The Hunter Version 1

Toby paced back and forth along the two hundred or so feet of sandy beach offered to him by the high tides and mumbled under his breath. He was a decent looking fellow, as far as starving, young men go. His hair had once been a bright, golden color and long, but now hung in tangles on his shoulders, covered in sand and foliage from the trees behind him. Blue eyes dulled with hunger and worry stared sightlessly at the ground as he paced. He was badly sunburned and covered in patches of dark, drying mud, but had at one point in time been fair skinned and free of blemishes.
Behind him, watching the movement of the waves as they crashed onto the shore, was another boy, Ben, who seemed to be doing slightly better physically and mentally than Toby. Ben had short, dark brown hair and gray eyes. He was tanned though his skin was not peeling from the heat of the sun, like the other boy. Neither of them wore much in way of clothing; Toby had a torn grey shirt and green cargo shorts on over his mud covered skin and a single, filthy sock. Ben wore only a pair of blue jeans and a yellow bandanna around his neck. Ben fiddled with the bandanna for a moment, but then got to his feet. He stood a good four inches taller than Toby, who was about five foot nine.
“I'm going to try fishing again,” Ben called, not expecting a response.
Toby gave none, not even bothering to stop his pacing or look up from the sand. Ben sighed and turned away to the near by trees. Leaning against one tree was a fishing pole the boys had made seven days earlier when they had first found themselves stranded. The pole was made of a stiff , curved branch about three feet long. They had used strips of cloth from their ruined clothes as line, three pebbles as weights, hard chewing gum for the lure and a paper clip Ben had found in his pocket as the hook. They had managed to catch a grand total of one, tiny fish that they had not been able to eat.
Picking up the fishing pole, Ben took a moment to adjust the paperclip into the shape he wanted before he glanced back at Toby again. He heaved a sigh and strode into the trees to find the freshwater river they had been fishing and drinking from. It was a few minutes walk from where Toby paced and Ben took his time with it. There was no hurry, and he was exhausted from everything that had been happening in the past week. He had no idea where Toby got the energy to pace as he did every day. Perhaps it was just sheer will power, because Ben was certain the other boy was not hiding food somewhere. He was thinner than Ben and they had been stranded on the massive island at the same time. As he reached the stream, which was more of a small river, Ben wandered upstream further than usual to find a new place to fish.
Ten minutes away from the beach-Ben counted as he had nothing better to do-he found a place where the river had widened into a lake. It was perhaps six or seven hundred feel across, fairly small, but appeared to be fairly deep. Wading into the cold waters, he threw his line out as far as he could and waited. From time to time he would jerk the pole about in an attempt to attract fish to the moment or splash himself with water to escape the heat. He wondered from time to time about Toby, but he knew better. Toby barely spoke, especially lately, and when he did it was always to tell Ben not to worry about him. Of course, that made Ben worry more, but he tried to keep his thoughts from turning dark with fears of death and loneliness.
They had been doing alright the first two days, but then they had realized that it was too early in the spring for there to be edible berries or fruits and there was no luck with their attempts at hunting or fishing. They had found no food in the wreckage of the lifeboat they had woken up on, nothing to help them survive aside from a shelter from the elements. Toby had been able to get a fire started, and they were able to find fresh water easily enough, but they had nothing else. Ben sighed again, but then perked as there was a tug on his line.
“No way.” Ben mumbled, yanking the pole, trying to get the flimsy hook to catch in the fish's mouth.
He tried to take a step back, but found that the fish was fighting against him violently; it had to be massive to be that strong. A wild grin formed on Ben's lips and he gave a laugh, using as much of his strength as he could to pull the fish into shallower water. He could make out a large, silver mass under the surface of the water, but it did not come near the surface, trying to drag his pole down into