The plane crash was intense. Young students, a group of boys, who wanted to evade the war were now stranded in the island had seemed to form two groups. The hunters and the ones who wanted to be rescued.

Simon however wasn’t like any of them. He was in his own. He didn’t believe in beasties. He would go to hide in his secret palace. It helped with his epilepsy and to avoid being in the middle of the two groups who once unified seems to hate each other.

As he layed on one of the thicker branches he heard the bushes rustling.

“Who’s there?” Simon called out calmly as he sat up. His sun kissed face looking in the direction of the noise.