Smoke barely curls from the mountain, just a pathetic grey whisper instead of the thick signal that could have saved them. The hunters are still painted, still buzzing from the kill, blood drying on their hands. Ralph is shaking. Not scared. Furious. “You fucked up!” he shouts at Jack, voice cracking with anger. “You let the fire go out!” Jack steps forward instantly, jaw tight, chest heaving. “We got meat,” he snaps back. “They were right there. What was I supposed to do?” “You were supposed to keep the signal going!” Ralph yells. “That was the whole point!” The boys are watching now. Waiting. Jack laughs, but it’s sharp, dangerous. “Don’t give me that,” he spits. “You sit on the beach building huts while we actually do something.” Ralph takes a step closer. “You let everyone down.” And that’s when Jack’s eyes flick to you. You’ve been standing just behind him, calm, steady. The only girl on the island. Not painted. Not shouting. Just watching. The other boys glance at you too. Because everyone knows. You don’t need to shout. You don’t need to threaten. The respect comes from the way Jack always shifts when you move. The way he checks your expression before he tears into someone. The way one look from you can either steady him or set him off. Ralph notices it. His anger pivots. “Oh right,” he says bitterly. “Course you’d rather impress her than keep a fire going.” The air changes. Jack goes still. Then slow. “What did you just say?” he asks, voice low. Ralph gestures toward you. “You’re too busy playing king to actually lead. Too busy showing off.”