The First Lost Boy (Wattys 2017) ON HOLD

f o u r

It was dark now as they walked through the village, threading their way through various huts. The night air was chillier now and a gust of wind had passed them, rustling the trees and bushes around the village. Gwenevieve was silent as she followed Harry, her hands rubbing the tops of her arms to warm herself as her eyes darted from one boy to the other. They were staring at her as she passed, whispering her name among themselves. She felt out of place and still feared one of them would attack her the moment Harry wasn't looking. And now, with her dagger in Harry's pocket, she had no way of defending herself. She knew how to throw a punch but she wasn't skilled in combat. These boys were cavemen and she knew if it were them against her, she would never make it out alive.

"This way." Harry said, gesturing for her to turn to her right. She did, and right there stood a hut that was taller than the others. Green leaves blanketed the top of it to form a roof over the threaded bamboo that was attached to wood from the trees stood up in a circle around it. Gwenevieve stared at it in amazement, knowing the person who had made this had to be Harry. He was the oldest of the boys after all, and after catching a glimpse of the carved sword he made, she had a good idea it was him.

Harry stepped up to his hut, pushing the bamboo door back to reveal the inside of it. He shyly gestured Gwenevieve inside and her eyes took it in as she slowly stepped through the door. The first thing she saw was the bed that sat against the wooden wall of the room. It had a blanket made out of leaves splayed out over it, and if she looked close enough she could see the makeshift mattress made out of bamboo underneath. It was held up by thick wooden legs, and a large flat rock that sat beneath the bed in case the bamboo were to break. On top of all that, sat a single pillow that was covered in what looked like an old shirt. Gwenevieve moved towards it out of curiosity, picking up the pillow and turning it around in her hand.

"How did you make this?" She asked, looking over her shoulder to see Harry standing near the doorway with his arms crossed.

"There are bird feathers inside it. I used my shirt as the pillow case." He responded slowly, watching her observe his room. She silently put the pillow back down, in awe of how he made it all. The floor was even covered in wood, tied together with bands of more bamboo.

"The floor is to prevent snakes from getting in. You should be safe in here." He shared when he saw he staring at the floor. He felt shy with her seeing the place that was the most personal thing he had here. He felt she was silently judging him. But Harry had nothing to fear; Gwenevieve was impressed.

"It's very nice in here." She responded, and she was telling the truth. Gwen felt comfortable there, the warmth from the hut bringing her a sense of something that was the closest thing to home. She didn't feel like she was being watched or judged in Harry's room. She felt safe.

"Thank you." Harry cleared his throat, glad that it was fairly dark and she wouldn't be able to see his blush. Realizing that he couldn't see her, he moved across the room to the small table he also made. He picked up two thick wooden sticks, sticking them in a lantern that had glass and edges made out of he steel. He still wondered how he had managed to find something so useful during a day of exploring the island.

He broke off a few pieces of the thick branches in his hands before throwing it into the lantern. He began to rub the two sticks together roughly, until there was a fairly large ember growing at the end of one stick and Harry quickly tapped it until it fell onto the wood in the lantern. Immediately, the wood caught fire and Harry closed the latch of the small glass door into place. He turned, the room now illuminated by the light of the fire and he paused when he saw it left a reflection off Gwen's eyes. They looked like they were glowing and Harry felt as if he had lost his breath for a moment. And it only worsened when she pulled the ribbon from her hair. It fell down her back and shoulders, cascading in long curls that had Harry wishing he could touch it. It looked so soft, and it went well with her porcelain skin and hazel eyes. She was so beautiful, he thought. But he didn't have the courage to say it out loud.