(NA: I don't own the boys, I just play with them. Thank you. All of you. I feel important, because of you. Please continue to make my existence needful. Or at least pretend. So tell me what you think and where I should go from here. So… here's chapter five!)

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Jack held up his arms again. "It is time. The slaughter must take place."

Ralph shivered, and he noticed he wasn't the only one who did so. Samneric shivered too. The way the Chief made the word slaughter sound scared the boys. He liked killing the pigs. He liked their blood on his hands.

The rest of the boys cheered and started their chant. "Kill the pig, slit her throat, spill her blood!"

The chant went on, getting louder, and soon Samneric had joined in. Ralph sat, hunched in a small ball against the cave's exterior. He put his hands over his head, trying to block out the sound as the day he was hunted rushed back.

'Savages, everywhere. Masked faces of past friends. And Jack. Oh, Jack. Where'd your eyes go? Your darling blue eyes, Jack. They're gone. You've got savage eyes now. No, please Jack. Come back. They'll hurt me. Help me, Jack.'

Suddenly Ralph felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. He looked up, scared. He'd been caught all over again. But Jack's eyes; his non-savage eyes stared down at him, he smiled and leaned over. "You're safe, Ralph. Nothing's gunna hurt you here."

The rest of the boys couldn't hear over the cheers they were making, but Ralph watched Jack approach the pig.

They'd brought the pig back for a reason. Ralph was meant to see this.

Jack was still for a second, and the pig knew the fight was coming. It tensed and started to run back and forth, as far as the vine would let him. Finally, Jack jumped on the pig. It squealed, but Jack wrestled it. He fought with it, wearing them both out, before he finally got it onto its back. He plunged his knife into her throat, letting the blood spill on his hands. He smiled, secretly loving the feeling of warm blood on him.

As the pig lay motionless, he started to gather some composure, and he noticed someone kneeling down beside him. He looked over and smiled. Roger grinned, but then coughed, nervously.

"A Chief such as you should have something to show he's the chief." Roger held out his hands, and showed Jack the necklace he'd made.

Jack grinned, and bowed his head. "Put it on me."

Roger hesitated for a moment, but it was a command from his Chief, so he put it over Jack's head. He laid it slowly on Jack's shoulders, and Jack looked up, grinning. "Thanks, Roger."

Roger nodded and stood up, going to step away when Jack said, "Wait!"

Roger turned around and Jack stood up, facing the younger boy. Blood still dripped from his fingers as he held out his hands, pressing them into Roger's chest. Roger was shaking under Jack's touch, but he stayed, letting Jack's bloody hands stay on his chest. Slowly, Jack moved his hand away and said. "Let the feast commence!"

Maurice, Robert and Bill all ran over to the pig and tied it to a stick and brought it over to the fire. They quickly put up their cooking gear and set the pig across the gear. (The gear was two Y shaped sticks that could hold the weight of the pig.)

Roger walked over to the fire, where most of the boys were cheering and dancing. Roger didn't usually dance, but he was feeling extra savage today, with what Jack had done to him. The handprints showed a sense of belonging to him. He belonged in this tribe. He belonged with Jack. He grabbed his spear and danced and chanted with the rest of them.

Jack, on the other hand, went over to Ralph. He was staring, blankly, into the fire. Fear was still in his eyes, and Jack smiled, kneeling down before the younger boy. "You okay, Ralph?"

Ralph didn't seem to hear him. Jack could see the glow of the fire in his eyes. He could see the inner savage rise in Ralph. He put his hand on Ralph's cheek, guiding Ralph's eyes back to his. "Earth to Ralph..."

Ralph looked at Jack and blinked the savage back down. After a few seconds, Ralph grinned at Jack. "That was a good kill."

Jack just laughed and with his hand, guided Ralph's head so he was looking at Jack's chest. Jack slowly leaned in and kissed Ralph's forehead. He stood back up, removing his hand from Ralph's cheek and smiled at the bloody handprint left on Ralph's cheek. He turned and walked to the fire, sitting on his "throne" and watching the pig cook, waiting impatiently for it to get done.

Ralph's fingers slightly traced where Jack's hand had been, getting a small amount of blood on his own hands. He stood and walked to Jack, sitting on his knees to his right.

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Jack and Ralph both seemed to ignore the bloody handprint. Throughout the night, neither boy seemed to care it was on. And if they did care, they didn't show it.

The other boys saw it for something. It was the first "mask" they'd ever seen Ralph have. They assumed he was joining them, finally. Samneric were excited. They'd always been behind Ralph. To them and many of the boys really, Ralph had been their true leader. He was the first, and some of the boys still respected him. But joining Jack at last was a glorious moment.

Nobody would defy their leader now. Nobody could. The resistance was joining the leader at last. It only made the fourteenth year of their leader seem even more successful.

Roger didn't think so.

Jack sat on his "throne" which was basically a tree stump of a tree that had fallen down during a storm, decorated with leaves and vines. That part didn't bother Roger. Jack usually sat there, and hardly ever danced until after the feast. He always watched, thinking. Roger always wished he knew what was going on under the red hair.

