Chapter 5

The Taste of Power

OK OK, a new year has come around, I am back in Singapore and I have moved up a year in the school echelons. And can I take the opportunity to say HOW UPSET I AM NOT TO BE IN SAM'S CLASS?!!?!?!?!?! How am I to preserve her interest in LOTF without sitting behind her, ready to torment her with "Jack is SO handsome" at every waking moment???? Other friends I have lost include Maurice and Robert and Harold. THAT IS SO UNFAIR!! They should make it a LAW that members of the LOTF community here cannot be separated. Ah well. I still have Piggy and Simon, and Simon is currently helping me with an Eragon fic that I conceived a week or two ago - she has a character in the story dedicated to her. So look out for it!

Oh, me and my class just went to this exhibition on the Nobel laureates (see what vocab I learned), and guess who I was looking out for? If you said William Golding you've got it in one. There was about one mention of him, at the Literature section. Pathetic. I guess I should be pleased - there are 700-odd Nobel laureates and we were lucky to get ONE mention of Mr. Golding.

Disclaimer: BLAH BLAH BLAH DO NOT OWN LOTF OR JACK MERRIDEW OR ROGER CAUSE THEY FEATURE MAJORLY IN THIS CHAPTER... I do, however, own Kitty. Finally, someone I do own.

As the days passed, Kitty found herself venturing to the mat more often. She knew now how better to negotiate the twisting runnels of creepers, so that her forays into the green were less of a chore. The silence of the mat in the green provided her with comfort from the shattered, blazing light, where rescue was the perennial but insoluble problem and the world was so far away. In the jungle the green light and cool, sticky air had an almost soporific effect on Kitty. Perhaps Simon would be there, or perhaps not, or maybe halfway through her reverie he would come scrambling through the calm. Then he would sit down beside Kitty, showing no sign of having noticed her, and quickly occupy himself with his own thoughts. So they would sit as the shadows lengthened and the jungle shifted from day to night, not speaking, in silent companionship. It was enough.

Kitty no longer thought of the time passing in days; they melded into each other with the murmuring of the waves, so that days and weeks and months became merely turns of the earth. Sometimes it was glaringly light with the sun overhead, other times it was velvet-dark except for the pale, uncertain stars. They rose with the sun because the slanting rays slashed through closed eyelids, penetrating the crude, palm-thatched shelter walls and making sleep impossible. The littluns, who possessed a miraculous ability to sleep through all but the high noon light, would cuddle back down into their mattresses of dry leaves as the biguns crawled towards the narrow openings. Many of them had given up playing by the water's edge altogether, preferring instead to sleep - or pretend to sleep - the day away, only rising when the need for food became too strong for their small, growling stomachs.

The biguns, unable to emulate the deathlike sleep of the littluns, would wander aimlessly along the beach first thing after getting up, sleep-blurred figures making for the nearest stand of coco-nut trees or perhaps the orchard. By this time the shelters had been finished, so Ralph no longer demanded their toil, and there was nothing to occupy them through the days while the waves rolled on. The monotony of it lay heavily on them all. Perhaps after their breakfast they would descend into the waters of the bathing pool, going through the motions of play with single-minded earnestness.

Kitty still held onto the fragmented memories of that first golden day, when everything had been a fresh delight and the island had never ceased to amaze. Often she would sit by the platform and try to recapture the wonder, which teased her, shallowly flicking across the faces of things for a moment before fading away. Then her pensive silence would attract Ralph or Simon or Maurice, when he was not out hunting, and one of them would come over and they would fall into the game of supposing.

Supposing they all would be rescued the next day? Then they would fly back across the ocean, back to England, which miraculously would be just the way they had left it, then they could go home and everything would be normal again.

The other person would cap this neatly and the wonderings would grow more and more fantastic as more and more people joined in the game. Sitting in a circle in the sand, they would throw their fantasies back and forth to each other, so often that favourites were developed and Kitty found herself half-believing the marvellous stories she told. The game was never sustained for long, however; as the imaginings grew so a sense of despondency settled on them all and one by one they would hurry away, back to the bathing pool, where one could empty one's mind and immerse oneself in the play.

Kitty had fallen into the habit of telling the time by the passage of the sun. When it was at its height the children, obedient to their hunger, would wander to the orchard and fill their stomachs with fruit - it had grown so sickly that no one really took pleasure in eating it. When the sun slipped below the horizon the light would go as suddenly as a snuffed-out candle. In the darkness nothing except sleep was possible, so they would return to the shelters to turn among the leaves, sleep far away.

