The great, almighty fire had taken place around 2 days ago now; the melodic, ethereal, blazing hands of pyrokinesis the creation he could only blame Hephaestus (or just Jack I guess) for had singed his tanned skin, consequently making every brush of a leaf against the probably-infected burns on his back leaving him desperately wanting to berate a bush while holding back his screams of hysteria and agony. But no, he had to keep quiet because Jack had probably insinuated he’d be calcined or perhaps sautéed by his smoldering renovation project on the forest and he didn’t quite fancy a round two of that or Jack inviting him to come sing Kumbaya together by a boy-scout bonfire with his little tribe of savages.
The only sound which seemed to surround him was the occasional harsh blow of the wind and the crunch of the autumn leaves which were now scorched into a curled, blackened husk beneath his feet. His ears began to ring faintly, an indication of yet another oncoming migraine. At-least he wasn’t going into dolly-daydream land yet because he still needed to make the journey back to the intact side of the island. Hallucinations had become relatively normal for him these past two tortuous days.
He’d hit his head really hard during the initial chase after tripping over an exposed root of this one tree which proved to be the bane of his existence, he’d blacked out for a moment and been so delirious he’d imagined running into a naval officer, and had only then after a sold 3 minutes found himself speaking gibberish with an occasional word or two, slurred by the blood that trickled into his mouth from his head injury up at an absolutely dumbfounded, yet amused redhead whom he recognised to be Jack, the only benefit he had gotten from that situation was Jack leaving him to be burnt alive which gave him chance to absolutely leg it to the other side of the forest, oh! And the ability to fall asleep by simply thinking too hard.
He ran a shaky and bruised hand through his fair hair, closing his eyes tightly to soothe the pain, he wasn’t able to pinpoint whether it was emotional or physical but it didn’t make any difference to him; not anymore. The isolation was really starting to get to him, he’d never thought that he’d particularly miss Piggy, he didn’t think that he’d need to miss Piggy at all, around a year ago when they first landed on the island he would’ve been ridiculed for suggesting any of them could’ve been in any sort of hazardous situation, they had all seen it as a tropical and indeering all-inclusive holiday to a remote island with no adults or anyone for that matter to order them around.
He continued his walk toward his current place of residence, a run-down shelter he’d dragged to an undisclosed spot in the woods and managed to salvage by adding a couple sticks for durability. Nothing particularly eventful happened on his journey except for a bird scaring the living bajeezus out of him and him flipping off the tree that had tripped him up earlier.
What was happening to him? He could barely even incorporate his ideas into an intelligible sentence with the help of Piggy never mind without him, he’d never particularly been the sharpest tool in the shed before the island but at-least he could make an argument in a debate without forgetting his point halfway through or getting his words intwined in an extravaganza whirlpool of stutters and blasphemous insults.
He wandered mindlessly through the depths of the untamed lands, this side of the island was relatively untouched by Jack’s ‘masterpiece’ as he’d heard him refer to it when almost encountering him on a hunting expedition; he winced at the memory. Jack was a rich snob before the island, always having his infamous curly red hair held in place by the most expensive brand of hair ointment or gel. But now his appearance represented one of someone who’s favourite pass time would be dumpster diving and his hair was wild and unmanageable, clearly.
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Ralph made his way through the creepers and underbrush, at one point even mistaking the sound of the leaves rustling around him for somebody speaking which scared him senseless, his camp was located behind a bunch of green and youthful vines, he figured if he was going to be ambushed in the middle of the night it would be better to buy himself time with the hunters fighting their way out of the suffocating embrace of the trailing plants. He held out a hand to part the Hedera when he heard it.
The incredulous noise of another human voice, much to Ralph’s dismay his foot then placed itself anything but strategically right onto a twig, it snapped effortlessly and the noise seemed to reverberate through the surrounding wilderness, Ralph stopped abruptly and his shoulders tensed. The mumbling came to a halt and Ralph absolutely took off behind a tree, cursing inwardly under his breath as the rough bark rubbed up against the sensitive wounds on his back.
“Oi Roger d’you hear that?” The raspy voice of Jack Merridew ominously spoke, the tension in the air was so thick you seriously might’ve been able to cut it with a blade.
“S’alright chief it’s probably just Samneric messing around.” Roger spoke back after a brief pause, hesitation evidently underlying the tone of his voice, as if he wasn’t necessarily fully convinced either. He opened his mouth to say something more but stopped, perhaps he was about to suggest the possibility of-
“No Samneric are horrified of us, they know better. It’s gotta be him, who else would this camp belong to?” Jack reasoned, his voice oddly calm and imperturbable for the conclusion he had just come to, interrupting Ralph’s train of thought, there goes keeping a low profile. He turned his head and peeked at the two.
Jack’s fiery red curls reached down to almost exactly his collar bones, the savage with painted skin (which was somehow still quite pale) also had burn marks but they not quite as severe as Ralph’s, one could miss them unless inspecting the guy but under Ralph’s circumstances he’d learnt to be very attentive.
Roger stood about 2 or 3 inches shorter then Jack, his dark skin had one more symbol drawn on compared to when he’d last seen him, a fire. Talk about adding insult to injury, Ralph subconsciously rubbed his injuries. Roger’s black hair was messy but somewhat-slicked back with a thin layer of grease and small traces of pig’s blood. His spear was located in his left hand with a tight grip.
“Thought you said Ralph was dead?” Roger broke the silence, looking toward his companion in slight confusion which earned him a glare from the icy-blue-eyed individual, after all this time one would think Roger would know better then to question good ol’ Sir C Sharp’s authority; but then again it is Roger.
“Well I thought he was but by this feeble attempt of craftsmanship-“ Jack gestured toward the shelter Ralph had attempted to salvage. “-He’s obviously not apart of our tribe, my hunters have better skills n’resources.” This provoked a small chuckle from Roger which was then immediately disguised as him clearing his throat.
Sweat beaded almost simultaneously on Ralph’s forehead, the uncomfortable and agonising sensation of the bark rubbing up against his back and the itching feeling the leaves under his feet created and materialised upon the soles of his pedal extremities only added to his current overstimulation and the fogginess of his brain.
His ears rang louder and the rambling of his sworn enemies were eventually were drowned out by the overwhelming sharp pain in the centre of his forehead--now was not the time to get a migraine. His eyes were watery as he looked back at Jack and Roger, whom were conversing deeply, possibly conspiring about Ralph’s whereabouts or the ravenous torture they would submit him to once they found him.
Okay he was panicking way too hard now; his breathing became irregular and rose in volume only naturally, bewilderedness took over his brain entirely as he saw Jack point in signal for Roger to leave the camp and he did, and for a moment the world stopped spinning, his migraine stopped and his vision became 20/20 again, because in that moment before the other savage followed, Ralph saw Jack look directly at him and smile a knowing grin which macabrely, didn’t quite reach his eyes.
