A/N: Another chapter, folks! Enjoy it tons!

The tribe was having a feast and Ralph knew it. The dying rays of the sun were filtering in through the palm leaves above his head, and still confined in his prison, he could smell the sweet aroma of cooked meat wafting through the air. Ralph's stomach growled viciously, his inner beast stirred awake by the scent of burning flesh. He had been asleep for several hours, nursing his wounds in silence. The boy had tried to block from his mind his lust for some type of food, and had been successful for the most part; now, however, the fragrance of what was most likely pork was pulling at his senses, luring him from the chief's shelter.

Ralph wrung his hands, trying very hard to resist the tempting scent. Perhaps this was Jack's way of torturing him, he realized with a frown. Forcing him to breathe in the flavorful aroma of the roasting pig, keeping him jailed in a small, dark lean-to that was most likely guarded by boys carrying spears.

The fair-haired boy shifted his position on the sand slightly. There were pebbles digging into his bare calves, and he allowed himself to whimper. He was so dreadfully hungry. "That's it," Ralph grumbled to himself, and climbed to his hands and knees. Slowly, he crawled out of the lean-to and into the cool darkness of the evening. The air was thick with the fragrance of not only the cooking meat, but that of tropical night-blooming flowers, as well. Ralph breathed in the dampness with a certain gusto; he was happy to still be alive.

The boy soon found that there was no one guarding the shelter in which he had been resting, and so he crept further into the unknown darkness. There was a faraway light on the beach, the orangey glow of a great bonfire. Ralph could almost hear the crackling of the flames, but any such noise was drowned out by the hooting and shouting of the savage boys. From the seaside drifted a familiar chant that was forever emblazoned in Ralph's mind and soul.

Kill the pig! Cut its throat! Spill the blood!

Shivers ran down his spine, but Ralph hobbled along on all fours, approaching the beach with caution. A ring of dancing figures was silhouetted by the leaping fire, shouting unintelligible words and songs. You'd think they'd grow tired of it, Ralph thought bitterly. But he knew he was wrong, for this primal lifestyle had been embedded into the brains of the other boys on the island, and they'd never give it up until it was pried from their lives with force.

Ralph considered that he was injured rather severely, and that he himself was not armed in any way. He had underestimated the pain that a sharpened stick could inflict when he had been struck earlier that day, and now he grew very wary as he drew closer to the bonfire. He kept himself silent, careful not to disturb any dry leaves that were in his path. Not like they could hear me anyway.

"What are you doing here?!"

Ralph nearly jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. Carefully, he turned around into the darkness to face whoever the voice belonged to. "Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief when the distant glow from the fire revealed the face of one of the twins. "Sam?"

The younger boy nodded slowly. "You're supposed to be in the hut."

"I know," Ralph whispered, his voice almost inaudible, "but I'm starving in there!"

Obviously nervous, Sam chewed on his fingernail, pondering what to do next. "I know, I'm sorry – it's just that... that Jack... wouldn't let me get you anything... to eat." He added as quietly as he could, "He'll kill you if he sees you down there."

But Ralph knew the chief too well to believe this. "No, he won't."

"But... Remember what happened last time... during the fire..." Sam talked haltingly, as if he expected his twin brother to join in and finish his sentences at any moment. But Eric didn't appear and the boy sighed sadly. "I mean... I don't want it... to happen again."

Ralph wedged his tongue in the corner of his mouth, thinking the situation over. His hunger, however, was dampening his judgment and he couldn't quite process his thoughts as clearly as he would have liked. "Simon..." he grumbled, understanding who the single twin was referring to. "It won't happen that way, I promise." He placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder and attempted a smile.

"I'll go with you, then."

The older boy frowned, then shrugged. "I don't know... Jack wouldn't like that too much."

"That doesn't matter."

"Stay quiet, then," Ralph murmured, and returned to his hands and knees. The boys crawled across the ground until they were about twenty yards from the fire. The tribe had settled down and presently, they were feasting on the day's kill. Ralph was horrified to find that not only were the other boys eating at least one slaughtered pig, they also had a grand lineup of fruits and vegetables and other cooked animals. A victory banquet, he thought with a frown creasing his forehead.

