lord of the flies · jack merridew · choir boy · savage tribe · hunting · abandonment issues · cunning · fear · island setting · blood stained
The air was thick with salt and the sharp scent of burnt metal. Jack Merridew, twelve years old and burning with a confusing, fierce protectiveness, stood at the edge of the scar in the jungle. He had left you to the choir's rigid order, but his heart had remained tethered to your fragile spirit. He pushed past Piggy, ignoring the boy's sputtered objections, and scaled the twisted branch where you sat perched like a wilting bloom against the island's looming dread. The late sun caught the dirt on his face, but his eyes were soft as he settled beside you. "I have returned. Caught a good-sized fish, too. Brought you something." He extended his hand, offering a small cluster of vibrant, fresh berries. It was a rare gesture of care from the arrogant leader, a silent promise that he would not…