25/08/06

Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Too Many Open Windows
Rating: PG13

A young man who defies gravity meets a girl with her feet firmly planted on the ground....or so she believed.

Author's Note: For Rolletti. And Kasmira...shameless rewriting of a familiar story, with characters and plot lines ruthlessly twisted to suit the author's nefarious purpose- that being, to entertain.

Disclaimer: All the well beloved characters belong to only one author, J.M.Barrie. I'm just playing in his sandbox for a little while, no harm, no foul.

London, 1906

It was a night cold enough to send most little children snuggling down deeper into their quilts and eiderdowns, to wish their hot water bottles were that much hotter and that their feet had another pair of socks to keep them warm. Windows were iced up on the inside despite the efforts of coal fires to keep the chill at bay, the rooms unable to dispel the fierce frost from skittering across panes, leaving behind impossibly fragile traceries to delight those few hardy enough to look.

Wendy Darling was one of those few, her slender fingers tracing the outline of white covering the glass, the tips growing numb as she continued to follow the random pattern of ice crystals, the air leaving her lungs pluming white as it condensed in the cold air against the pane.

Why she was standing in nothing more than her flannel night shift and a shawl, while the clock chimed three-o-clock in the morning, was something she would have liked an answer to herself. She couldn't remember what it was that had pulled her out of her toasty bed to wander across the carpet and stare out of the window into the frost laden world, only that something had called to her, a voice that insisted that she make the sacrifice and stand at the window. Outside, the tree that, in the summer cast welcome shade over the nursery, was now devoid of any signs of life, it's broad limbs black and bare, icicles hanging from the branches, a by-product of the last snowfall. Beyond the back wall of the terrace houses flanking on either side, she could see more houses, their windows black, the drapes drawn tight to aid keeping what heat there was inside the house. Chimney's poked above dark rooftops, the occasional one puffing up clouds of sooty smoke that hung for a moment before sinking to add to the miasma of choking pollution in the streets below. Craning her neck she could see the sky high above the chimney pots, the stars as hard and bright as diamonds. So sharp they looked capable of cutting a body to ribbons, bright knives waiting for someone to be foolish enough to go abroad before daylight, poised to plunge earthwards like so many swords of Damocles. A shiver made her pull back from the window and turn away, her fanciful musings banished as another shiver made her aware of her frozen feet and numb fingers, her nose starting to drip as well.

"You're simply imagining things, you silly girl," she admonished herself, tugging the thick shawl around her shoulders again and hurrying back to her bed, shucking her slippers before diving under the covers and laying in the indentation at the center of the feather mattress. Noticing that she'd not pulled the curtains she briefly contemplated getting back out of bed to do so, then decided just as quickly not to. Her brothers hadn't stirred and were buried, much as she was, under their thick quilts, oblivious to the cold. If they had no care for the curtains remaining open, then she didn't either.

"You were just dreaming," she scolded herself softly, tucking the edge of her blanket more tightly around her chin while drawing her legs up to take advantage of her body's heat. After a few minutes her feet had started to warm up and her nose no longer dripped, her eyes sliding shut as she gave in to sleep and forgot the voice she's thought she'd heard.

# # #

Tucked up in her warm, safe little bed, Wendy dreamed - such wild and strange dreams that seemed so vivid and real while they played out, but vanished when she awoke the next morning, banished by the sun flooding into the room, the curtains still pulled back as she'd left them the previous night. What she didn't expect was to see that the window itself was half open, a chill breeze blowing into the nursery and making her nose tingle and her breath appear white.

At that precise moment the clock on the mantle chimed seven-o-clock. Pushing back her covers, Wendy rushed over to the window and slammed it down, the noise waking her two younger brothers, their tussled heads appearing from under the mounds of their bedclothes even as Wendy rushed back to her own bed and dived under the blankets once more. A few moments later the familiar shushing sound of their mother's footsteps approaching the nursery presaged her opening the door.

"Goodness but it's cold in here!" Mary Darling exclaimed, peering first at the fire that had gone out hours ago, then at the window, a crease of perplexion furrowing her brow to see it shut. Tutting to herself, she belted her dressing gown more tightly before quickly kneeling down to set the fire going again.

"Don't you get up yet my dears, the fire will quickly warm the air up in here and make it much more pleasant. We really will need to see about keeping the fire in longer. I'll ask your father for more coal for the nursery. I can't have my babies catching cold for want of a scuttle of coke!"

While their mother coaxed the fire into life, Wendy and her brothers lay buried under their blankets. Wendy particularly lay pondering what had happened the night before, trying hard to distinguish what had been real and what had been fancy, images from her dreams coming back to her in disjointed fragments. She thought she remembered someone calling her name, the voice too insistent to ignore, dragging her out of her bed to peer confusedly out of the nursery window until cold drove her back to her bed. Then she must have slept and what followed only happened in a dream. When her mother finally pronounced the room warm enough to allow them to rise, Wendy threw back her covers and looked down at the floor to find her slippers. While her brothers hurried from the room to be the first to use the bathroom, Wendy sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her feet. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought she was still asleep and dreaming. Wriggling her toes she stared as the amount of dirt covering her feet and ankles nearly up to her knees. It looked as though she'd been jumping in mud puddles half the night, the hem of her nighty similarly stained and splashed with dirt. Lifting up the bed covers she checked the end of the bed and a gasp escaped her lips when she found more dirt covering the sheets where her feet had rested. Both alarmed and surprised, Wendy hurriedly hid the evidence, while tugging her nightdress down to cover her legs.

"Well I never!"

"Never what dear?" Her mother asked, "you'd better get a move on dearest, or you'll be late for breakfast."

"Yes.....what?....Oh yes, of course. Won't be a moment."

Thrusting her grubby feet into her slippers, she pulled on her dressing gown to cover her inexplicably dirty nightclothes and left the nursery, passing her brothers on the landing as they rushed back to get dressed. Entering the tiny room that serviced the family as a bathroom, Wendy slowly shut the door behind her and turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, much more so than she'd have expected to find after a night buried in her bed, her fingers reaching up to pluck something from the light brown strands and hold up for inspection in front of her face. The object was a tiny leafy twig with a single acorn attached. What made the twig odder than usual was it's supple greenness, the shiny green acorn looking newly minted, the leave as young and supple as only oak leaves can look when they first unfurl in the spring. Wendy stared at the twig then at her reflection.

"But it's December, nearly January...nowhere near spring."

