Chapter 3

The Fruit-Gatherers

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies, William Golding does. (goes on knees and begs) Let me have it, Mr. Golding! Pwease?

Aerona is sitting at her computer, typing this chapter. Jack pops up behind her.

Aerona: HEY!!!!!!!! (covers screen) JACK!!!!!!!! Do you or do you not understand the concept "privacy"?

Jack: Nope.

Aerona: Humph. Well, I suppose you can look. And that's just because you've got your spear out. I'm writing the new chapter.

Jack: Oh no, not your inane fanfic again... It sucks. Seriously. There's not enough ME in it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aerona: Oh whatever.

(Simon pops up)

Simon: There's enough of me though! (hugs)

Jack: Oh shut up. I can't wait for the bit where you d-(Aerona covers his mouth) MMMMPH!!!!

Simon: What?

Aerona: Oh, nothing. Come on, we'd better start the fic.

The way down the mountain was less challenging than the ascent; the anticline made travel easier and it was not necessary to crawl on hands and knees. The jungle had darkened with the sun and seemed to be made up out of a patchwork of shadows. Ralph, Jack, Kitty and Simon each made their separate ways down, each of them reliving the excitement of the ascent and the glory of the summit. Kitty was still clutching the brilliant blue flower Simon had plucked for her on the mountain; now she let it fall, eyes following the patch of colour until it came to rest on the forest floor. Then she looked around at her companions, an infectious smile on her face.

Simon grinned back. Dying sunlight shone through his fair hair, haloing his face in white. Beside him, Ralph, feeling he must use tangible means to express his joy, stood on his head, legs waving. Jack tried to look as if the celebration was of no concern to him, but failed. Everyone could see the light in his eyes.

They were about halfway down the mountain by this time; suddenly they wandered into a stand of fruit trees, smooth-skinned, oval fruit hanging from the tree branches like yellow rain. Ralph and Kitty immediately rushed at the trees; making use of the ample handholds available to pull themselves up towards the strange fruit.

The fruit was good; the golden flesh sweet and cool after Jack had used his knife to slice away the thick outer skin. Now their hands were taken up by the fruit the children's progress slowed as the sticky juice rushed over their hands. Kitty's hair was coming down out of her neat plait and was a constant irritation to her, getting into her eyes and causing her to toss her head impatiently. She could feel her skin smart from sunburn. For a brief moment, the new situation was nothing but an annoyance, but sunburn, sticky, dirty hands and loose hair paled in comparison with the glamour of the island.

They had reached a small overhang; ferns and other unnamed plants grew over a small ledge about two feet high, which, though not difficult, would need some negotiation when their hands were occupied with fruit. As Jack was about to swing himself over the ledge, a sound from under the overhang caught his attention. Rooting about in the thick carpet of plants was a pig, scarcely bigger than a piglet. It seemed not to regard them as a danger; or maybe it hadn't noticed them as it snuffled and dug with its snout.

Hardly daring to breathe, Kitty knelt on the edge of the overhang, fingers brushing the piglet's bristly back. The rub of her fingertips on hide sent a thrill through her. Here was more tangible proof of the wonder of the island. She had seen pigs before, back in England, but compared to this black piglet they seemed unsubstantial, mere cardboard cut-outs against its living vitality.

Her fruit lay forgotten in her palm; kneeling next to her, Jack tossed the large stone of his fruit away. Ralph was about to make some remark; but that was forgotten as Jack drew his knife, flourishing it above his shoulder.

Kitty had to swallow hard before she could speak.

"Are you - are you going to -"

Jack essayed to look confident, but his face twitched involuntarily.

"We need meat, don't we?"

Simon pressed closer to Kitty, as if for comfort, as Jack brought the knife down, pausing to hold it inches above the piglet's neck. With that one hesitation all the momentum of the strike; all the conviction and confidence that he had been building up had been lost and the knife stopped short. Kitty watched Jack's face. It was drawn and tight. He jerked his arm, a convulsive motion that made the knife shear off. Jack's arm fell to his side as the piglet trotted off. Laughing ashamedly, he sheathed his knife with a thrust.

