It's... been a while. I'm really, really sorry. What did I say about writer's block and losing steam halfway though. Although this isn't really halfway at all. Maybe one third.
Please don't hate me. T-T
Arrows: Chapter 10
Confrontation
"Pathetic." Jack spins around, eyes narrowed to slits at the voice. Ralph's gaze is locked on the bow the redhead is holding. His bow in fact, the fair boy couldn't fathom why the savages had kept it, but here their leader was, trying to use the weapon. And failing. On Jack's part, the superior tone dug up too many unpleasant memories of their first year on the island, causing his blood to boil.
"Did Roger short circuit your brain?" Ralph is already badly injured; the lithe body is covered with a mixture of healing wounds and fresh ones that still oozed blood. Another round of punishment could very well push the blond's body beyond its limits and Jack knows that Ralph recognises this. It was really the only reason why the redhead had allowed the male outside the cave with only minimal supervision. However, the blond doesn't even flinch at the acid in his voice. Jack hates that about Ralph. The slim male never given him the same respect as the others did. The hunter would have ordered his tribe to kill the blond had he not seen the mocking glint in the slate grey eyes every time. Even half conscious and slick with his own blood, the piercing eyes had conveyed a calm pity. Call it stupidity, but pride refused to let Jack kill Ralph if that was what the boy expected from him; really, sometimes he was convinced the blond played him like a puppet when it came to manipulating his behavior.
(Ironically, the only person who could rile Ralph up was Jack himself. They existed in an odd paradox of sorts, always pushing and pulling without getting anywhere. Jack has wondered how long it would be before one of them shattered.)
From where he's tethered to a tree, Ralph raises his shoulders in a slight shrug, wincing at the sharp jab of pain, "It's true. You won't hit anything." Jack's eye twitches, ready to snap at the blond but stops when a more inviting idea comes to mind. He puts the bow down, closing the distance between him and his captive in three strides. Long fingers find their place along the other's jaw line, forcibly tilting Ralph's chin up slightly while Jack's other hand glides upwards from the corner of the blond's mouth to his temple, gently brushing aside stray strands of gold. The desired reaction is instantaneous; Jack smirks at the irritated look that settles in Ralph's irises as the lean body tenses beneath his fingers in an effort to move away. Already anticipating the response, Jack moves his other hand to a scarred shoulder, keeping Ralph still. The prey hisses at the bruising pressure, staring defiantly at the gleaming pupils in front of him; smirk widening, Jack leans in closer, warm breathing flutters across the shell of Ralph's ear in a soft purr.
"Why don't you teach me then?" He slides the hand holding Ralph's jaw down the teen's throat, pulling back in time to dodge the kick thrown at him. Jack grins at the involuntary groan that follows, "Poor Ralphie, do you hurt?" Said male curses the hunter under his breath and turns away, cheeks red with anger; the redhead smiles in satisfaction. Ralph might know how to manipulate his captor by using his temper, but Jack knows exactly how to push his captive's buttons. The blond despises feeling the hunter's hands on him, especially if they were gentle enough to be considered caring; having recently discovered this aversion, Jack exploited it as much as possible to piss off Ralph whenever the blond seemed to be too calm.
Seeing that the blond is thoroughly vexed for the time being, the hunter goes back to his earlier attempts at archery. Samneric's report had agitated the entire tribe; they might outnumber the newcomers by three to one, but most of them were young boys and quite frankly, inexperienced fighters. On top of the discovery that all were armed, one of the twins had mentioned that none of the intruders seemed to be completely sane. Even Roger frowned at this information and looked over at Jack, dark eyes flickering briefly to the faint outline of Ralph at the entrance to the cave. The redhead had given consent, and they'd gone to get answers. Their interrogation didn't reveal any new information though, Ralph had mostly remained silent during the session. The blond did eventually confirm that the ship was of military origin. That did nothing to alleviate the anxiety; army members aren't people to mess with. Thank goodness the remainder of the wrecked crew had only short range weapons.