Dropping the inexplicable plant relic into the sink, she stared once more at her face, her fingers lifting to rub at what looked like paint on one cheek. The streak of red ran from the side of her nose across her cheekbone and into her hairline, a similar line in white below that.

"Why am I wearing warpaint?" She asked the girl in the mirror, the blue eyes staring back at her carrying a wealth of confusion and no small amount of panic in their depths. "What on earth was I doing last night?"

Her mother's voice called to her and she quickly started to run some water into the sink. Hurriedly she scrubbed at her face with a washcloth before just as quickly washed away the dirt and mud coating her legs and feet, the water a dark, murky brown when she was finished. Dragging a brush through her hair, she rushed from the bathroom, not forgetting the acorn twiglet in her haste, setting that curious item down on her dressing table before attacking her clothes to change for school.

Fortunately for her peace of mind, the rest of the day passed in its usual manner with most of it spent at Miss Finchins' school for Children of Gentlemen. Later she struggled through a piano lesson with Mrs. Forbes, a neighbor four doors away, before hurrying home for her dinner. An evening of board games with her brothers ate up another passage of time and suddenly it was bedtime again. Warily, Wendy donned a clean nightdress, the previous nights attire already whisked away by the housemaid for the laundry basket, her bottom sheet likewise. Before retiring, she padded along the hall to the second best guest bedroom. Inside, her father was standing on a short ladder, a length of wallpaper hanging down as he positioned it to paste to the wall. At fifteen, Wendy was beyond the usual age of children still sleeping in a nursery, and it had been deemed time that she have a room of her own away from her boisterous brothers. She would be sorry to leave the cozy confines of the familiar room, but she also looked forward to the privacy and peace of a room that she could shut out the family from. Not that she didn't love her brothers completely, it was just that she was no longer a child, yet not quite a woman, in that difficult time and place between the two.

"Only a few more days dearest, and we'll be able to get you all moved in," her father, George Darling, grinned at her over his shoulder, the strip of wallpaper choosing to fall down at that moment and cover his head making Wendy laugh. Careful not to tear the precious paper, George pushed the strip off his head and back onto the wall, the brush in his hand holding the recalcitrant wallpaper in place. "See, have it done in no time."

"Goodnight Papa....it's looking lovely."

"Goodnight Wendy, sleep well."

Leaving her father to wrestle the reluctant wall coverings, Wendy padded back to the nursery in time to sit on her bed and listen to her mother tell Michael, the youngest, a bedtime story. Soon after, Wendy lay on her side and stared at the flickering night light set on the table near the window. A fire burned brightly in the grate, the coals heaped high to last as long as possible to keep the chill at bay.

"Goodnight dearest," her mother said, bending down to kiss her daughter. Enveloped in her mother's perfume, Wendy reached up to hug her, the pair lingering for a moment before parting. "Sweet dreams Wendy."

"Goodnight Mama,"

Warm, clean and comfortable, Wendy drifted off to sleep secure in the knowledge that her life was once more as it should be.

She awoke suddenly, her breath catching on a gasp, cold air rushing in and making her breath plume white when she breathed out. While she lay wondering nervously what had awoken her, the clock struck three time, the chimes sounding slow and ponderous to her ears, each tick in between as loud as a pistol shot. With her heart thumping in her chest, Wendy lay listening to the sounds in the room, her ears straining for the slightest clue as to what had awoken her. Across the room she could make out the humps in the beds that were her brothers, their soft snores a comfort as she turned her head to inspect the rest of the room from her limited view. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she felt a need to make sure. Turning slowly in her bed, Wendy lifted herself up on her elbow and stared about the room. A cool breeze alerted her that the window stood open once more, the curtain moving back and forth in the chill air. The night light was no longer alight and the fire a bed of glowing coals in the darkened room.

"Oh blast it!" Jumping out of bed, not bothering with her shawl or slippers, Wendy ran across the room and tugged at the sash window, pulling it down tight before yanking the curtains across the expanse of chilled glass, shutting out the sight of the stars and rooftops beyond. Scuttling back to her bed she dived under the covers only to almost leap out again in shock.

"Oh John, you gave me such a fright, what are you doing in my bed?"

Thinking it her younger brother hiding under the blankets, Wendy put a hand out in the darkness to shove him out of her bed. Instead of the sensible flannel nightshirt her brother usually wore, Wendy encountered only bare skin, her fingers recoiling at the chill of that flesh.

"John?"

The shoulder she had so briefly touched suddenly moved and she found herself pulled further under the covers, the blankets thrown over her head and over the side, plunging her into total darkness within her own sheets. The arm that had so peremptorily snagged her, now turned her on her side, her back to whoever was in the bed with her. Before she could do more than squeak a protest, a leg was thrown over her own, pinning her in place.

Still thinking it her brother playing a prank, Wendy struggled but found herself effectively pinned by his weight and muscle, unable to do more than squirm helplessly.

"This is not funny John....let me go!"

"Just shut up and stop wriggling girl...I need to get warm!" A husky male voice ordered her, it's depth and cadence unlike either of her brothers.

Blind panic made Wendy go rigid, her heart starting to thump crazily as she finally acknowledged that whoever was in her bed was not her brother John. Someone, some male person lay stretched out on his side behind her, his body pressed tight against her back, one leg thrown over hers while one muscular arm curled around her body, just under her chest, holding her in place.

"Pl-ple-please don't hu-hurt me..." Wendy managed to get past her stiff lips, her body starting to quake with fear.

"Does it feel like I'm hurting you?" The voice inquired, sounding angry and perplexed at the same time. The body behind her shifted, pressing itself closer to her, the persons face pressed against the back of her head, his breath puffing against her hair.

"Wh-what do you want?" Wendy tried again, swallowing the lump of fear choking her throat.

"I told you....to get warm, it's a bitter night out there."

Wendy moaned softly to herself, imagining the worst. "Ar-are you a.....burglar? I don't have anything very valuable..."

"Burglar? What's a burglar?"

"You're not a burglar?" Wendy asked in some surprise, confused that the young man, whoever he was, didn't seem to know his own occupation very well.

"Tell me what a burglar is, and I'll tell you if I am one."

"A-a burglar is...." she swallowed on a dry throat, "is someone who creeps into houses through open windows and steals things,"

"What sort of things?" The voice asked, his arm loosening a little around her ribs.

