Disclaimer: The estate of William Golding demanded that I stop sending petitions begging for the release of the boys and the island into my custody. Apparently they don't think I'd be a "responsible caretaker." Honestly, I have no idea why they would think that...

Warnings: Warnings for no violence? Two chapters in after my extended "vacation" and I thought we'd already be somewhere dark and blood-tinged. Oh well. Good things come to those who wait. Apologies for the minute word count; the next two chapters are much bigger. We'll think of this as... a Prelude.

Sing the Little Children

Chapter 13

"Wake up!"

Bastion woke slowly, with difficulty. He was having such a great dream; there were so many little crawly things and he was singing and all was well. Then Eric's face was only inches from his own and the boy was shouting at him to wake up.

"Stop it," the hunter grumbled and turned away, trying to hide his face in his arm.

"Bastion, please! There was a, a loud noise! And Jack is gone!"

With great effort, Bastion pushed himself up. He sat cross-legged and glared at the twin. "He left before we slept. Sometimes he just does that."

"But the Beast-"

"There he is!" Robert came flying at them from out of the night, leaping over a hedge of prickly bushes and darting past them, toward the mountain.

Eric and Bastion stood and peered through the moon-soft darkness and saw nothing but more rocks, jagged trunks and pools of shadow and soot.

Then there was a short shriek and the crashing of bare feet on gravel. Robert came racing back, as pale as a fish. "The Beast!" he cried.

Bastion's heart froze. He was momentarily paralysed with fear. Eric whimpered.

Afar up the slope, they saw something tall and black with a skull for a head. It strode slowly toward them, its body eery and elongated.

Bastion scrambled for his spear. He felt Robert at one shoulder and Bill slide up on the other from wherever he was keeping watch.

"Stay back!" Robert called. His voice was thin and tremulous. "We have spears! We'll kill you!"

The figure approached. It spoke, "A spear won't kill the Beast."

The hunters gasped in shock and relief. The voice was Jack's.

It continued, "The Beast is already dead." When he was close, they saw that Jack was covered in black and upon his head he wore the skull of a great pig. "I found it and I took all of its powers."

They parted before him.

Robert reached out and touched Jack's arm. "What is this?"

"Beast skin."

"It's a jacket," the small hunter accused. "Where did you get it?"

"I told you." Jack jerked his elbow away. "I took it."

The hunters fell silent. Bastion felt the first stirring of horror that the worst monster in their lives wasn't some evil creature, but something so much closer. He didn't think he was the only one; the others looked confused and afraid.

"Ralph wanted peace," the red-head continued. "And this is what happened." He gestured around them, at their exile, at the island that wouldn't last much longer. "So we will have my peace. I'm going to kill Roger and anyone who stands with him."

Wide-eyed, Robert said, "But how? All of his hunters..." He left his fears hanging in the air.

Jack didn't answer for a moment. Dawn was approaching and the faint pre-light glimmered in his mad blue eyes under the skull. When his gaze found Robert, the small hunter shuddered. "They will stand down. Or they will die."

There was no forthcoming explanation. Jack was hiding something from them and none of them had the courage to ask what it was. Dawn broke clear, golden light over them. The hunters saw that their Chief wore some kind of uniform that they recognized from their previous lives. There were straps on him, like a harness, and pouches and pockets full of things.

The hunters went out foraging for fruit to break their fast. While they were away from Jack, they spoke amongst themselves.

"That's army clothes," Robert said wisely. "I remember."

"Was that the Beast?" Bastion asked incredulously. "It can't have been."

"Why not?" asked Robert. "We never saw it, not really. It could've been anything."

"So we imagined it the whole time?" Bastion pulled down an olive-grey fruit, discovered it was mostly rotten, and threw it with all his might into the trees. "I don't believe that."

"Then don't," Robert snapped back. "Believe what you want."

"Do you think he has a gun?" Bill asked. The other two turned to stare at the large hunter.

Bastion recalled Eric's fearful gibbering about the loud noise and couldn't say no.

"If he does," Robert finally said. "Roger don't have a chance."

When the hunters returned, Jack was sharpening a long knife on a piece of stone. It shone nicely, like it was brand new. He looked up at their approach and nodded to them. "It has to be tonight," he said. "Before the island dies any more."

"Ralph is still down there," Eric said. He reached out for some fruit and Bill snatched it away with a glare for the twin.

"Get your own," said the hunter. "This is for Jack."

Eric cowered and slunk away.

The three hunters and their Chief ate together. Petey moved around the outside of their tight circle and Bastion absently handed a small fruit to the little'un. The boy's skinny brown limbs reminded Bastion of an insect and he felt a bit of fondness toward him.

"I need to get Roger alone," Jack told them. "Without him, his hunters are less dangerous."

"Not Maurice," Robert spoke up. "He is almost a leader."

"And Luke is a shit-head," Bastion added. "We should kill him, anyway."

Bill and Robert laughed. Jack didn't. His expression was distant as he plotted. "He'll have to be alone at some point. Then we hunt him."

"Or lure him?" Bastion asked. He was more familiar with attracting predators than the pig hunters. "Make him come to you?"

The four of them thought about this.

"What would lure Roger?" Robert asked.

There was a snap of branches and Eric emerged from the trees, a few small, unripe fruits in hand. His face was screwed up in discomfort and he sucked on a small wound he'd gotten on his arm.

"Pain," Jack answered. His intense glare bored into Eric. "Pain lures him."