The other three were regarding him silently. Simon's eyes were wide, Ralph looked taken aback and Kitty was breathing hard. Jack vaulted down the overhang but he misjudged his landing and fell with a crash into the leaf-mould. Cursing under his breath, he scrambled upright, violently brushing away the clinging earth. His face dared the others to make comment.

No one did, but as the others too climbed down the ledge, Ralph bravely dared a remark.

"That was bad luck."

Kitty also felt the need to rejoin.

"Why didn't you -"

She did not finish her sentence; the answer was all too obvious.

Simon had walked a little way, and he was leaning against a tree, face pale. The whole episode, and what Jack had come so close to doing seemed to make him physically sick. Jack noticed his silence, and felt the need to assert his authority. Crossing over to where Simon was, Jack whipped his knife out of the sheath and slammed it into the tree that the younger boy was leaning against, tearing free a chunk of bark.

Simon jumped out of the way as if he had been stung; Kitty and Ralph stopped short, amazed. Jack ripped his blade out of the tree and faced them all.

"That won't happen again."

No one contradicted him.

The other children were taking advantage of the cool evening to swim without fear of the sunburn that was already beginning to smart them, the bathing pool was filled with splashing and laughter. Several of the boys had scattered far along the beach, but they came running back after Kitty blew on the conch. Soon the green-and-gold shadows of the platform were interrupted by restless forms.

Ralph had taken the conch after Kitty had blown it; now he squatted on a palm trunk that was bleached and age-whitened, commanding attention in the way he held the shining shell. He surveyed the circle of expectant faces that were ranged along the fallen trunks.

"Well, we've been to the top of the mountain. And we saw what we went to see. This is an island, then."

A murmur circulated around the assembled children. Ralph hastily went on.

"But it's a good island. We found good fruit, and there are pigs too..." He found himself looking at Jack, who was hunched up next to Roger. Jack's face was unreadable.

"So we won't go hungry. But we need rules. We need rules so we can live properly. First of all, when the conch is blown everyone comes here for a meeting."

Jack got up from the trunk he was sitting on.

"I agree with Ralph. Got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages. We're English! And the English are best at everything."

He sat again to applause and cheers. The younger boys, excited, jumped up from their seats. A babble of voices filled the air. The meeting looked to be in danger of breaking up. Ralph frowned.

"Next time take the conch, Jack. But you're right. We'll have lots of rules. Now everyone sit down - sit down, you littluns! - and we'll get on with the meeting."

Overcome by Ralph's authority, the boys who had left their seats sat back down.

"All right. The rule about the conch is the first rule. And another thing. We must build shelters on the beach. Then we'll be safe if it rains again. Over the next few days we'll all help with them."

A few murmurs of agreement.

"And I'll finish off soon, but before I do I want to say this - about being rescued."

The silence seemed to grow sharper. Kitty leaned forward expectantly, watching Ralph intensely.

"We shall be rescued. It's just a question of waiting, that's all. Sooner or later someone will find us. But until then we must be sensible. We must stick together and work as a group. If we do all that, if we don't lose our heads, we shall be all right."

Ralph laid the conch down on the ground beside him - a sign that his speech was over.

"Anyone got anything else to say?"

Rupert, one of the older choirboys, took the conch to report that a stream had been found, leading back to a small pool with a waterfall. With this discovery of fresh water the future looked assured, safe. Ralph looked relieved at this report; he had been secretly wondering what they would do about drinking water. He took the conch back from Rupert.

"Well then. It's just like I said, about this being a good island. We've got everything we want. So why not have fun until we're rescued?"

There was a clamour immediately.

"Just like in the books -"

"Swallows and Amazons -"

"The Coral Island -"

Kitty was immediately drawn back into memories of the other life in England, a century ago, it seemed now. The Coral Island had been her favourite book. She could still remember the weight of the book in her hands as she ran her fingers across the pitted, red leather cover, and the musty smell of the yellow, worn pages. The book had had colour plates at intervals and Kitty could still remember flicking the pages and watching the soft slide of the plates as they slipped into place, the slick, laminated paper swishing in marked contrast to the other parchment-like pages. She had gasped, sighed and cried with the heroes as they made their life on their coral island.