"Precious things I suppose," Wendy answered, her muscle still tense and ready for flight. "Jewelery, silverware...that sort of thing."

"You mean treasure?"

"I-I suppose so."

"Hook is the burglar then, not I."

"Hook?"

"He's a pirate....don't you know anything?"

"I know lots of thing," Wendy replied with some indignation. "I know that climbing in through someone's window then into their bed is not at all proper or legal!"

"What's legal?"

"Now you're the one who doesn't know anything," the arm around her middle suddenly tightened making her gasp.

"I know plenty of things, but they are not of your world...."

"Not of my world, what can you mean?"

"I mean that I don't belong in this horrid cold place."

"Oh...." Wendy paused, the body behind her shifting slightly, "then just exactly where do you belong?"

"Neverland of course."

"Neverland? I've never heard of that place, is it in South America?"

"Stupid girl, of course not."

"Well how am I supposed to know? You come in here, climbing quite illegally through the nursery window, climb very improperly into my bed then call me stupid when I don't know where Neverland is. You've some nerve!"

An exasperated sigh gusted against the back of her neck, the arm suddenly loosening and the leg lifting off her. Feeling the body behind her start to back out of her bed, Wendy quickly turned over, her hands grabbing at the torso, her fingers getting hold of a handful of leaves, anchoring the warm body beside her.

"Oh no you don't!" Wendy hissed, still unable to see much under the covers, the heat from their combined bodies making the air muggy within the blankets. "I didn't say you could just go!"

A soft laugh greeted her angry whisper, the body jerking back leaving Wendy with a handful of loose leaves and bits of vines. Throwing back the covers, her hair over her face, Wendy sat up and stared about the dark nursery.

"Where have you gone?"

"Stupid girl.....look up."

Mystified Wendy did just that, her mouth dropping open when her eyes beheld a figure floating somewhere near to the ceiling beside the light fitting. The intruder appeared to be just hanging in space, his body laying parallel to her bed, but facing down, his arm crossed over his chest.

"Who are you?" Wendy asked, pushing herself back onto her pillows and craning her neck to see better. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That!" Wendy pointed at him, her arm dropping to her side when the figure slowly lowered itself until it sat cross legged on the end of her bed.

"It's called flying," the voice answered her disparagingly, Wendy able to see him tilt his head to the side but little else, beside his silhouette. Reaching beside her bed, Wendy fumbled for the candle lamp left for emergencies during the night. This certainly qualified as one in her book and she struck the match, light flaring as she settled the glass shade over the candle, softening the flame. Turning back to face the intruder she shuffled back on her pillows, staring open mouthed at the boy sitting nonchalantly on her bed.

"Good grief, you're a boy!" she exclaimed. The boy rolled his eyes and huffed.

"And you're a girl, albeit a very silly one."

"You said you were cold, are you warm enough now?" Ignoring his rudeness, Wendy drew her legs under her and pulled her shawl about her shoulders.

"Very, thank you."

"Oh....er...good." Feeling at a loss for words, Wendy let her eyes wander over the strange boy, cataloging his features and clothing with some curiosity. He appeared to be a year or two older than herself, his body lean and rangy with long legs and arms, the limbs well rounded with muscles as if he did a great deal of climbing or heavy work. His head was topped with a riot of blond hair that curled around his face and ears in an endearing tussle, the ends ragged as if cut unevenly with a blunt knife. His face and body were deeply tanned a golden brown as if he spent every second of the day out in the sun, that skin also liberally smeared with streaks of dirt, evidence that he'd not bathed for a week or possibly more. His costume was the most remarkable outfit Wendy had ever seen, consisting of a multitude of different shaped and colored leaves, all interwoven to provide a pair of green shaggy trousers that reached from his navel to his knees, a vine crossing his chest and wound around one upper arm. Around his waist was a woven vine belt holding several items including what looked like a homemade pan-flute and a leather knife holder. A skin pouch also hung from the belt and seemed to be filled with something soft while peeping over his shoulder appeared to be the hilt of a sword hanging down his back. His feet were bare and looked as grubby as hers had done only that morning, the toes quite black with dirt, as were his fingernails and hands. Her eyes roamed up his torso and reached his face, her lips parting in a small gasp as she found herself mesmerized by the most beautiful pair of blue-green eyes she'd ever seen in a male face. Above the thickly lashed eyes were straight dark brows, one currently lifted almost to his shaggy hairline, her perusal apparently not appreciated by the object of her scrutiny.

"When you've finished staring...." the boy drew his brows together in a scowl and Wendy lowered her eyes, a flush painting her cheeks scarlet.

"I'm sorry, I know it's rude to stare, but I've never seen anyone dressed quite like you before. Is that sword real?"

"Yes and of course you haven't seen anyone dressed like this....there's only one of me."

"Oh....I see. Do you have a name?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me your name?"

"No."

"Oh......why not?"

"I want to know your name first," the boy replied smugly, his lips tilting up in a winning smile.

"Alright....if you insist. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. Now, what's yours?"

The boy looked a little discomforted, shifting his backside against the coverlet and glancing to left and right. He was scowled again, muttering something incomprehensible into his chest.

"What was that, I didn't quite catch it?" Wendy asked, leaning forward and tilting her head to hear better.

"Peter Pan."

"I beg your pardon?"

"PETER PAN....did you hear that well enough!"

"I should think that most of the street heard you," Wendy retorted, both of them turning to face the beds occupied by John and Michael, the sound of someone turning over in their sleep and grumbling reaching the two poised on Wendy's bed. After a second the sleeper, probably John, settled down and both of the watchers let out a sigh of relief.

"Keep your voice down unless you want to explain to my father why you are in the nursery at this time of night," Wendy scolded.

"He'd have to catch me first," Peter retorted, folding his arms and puffing out his chest. "Never known a grown-up yet catch Peter Pan."

"There's always a first time," Wendy muttered, pulling her shawl about her shoulders. "And just what are you doing sneaking about the nursery?"

"You don't remember do you?"

"Remember what?"

"What we did last night?"

"Last night? I didn't do anything....last....night..." Wendy's voice tailed off, the image of her grubby feet and face flashing into her mind, her eyes rounding as she did indeed remember. "I had dirty feet this morning."

"Well you would insist of on walking instead of flying."

"What of earth do you mean? I didn't go anywhere last night, and certainly not with you!"

Peter sighed, his shoulders drooping as he stared down into his lap. "Yes, you did. We went to Neverland and you stayed a day and a night, then I brought you back."

