The Starling Vigilante [Watty's 2015 Award Winner]

Chapter 49

Taking leaves from the shrubbery beside me, I tied them together to create a bandage round my wounds. I took it that the Flash wasn't staying, so I needed to be able to fend for myself on this... island.

My bare, cut feet stung as I walked through the salty sand, remembering that I forgot to wrap them in leaves. Gritting my teeth, I decided to look for some shelter and figure out where to go from there.

Finding a small, dingy cave, I entered it, the interior capturing heat from the outside. It wasn't in the best condition, but at least I had somewhere to stay.

Collecting pieces of driftwood for kindle for a fire, I laid them in a stack on the cave floor for when the night came and the temperature fell. My throat feeing coarse and a pounding headache coming on, I realised I was dehydrated. I needed water.

Away from my cave, I looked for a pool or an oasis of sorts to extract clean, still water from. I looked for hours, just so I could quench my undying thirst.

At a small pond, I used an unnecessary rag from the bottom of my skirt to filter the water through, capturing the water in the rag and squeezing it through the fibres into my mouth. It tasted nice despite how disgusting it looked, probably due to my desperation for water back in my body.

It was going to be a long day.

---

Running through the shadowy forests, I aimed my arrow at the creature, its pace too hindered to avoid my shot. Pulling the bow back, my eye followed the arrow as it flawlessly flew through the air and sunk into the animal's flesh.

One month on the island had driven me to hunting, my handmade bow destroying all my principles about not killing anything. I was too desperate to eat than to fight for my old views, and out here, I couldn't turn down my only substantial source of food. I had to kill to survive, no matter how hard I had tried to resist the temptation.

My instincts had taken over my whole personality.

After I had cooked and eaten my food, I warmed myself in the cool air of the night, my calculations suggesting I was well into September. It was funny how slow time passed on the island, each day a challenge to even live to see the next. And I still hadn't come across another human in the 31 days I had stayed there, but only the animals I had to kill.

Taking the military canteen from the floor of the cave and putting it to my lips, I took a swig of water rather messily, my manners seeming to disappear without anyone to impress and no civilization to follow. My cave had become useful for my survival, as in the corner had been a container full of military supplies needed by soldiers when living out in the wilderness. I hadn't found out why it had been there, but I just guessed it was luck that had brought me to it.

Among many other things, there had also been a notebook full of blank pages in the trunk, a pencil accompanying it. About five days into living there, I had decided to save the limited pages to draw something special, waiting for something perfect to draw each day. I had already started to draw the outline of a face, starting at the eyes, it turning out that I had been drawing Tommy subconsciously.

But the thought of him had been too painful to think about, so naturally, I ignored the page completely.

---

The next few days had been the same, my mind becoming increasingly bored of the island. I had tried to find something interesting there, but it was all the same; trees. And trees. And trees.

However, as September started to turn into October, I changed my mind.

Climbing up the tall trunk of the tree, I used the sturdy branches to put my feet, my climb becoming increasingly easier as more and more branches appeared towards the top of the tree.

As I found my way to the top, I sat at the top of the tree, over the canopy of the forest. The island was fairly big, trees for miles and miles around.

And then I saw a figure. Not just any figure.

It was Oliver.

Doing a double take, I looked to the clearing where he was again, but there was no one in sight. Maybe I was seeing things; the need for someone to talk to eating away at me, and anyhow, I couldn't know if it was him or not from such a distance.

I just had to face the fact that he was dead.

But I couldn't just give up on hope. On something. Even if the figure wasn't Oliver, it could have been another survivor. Or even another person who lived on the island. Taking my chance, I climbed from tree to tree, hanging my supplies and bow and arrows on my back to detangle my hands and feet. Adrenaline kicking in, I was in euphoria as I sped across the canopy, the breeze makings feel as though I was flying across the forest.

And then I came crashing down.