Kitty shared a shelter with Ralph, Piggy, Simon and Samneric, among others. At night sleep took a long time to come, even though she was always exhausted. But it would come in the end. And sometimes she would dream.

In her dream, Kitty was once again in that place - where was it? she couldn't remember - somewhere in Scotland. She had been about eleven and they had gone on a hike together - just the three of them, her, Donny and their father - through the forests and up the mountains. Deep in the dream, Kitty remembered hazily that her mother had been reluctant to let them go; she had been eleven and Donald just barely three. It was too long a hike for such young children, she had said.

Kitty's father had laughed at this. She remembered his head thrown back, his face made handsome by the laughter. Faced with such carefree defiance, Kitty's mother had caved.

It had been winter and the air biting, but in the dream the summer sun was shining and Kitty's father was clad in his shirt sleeves. Donny capered around him, dressed in a striped bathing costume.

"Come on, Kitty! We'll miss the daylight! And Kitty -" he paused and pointed at her - " why on earth are you wearing that old thing?"

Kitty looked down and realised that she was wearing a black choir cloak, the long silver cross emblazoned down its side. The frill was tight and uncomfortable at her neck, yet she never thought to loosen it. The light of the dream was disjointed and fuzzy; the sun shone in from all sides, vaguely, as if not sure where it came from. Donny's edges seemed blurred, as if he were just starting to disappear.

They were standing in a forest glade, a shard of memory from that hike when everything had been bright and normal. Across one side of the clearing a stream flowed, adding its chatter to the otherwise silent dream-world. As Kitty watched, the stream shifted in and out of focus, unsettling twinges in perception that made her dream-self reel.

Kitty crossed to the stream; mud staining the cloak and her feet, which she realised were bare. Blurrily aware of herself, she picked up a flat stone which fit her palm nicely and skimmed it across the water, which had now become smooth as glass. The stone skipped three times, satisfactorily, before disappearing with a plunk. The water resumed its seawards course.

She had not been aware of Donny before this time; now he skipped past her, whistling merrily. Kitty just had time to blearily remind herself that Donny had never been able to whistle, this in itself a great source of annoyance to him - when her brother paused at the edge of the stream, and, exaggerating the preparatory position for diving, jumped and vanished into the flowing water.

Standing dispassionately at the edge of the water, Kitty vaguely managed to realise that she should probably be frantic, but she couldn't muster up the energy. Then a hand descended on her shoulder and she jumped.

Her father had come up behind her and was clutching her shoulder; his face had disintegrated into a formless blend of colours and he towered over her, seemingly grown to twice his normal size. Her shoulder was paining from the grip and fear had risen up to overtake her.

"Where's Donny?" His voice echoed in the bright, still light.

"I don't know!" Kitty felt herself shouting against this menace. Her father increased the pressure on her shoulder, tilting her backwards until she was teetering over the stream; surely she must fall, any minute now...

Then the glade faded around her and Kitty was standing in a void, blackness swirling all round. She could feel firm ground under her bare feet but nothing could she see. Panicked, she flung an arm out in front of her but detected only empty space. Her shoulder was stabbing with pain.

Then the darkness receded around a point somewhere in the distance. A pinprick of light was shining, penetrating the black, rapidly growing. Kitty reached out towards it, entranced. The light grew and split into a corona of shafting rays that extended out from around a central tunnel of brightness.

The brightness was obscured by a figure, walking towards her. It was not so much backlighted by the rays as enhanced by it, as if the boy himself was made of solid light. Kitty shielded her face as the figure came closer and the light intensified to the point past endurance.

"Simon?"

The boy smiled. It was Simon, also wearing a choir cloak, but his was drenched by the gold and the black was hidden. The halo formed by light shining behind him Kitty had noticed on the day of the exploration was there, but more pronounced as the tunnel grew to almost engulf them both. The swirling dark still ate away at the edges of the light but it had been banished from the vicinity.

There was a point of red among the soft gold. Simon held out his hand in the familiar palm-up gesture and Kitty saw that he was balancing a red globule on his palm.

"What is it, Simon? Why are we here?"

Simon smiled again and pointed to the fruit.

"What? What is it?"

Simon's smile faded a little and he looked grave, indicating the fruit again.