"Don't be preposterous....I haven't been anywhere for that length of time."

"How did your feet get so dirty then?"

Wendy gaped at him, her mind swirling with half formed images, but simply incapable of believing his outrageous claim. As she tried to sort out what to say her eyes picked up something tangled in the vine attached to his arm. "I found something this morning....I didn't know where it had come from...." she reached under her pillow and produced the green acorn on its slender twig. Holding it out she pointed to a similar acorn sprouting from his vine. Peter took the twig and twirled it between his fingers, smiling.

"Oh yes.....your kiss..."

"My WHAT!" Wendy cried out, Peter's hand coming up to cover her lips to silence her.

"Quiet, you'll have the whole house about our ears."

Peter still twirled the small acorn around, his eyes dancing. "You gave me something last night, and I gave you this in return.....a kiss."

"But that's not a kiss, it's an acorn. Don't you know what a kiss is?"

Peter was scowling again, tossing the small piece of greenery on the bed cover and folding his brawny arms across his chest. "You told me..." He relaxed his arms and reached into the pouch at his waist. "You told me this was a kiss." He held up a small silver thimble, the tiny article perched precariously on the end of Peter's finger. Wendy stared.

"But that's my thimble."

"Then why did you tell me it was a kiss?"

"I don't know.......I don't remember."

"Well if this isn't a kiss......what is?" Peter asked, looking intently at Wendy.

"Oh gracious." Wendy felt the heat rising in her face as she blushed, Peter's eyes narrowing as she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.

"Well?" Peter insisted, leaning forward so that when Wendy lifted her head they were almost nose to nose.

"I-I can't tell you," Wendy stammered, her eyes dropping to stare at Peter's mouth for a lingering moment before she ducked her head again. Peter stared at her in some perplexity.

"Does it hurt? Is that why you won't tell me?"

"A kiss.....hurt? No....at least I don't think so. I only have the ones I've given to my parents to judge by, and the one's they've given me of course." She still couldn't look at him, her hair falling forward to hide her flushed cheeks.

"Then give one to me......please Wendy," Peter earnest request brought her head up, her eyes sweeping over his face and coming to rest on his mouth again.

"It's not entirely proper for a young lady to give a boy she doesn't know a kiss, and certainly not a boy who sneaks into her bedroom and acts like a burglar."

"Wendy," Peter wheedled, drawing her name out, advancing towards her like a panther so that Wendy felt breathless and shockingly excited at the same time. Darting out her tongue she wet her lips in unconscious anticipation, Peter watching that small movement with interest.

Backed up against the headboard of her bed, Wendy found herself with her shoulders against the wood, Peter braced over her, his hands taking his weight where they rested on the edge of the decorated headboard. Wendy was having some difficulty breathing, her lips parting as she tried to draw in air, Peter's scent filling her nose with the smell of warm sunshine and sea air, all combined with the hint of trees and earth, altogether not at all unpleasant.

"How do you give someone a....kiss?" Peter asked, his eyes lit with mischief and his lips stretched wide in a grin of pure wickedness. Wendy swallowed and tilted her chin.

"You.....you press your lips t-to-together with someone else's....er...lips."

"Like this?" Peter leant forward the merest fraction needed to press his closed mouth to Wendy's, the pressure lingering for an instant before he pulled back. Wendy had automatically closed her eyes, but they blinked open when Peter withdrew. Peter was grinning at her with his head on one side.

"Why did you shut your eyes?"

Flustered Wendy looked away, inordinately disappointed with her first kiss. "It's what a lady does...when she's kissed by a gentleman, or so I understand."

"Oh....alright, can we try that again. This time I'll close my eyes."

With her heart fluttering in her chest, Wendy tilted her chin once more and Peter ducked his head, their lips meeting and holding, this time lingering and sliding, experimenting with pressure and position until Peter drew away once more. As if tasting a new flavor he licked his lips, appearing to contemplate what had just taken place before making a pronouncement. "I like it."

"You do?" Wendy felt both elated and slightly frustrated, the kiss lasting no longer than a few seconds, her curiosity peaked but not satisfied. "Do you think....." She paused, Peter once more staring intently, waiting for her to continue. "Do you think you'd like to...do it again?"

In answer Peter leant forward, his arm muscles bulging as he flexed his elbows to lower him sufficiently so that his lips met hers with flattering enthusiasm, the seconds ticking by as they explored the texture and sensations of their first real kiss. Breathless, they broke apart, eyes wide and chests heaving to suck in much needed oxygen. Peter sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving Wendy's as they both experienced the intense physical reactions to kissing.

"Oh my...." Wendy breathed, her lips tingling and her cheeks hot. In fact she felt hot all over, her skin flushed as if she'd been sitting in the sun too long. Peter appeared to be similarly affected, gasping to draw in much needed air, his eyes bright, his cheekbones dark with color. Sinking down onto her pillows, Wendy pressed her hands against her chest, feeling her heart fluttering under her nightdress. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to giggle, the soft sound muted at first, then breaking out so that she was forced to turn on her side and muffle the sound in her pillow. Peter felt a similar urge, his lips tilting into a grin, his eyes dancing. In the light from the candle, Wendy's hair gleamed like burnished gold, the shaking of her shoulders making it ripple down her back like a river. He reached out a hand to touch it, but the sight of his incredibly grubby fingers against the white of her nightdress made him pull back, Peter scowling down at the dirt as if to banish it with thought alone. Holding out both hands he stared at the grime, the condition repeated on his legs and feet, his toes positively black. Suddenly embarrassed to be sitting on Wendy's clean coverlet in all his dirt, Peter clambered off the bed and started to walk across the room towards the window.

Feeling the bed move, Wendy's giggles mysteriously vanished and she raised her head, alarmed when Peter started to walk away.

"Oh wait, please don't go. I'm sorry I laughed...." She scrambled off the side of the bed and ran after him, Peter stopping suddenly to swing around. Wendy cannoned into him, his arms catching her from falling while bringing them flush against each other. Peter was a half-head taller than her, his hands, gripping her waist, much broader than her own, the strength in his arms easily holding her steady until she found her feet. Away from the bedside candle, his face was in shadow, Wendy unable to read his expression in the darkness.

"I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to embarrass you," she curled her own hands around his arms, feeling the flex of hard muscle under her fingertips. Abruptly Peter pushed her away, dropping his hands and jerking his arms to make her let go.