Now the story was more than a story. It was reality.

The speeches were still progressing, and Jack had the conch in the process of describing their island. Everyone was listening, enraptured, as Jack painted a vivid picture of the paradise at their command.

A small hand tugged at her sleeve, making Kitty jump and turn to see the little boy she had noticed earlier. He was still nursing his model plane, the only visible reminder of his old life, its paintwork a trifle scratched and battered by now. Seen close to, he was a small, timid-looking individual, with a head of sandy curls and large, moist eyes. One side of his face was obscured by a large, mottled, mulberry-coloured birthmark. Not quite daring to invite publicity by taking the conch, the little boy had chosen Kitty as a channel through which to speak, possibly because she was the nearest link to the motherly or sisterly support that went with normal life. Kitty leaned towards him.

"What's your name?"

"Donald"

Hissing in a sharp breath, Kitty did a double take. The boy in front of her seemed to meld and fade into another Donald, a symbol of the past life, reduced to dust by the atom bomb. This Donald could not have been more different from her brother, his sandy hair and frightened expression in marked contrast to the other Donald's crop of crisp, dark curls and mischievous eyes. However, he still woke in Kitty the urge to protect.

"What is it?"

Donald's face worked; tears were in the offing. Kitty hastily put an arm around his shoulders and spoke to dry the flow.

"Well?"

The little boy cupped his hand confidentially to her ear and whispered.

"What about the snake-thing?"

"Snake-thing?"

The note of disbelief in her voice made Donald whisper vehemently.

"Yes, the beastie, the snake-thing. What about it?"

A shiver of fear ran through Kitty. The world suddenly seemed unreal, as if she and Donald were enclosed in a protective shell; outside the cocoon Simon had taken the conch, his voice echoing soundlessly.

"Beastie?" Kitty's voice was made loud by disbelief. The bubble was well and truly burst. Heads turned to look at them and Ralph shifted round from his position on the Chief's log.

"What was that?"

There was nothing for it. Kitty held her hands out for the conch.

"He says there's a beastie. On the island." The girl laughed, trying to inject some incredulity into her speech. "It's nothing of course. But -"

Around the circle mutters circulated like wind. Boys shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing into the deep green shadows. Fear of the unknown had been introduced and now every tree, every patch of shadow seemed to hold a hidden menace. Jack laughed derisively, a false hollow note that echoed around the silence of the ring.

"What's a beastie but an animal? And if it is one, then we - me and my hunters - we'll hunt and kill it!"

One of the littluns started to bawl. The choir gave a few ragged cheers - almost hysterical noises that did nothing to allay the fear. Kitty was indignant at Jack for provoking this reaction.

"But there isn't a beastie! And that's a fine way to talk, when we all saw what happened with the pig!"

A murmur of interest cut through the thick silence; Jack's face was thunderous. Ralph, in his capacity as chief, stepped forward and took the conch, running his hands up the delicate, embossed spiral as if to assure himself it was still there.

"Now look, we've got to stop this nonsense. There isn't a beastie and that's that. D'you hear me, you littluns? There isn't an animal."

Piggy heaved himself upright, holding out pudgy hands for the conch.

"I 'gree with Ralph. 'Course there isn't a beastie. How could one survive on a little island like this?"

Faced with Ralph's authority and Piggy's school-marmish commonsense, the fear died out of most boys' eyes. However, uncertainty still held sway over some.

Donald tugged again at Kitty's sleeve. The girl turned briefly to him, then faces the others. "There's more."

Faces turned her way. Some were uncertain, some were dubious, but now and again there could be beheld a flash of real terror.

"He says the beast only comes at night. He says it chased him through the jungle in the storm. And when the rain stopped, it vanished."

Fear, unsuspected and paralytic, stole up on the circle. There were mutters and hasty glances into the shadows. The littluns pressed closer to each other, trying to derive as much comfort as possible from the network of tightly-packed bodies. It was as if all the ghost stories there were, all the forbidden tales told in a corner of the common-room to a ring of barely-suppressed, unconcealed fear had taken on startling, disquieting tangibility. As the stories were translated from the pages of a book to the undoubted reality of the island, the crowd began to show the same terrified abandon that came with them. There were a few nervous, panic-stricken giggles. Ralph, watching reason slip away, jumped into the middle of the circle.