Kitty's frustration reached a height.

"What? What do you want to tell me? Can't you talk? Answer me!"

Simon lowered his head. Kitty tried to rush towards him and would have shaken him by the shoulders but her movement was strangely sluggish. As she reached out her hands Simon seemed to vanish from under them and Kitty was falling backwards again, the light gone and the blackness flooding around her, down and down and down...

Kitty woke up with a start; her breath was coming in short gasps and sweat poured off her forehead and down the nape of her neck. Through the gaps in the walls of the shoddily-built shelter she could see the first faint flush of dawn beginning to make itself known. Grimacing, Kitty brushed away the dry leaves that were sticking to her and twined into her hair. She had been lying oddly on her shoulder and it was twisted under her and aching abominably. The other inmates of the shelter had not been woken by her tossing and turning; as she watched Ralph mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and turned over again.

The air of the morning was very still, and hot, unlike the usual coolness. Now that the perspiration caused by the dream had faded Kitty noticed that drops of water were once again beginning to pop out on her clammy skin. Every breath she took was tight with a sense of foreboding.

Simon moaned slightly in his dreams and tossed violently, throwing out an arm and sending dry leaves flying. His face was twisted, but he did not wake. Kitty felt the need for fresh air and crawled towards the opening of the shelter.

It may have been dawn but among the woven mat of creepers the light was almost non-existent. The air was close and still. Kitty pressed herself against the damp earth, trying to leech from it the comfort she had been denied in the shelter. The claggy mud clung to her clothes and left great stains, cold against her skin. Giving up, Kitty wriggled into a sitting position and peered out from between the creepers, into the clearing where the butterflies normally danced, but as of now was damp and still. The wet air hung over the jungle like a blanket.

Kitty felt her eyes closing, but the heat of the air settled on her skin and made sleep impossible. Momentarily, she was assailed by a momentous sense of dread.

Kitty sensed rather than saw the sun's rising as a minute increase in light. Finding the fractional increase in warmth too much to bear, sought out the clear passage to the edge of the mat and wormed her way through it, the creepers pulling together behind her as she went. As she traversed, Kitty noticed that the wind had picked up and that the clattering of the creepers was not entirely due to her own efforts. There was no change in the temperature; the wind was hot and harsh. It scoured Kitty's face as she finally worked herself free of the creepers and stood and stretched in the relative spaciousness of the jungle. Kitty noticed that what sky she could see above the trees was clouded over; and what light she could see was brassy and unnatural from the stark contrast. The wind blew again and knocked the breath from her chest with a damp slap. Kitty, feeling uneasiness that was as yet undefined, started hurriedly back down the incline to the shelters.

She was halfway down and out of the deepest, most tangled recesses of the forest when the sky exploded around her. With the thunderclap came rain so thick and pelting that it was like standing under a waterfall. The wind shrieked up to fever pitch, catching Kitty of balance and causing her to stumble a few panicked steps down the hill until she caught a branch to steady herself. The light had almost totally gone now, and suddenly the darkness was torn open and the jungle was lit by an unearthly radiance for a second, then it was snuffed out and the thunder came again.

Kitty, spluttering and squinting through the water, clamped her hands over her ears against the noise. When she removed them, she caught, above the assorted noise of the wind and the rain came a terrible tearing creak. Kitty, glancing frantically through the curtain of rain, caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Half-slipping, half-flinging herself aside, Kitty landed flat on her back as the broken branch crashed down, furrowing temporarily through the drops.

Pale, watery blood running down her arm from where she had scraped it as she had thrown it out to break her fall. The noise of the rain and thunder was unbearable. Kitty hauled herself painfully upright and, buffeted here and there by the wind, battled her way through the tossing jungle, struggling on, dodging more falling branches until she had crashed through the last of the creepers and was struggling out of the green jungle and onto the brown, smashed tumble of the scar.

The beach was almost invisible through the curtain of rain and the hammering waves that were whipped up into tossing frenzy by the storm. Only the sturdy chunk that was the platform parted the rain, and it was here that the others, torn between the separate dangers of forest and beach, cowered, the littluns' whimpering swept away by the wind.

Kitty blundered across the beach towards the refuge. The water had sea-spray mixed in and the salt stung her eyes and her scrapes as she forged her way through the wind. Spitting water and pushing loops of soaked, brine-stiff hair out of her eyes, Kitty slumped into the lee of the platform, on the opposite side from the wind.

