The Cry of The Island

Chapter Twelve

The Cry of The Island.

Atticus' eyes lazily opened as his body was laid out in the space of grass. His vision was blurry as he tried to stir himself back to aa fully woke state, scratching his head as from his laid out state he saw the trees burning and the island collapsing. Sidney wasn't anywhere to be seen, as his body wasn't laid out next to where Phoenix had knocked out Atticus. He couldn't tell how long he was out for. Whether it had been hours or not, he didn't know. Atticus was aware that he had to get out of this area of tropical fast, as the occasional crash and slam of tree boughs would hit the surface and sizzle with the occasional crackle. His wound was becoming a critical factor, and he occasionally bit down on his tongue when a sharp pain rose. A war was taking place on the island, and Atticus knew he had to fight for his life.

Atticus began to make his way to Tommy's end of the island, his heart thumping against his chest.

Tommy clamoured round the deceased animals around him, looking at all of their gutless bodies as their insides were either laid out on the ground or consumed. This burning island before him was coming a side thought, as he would occasionally glance at the volcano bellowing its cries over the island.

He was oblivious, as Atticus crept up the incline to stand at the entrance to the parallel rows of spears. Atticus was looking straight into the savage's back.

Don't make a noise.

He knows you're there, he just wants to make sure. He crouched and sharpened a stick at both ends. Atticus crouched behind Tommy, pushing him with force as Tommy just managed to roll over the fire. Tommy was crouched and looking at a now standing Atticus. A sense of shock wiped over his face, as Tommy gave him a monotone look. They simultaneously began to kick and punch at each other, grabbing one another to try and get any advantage over the opposing as possible. Tommy was inspired. He knew that he could win this battle without his spear, as he kept it laid out by his fire. He struck in a humming cycle and attempted to punch the wound of Atticus again. Atticus only just parried the blow. Beyond them the pile of animal corpses were a writhing heap. Tommy looked at Atticus and spoke between his teeth.

"You shouldn't have come back, Atticus!"

Atticus had managed to break off of this brawl, clambering along the rocks for a breathing moment, though this fight was tacitly continuing.

Their fighting sprawled all the way down the large platform of flat rock till they reached the other end. They met the large cliff that they had found on their expedition together, which seemed too high for any comfort. Cream, pinks, red hued rocks would scatter along is as the thunderous flames over the island were persistent. This bellowing echo would be in the back of their minds, as they were met this stoppage due to the large flat rock of the mighty high cliff. Atticus and Tommy paused, looking up at the same time at the height of the cliff. Returning a look at each other, they began to climb up the cliff's large wall.

"How far are you willing to go to survive?!"

Atticus shouted at Tommy.

Digging their fingers and feet into the clefts, they climbed. Their hearts thumped against their chests, as it was far too late in the ascent to drop now.

Vacating his hand from the cleft, Tommy reached and punched Atticus's back. A slapping sound of his fist on skin echoed out as Atticus swung one back. A bruise would surely form on his flesh from the blow sooner or later, but for now the groan on impact was enough reassurance for Tommy. The Leader looked down at how high the drop was. If either of them lost their grips, they would most certainly be dead. The heat was getting on both of the boy's skin, as Atticus nearly slipped and lost his footing through a subconscious perspiration. As he only just recovered it, he looked over at Tommy.