"There isn't a beast! There isn't!"

He went on, feeling the instinctive, unreasoning fear gnaw at the edge of his consciousness.

"I said it before and I'll say it again, if we don't lose our head we shall be all right. And now look! Scared of a beast! I tell you there isn't any such thing. He was having a nightmare, he wasn't being chased, it isn't real! None of it is!"

Cowed by the force of their chief's outburst, the circle fell silent. The weight of Ralph's authority did not entirely quell the terror, but he subdued them sufficiently to give him the unquestioning obedience of opinion they had given to the adults at the airport.

Jack stepped into the ring, taking the conch from Kitty en route. Facing the circle of children he flung his arms out expansively.

"You needn't be afraid of the beast if me and my hunters are here." He gestured along the tree trunk on which the choir was sitting. "Look. We're the hunters. We'll protect you from the beast. As soon as we've got settled we'll sharpen spears. Then, if the beast appears, we'll kill it!"

The fear was back; several of the boys sprang up, taking refuge from their dread in noisy exhortation.

"Yes!"

"Kill the beast!"

Ralph, uneasy with the turn the meeting was taking, snatched the conch, shouting.

"Stop! Stop it, all of you!"

The voices faded. Ralph stood in the centre of a circle of silence, looking at each of the faces around him in turn.

"That's enough talk about beasts. There're more important things to think about. Like food. There's lots of fruit on this island. Bananas, and coco-nuts, and those yellow fruit, and there may be more. So I say an expedition should go and find out what. They can explore and see what sort of fruit we've got to eat, and bring some back."

Kitty glanced at Donald. The little boy was turning his plane over aimlessly, staring at the ground. The mulberry-coloured birthmark on his cheek stood out starkly in the golden light. He had not received any assurance on his fears.

The girl started forward. "I'll go. I know where the fruit-trees we saw are. Anyone who wants can join me." Crossing the circle, Kitty squatted down beside Donald, gently prising his desperately clutching fingers away from his model aeroplane. The boy's face was twisting; he was about to cry. Kitty set the plane carefully down on the ground and turned to Donald, brushing a hank of sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"You coming? Do you good, you know. Take your mind off beasts."

She meant this last as a light jest, but Donald's lip trembled and Kitty braced herself for tears. However, he seemed to think better of it and nodded tremulously, sending patches of green and gold sliding across his sandy hair.

Ralph nodded in approval. "Good. And another thing. We need to make sure a ship or a plane notices us when it passes the island. That way, we'll be rescued quicker, So we must make a smoke-signal. We must make fire - on the mountain."

This proposition excited the rest so the beast was forgotten; now there were shouting about a fire. Jack leapt to his feet again, rallying the choir around him like a guard of honour.

"Come on! Let's go!"

Chattering, excited, the mass of boys swept off towards the mountain, leaving Kitty with those littluns who preferred food to fire. There were four of them altogether: Donald, Rowland, Frederick and Percival. Four pairs of bright, expectant eyes blinked up at Kitty. She laughed, and half-turned to see Simon leaning against a coco-nut tree.

"What're you doing here?"

Simon shrugged noncommittally. "Coming to get fruit."

"Would've thought youd've gone with the others. You know, for the fire."

Simon shrugged again, this time cautiously navigating towards the edge of the tree-strewn platform. He seemed not to be in a very talkative mood.

"Dunno. Didn't fancy it somehow."

Kitty looked at him askance; then sighed and started to assist the littluns in their descent. Once they were on the beach she struck out in the direction she thought the golden fruit were.

The sunlight slanted away fro, the perpendicular as the sun sank closer to the horizon, sending a golden flood of light pouring over the forest floor. The dappled shadows lengthened with the light, and gave the jungle an aura of unreality. The bushes of night-blooming, green flowers had opened their buds to receive the evening, sending out a heady scent that inundated the tangled vegetation and made their heads reel. Over the bushes a few multi-coloured butterflies still danced sluggishly, their last performance of the evening. The littluns, enchanted, ran, chased and shouted, all thought of the beast forgotten. Simon stepped over to the nearest green flower.