"I have to go," he mumbled, turning away from her and heading once more for the window, his hands yanking the curtains back to reveal the glass behind.

"But you can't go....you haven't told me what happened last night? How my feet got so muddy....where did I go and what did I do?"

He had the sash up and the window open, a cold blast of wintry air chilling them both instantly.

"Oh please Peter..." Wendy reached out her hand, not knowing how to stop him as he sat on the sill and lifted his legs out of the window. Her fingers were suddenly clasped in his, pulling her towards the opening, pulling her towards Peter who perched on the ledge outside, seemingly impervious to the cold. Wendy tried to resist but the strength behind the grip of his fingers was too much for her to pull away. Shivering in the cold air she found herself manhandled through the open window to stand on the small ledge outside, her hair blowing about her face as she stared in abject terror at the drop to the ground below. Tearing her eyes away from the drop, she stared instead at Peter, his blond curls dancing around his head, his eyes so bright and intense she felt mesmerized, the world reducing down to just his gaze, locked on hers. Energy seemed to be radiating from all around him, his skin glowing as if infused with sunshine, his costume of leaves fluttering as if still attached to their branches, the air almost crackling with suppressed excitement.

"I want to take you to Neverland..I want to show you all there is to see....come away with me, Wendy. Come away to a place where it's never cold, where you can swim in warm seas and walk on hot sand."

"But Peter....my family.....my brothers....I can't leave them!" Wendy tried to pull back but found his arm, like a steel bar behind her back, prevented her.

"Forget them....forget them all. I'll teach you to ride the winds' back, to soar among the clouds and swoop above the trees. We'll dance through the stars Wendy.......come with me and let me show you how."

Both entranced and terrified, Wendy stood undecided, his warmth enveloping her and chasing the chills away, his face coming closer until his lips once more pressed against hers, their heat infusing her with thrilling shivers that made her press her body closer, her hands finding their way to his shoulders as they kissed, her body jerking in surprise when his tongue touched her closed mouth. Pulling back Wendy stared into his eyes, stars appearing to swirl in their depths, her feet seemingly no longer touching the icy ledge as his arms held her effortlessly.

"Peter....I...." she started to say then stopped, her glance going over his shoulder to stare in shock at the nursery window now several feet behind them. Peter just quirked an eyebrow and smirked, his eyes darting down then up, Wendy followed his silent suggestion, looking down and seeing her bare toes suspended a long way from the ground. Quickly she squeezed her eyes shut, flinging her arms around his neck to hold herself close.

"Oh my goodness.....we're...we're....floating!" She managed to squeak, burying her face against his neck to shut out the sight of the ground so far below.

"We're flying Wendy. I won't drop you....look around, you're quite safe."

They were directly over the back garden, the tree beside them, it's branches stark against the clear sky. Through the now distant nursery window Wendy could just see her bedside candle flickering in the draft from the open window. Even as she watched the flame was blown out, plunging the room into darkness.

"I'm afraid..." she whispered, her eyes wide and dark as she pulled back, loosening her grip on his neck to see his face better.

"I won't let anything harm you Wendy......I promise, as I promised you last night, and the night before."

"Did I kiss you all those other times too?"

"No," Peter grinned, "this was the first time you kissed me."

"Oh......but why don't I remember those other times?"

"Because.....I didn't want you to remember. I usually only visit once or twice, never the same house each time. They never remember my visits, only in their dreams occasionally."

"Will I remember Peter?"

"Oh yes.....that's why I came back. I wanted you to remember, to never forget....especially now that you've kissed me."

"Oh," Wendy could feel her face getting warm again and buried it back against his neck.

"Are you ready to go Wendy?"

"I don't know....my mother and father...will I see them again?"

Peter shrugged. "If you want to. Neverland is magic Wendy, what will seem like days to you will be but hours to them."

"Magic?"

"Old magic....fairy magic. Neverland is full of it."

Looking down, Wendy could believe that wholeheartedly. "Will it take us long to get to Neverland?"

"Only as long as you wish it." Peter whispered against her hair, his arms supporting her easily as they slowly spun in the air. He felt Wendy draw in a big breath, her head lifting slowly from his shoulder, her eyes dark blue pools of barely suppressed excitement.

"Take me with you to Neverland Peter....I want to see this place you say is full of magic."

"Then away we go."

Wendy saw a glow envelop them, then the ground dropped away, her stomach lurching as they speedily ascended into the sky, London laid out below like a map. The buildings were getting smaller by the second, clouds started to obscure the details as they rose higher still. Feeling her head swirl with vertigo, Wendy squeezed her eyes shut and hung on, Peter's arm keeping her held tight against his body, her heart pounding against her chest wall.

"Open your eyes Wendy and look," Peter whispered, his voice penetrating the thundering of her heart. Lifting her head, Wendy stared entranced at the multitude of colors swirling around them, the heavens punctuated with huge sprawling ribbons of stars, their brightness only fractionally dimmed by the multicolored gas clouds surrounding them. Huge planets spun slowly past, some with rings, some with moons, all of them tightly packed as if crowded into one small part of the cosmos, the bright pinpoints of light like streaks as they sped through, one star appearing brighter.

"Hold on tight Wendy, don't let go," Peter instructed her as they flew like an arrow towards the brightest star, bursting through it's heart to emerge on the other side into darkness. They tumbled downwards, spiraling over and over until Wendy felt sick, the blackness scattered with points of light all around them. Slowly they stopped spinning, Peter loosening his grip on her.

"Do you trust me Wendy?"

"I suppose so..." she answered shakily.

"Let go."

"What?!"

"Hold on to my hand, but otherwise let go."

