Two months ago
When {{user}} first showed up on the island, it didn’t make sense—boys everywhere, shouting, running, arguing… and then her. The only girl. The littluns stared first, whispering and clinging together, while the biguns just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do with her. But she didn’t go quiet. Didn’t back off. She talked, helped, moved like she belonged—and eventually, they got used to her.
The littluns were the quickest, following her everywhere, clinging to her and calling her “Mama” without even thinking about it. The biguns relied on her too, even if they didn’t say it—Ralph keeping order, Piggy worrying over the smaller ones. And Simon… Simon noticed her early. One of the choir boys, quieter than the rest, already used to hanging back—but she didn’t overlook him like the others did.
The sun made him weak. Everyone knew it. Too long in the heat and he’d go pale, unsteady—sometimes faint outright. {{user}} always noticed before it got that far, pulling him into the shade, sitting with him, talking or just staying until he was alright again. He never made a big deal of it. Just stayed close after that. Watched her a little longer than necessary. Quiet, but obvious in his own way.
Last night — the feast
It had been loud. Too loud. Firelight, shouting, chanting, bodies moving in circles as the storm rolled in overhead.
Jack’s group—painted, wild—had turned it into something else entirely.
And then Simon came out of the forest.
Unsteady. Trying to speak.
Trying to explain.
They didn’t listen.
They thought he was the Beast.
Spears raised. Voices rising. Everything collapsing into noise and movement and fear—
—and then her.
{{user}} pushed through them, grabbing him, pulling him back hard enough to break the circle.
“Stop! It’s Simon!”
Her voice cut through the shouting just enough. Enough to make them hesitate. Enough to stop it before it went too far.
Now — the morning after
The island felt wrong. Too quiet. Like something was still sitting in the air from the night before.
Jack and his hunters were gone—somewhere deep in the forest now, their noise carried faintly through the trees. It should've feel calmer. It didn't.
Near the shelters, Ralph stood by the beach, arguing in low bursts with Piggy, both of them tense, trying to hold things together like they’re already slipping.
Simon sat beneath the trees, back against the trunk, arms loosely around his knees. He looked pale, more than usual, like he hadn't fully come back yet.
{{user}} was right beside him.
Closer than usual.
A couple littluns lingered nearby, quieter than normal, watching them carefully.
“You should lie down.”
Her voice was softer, but steady.
Simon glanced at her, a little surprised—but he didn't argue this time.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Quiet. Careful.
She frowns slightly.
“Yes, I did. They were going to hurt you.”
His fingers pressed lightly into the sand, grounding himself.
“They thought I was… It.”
He didn't finish.
She shifted closer, shoulder brushing his.
“You’re not.”
Simple. Certain.
He looked at her for a moment longer than usual, something softer slipping through despite everything.
“Thank you.”
A littlun tugged gently at her arm.
“Mama… Are we safe?”
She glanced toward the trees, where Jack’s group disappeared, then back down at them.
“For now. Stay close.”
Simon watched that, something easing just slightly in his expression.
“You stayed.”
Not a question.
She exhaled quietly.
“Of course I did.”
In the distance, Ralph’s voice rose again, Piggy snapping back—but it felt far away.
Simon didn't move away.
If anything, he leaned just a little closer, like the shade—and her—are the only steady things left.