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With his face barely an inch from the ground , crawling in the wed sludge on the rainforest floor with measured movements-each muscle a trained soldier obeying every order easily ignoring any compulsion to spasm or itch- the smell of blood was pungent in the air.Compressing and intoxicating all at once , it hung thick in the air a light haze over the island even days after The Bad Hunting (or it was so widely hailed by the followers of the new chief).the thought of hi- (Ralph fought the urge to shake his fair haired head-much less easily-)of the death was immediately sobering and immediately the almost empowering scent that caused Ralph to inhale deeply earlier in his bloodlust was now an intruder crawling it’s way through his nostrils and setting lodgings where it was anything but welcome.
At the glorious sound of a low,wild grunting that sound Ralph would never stop being grateful for especially since the hunters went rogue, two hands’ muddy fingers -marred by long tendrils of pink and lightly brushed with brown scabs (courtesy of climbing trees to pluck fruit for the littluns in place of Si-in place of him )- silently rose but for the slightest squelch of the damp earth beneath him,which was fresh with pig tracks.As they rose,the fingers stilled in the air waiting to locate exactly where the noise originated and at a repeated low whinny-the target was located.
The moments that followed seemed to stretch for painful,long, agonising minutes as hard choices always seem to do.The light rustle of the leaves of a bush being pulled apart,the animalistic scarfing of the pigs and the occasional distant parrot calls only layered atop the tension as Ralph begun to rose,sun-golden legs crouched and barely noticeably trembling arms holding onto a crudely constructed spear. Where the moments before the hunting washed over him like lazy waves-slow and endless- the moments after fell through his mind like sand held in palms.The pained moans of the creature,the crazed trotting and the pathetic suffering of the pig were pitiful.But none of this could cross Ralph’s mind,none of those squeals pierced into Ralph’s consciousness because the only thing he could think of was that Simon had been killed with a spear. Jack’s spear. Would Simon’s flesh taste the same as the boar? Had Simon screamed the way this pig was? Had Ralph just been unable to hear his cries,caught up in the exhilarating overmastering thrill? With those uneasily protruding thoughts Ralph with a sense of formality vowed to never hurt another living creature.Simon hated it-refusing to eat with the boys,choosing instead to pluck the choicest fruit with the littluns.