The report was what had given Jack the idea of learning archery in the first place. He'd remembered, with a grudging admiration, the speed Ralph had sent his arrows out during their little skirmish a couple of weeks ago. Even four potentially fatal projectiles, all launched within a few seconds of each other, would considerably improve his tribe's chances in the inevitable confrontation. Now, if only he can learn to use it. Drawing the bow had been the first challenge; although by no means weak, the redhead hadn't developed the correct muscles to bring the bow to full draw with ease. After several days, he'd found out that nocking an arrow required some skill as well. More time passed before Jack figured out how to hold the arrow without it falling off; then came the biggest challenge. Actually shooting and having the stupid thing find its target; he still hadn't gotten the hang of it. Ralph had been taunting him the entire time. A freckled nose scrunches at the memory; he didn't like how the blond always managed to make him feel like a child. It was insulting.
His next arrow veers to the side, a good meter or so away from his intended destination; surprisingly, the male behind him doesn't say anything, simply staring at him from behind a fringe of golden hair. After a couple more failed shots and feeling eyes burn into his back, irritation spikes his blood again.
"What do you want?" His nettled snap is met by large, innocent eyes.
"Your posture. It's terrible. You always drop before you release." Jack clenches his jaw, turning around stiffly. He's about to try again when a slender shape materializes from nowhere, racing towards them. Adrenalin burns through Jack's veins at the sight; he'd left Castle Rock under Roger's watch. The brunette only sent messages when catastrophes occurred (in other words, almost never). Even more interesting is that he's sent one of the twins, and only one. This abnormality registers in the ginger's mind seconds before the panic in the other's eyes do; the younger boy is terrified. He drops the bow seconds before Sam/Eric/whoever-it-is grabs his arm in a grip so tight, the boy's fingers turn white from the strain. Jack frowns, about to jerk away when the messenger forces his voice out from a constricted throat.
"It's them," the pupils are dilated to an unnatural size, "They're too close. Roger's organizing."
Jack twists around in one savage motion, dropping the bow and picking up his spear in the process. Prisoner forgotten, he vanishes into the undergrowth before the messenger can draw another breath.
The fear and adrenalin scenting the air at Castle Rock is enough to tell the redhead that the boy wasn't lying. Roger is standing in the middle of a group of hunters, back upright and taut from the sudden pressure of having to lead the group. He concedes leadership easily to Jack when he sees the tall form appear from his peripheral vision, briefing the chief on what the boys had seen. His hand tightens on his spear; they don't have much time to figure out a plan, the intruders are already too close for comfort and still approaching.
"Roger, Percival, and you three, come with me. Bill and Maurice, take some of the bean sprouts to the top. If they attack, throw rocks at them. We'll kill them there." The group splits under his orders and Jack heads down the rocky trail, feeling a sense of deja vu wash over him.
This was how Piggy had died.
They're just halfway down when the two groups meet. Jack stops his tribe a few meters away, watching the opposing group warily. They're standing underneath a rocky overhang. Intelligent, the result of a tactical mind. Jack doesn't know if he should be impressed or irritated beyond measure at this new complication. Roger shifts next to him, sighing in anticipation. The man in the front walks straight up to the boys; Jack feels some of the younger hunters shrink back in the slightest, reacting to the authority wrapping around the man like a cloud. The newcomer is a meter away when the redhead whips up his spear, warning him from coming any closer.
"That's far enough. What do you want?" The man raises his hands up in a gesture of peace.
"We didn't mean to intrude. One of our companions disappeared and we were looking for him," the man's charcoal eyes sweep across the boys in front of him, "Have any of you…?"
The question trails off, but Jack guesses what the other was inquiring. "No."
The intruder raises his eyebrows slightly. "No? Alright then." His raises his hand and waves at the men behind him and the group backtracks down the trail with a smoothness that leaves Jack's nerves tingling. The man smiles at him, "We won't be bothering you any longer."
But they will be. Jack would stake his life upon that instinctive thought. They will. Ice blue eyes hold obsidian ones as the distance between them grows, this isn't over, the tension whispered, not at all.