"It smells good," Sam grumbled, squinting into the molten blaze of the fire.

"Why aren't you down there eating with them?" Ralph hissed.

"I was heading down that way before I saw you."

"You were looking for Eric."

Sam was silent, and he nodded.

"No luck?"

The younger boy shook his head, then proceeded to creep closer to the fire. "I'll go first," he said, "and bring some food back for you."

"It seems kind of risky," Ralph wanted to say, but his growling stomach betrayed him, and instead he said, "Alright." There was a rustling of vegetation and for the second time that afternoon, Sam disappeared. Ralph took a seat on the damp ground and sighed. He wasn't so worried about his own life, so much as that of the missing Eric. There wasn't much he himself could do about it except for worry, and that never did any good.

The sun had finished setting and the sky was a dark navy-blue, masked almost entirely by threatening clouds. It would storm, soon, and rain would fall. It would extinguish the fire and the warmth that the boys worshipped nightly, and with the rain, an extreme sense of misery would set in. Ralph sighed rather grumpily, and squinted into the darkness. The water was blending into the sky; the trees into the beach. The figures of the boys seated around the bonfire were melding into one object, and the flames seemed to be dancing, taking on a human form, growing blurry then jumping back into focus.

Ralph blinked his eyes several times, and he knew that his hunger was toying with his mind, making him see things that weren't really there. He had to get something to eat, and soon – the feeling of weakness was setting in and it was a terrible pain in his stomach, indeed. Ralph writhed a little, trying not to think about the food the boys on the beach were engorging.

There was a rustling in the bushes behind him, and the boy turned around. "Thank you so much..." Ralph began, but a sudden icy fear spread over him and he could no longer feel his hands or feet.

A boy that Ralph had once known was staring back at him with dark eyes, his dirty face covered in clay and paint, and his hair long and tangled. Roger frowned. "You're supposed to be in the chief's shelter," he said disapprovingly, crossing his arms over his bare chest at the same time.

Rising to his feet very slowly, Ralph raised his arms in a protective stance and backed away. "I'm only here to get something to eat," he muttered carefully. "I haven't had any food for days." Well, that was overstating it, he knew, but his stomach sure felt like it.

"That's a rotten excuse!" Roger declared, and let a fist fly.

Ralph hadn't seen the blow coming, and when the uppercut was only inches from his face, it was already too late. He crumpled to the ground, holding his jaw. "S-Stop!" Ralph sputtered, scooting away from the other boy. "Jack'll kill you if he sees you beating up on his pet!"

The hangman sneered. "I doubt that."

"Where's Eric?"

Roger raised a dark eyebrow, then chuckled. "You think I have something to do with it?"

Ralph nodded; to him, it was obvious. Why else would Eric go missing? The deaths and disappearances of boys on the island were always credited to Roger, and for good reason. He had showed his brutality when he had killed Piggy and when he had joined in on the mob that resulted in Simon's death. "Where is he?!" Ralph hissed, trying not to let any extraneous emotions show.

"You don't need to know that," the other boy replied darkly. "I'm taking you back to your shelter and I am going to make sure you stay there."

"How are you planning on accomplishing that?" Ralph asked, sounding more surly than he had intended. It was a mixture of fatigue and hunger and hopelessness, and ultimately, it made him sound much angrier than he was frustrated.

Roger grinned this time, and it was a sight that made Ralph shudder. "I have my ways," he responded, more vaguely than darkly, and added, "Get moving. I'm right behind you."

As the boys started to tramp through the cool darkness of the night, thunder rumbled faraway over the ocean. And then, it began to rain.

A/N: Hope ya liked it. From here on out, the plot thickens, not to mention that the pace picks up, as well. Like a great reader, could you please leave me some feedback? It does wonders for self-esteem and the soul. Thanks!

-mo