Ralph sat to his right. That was what made Roger uneasy. Not uneasy. Uneasy was the wrong word for it. Downright outraged was more appropriate. To Jack's right was Roger's seat. It was an unspoken agreement between the hunters. Nobody sat there unless they wanted to fight Roger for it.

Nobody wanted to fight Roger.

But here sat their old chief. Roger wouldn't ever think of Ralph as the chief. He never did, and he never would. For as long as Roger could remember, Jack had been the boss of him. When Jack was the chief, Roger was second in command. When Jack had been leader of the hunters, Roger was the first hunter to follow Jack, blindly. When Jack was in charge of the choir, marching down the beach to find the one who blew the trumpet, Roger followed, two steps behind, but following always.

Roger would follow Jack off a cliff.

But here sat Ralph, now at Jack's side.

As Roger sat, watching Ralph and Jack talk quietly to one another while the smell of cooking pig burned his nose, he thought about home for the first time on the island. Not his home with his family, but his home at the school.

Jack and Roger had been like that in school too. When Jack led the choir, if Jack told Roger to sing higher, he would. If his voice wouldn't allow him, Jack would grin and say, "You're worthless, Roger."

That always hurt Roger's feelings, even though he knew Jack was only picking. Roger's voice wasn't like Jack's. Roger couldn't hit a c sharp. Roger was more of the harmony to Jack's melody. ('Oh great. I'm comparing us to music.' Roger thought)

It didn't stop there. If Jack had the idea to skip class, and fake 'sick.' Roger would stay with him. "Roger's getting me water." Jack would fake. "Roger's helping me get better."

That led to sneaking out at night, and doing things. Jack and Roger would steal food from the cafeteria or go swimming in the pond. They'd throw snowballs at the school and other minor acts of violence and child's play.

Somehow, Jack managed to stay out of trouble. He was the kid that everyone knew was doing things wrong, but nobody had proof. He was an angel in the classroom. Always answering questions and singing in a voice that matched his angelic appearance. But he had horns. He hid the horns under his hair, and it wasn't until his halo of red hair got smoothed down at night that they could be shown.

Only Roger knew about his horns.

When they were caught outside one spring night, only a week or so before they were to go home, even Jack couldn't talk his way out of it. They were going to get into a lot of trouble because this was proof. This is what they needed to condemn Jack. They'd throw him out of school, Roger thought, they'd take Jack away from Roger.

Roger wouldn't let that happen.

Roger told the headmaster he'd done it. He had been sneaking out, alone, every night. He would single handedly sneak out and do all the things Jack had told him to do. Roger said that he convinced Jack to come with him, tonight. Forced, really. This was the first night that Jack came along, ever.

Roger'd took the blame for all those things for Jack. Jack played along, not wanting to get himself into trouble of Roger was volunteering to get himself in trouble for him.

And sense then the two had been even closer.

Until tonight.

"It's done. Samneric cut it open!"

Roger was forced back to reality by Jack's voice. He didn't sound the same. Puberty was starting in the older boys. Jack and Ralph, mostly. But that wasn't really the difference. It was the raspiness of it. Jack wasn't a c sharp anymore.

Jack wasn't Jack anymore.

Sam and Eric, (they were separate identities to Roger) gave a large chunk to Jack. Jack was always first served. Jack looked at Ralph, who tried to slump away from the gaze.

The twins knew what Jack meant. The next large chunk of meat went to Ralph.

That was another stab in the chest for Roger.

He was served next, by Eric, of course, as the rest of the boys jumped in, fighting for what they wanted. When Roger took one of the chunks of meat, Eric had sat down next to Roger and started to eat slowly.

"How are you?" Eric's voice seemed different, too. Roger took a bite of his cooked pig, rather than talk to Eric. It wasn't that he disliked the twin. He liked Eric… he just liked him with scars and bruises and blood on him even better.

Roger looked at Eric's shoulders, which were starting to scab over. Neither boy would bring it up, nor talk about it if someone else did. It was another unspoken agreement. What happened, happened. There wasn't a need to discuss it.

Roger looked back up at the dancing boys around the fire. There weren't any he'd trade for Eric. Eric was submissive, and Roger liked that. Though Bill or Maurice would turn submissive under Roger, they wouldn't handle it like Eric. Eric wore his wounds proudly. He didn't try to cover them with his old clothes.

That's what Roger liked about Eric.

Suddenly Jack rose. Everyone was done eating, and Jack was ready to dance. Everyone cheered as Jack stood. They knew that their Chief would join them. Roger and Eric stood too, ready to dance as one. All the hunters; enjoying the kill and the company of each other.

Then Jack held his hand down to Ralph. Ralph took it and stood up. Jack was allowing Ralph to dance, too. Allowing him, inviting him, dance with the Chief.

That was the final straw for Roger, he turned from the fire, he turned from the tribe. He turned from his best friend, his chief, the only other person he cared about beside himself.

Ralph had taken his spot for the last time and Roger would get back at Ralph… if it was the last thing he ever did.