"They're like candles. Green candles."

Delicately, he prised apart the paper-thin, waxy petals.

Kitty was drunk on the scent.

"They're beautiful."

With a sudden sense of purpose she set off through the jungle.

"Come on - it's this way."

The littluns bounding beside them, they pushed their way through tangles of creeper and vine, heading up the mountainside to the halfway-mark where the fruit-trees were. Simon and Kitty had both brought carriers for fruit - Simon his choir cloak, Kitty her school blazer - and they had to stop and adjust the, frequently as they were caught and held by thorn and branch. The happy cries of the littluns echoed back from the tree trunks, and Kitty was glad to see that Donald had cheered up, his fear forgotten.

After a while they came upon the yellow fruit trees and the littluns' happiness intensified. The fruit caught the evening light, making the trees seem as though they were crowned with droplets of gold. Bees and other insects crowded around the hanging fruit, giving out a low, steady hum that reverberated through the orchard. The ground was dotted with fruit like rain; and the littluns immediately dashed forward to scoop up this windfall. Meanwhile, Kitty and Simon concentrated on ascending the trees for the second time. The girl shinned up one of the trees, hands and feet easily finding purchase among the spreading branches. Wedging her feet in a fork, she reached out with both hands, pulling double handfuls of fruit down and dropping them into Simon's cloak, which he was holding spread out below her.

Once the black material of the choir cloak was half-obscured, Simon began to bundle it up.

"Enough."

Kitty descended to a lower branch and jumped the rest of the way down, feet crunching the dried leaves.

"Let's explore; find other fruit."

Gathering the littluns, they set off through the jungle once more.

As they journeyed deeper into the forest the light dimmed. The vegetation here was thicker; the creepers forming a criss-cross network that let little light penetrate. Simon and Kitty were forced to proceed almost bent double; helping the little boys along as they went. There was less talk now; and no laughter. Sweat was pouring into Kitty's eyes, her shirt was sticking to her and protruding thorns had scratched her arms and legs raw.

Unexpectedly, after they had struggled through the tangled jungle for a while, they burst out into a small clearing. Here, even though it was largely free of vegetation, the trees still converged overhead, casting dusky shadows on the glade. Kitty, exhausted, crossed to the centre of the clearing and flopped down on the ground, the littluns following suit.

"We'll stop here for a bit."

Simon shifted uneasily.

"I don't think we should."

"Oh come on, Simon. We're all tired. Let the littluns rest for a bit."

Simon fell silent, but his face mirrored his thoughts.

Frederick, a little boy with a pointed face, dark hair and olive skin, had recovered sufficiently to explore this new territory. Bent over from the waist, rather in the attitude of an army commando, he prowled around the perimeter of the glade, now and again making mock rushes at an invisible enemy with a stick he had picked up. Kitty watched idly for a moment, and then left him to his own devices.

Suddenly, Simon bounded up from where he had been sitting beside her and flew across the clearing to where Frederick was, violently snatching something from the littlun.

"No! Don't eat that, d'you hear me!"

This was so unlike Simon that Kitty started up; Frederick screwed up his face and opened his mouth in preparation to bawl. Kitty ran over to him.

"What d'you think you're about, Simon? What's the matter?"

Simon held his hand out, palm up. Nestling in the centre of his palm was a fruit, a scarlet globe touched with gold from the descending sun.

"That's what."

Kitty stared.

"That's all? Why'd you stop him?"

Simon flung the fruit to the ground; it rolled down the incline of the hill and was lost in the flitting shadows.

"It's poisonous, that's what."

Frederick was wailing in the background; Kitty absently patted his head as she processed this new information.

"How on earth d'you know that?"

Now that his initial outflash of action was over, a faint flush of red tinged Simon's cheeks as he stammered.

"I - I just know, that's all."

Kitty looked at him oddly; by now she would usually have flown into a temper, but something about the shy, serious boy in front of her made her think deeper. She noticed that, although there were a few bees dipping around the wildflowers that infrequently dotted the grass, the fruit was untouched by them. Birds fluttered in the high branches but none of them came near the fruit. Kitty regarded Simon with new respect.

