the kids in lotf, for the most part, were so young that they could not even begin to cope with the realities of their situation. They were playing by the lagoon, they were playing fort at Castle Rock, they were playing hunting and went too far. They were a hoard of literal babies raised in a world where violence was normalized (war) and experiencing the world without restrictions for the first time.

they weren’t trying to be rescued (save for literally just Ralph and Piggy). They were playing at grown up, and playing at hunter. They were emulating the violence they grew up seeing (seeing as this took place in the middle of a war).

Unwilling tears trailed down his cheeks. At the heart of the shattered ritual array lingered not just death's shadow, but an abyss of silence and emptiness. Then, a sigh trembled through the darkness — a ripple from the "soul's" deepest recesses. "Is that you... Sister..." The boy lifted his hand, a weak light flickering in his eyes. The silhouette of his loved one lingered but a breath, yet its imprint etched a millennium into his heart. "I see... Thank you... for this final farewell." He rose slowly. Dawn's first rays caressed his resolute face, still streaked with tears. "The path of seeking is a solitary one... Let us meet again at the journey's end.”