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Jack stumbles through the forest. Despite his hunting prowess, he's never been good at traversing the terrain. It's too thick, too jumbled.
Caught on a creeper, he shakes his foot and stamps down on the vines, grunting in frustration. Beside him, Roger attempts to clear a path with his spear. He succeeds... Kind-of.
The two boys are quiet. Jack chalks the silence up to trying not to scare off prey. Besides, Roger has never been particularly talkative. And although Jack would rather have someone to converse with, Roger makes for a perfect hunting partner. They continue onward, pausing at every little rustle in learned synchronization.
Coming to a clearing, Jack sighs. He flops down at the base of a tree and sets his spear on the brush beneath him. Roger seems more inclined to keep going, but sits as well. The heat and humidity exhausts the boys more than they would be otherwise.
"I'm thirsty." Jack complains idly, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Some of his face paint comes off with it.
Roger nods in agreement. Should've brought an extra coconut, he thinks.
"And y'know, we've never even been this deep in the woods," he continues, "look."
Jack points up through a thin gap in the canopy. Roger follows the direction of his finger and spots the mountaintop, just barely visible.
"Should we go back, then?"
"We'll be fine," Jack shrugs, "we left that pig for the beast, didn't we?" He smiles confidently, "I'm sure it'll leave us be."
Roger nods again. There's a beat before Jack speaks again.
"... Do you think there's even a beast up there?"
"Maybe," Roger says, "There's a whole lot of prey over there."
Jack snickers, "A whole lot of prey it'll get before us."
There's another beat between the boys. They stare at the mountain, half with reverence and half with curiosity.
Jack stands up suddenly, grabbing Roger by his forearm and pulling him to a stand. Roger wobbles upwards.
"Come on, we've got nothin' to be afraid of." Jack fumbles with his spear, starting forward.
Roger smiles slightly. He follows the chief without further thought. Jack's hand stays gripped on Roger's arm for a moment before finally letting go.
"And if it does come to get us," Jack hops over a fallen log, "Then we'll hunt it, right? That's what we do. If it's even real at all."
Roger looks more enthusiastic now, "I kind of want it to be real." He hums, "I'd love to stab it right in the face." He jabs his spear in the air playfully.
Jack giggles, "And we could parade it around! Show Ralph and the lot what they're missing out on!"
They begin to run lightly through the woods, now disregarding the annoyance of plants. Roger pushes Jack gently, causing him to trip. Jack gasps in mock offense, then grabs Roger's ankle. He falls as well, dropping his spear, then retaliates by tackling the other boy. A fight breaks out between them, and playful as it might be, it's rather aggressive in nature. They shove and writhe, trying to overpower the other to little avail.
Roger shoves Jack's face into the mud, giggling wildly. His usual quiet nature is gone, now replaced by an awful glee. Jack pushes back, wrestling until he can get a hold of Roger's wrists.
"Get off!" He shouts with a grin. In a second, his spear is at Roger's throat.
As threatening as he may appear, it's all play. He could never actually hurt the other boys on the island, especially not one from the church choir. Those are his men, aren't they? He would never. Not intentionally.
Finally, Roger backs off. Free from the other breathing down his neck, Jacks sits up slightly. The squabble leaves them panting, but far more excited than before. Hunting seems more palatable now.
Through breathless giggles, they stand. Roger grabs his spear, holding it loosely and leaning against a tree. Jack looks silly now, face half covered in mud. The clay covering his face in a vague pattern is covered by brown. He notices it, and tries to wipe it off on his forearm, but only smudges his face paint into a blur of green, black, and red. Unable to see his reflection, he figures it's fine.
Roger approaches and wipes Jack's face. He's able to get some of the brown off, but Jack still looks a mess.
Still, he doesn't look half-bad. Roger thinks back to the first time they'd started wearing the masks. The clay covered their childish features, giving them a new sense of pride. As savage as they became, the hunters were given a new sense of bravado. And it felt good.
Jack in particular was made into a man (or as close as a preteen could look to a man) by it. His naturally soft features were contoured, and the freckles that infantilized his face were removed entirely.
... And it was strategic for hunting, of course. That probably matters more.
Jack allows Roger to touch his face. Actually, he doesn't seem to mind it at all. Gingerly, Jack prods Roger's shoulder and walks on.
"Heh- come on, we've got to hunt." He directs.
* * *
Wind breezes past the two boys, a sign of bad weather to come. The humidity is lessened up this high. Finally, they're able to relax without sweating profusely.
Jack lays on his back, with his arms folded beneath his head. He breathes in deeply, then exhales just as much. Roger sits beside him. His legs are outstretched and his posture is relaxed. For just a moment, the weight of everything is lifted. They can forget about the idea of rescue, or death, or fear. Living like this for the rest of his days... Well, Jack wouldn't be opposed. Bollocks to the rules of society. They can rebuild here! It's better than whatever the war-torn world has to offer.
The pig the two had been carrying lays limp on the grass to Roger's side. It's skewered through a sharpened stick and headless. It's fresh enough that the hunters decided to take another break. (Although the other one hardly counted.)
"Hey, look."
Jack props himself up on his elbows, looking down from the cliffside. It takes him a second to notice, but eventually, he spots Ralph's (pathetic) huts. By the waterfront, he can see Ralph sitting beside Piggy, and a group of littluns far off playing. He smirks.
"What do you think he's going to do now?"
Roger shrugs, "what can he do?"
They snicker in unison. Roger lays back as well.
He watches the sky. Oddly enough, he finds that he's actually.. Comfortable.
Roger has never been the type to relax. Social situations have never been particularly enjoyable, and he finds it hard to relate to others; especially with those his age. But right now, he feels okay. Okay enough to cozy up with someone else. Even if that someone else is Jack.
Jack was never someone that Roger fancied. Of course, because Jack was the lead chorister, Roger was forced to listen to him. Not that he ever minded. He's always been a follower. Following Jack is easy - he's always certain in what he does, even if it's to a fault. And not to mention how well their "values" align.
But now, there's a mutual tightness in their chests when together. Jack tries to think that it's just because they've become good friends, but it doesn't feel like friendship. They're not exactly just friends, but not anything greater. Roger, on the other hand, disregards it completely. He doesn't need to care. He just needs the company, and he has it.
They lay together, separated only by a foot or two. They stay for a while like that. Neither can tell how long it's been, but eventually, Jack rouses. He glances at Roger, who's still lost in thought. The sun leaves a yellow reflection on his naturally tanned skin, and for once his hair isn't messed. He admires for a moment, then shakes his head and taps Roger on the side.
"We'd better get back," he says quickly, "I bet the other hunters are waiting for us."
Roger sits up as well. Mild disappointment crosses his eyes, but he gets up nonetheless.
He grabs one side of the skewered pig, gesturing for Jack to grab the other. He does, and the boys lift with struggle. Despite their newfound strength, a full grown dead animal isn't easy to carry.
"We could've hunted for longer." Roger mumbles.
Jack shrugs, "We will later. For the next feast."
He looks over his shoulder at the other, smiling faintly, "Maybe I'll make you my lieutenant. Everyone else, well... They're okay. But you're better."
Roger smiles now too, encouraged.
Perhaps this is what they were meant for. Perhaps they'd be happier like this. Together.