"You could be right."

"I know I am," said Simon, simply.

They grinned at each other, liberated by a moment of almost perfect understanding. Behind them, Frederick, burnt out by lack of attention, gave one last hiccupping sob and fell silent. Kitty rushed perspiration off her forehead.

"Awfully hot, isn't it?" she said. Simon assented. The dense, still air of the glade suddenly seemed to grow more oppressive. As the temperature increased, Kitty was aware of a curious snapping, crackling sound, like crepe paper or cellophane blowing in a high wind.

"What's that noise?"

The crackle was nearing; and as Kitty sniffed the air she caught a sharp, acrid tang which pierced her lungs and made her cough and choke. Simon's eyes were wide as he pointed to the opposite side of the clearing.

"Look."

A fierce orange light was glowing through the tangled mass of creepers; the noise increased and became a drumroll booming through the forest. Kitty's heart thumped against her ribcage as she saw that it was a solid wall of flame. The inferno reached the tree with the red fruit and devoured it hungrily; flames racing up the trunk. A small, almost tentative flag of flame licked out from the crown of the tree. As it faded and died it barely brushed the leaves of another tree, which glowed red. The flame spread like lightning - in seconds it had completely engulfed the tree in a raging conflagration.

"Run!" The word burst from Kitty's throat as she grabbed the littluns, hustling them in front of her as she stumbled towards the only way out of the clearing, a rapidly diminishing passage that was fast being swallowed up by the flames. The heat hit her, making her gasp. She could smell singeing cloth. Behind her, Simon gave a little cry as he stumbled, almost falling. Kitty grabbed him around the arm and hauled him upright, propelling him forward. The littluns were scampering in front as fast as their childish legs could allow - not fast enough. Kitty could feel the heat of the flames on her neck; the forest was engulfed in a drumroll around them. They had very little time until they were caught.

"Down to the beach," Kitty gasped. "We'll be safe there."

They were running full-tilt down the steep incline; suddenly Kitty felt her feet leave the ground as she tripped and fell headlong, landing painfully with a thud. Her knees and elbows had been scraped raw by the fall on the rocky ground; and trickles of blood were dripping onto her clothes. As fast as she could, ignoring her screaming muscles, the girl scrambled upright, turning back to look as she did. The fire was very close now; devouring all in its path with hungry tongues of flame. Simon and the littluns were stumbling down the incline, and Kitty grabbed Percival bodily and hoisted him down onto reasonably level ground, shoving the shell-shocked boy hard in the back to make him move again. Meanwhile, Simon had managed to chivvy the other littluns forward, and he jumped down the ledge himself; landing heavily on his knees. Kitty helped him upright, and they stumbled onward, breath coming in ragged pants. Kitty felt as if clawed hands were squeezing her chest; jagged shards of pain tore through her. She knew she was nearly spent.

"Nearly - there," she gasped, more for the purpose of reassuring herself than for anyone else to hear. The booming of the flames engulfed all sound. Kitty knew, at the back of her mind, that she was lying to herself. The smoke was filling her nostrils, choking her with its acrid smell. The flames were very close.

Then all at once they staggered through the last bushes and their feet were pounding on hot sand. They had left the jungle and were on the beach, close to the platform and the bathing pool. The last of Kitty's wind left her lungs in a spontaneous gasp of relief as she fell forward onto the sand. She could run no more. The fire had eaten the screen of bushes and raged on for about a square mile of forest, but it did not seem to be spreading any more. Beside her, Simon fell to his knees, resting his hands on his kneecaps and bending his head forward. It was only now that Kitty realised what a sight they must look; Simon was sooty and scratched from the run, and she had to look the same. The littluns were whimpering, but Kitty had not the energy to comfort them.

Voices advancing across the beach made her raise her head wearily; the fire party had descended the mountain and were coming back, making for the platform. They seemed possessed by supreme excitement; now and again a boy would give a whoop and maybe a jump into the air. Happy conversation floated across the beach. It was only now that Kitty realised, with a surge of sick anger, how the fire must have been started.