Cautiously, Wendy did as he asked, her hand gripping his in a vice-like hold but sliding her arms from around his neck so that she seemed to be floating free of him. It was if she was supported by a mattress of air, her limbs held effortlessly a she flew through the air, her initial terror giving way to curious wonder, her stiff face relaxing into a wide smile as nothing un-towards happened. They were now side by side, flying leisurely above a body of water in which the stars shone as in a mirror. Peter reached down and trailed his hand along the surface making the image ripple and break up before tugging Wendy upwards towards the clouds becoming visible in the sky above their heads. In front of them an island started to take shape, the sun rising behind the tall peaks and leaving the island in silhouette as Peter and Wendy approached. As they got closer the sun suddenly broached the islands mountain range, flooding the sky with bright light, the ball of flame rising much quicker than you would expect, at least it seemed that way to Wendy's surprised gaze. When they reached the tiny offshore islands the sun was already climbing to it's zenith, it's warmth reaching out to them and dispelling any lingering chill from their trip through the stars. Peter had drawn them up high enough to be able to look down on the tropical island below, it's rocky shore bordered by lush green jungle, the trees growing tall and thickly together, hiding the ground from view. Deep valleys and soaring mountain peaks undulated along the spine of the island, occasional glimpses of bright ribbons of water showing rivers and streams snaking across the slopes and flatlands as they flew past. The sun had finally stopped its hectic race into the sky, settling for a position just short of midday, although it had taken only minutes to reach that point in the sky. As they flew past a particularly high peak, Wendy saw something bright rise up out of the jungle and streak towards them, leaving a trail of sparkling dust behind it. Peter hadn't slowed and they appeared to leave whatever it was behind them, but that was not the case. The glowing trail overtook them as they circled behind a snowy ridge, the creature that produced the glittering wake circling around them both with the sound of an angry bee. Wendy couldn't tell if it was a bird or a bug, the creature moving too fast to discern it's nature, but that all changed when she felt it grab hold of her hair and pull. Hard.

Reflexively Wendy let go of Peter's hand and grabbed her hair, attempting to relieve the pressure on her stinging scalp. With Peter's magic no longer buoying her up she started to plummet, her body twisting as she fell, her screams piercing as she gave in to understandable panic. Peter swore loudly and dove downwards, the glowing creature that had caused the upset staying where it was and watching intently. Peter put on a burst of speed and managed to get under Wendy, catching her in his arms before she hit the canopy of jungle waiting to swallow her up. The force of the collision knocked the wind out of Wendy and she lay gasping in his arms as he flew them both towards a small hilltop, bare of vegetation. When he touched down he lowered Wendy's legs for her to stand, her knees buckling as soon as they touched the ground, the poor girl fainting dead away in his arms.

"Wendy?" Peter called to her in a panic,but she didn't rouse, her body boneless and insensible. Kneeling down he gently lay her down among the sweet grasses, his hand cradling her head. The mischief making sprite was slowly flying downwards to where Peter crouched, her sparkling trail not so brightly lit as before when she's been so furious. Now she was just curious to see if she'd killed the horrid Wendy creature for good this time. She buzzed around Peter's head, careful to keep beyond his arms reach, her body dancing back and forth to get a better view of the girl laying on the ground.

"Is she dead?" Tink was imprudent enough to ask. Like a snake striking, Peter closed his hand around his fairy companion and held the creature prisoner.

"If Wendy breathes her last, you will follow her within seconds!"

Tink stared in some consternation into Peter's furious face, her aura of smug satisfaction turning to a pale glow of apology, her sudden change of temper not appeasing the young man holding her.

"And don't think I'll forgive your for this days mischief. I banish you from my sight, Tinkerbell. Be gone and don't come back."

Opening his hand he flung the fairy sprite as far as he could, the creature hitting the ground in a shower of fairy dust, one wing sadly crumpled from his rough handling. Disbelieving, Tink rose into the air and tried to approach him, her former buzz of anger turning to the tinkling sound of tiny bells as she tried to mollify his anger with her show of contrition. Peter remained unmoved, his attention all on the girl still laying unconscious at his feet.

"Go away Tink....this is one prank you won't wheedle your way out of this time."

In a flash of temper, Tink turned bright red and tiny flames danced around her body like she'd caught fire. Incensed, she flew directly at Peter's face, his hand swatting at her as if she was an insect. Just barely avoiding his attempt to brush her off, Tink flew up and away into the sky, a red ball of outrage, her passage marked by a thin trail of smoke.

Peter sat on his haunches and stared down at Wendy, his brows pulled together in a fierce scowl as he contemplated how to wake her from her insensate state. He remembered a story about a princess awoken from her slumber by a kiss, the idea making him laugh at the time he'd heard it. Now it didn't seem so fanciful having experienced the magical qualities of a kiss for himself. Bending down he pressed his warm lips to Wendy's, moving them over hers but getting no answering pressure for his efforts. Pulling back he stared down at her face and marveled anew at how her features seemed to please him so much.

Like all boys Peter had his share of arrogant over-confidence, sure in himself that he could charm the birds from the trees if he only put his mind to it. Girls were not that dissimilar to birds, their chatter reminding him of a flock of parrots sometimes. He'd known many girls in his travels between his world and theirs, their reactions to his appearance ranging from lascivious curiosity to shrieking terror. Only a few merited bringing to Neverland, and among those few only one had held his interest for more than one visit. That interest hadn't waned one fraction, and now with the discovery of kissing, his curiosity was starting to know no bounds.

In all the many years that he'd lived in Neverland, he never, before now, felt the need for a human female companion, his memories of his mother giving him a dread of managing women who only wanted to plan his future down to the smallest detail. Peter had been happy to be the eternal boy, the children brought to his world as his companions more than enough of a diversion for his insatiable need to be Master and Commander of his world. When Peter had told Wendy that timed passed differently in Neverland he was telling the truth, but only up to a point. True, Neverland had it's own way of counting the years, but more truly, Neverland slowed time down to keep the reason for its creation alive for as long as possible. Maybe not immortal, but as close as the magical world could render.

Neverland was a world separate from the one Wendy inhabited. Here were none of the mechanical marvels that were turning Wendy's world into one barely recognizable to anyone born the previous century. Machines were being invented and put into use faster than people could become used to them, and war was looming ever closer on the horizon. Neverland was bubble in time, a place where seventeenth century pirates still sailed the seas in eighteenth century ships, the Jolly Roger held captive in the waters around the island, another plaything to relieve the Pan's boredom and provide the excitement needed to keep him also a captive. But Neverland could not entirely stop the Pan from growing, from the tiny babe first brought to it's shores, carried on the dreams and desires of the fairies, to the strapping young man now it's master, the island could only watch him grow, knowing that eventually it's magic would not be sufficient to keep him within it's boundaries unless they let him go beyond and explore the real world of humans with all it's temptations.

Now it waited patiently for it's purpose to make his choice, whether to fly for the last time back to the world beyond the stars, or to stay within it's sheltering cocoon, the human world left to it's own devices.

It could only watch and wait, its creatures both magical and mortal held in thrall while their protector, sustainer and creator made the ultimate choice.