She had dropped down beside one of the littluns; he cried out wordlessly and clutched at her in unconscious imitation of how he had held another woman, so long ago. He might have been crying and his mouth was certainly moving, but the water running down his face made it hard to tell.

Kitty let him bury his face in her shirt. She ducked her head, eyes hurting from the rain and scoured by the wind that even the platform could not prevent. There was no respite from the waves; the wind brought them up to well over the tideline and scattered the churned-up foam over beach and children alike. Overhead, the stunted palm trees of the platform creaked and groaned, fighting the wind, and one gave up altogether. Its roots tore free from the thin, waterlogged soil and it toppled, over the edge of the platform, coming to rest with a crash on the sand. The children cried out and wormed their way as close to the dubious safety of the platform as possible.

Just as Kitty was truly beginning to choke from the amount of water that was filling her mouth and nose the storm was over as suddenly as it had begun. The rain went from an ubiquitous sheet to a fine drizzle, then a few drops, then nothing. The waves slowly retreated. The wind died. The ragged, grey wisps of cloud that had obscured the sky dissolved and the sun came out, bringing with it the heat of the day.

Slowly, the children crawled out of hiding. They were all soaked and most of them were nursing various cuts and bruises. The wails of the littluns went on for a while, then faltered, faded and died. Gradually, chatter began to start up again.

Kitty stood slowly. The beach had been stirred up into muddy water by the waves, and seaweed had been thrown up with them, so that a thick, briny smell hung in the air. The fringes of the jungle had suffered the most; the vegetation was broken and scattered and most of the trees on the platform had also succumbed. Worst of all, their painstakingly-built shelters had been reduced to a pile of scattered, broken sticks.

Piggy, overcome by the elements, lay down and wheezed on the sand, the conch clutched between chubby fingers. Simon, bending beside him, tried to sit him up against the platform. Kitty went over to them.

"Are you all right?"

Simon was visibly shaken, and a cut on his forehead matted blood into his fair hair. He nodded, still busy with Piggy.

"We were in the shelters. It was beastly hot and something was wrong. We all felt it. When the wind picked up Ralph got all of us out of the shelters before they collapsed. Wouldn't go himself before everyone was out. Jack and the hunters gave him a bit of trouble. Wouldn't move at first. Then when it began to rain they all scrambled out."

Simon's normally soft, shy voice now carried a note of derision. He rubbed Piggy's back in a vain attempt to make his breathing return to normal. Kitty squatted beside him, not sure what to do. Piggy's laboured breathing disturbed her, but she was not sure how to deal with it. It seemed an invasion to help the fat boy as Simon was now doing. That was his turf and she sat instead, and hugged her knees, regarding the blasted beach.

It didn't seem fair, this cavalier destroyal of all they had worked for by the storm. Kitty suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of tiredness. What was the use of it all, if they put their all into what they had tried to build, only to have it ruined by the first twist of nature that came along? They could hold as many assemblies as they liked, Ralph could blow the conch again and again, but - Kitty thought with guilty realisation at the blasphemy - after all, the conch was just a shell, a beautiful one, but just a shell. She could not understand the sway it held over them when it was blown, but she admitted to herself that she was prepared to take it as it was. After all, if she had not found the conch no one would have paid such respect to Ralph without it.

The choir had cadged the best space along the platform; there the rock made a natural alcove that they could press themselves into and be relatively sheltered from the storm. They were now less shocked than the others and were already running along the storm-swept beach, shouting to each other. Kitty scanned the moving figures, isolating boy after boy with fair hair. She frowned. The tall figure and pleasant features of Ralph were nowhere to be seen.

Roughly in her haste, Kitty snatched the conch from Piggy's unresisting hands and blew, a long, hard blast that echoed amid the silence of the aftermath. The figures on the beach turned, and, obedient to the sound, made their way over to the platform, so that soon there was a crowd of boys grouped around Kitty, Simon and Piggy. The hunters were standing together, and from what could be heard of their conversation, they were already discussing the storm as if it had been some sort of spectacular lark.

One of the litluns was still crying; his hiccups echoed into the expectant silence. Kitty, her fears confirmed by the conspicuous absence of their chief, found that her voice came out much louder than she wanted it to.

"Where's Ralph?"

There was murmuring and glances as the boys realised that Ralph was missing. Near the platform, Roger whispered something into Jack's ear and both boys laughed.