Jack and Ralph, grinning from ear to ear, were leading the procession; they hailed the group on the sand as they drew near.

"Hi - Kitty! Simon!"

Kitty slowly got to her feet as they approached; Simon did the same. Neither of them spoke as the other boys stopped in front of them, ranges across the beach.

Jack broke the silence. "Look at our fire! We made it on the mountain, but it got away from us, you should have seen the smoke!"

Ralph joined in excitedly. "Any ship for miles would've seen that! It was wizard, you two should have been there!"

There was a babble of eager chatter, but it fell into scattered shreds of whispers as the mass of boys noticed the soot that covered Kitty, Simon and the littluns, and the blood flowing freely from the scrapes they had suffered.

Kitty's throat seemed constricted; her attempt at speech came out an incensed, trembling whisper.

"Wizard, was it? Well, look at the jungle! You've burnt half of it up. Look at us! We were caught by the fire; we could've died in there! And all you can say is that it was wizard!"

There was ashamed muttering among the ranks; Jack bored a hole into the sand with the toe of his shoe. No one wanted to meet Kitty's eyes. The girl turned away. Tears were welling up at the corner of each eye, spilling over and making runnels through the dirt on her face. Through the haze, she gazed at the group who had nearly lost their lives in the forest. Then she stopped short in horror.

"Donald?"

There were only three littluns on the beach.

Kitty whirled around, frantically scanning the crowd ranged across the beach. "Donald? Donald! Where are you?" The tears were flowing faster now. The booming drumroll of the fire pervaded the silent beach. Kitty stared at the leaping flames.

"No!"

The muttering had stopped; replaced by a deathly silence. Jack's face was pale under his hair, and Ralph seemed rooted to the spot, swaying slightly. Kitty pushed through the crowd of boys and ran to the edge of the forest where the flames started.

"Donald!"

There was no answer but the crackling of the flames. Choking on the smoke and tears, Kitty stumbled through the mass on the beach, the boys parting to form a ragged path as she strode, dishevelled, blood-stained and dirty, through their midst. Her tears were spotting the sand under her feet. Ralph peered against the heat haze at the dark figure rapidly diminishing as she progressed along the beach. Momentarily, Kitty disappeared into the undergrowth of the platform, but reappeared, silhouetted against the red ball of the sun, on the very edge of the platform that jutted out into blue sea. The black shadow sat down on the pink rock of the platform, hugging her knees and resting her head on them. The evening cry of the seagulls pierced and made a mockery of the silent boys and the all-pervading noise of the arching flames.

Later, when the sun had drowned in the far waters of the horizon and darkness, accompanied by the fresh scent of the candle-flowers, had settled over the island, Kitty was still sitting. She had fallen into a kind of half-sleep, half-trance, and images of both Donalds flitted through her mind, coupled with memories of her mother and father. Kitty felt numb. Dead. They were all dead. And she hadn't been able to do anything about it, she had been either too slow or too stupid to pick up on the danger that had been surrounding them. Waves of memory rushed through her and she shuddered.

A slight noise behind Kitty made her look up; Ralph had climbed the platform and was standing beside her, his fair hair pale in the moonlight as it obscured his face. He was staring out to sea, watching the waves roll against the dark rock and the silver glitter of moonlight as it poured over the black sea. Kitty dismissed the boy beside her and returned to her silent vigil.

Ralph cleared his throat.

"Kitty - about today - I'm sorry."

The words rang out loud against the muted rush of the waves. Kitty did not even move from her position. Instead, she gazed out to the horizon, hardly visible in the night as it blended into the sea. Her voice, when it came, was low and anguished.

"Ralph, it was my fault."

The fair boy laughed humourlessly. "Don't be thick. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Ralph, I made him come. Remember? He didn't want to, he might have gone up to see to the fire instead, he might have still been alive now! It was because of me..." Her voice trailed off. She rested her head on her knees, unwilling to continue the conversation.

Ralph just stood there for a while; after a bit Kitty heard his footsteps leading away, leaving her to sit.

Whee, Chapter 3 is done!!!!!!!! In my opinion Kitty is being a bit stupid... so angsty:) TBC...