Work Text:
A monster rumbles beneath it, around it, inside. Something in the water beats against the concave opening of its mind.
Polished chrome, painted plastic.
Clean.
It’s all so clean.
A wet towel lays before its trembling body, a small print of dirt against an edge, uncertain. Or was it unwilling?
Adults had handed one to every savage to clean the mud off their face. Just mud.
Black, red, and white mud, yes?
They must have taken a tumble in some dirt.
Just an accident.
Accidents happen.
What was once visceral and raw has congealed on its skin into a desiccated wash of peach, attracting flies and a sprinkle of inflamed acne. Heated air stank with pus and flesh, the fat of pig smeared over the face and hands reforming into a mask of putridity.
Towels on the ground, towels everywhere. Only a few savages were wiping themselves of their savagery.
Count them.
One. An older one, the one who had a stick in hand, a stone chipping away at either end.
Two. Their leader, fiery in their hair, fiery in their mutinous embarrassment.
Four. Twins, newcomers, holdouts.
Cowards. All of them, cowards.
A few steps away, or perhaps a lifetime, the prey held a blanket around its shoulders as it squealed-
yelped-
-talked, talked to a grownup.
“-and there’s another one, Simon, he went missing too. We were having a gathering and we- we just lost him; it was too chaotic. No one could see anything. The,” and he paused, looked at savages, looked it in the eyes.
Sitting against the deck, it was even smaller than before, gangly limbs and an oversized head on a body that has just begun to reveal its ribcage.
Coal-black, wine-red, a slash of white. Unblinking eyes.
Ralph turned back. “…the littluns, yes, some of ‘em could’ve gone too, we just didn’t know. There was this kid with a birthmark, right here-”
Meekly, placidly, it began to hate.