Kitty rounded on them.

"You laugh! But who was it who wouldn't come out of the shelters until it started raining? You and the other hunters! If you'd only listened to the chief and been sensible, we wouldn't be looking for him now! Can't you see? He was trying to get you all out!"

Guilty mutters from the hunters. Jack faced with the stark truth, strode into the middle of the circle and took the conch.

"All right, all right! So it was our fault. But now me and the hunters'll look for him, see? Us and everyone else too, then we'll find him soon."

The choir stopped their talk and straightened up, looking important. Jack motioned with the conch, shining translucent against the sun.

"What're you waiting for! Get going!"

The children scattered across the debris-strewn beach. Now that the terror of the storm was over, they had begun to feel more carefree, and the disappearance of Ralph held no worry for them, as they searched, or, in the case of the littluns, scattered to the orchard to partake of the fruit that had blown down. Jack was speaking to his hunters; directing them to search different areas of the beach. Kitty wandered towards the shelters, thinking to retrace Ralph's steps from when he had been chivvying the hunters out.

Simon reached the shelters before her; when he was a short distance away she saw him break out into a run, then he was alongside the forlorn pile of sticks and squatting down. Desperately, he glanced around for the others and, seeing Kitty, waved and shouted.

"Kitty! Over here! He's here, I've found him!"

Kitty began running herself; soon she was close enough to see a crumpled figure lying on its back amid the ruined shelters. Simon was hovering, not sure whether to move him, as the girl rushed up, panting.

Ralph was stunned or unconscious; his fair hair was soaked and caked with sand and there was a goose-egg swelling on his forehead that was already purpling. The sea had not dealt him mercy - Ralph's whole body was scratchy with brine, and there was a thin coating of salt across his face and lips. Kitty realised that as the shelter had collapsed, the falling trunks that they had used as part of the frame had crashed down on him, trapping his leg. He had not been able to work himself free, but had obviously tried; blood was flowing from the crushed leg and onto the sand. Without the possibility of venturing to the platform to shelter, Ralph had lain there through the storm, weathering the waves and wind.

Not speaking, both Simon and Kitty set to work to lever the tree limbs aside; it was heavy going and they had to pause frequently as the storm had drained them of their strength. At last, though, Ralph's leg came free and the blood rushed from an ugly, deep scrape on the shin. Kitty felt her stomach turn over. The wound was ragged and crusted with sand, and there was a livid, purple bruise around the cut. Kitty didn't like the look of Ralph's face; it was deathly pale, and pinched around the lips, and the blood had gathered in a knot under the bump on his forehead.

Kneeling down beside the boy, Kitty tore a piece from her dripping skirt and used it to gently clear most of the salt from Ralph's face and mouth. Feeling the moisture brushing his lips, Ralph moaned weakly and put out his tongue to lick the water away. His eyelids flickered.

Simon and Kitty noticed the signs of awakening; Simon took over the cloth while Kitty spoke to the prone figure.

"Ralph, Ralph, it's us. Can you hear me? The storm's over, you're going to be all right, but you're chief, and we need an assembly. Wake up, Ralph! Wake up! You got to blow the conch now, they won't listen to me, d'you hear me, wake up!"

Ralph groaned again and stirred on the sand.

"That's right Ralph, wake up now, we need you!"

Simon had cleared away the worst of the brine and now he squatted back on his heels, his face intense. Ralph's eyes flickered again and suddenly he rolled onto his side, coming awake all at once. Supporting himself with his arms, his body twisted and he vomited, water gurgling onto the sand.

Kitty and Simon started forward together; they didn't quite like to touch Ralph and didn't know what to do, but Kitty put a hand onto his back as a comfort. Ralph retched again, this time throwing up most of the contents of his stomach, then the fit passed into a storm of coughing. Trembling, the boy clumsily wiped a hand across his mouth, then, finding the effort too much, collapsed back onto the sand.

Simon bent over him, concern stamped across his features.

"Ralph, are you all right?"

Ralph shook his head.

"Leg... hurts."

"Let me have a look at it. Kitty, raise his head."

Simon scooted around on his hands and knees to Ralph's side. Kitty gently pulled Ralph's head onto her lap, so that his head and shoulders were supported. She could feel him shaking violently as Simon touched the gash. A hiss of air escaped his lips. Kitty stroked Ralph's hair as one might with a little child.

