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  • Chapter 8: Gift for the Darkness
  • I'm going off by myself. He can catch his own pigs. Anyone who wants to hunt when I do can come too.
  • Chapter 9: A View to a Death
  • The beast was harmless and horrible.
  • Chapter 9: A View to a Death
  • Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!
  • “I’m not going to play any longer. Not with you.” Most of the boys were looking down now, at the grass or their feet. Jack cleared his throat again. “I’m not going to be a part of Ralph’s lot—” He looked along the right-hand logs, numbering the hunters that had been a choir. “I’m going off by myself. He can catch his own pigs. Anyone who wants to hunt when I do can come too.
  • He saw how pitilessly the layers of rubber and canvas held together the poor body that should be rotting away. Then the wind blew again and the figure lifted, bowed, and breathed foully at him. Simon knelt on all fours and was sick till his stomach was empty. Then he took the lines in his hands; he freed them from the rocks and the figure from the wind’s indignity
  • The sticks fell and the mouth of the new circle crunched and screamed. The beast was on its knees in the center, its arms folded over its face. It was crying out against the abominable noise something about a body on the hill. The beast struggled forward, broke the ring and fell over the steep edge of the rock to the sand by the water. At once the crowd surged after it, poured down the rock, leapt on to the beast, screamed, struck, bit, tore. There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws.
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