For now, such weighty consideration were not uppermost in Peter's mind, his entire focus on the slim girl laying at his feet.

At length Wendy started to recover from her swoon, her eyelids fluttering as she regained her senses. Peter leant over her, shading her face from the sun, her first view of Neverland after her fall being Peter's concerned face peering down at her.

"Wendy?"

"Oh my head...what happened?"

"Tink happened."

"Tink?"

"I've banished her, so you don't have to worry about her again, at least until I forgive her."

"Tink?" Wendy repeated, accepting his hand to help her sit upright.

"Tinkerbell....she's a fairy with a horrible temper."

"A fairy? But surely, there's no such thing as....." Wendy got no further, Peter's hand clamping over her mouth to stop her saying the fateful words that would condemn a fairy somewhere to drop down dead.

"Don't ever say that Wendy. To say that is the death of a fairy somewhere, usually the closest to you when you say it. Please, not even in jest." He lifted his hand and Wendy nodded her compliance.

"I'm sorry...I didn't know. I promise I won't say it again...ever." She smiled shyly, Peter returning her smile with a sunny grin of his own. Jumping to his feet he spun around like a boy half his age, his arms flung out wide in joyous abandon.

"Welcome to Neverland Wendy!"

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Chapter: Two - Wonders to Explore

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Wendy stared around at the dense jungle surrounding them, the tall peaks overshadowing them, and wondered how on earth she could have forgotten visiting such a wondrous place. Her initial fright had been transformed into an excited anticipation, the urge to explore this island paradise making her almost jump up and down like a small child. Peter lay flopped on the warm grass, his limbs splayed and his eyes closed, still breathing heavily from his mad twirling dervish impersonation. Above their heads a squadron of lazy white clouds drifted by, careful not to block the sun from the small hillock occupied by the Pan and his companion. While Wendy watched their curious progress, the clouds reached a snowy peak, their color turning from white to dirty grey before bunching all together and releasing their rain burden on the slopes of the mountain. Wendy blinked in bemusement, having never seen clouds behave quite so strangely, but she accepted it as par for the course with a sun that rose with indecent haste into the sky, then stayed in that same position for hours on end.

"This place really is magical," she breathed, hugging herself and drawing the sweet scented air into her lungs with relish. After the dusty, coal laden soot of London, Neverland air seemed as heady as champagne, her small taste at a relatives party her only comparison. As she breathed deeply she felt herself relax, her limbs deliciously limp, all trace of anxiety leaching out of her muscles.

"Peter?"

"Hmmm?"

"You said that when I came before, I didn't want to fly."

"That's right."

"I think I might have changed my mind.....is it really possible for me to fly?"

"U-huh."

"But how?"

"Faith, trust and pixie dust.....oh and a happy thought."

"Really? Sounds awfully...simple."

"I guess it does. I don't usually think too hard about it, it just....is."

"Oh...so you don't need," Wendy waved her hands, "all that?"

"Nope....just comes natural, I suppose." He finally opened his eyes and squinted up at Wendy, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "I've always been able to fly, even when I was small."

"Just how long have you been on this island?" Wendy asked, her eyes wide.

"No idea...a long time, certainly. But exactly how long? You'd have to ask the fairies. They brought me here."

"How......different. So you weren't born here," she waited while Peter shook his head, "do you remember your parents?"

"Not really. I sometimes think I remember my mother leaning over my bed, but I couldn't tell you what she looked like, it's all too hazy."

"But how on earth did you go on, without a mother I mean?"

"Go on?"

"Well," Wendy looked perplexed, "I mean.....who fed you, changed your..." she flapped her hand vaguely, "down there, who bathed you when you were little?"

"I don't know....not my mother, anyway. Maybe I didn't need one," Peter shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

"Oh you poor boy.....you never really had a mother."

"I never really wanted a mother, you mean. Who needs a mother when there's food dropping off the trees, ready and ripe to eat? When there's rivers and streams full of clear, fresh water to drink and fish to be caught and eaten. What has your mother done for you, that you couldn't have done for yourself, if you really tried?" Peter was starting to feel uncomfortable, not at all easy with the idea that he'd missed out on something, or that Wendy somehow pitied him.

Wendy was thinking with all seriousness about his question, her delicate brows pulled together as she pondered an answer. Peter had meanwhile risen to his feet in one lithe move, his hands gravitating to his hips as if he expected a battle, his muscles tense in anticipation.

"I suppose the one thing I've had from my mother, which I couldn't have by myself....is love."

"Pah!," Peter scoffed instantly, flapping his hand dismissively, " the very name offends me!"

Wendy looked a little taken aback with his reaction. "Don't you know what love is, Peter?"

"Love is for fools and sissy's. I don't give a fig for love," he snapped his fingers in her face, "and only idiots prose on about it." Very uncomfortable under Wendy's shocked stare, Peter jumped into the air and hovered above her, extending his hand for her to take. "Let's stop talking about all this stupid stuff. There's so many things to show you....come on!"

"But what about flying?" Wendy asked,deciding not to pursue the argument about feelings for the moment, her hand lifting to take his.

"Oh....right," he huffed, annoyed to have forgotten and already missing the feel of her hand in his when he let it drop while he landed on the soft grass. "Stand over here and think of something that makes you happy." While Wendy thought hard to bring to mind a happy something, Peter opened the pouch at his belt and pulled out a small glass vial with something glittery inside. "Have you thought of something?"

"Yes, thank you."

Peter tilted the small glass bottle and shook out some fairy dust into his palm. Replacing the stopper he put the bottle back in his pouch, then came to hover in front of Wendy, his feet not quite touching the grass. Lifting his hand he held it palm out towards Wendy, the small mound of dust at its center glittering in the sunlight. With a gently pursing of his lips he puffed air over the dust, wafting it in a sparkling cloud into Wendy's face where it settled over her cheeks and hair. Wendy blinked and smiled tentatively, feeling no different from a second before. Peter dusted off his hands and folded them across his chest. Still hovering several inches off the ground he circled around Wendy until he was directly behind her, then he leant over her shoulder.

"Are you thinking that happy thought?"

"Oh yes....but I don't really feel any different. When will I know if I'm flying?"

In answer, Peter circled around to face her, his face split with a wide grin. Flicking his eyes downwards, he cocked an eyebrow, Wendy following his gaze to find herself floating quite free of the ground, several feet in the air. Peter wasn't touching her, his arms still folded across his chest, so that Wendy understood that she was doing it all by her own efforts, with a little help from the pixie dust.