The smaller boy lightly brushed the clinging sand away. Ralph, feeling the sting, twisted away from Simon's probing fingers with a suppressed cry, then steeled himself to continue. Simon gently felt on and around the cut. Finally, he straightened up. Ralph's blood had stained his hands crimson.

"It's not broken."

"Good -" Ralph began, then surrendered to another fit of coughing. His body bucked on the sand, and Kitty put her hands on his shoulders to hold him steady.

"But the cut's pretty deep, and there's all that sand in it - we need to clean you up as soon as possible or it'll get infected."

Ralph made an attempt to sit, but he was too fast and collapsed back again.

"Not - now...we need... assembly."

Kitty protested. "But Ralph -"

"Get me... the conch."

Simon rejoined as well.

"But -"

"Won't... let you touch it... till after the assembly."

He struggled to stand; the two other children were alongside to steady him. Slinging Ralph's arms over their shoulders, they moved off towards the platform. Even with care all they could manage was a hobble.

The other children noticed their form as the three made their way along the beach; soon there was a crowd surrounding them and running beside them as they reached the platform and propped Ralph up against it in a sitting position.

Ralph grasped a nub of rock and tried to rise.

"Someone - help me... stand."

Maurice and Harold rushed over as Jack signed to them; gripping Ralph under his arms, they hauled him upright. Kitty could see Ralph biting his lips in pain and there was a faint flush of sweat standing out on his forehead. Gasping for breath, the boy slumped against the rock of the platform, leaning his whole weight against it in an effort to stay standing. Stepping forward, Kitty took the conch and placed it in Ralph's hands. The standing process had jarred Ralph's leg and he nearly dropped the conch as it was handed to him; but recovered himself in time and clutched the shell to his chest.

"Listen... all of you."

There was respectful silence.

"All right then. That was - a bad storm. So our shelters... they're all destroyed."

He continued, his voice becoming stronger as the pain abated from his lack of movement.

"And what about the fire? It must be out by now. So I'll say this. We need to rebuild our shelters. And we need to relight the fire."

A few people nodded. Ralph had a talent for setting things out in clear language so that everyone, even the littluns, could understand it, and this was partly why they had so much respect for him.

"All right. You all agree. So we need to get all this done as soon as possible. Now I'll make a rule, because I'm chief. There'll be no more hunting until the shelters are rebuilt and the fire's burning again."

Jack stormed into the circle; snatching the conch from Ralph with such force that he almost fell over. Facing the younger boy, Jack tried to shout him down.

"No more hunting! We still need meat, now more than ever, because most of the fruit's gone! And I bet the pigs'll be driven out of hiding by that storm. We should take the chance!"

In his capacity as chief, Ralph interrupted. The pain in his voice was back and there was a fresh trickle of blood running down his leg.

"I said no more...hunting. The fire - and the shelters are the most... important things. If you and the hunters... if we all work on them this time, we'll be done in a jiffy. You can hunt then."

Grumbling, Jack shoved the conch back at Ralph and retired to the outer rim of the circle. The fair boy held the delicate shell. Unhurt by the storm, the conch seemed to have some sort of mystical power.

"So... now we all go and work on the shelters. While the others are doing that, Jack and his hunters'll go up to the mountain to light the fire. It might take a time, the wood'll probably be wet. But -" Ralph looked Jack squarely in the face -" no hunting until I say so."

There was still some balm in holding sway over a group of people, Jack found, as he gestured to the hunters to follow him. Anyway, he could always look out for pigs on the mountain. And his hunters needed new spears.

Whistling, Jack strode off along the beach toward the jungle.

There was no lack of debris to choose from in the rebuilding of the shelters, so they had a fairly easy job of collecting the materials to do so. While Piggy took charge of the shelters for the moment, Simon and Kitty sat Ralph down against the pink platform and proceeded to minister to his leg.

It was no easy task to even get near it; the leg was so painful that Ralph unconsciously resisted any attempt by the other two to touch it. Finally, though, Simon managed to get it stretched out straight on the sand. Turning to Kitty, he pointed across along the beach.

"Get a coco-nut shell. A half one if you can manage it. Fill it with seawater; I'm going to use it to clean the leg."

Eager to oblige, the girl made her way along the flat. Most of the coco-nuts that had been on the trees had been blown down by the storm, so there was no lack of them to choose from. After discarding many unbroken ones, Kitty found a coco-nut that had smashed against the platform and split jaggedly open. Milk, mingled with seawater, trickled out of it. Upending the coco-nut and emptying its contents on the sand, she washed it out in the sea and filled it in turn with salt water.

