidity was still so thick in the air that it could almost be grasped. In the distance they twinkled and flickered in a manner neither boy had ever seen back in England.

"Reckon these are the same stars we see back home?" Ralph asked.

"Maybe," Simon breathed. They stood in dizzying silence for a while, but when the feeling that if they stared into the universe any longer they would fall right into it became too strong they bid goodnight to each other and the beautiful, impartial stars. They turned to walk back to the camp. Simon settled against a tree and slid down, pulling his skinny legs up to his chest. Ralph, fully alert from the sleep he'd gotten earlier, watched him. Simon's eyes flickered open to look back at Ralph. He opened his mouth as if to say something important but only said, "Goodnight."

"Snake," a littlun whimpered in his sleep. Ralph leaned on the tree opposite of Simon's and shut his eyes.