Simon had ripped a sizable piece out of his ragged shirt; he took the coco-nut Kitty proffered and immersed the rag into the water until it was thoroughly soaked. Squeezing the water out until it was a stage wetter than merely damp, the boy ground the base of the coco-nut into the wet sand until it was supported. Then he directed Kitty to kneel on Ralph's other side to hold him still.

Simon lowered the cloth.

"This is going to hurt."

As soon as the salt water touched the bleeding gash, Ralph jerked violently and stifled a cry. Unbidden, tears started to his eyes, spilling over as he squeezed his eyes shut. Kitty put a hand on his leg to steady him, but Ralph stilled his spasming muscles with an effort and slumped back onto the sand. Simon, gingerly, made another swab with the cloth, this time reaching deeper to get the sand that had wormed its way into the cut.

Ralph's cry was louder this time. A trickle of blood meandered down his chin from where he had bitten his lip.

Simon resoaked the now crimson cloth and swabbed again.

They propped palm trunks up against the platform to create a makeshift shelter for the littluns and Ralph that night. The weather had settled down again to the usual sweep from cool to hot and cool again across the course of the day and the sea had calmed. The biguns, led by Jack and the hunters after they had accomplished their trip up the mountain, journeyed along the rocks that ran along the perimeter of the island. There, in the pits and niches of the pink rock water had collected, bringing with it myriads of flopping fish. The excitement rose to fever pitch as the children scrambled among the scattered boulders and plunged their hands into the pools, clutching at fish only to have them slip away at the last moment, leaving their hands gritty with scales. Some, too slow or hampered by the constrained puddles, were caught, however, and left to gasp their lives out on the shore.

A fire was made on the beach that evening, authorised by Ralph; they could not figure out how to cook the fish while the fire was burning, so they waited until it was a mass of glowing embers and then buried the fish under it. The fish came out a bit charred on the outside but under the skin and over the entrails was steaming meat and the children burnt their fingers trying to peel it away. Their faces were half-lit by the orange glow and the sparks flew as the remnants of wood crashed into the soft ashes.

Ralph had stayed in the one new shelter since late afternoon; he had not been able to participate in the rebuilding and needed rest. Now Jack, generous from the success of the fishing, dispatched Robert to the shelter with fish and a coco-nut shell of water. Robert, reluctant to leave the fire and go off into the night but not daring to disobey, lingered at the edge of the light until noticed and waved away.

He came back in a rush, fish discarded and water shining on his chest from where he had spilt the coco-nut shell.

"Something's wrong with Ralph - he's lying on his side and he's burning up, I swear, and he's talking too, saying things that don't make any sense! Come on, come quickly, I don't know what to do!"

There was a scatter from around the fire of those biguns who felt responsible enough to go into the dark and make for the distant shelter. Most of the littluns stayed, fish dangling from their hands as they stared, frightened. Then it was forgotten and the eating began again.

Kitty had risen with the others; the waves slopped over her feet as she ventured too close to the tideline, half-crying out as the cold seeped unexpectedly into her shoes. She twisted in fear as they left the light and heat of the fire behind, making for the hulking form of the platform that stood out, blacker against the black of night.

Thankfully, it was not too far away and the children crashed into the lee of the rock as one mass. It took a while to find the opening to the makeshift shelter but it was found finally; then someone remembered that despite their fear of the dark no one had had the wit to bring a burning branch from the fire. A shadow spoke with Jack's voice and ordered Samneric to brave the night and get one. The twins, two shadows that merged into a single one, then flowed and separated so that the eye was confused and fuddled, went without complaint. The fire was burning like a beacon on the darkened beach.

By the uncertain, flickering light of the torch that Jack held they crowded into the shelter until Simon made a surprising ruling against too many going in at once; the others who had not been admitted muttered fearfully as they huddled together against the platform.

Kitty, Simon and Jack were foremost in the crowd: uncertainly, they squatted in the dim orange light.

Ralph was lying on his side; every so often he would toss and jerk so that sand flew and further encrusted his wound, which had reopened and was trickling sluggishly onto the ground. Even at a distance they could see the sweat standing out on his face and the unhealthy flush. His eyes were closed, the sun-bleached lashes standing out very white on his skin.

"He's delirious."

Simon's quiet statement seemed to give the situation weight.

"What are we going to do?" Kitty sounded panicked and she knew it; beside her she felt Jack draw away slightly.

"His leg must've got infected. Jack, go down to the sea and fill this coco-nut shell with water. Kitty, help me to get him to lie still."

Jack's eyes widened at Simon's temerity in ordering him around, but he departed, and with him the light. It was touch and go in the darkness as Simon and Kitty felt around for Ralph and gently held him down until his tossing subsided and he lay relatively still. The shelter was full of heat and sweat.

Jack returned with the torch and the coco-nut shell Robert had dropped, filled with water. Simon had been forced to discard the cloth he had used earlier to clean Ralph's leg, so now Jack helped him to tear another piece out of his shirt that was now more rags than cloth. As the wet cloth again touched the gash, Ralph quavered and spoke.

"Mother! Where are you? Why aren't you here... I want you!"

His voice started up to imperiousness before it trembled and sank back to an incoherent whisper. Jack, lit by his proximity to the torch, had a strange expression on his face - contempt or longing, it was hard to tell.

During the course of the long, exhausting night, Kitty had stayed awake and done all Simon told her to ease Ralph's pain. Finally, they had gotten him to drop off and, unable to resist, had gone to sleep themselves. When they had woken, Jack, who had stayed in the shelter, unmoving, not speaking, was gone and the light was coming almost to the perpendicular. Ralph, exhausted, was sleeping peacefully except for the occasional mutter or cry. His fever had not gone down, or such a miniscule amount it was impossible to make out.

Simon was breathing lightly. Kitty, coming awake with a start, regarded Ralph with hopelessness. There had been nothing in all the lessons at school to tell them how to deal with something like this; that quiet schoolroom seemed an eternity away. Simon seemed to have an instinctive ability for nursing, but as for her, she moved unhandily around Ralph as though he was fragile and likely to break.

Sighing, Kitty picked up the coco-nut shell on her way out of the shelter, thinking that she might as well fill it at the stream to give Ralph a drink when he woke. Outside, most of the others had not yet awoken, lying huddled on the sand in bunches, exhausted by the day before. A few littluns had already woken and were mewling with cold and hunger, but she ignored them, making straight for the stream that fed from the pool with the waterfall.

Bending down, Kitty splashed her face with water from the stream, the icy cold shocking her system. Then she dipped the coco-nut shell into the water and was just about to leave when there was a noise from not far away and she whirled around and saw that it was Jack. The inscrutable expression from the day before had left his face but there was a trace of the glare in his eyes.

"How is Ralph?"

The words rippled the silence like pebbles thrown into a pool; all Kitty's desperation and hopelessness poured out in a torrent.

"He's still burning up and he's asleep at least, but he'll be delirious when he wakes up I bet, and I'm so worried for him, I'm not sure when he'll get better, or even if he'll -"

She fell silent. Jack made no effort to come closer, but ignored her outburst and carried on as if he hadn't heard.

"So he won't be able to be chief for a while?"

Kitty, distracted, nodded. Something akin to a curtain swept across Jack's blue eyes and the madness was revealed from behind it, as if it had been there all along. The girl noticed nothing, however, brushing a hand across her face to curb the tears.

"So if he can't be chief -"

Jack left his statement unfinished, instead he leaned forward a bit, intensely, seeming to be on the verge of speaking but waiting for it, waiting -

Kitty sadly regarded her face, pinched and drawn, in the coco-nut shell.

"Well, I suppose someone'll have to take over."

Jack seemed to be assessing the air currents, the hunt, the scent of his prey.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Kitty's brain was fuddled from lack of sleep; the jungle and the pool seemed blurred as she processed the issue through her inadequate mind.

"I suppose the only person who'll be able to do that is you, Jack."

Ooh, evil cliffie! Well, tune in to find out what happens next!

P.S I just want to say a big SORRY to all those who have been waiting so long for this chapter, I'll try to get them up more quickly in future. But since I'm really bogged down with tests, exams, PROGRESS REPORTS etc., I may have to study rather than fanfic some days. (sobs)

P.P.S Tomorrow's the squash competition!!!!! I have to go ALL THE WAY TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY to get to the court. Roar. But that doesn't alter the fact that I AM SEEDED!!!!!!! I cannot believe it! Especially since this is the national under-15 squash tournament. :) Wish Kitty luck!