"Oh Peter....oh my....." her face was a picture of wonder and delight, her arms lifting of their own accord away from her body, which tilted her slightly a she continued to rise. "Er...Peter? How do I turn, or go forward, or anything?"

Her instructor laughed and reached for her hand, tugging her around to face in the other direction, inordinately happy that Wendy still needed him after all. "Just hold tight, you'll get the hang of it in time. Watch what I do and you'll catch on."

He flew off with Wendy in tow, the jungle passing below them at a faster and faster rate until Wendy called to him to slow down, her new found confidence eroded by fear. They had passed over a vast tract of heavily forested land, the far side of the forest giving way to open grassland, the plain dotted with herds of animals of many different breeds including deer and antelope, goats and sheep all grazing together in apparent harmony. Peter brought them lower so that they almost skimmed the fluffy fronds of the taller grasses, Wendy laughing when they tickled her toes. The animals, which had been peacefully grazing, took off at a gallop when the strange flying creatures dipped and swooped over their heads.

Palm trees appeared up ahead and Peter didn't slow, Wendy letting out a small shriek as Peter dove into and between the tall, slender trunks, weaving in and out with Wendy still in tow. Fortunately the belt of palm trees was relatively shallow, Peter and Wendy emerging on the other side to find a wide, gleaming stretch of sand gently washed by a clear blue sea, the water so transparent Wendy could see hermit crabs scuttling along the bottom of the shell strewn bay. For a second Peter hovered over the sparkling water then went to fly onwards, but found Wendy's hand had slipped from his, her attention taken by the myriad fish darting below her in the water. Entranced by the silver flashes of fish across the sandy bottom, she lay staring face down at them, her face wreathed in smiles, her hair falling forward to screen her face. She lifted her head to beam at Peter who returned her smile for a second, his expression changing in an instant from a smile to a frown, his mouth opening to shout a warning just as something surged out of the water and reached for Wendy. Peter was faster and managed to grab Wendy's gown and tug her upwards and out of the reach of the enraged mermaid thrashing below. The calm sea was a froth of disturbed water, the creature beating the water with its muscular tail, spray arcing high into the air as Peter and Wendy hovered higher up. Peter could feel Wendy shaking from her close call, staring wide eyed as the mythical mermaid sank below the water and sped away with powerful thrusts of its tail flukes. Flying them both back to the beach, Peter set Wendy down on the pristine white sand and peered anxiously into her face.

“Are you alright?”

“I think so......was that a-a-a mermaid?”

“Nasty creatures, and that's when they behave themselves. Don't ever let one catch you in the water, it'll sweetly drown you before you could cry out or escape.”

“How horrid. I always thought they were kind and rescued drowning sailors, or so the stories tell.”

“More like they would be drowning the men or carrying them off to Neptune's Lair as slaves.”

“Neptune? But surely.......he's.....” She saw one dark eyebrow start to rise, “.....not....” A grin tilted Peter's lips as he waited for her to finish, “......real?”

“I'll take you to meet him sometime. Neptune isn't as bad as he makes out, as long as you don't disturb him or try to steal his horde.”

“Oh my,” Wendy murmured to herself.

“And then there's the pirates,” Peter announced apropos of nothing, a wicked gleam in his eye. Wendy started and turned to stare once more.

“Pirates?” She swallowed, “ did I meet them last time I came here?”

“Meet the pirates?” Peter hooted, slapping his knee and doubling up. “You don't want to meet the pirates. They're as bad as the mermaids, but instead of drowning you, they'd as sooner slit your throat or make you walk the plank!”

“Good Lord,” Wendy whispered, thoroughly alarmed. “Is there anyone on this island that doesn't what to kill you as soon as look at you?”

As if suddenly realizing that he wasn't painting Neverland as a particularly attractive place, Peter looked nonchalant and tried to brush off her worries. “The pirates tend to sail around the waters of the Black Castle and the Mermaids usually stay near Mermaid Lagoon or further out into the Four Points sea.” He leant forward as if imparting a secret. “They like to keep an eye on what the pirates are doing.”

“I see.” Wendy looked doubtful but smiled gamely. “So apart from yourself, there are pirates, mermaids, fairies....?” She looked expectantly at Peter, who looked blank for a moment then realized she wanted him to tell her who else inhabited Neverland.

“Oh right......well apart from them, there's the Lost Boy's....”

“Lost Boy's?”

“They're sort of my....er...soldiers. I live with them, usually, and we plan battles and strategies against the pirates, as well as the Piccaninies......”

“And they are?” Wendy interrupted, raising her eyebrows this time.

“You met them before.....but you wouldn't remember, I guess. They are the Redskins......er....Red Indian's that live beside the Green River. I introduced you to the Chief and Tiger Lily.” Peter told her, his brow furrowing for a second, “For some reason I didn't get the feeling you liked the Princess, I don't know why.” Unknown to Peter, Wendy had taken an instant, and quite irrational dislike to the Indian Princess, trusting her feelings despite not remembering them.

“Is the Princess beautiful?” Wendy tried to appear unconcerned with the answer, shading her eyes from the sun and peering over the bay to the distant horizon.

“You thought so, when you first saw Lily, but not long afterwards you had this look on your face,” he shrugged, “I don't know....for some reason you and she just didn't hit it off.”

“I see,” said Wendy, seeing far more than Peter on this matter. “So apart from the Lost Boys and the, er Piccaninies, is there anyone else I should know about?”

“Not really, but you never know in Neverland. Unusual people and new animals turn up at the oddest times and in the strangest places.”

“Goodness. Don't you know where they come from?”

“Not really. Oh, there is one thing you should be careful of, in fact I'd make a point of keeping well clear of it, if I were you.”

“What Peter, what is it?”

“The Crocodile. It's not your ordinary croc, this one is huge,” he spread his arms wide, “with the biggest teeth and the wickedest temper. You can usually hear it coming because it ticks, like a clock...”

“It what?” Wendy exclaimed, laughing nervously and half hoping that Peter was only teasing.

“Ticks, like a clock. It swallowed an alarm clock and you can hear it ticking. Sometimes the alarm goes off as well, as an added warning.”

“How did a crocodile, even a big one, come to swallow an alarm clock?”

“Because Hook threw the clock at the creature to distract it after it bit off his hand!”

“Good Lord, how dreadful, the poor man!”

Peter looked askance, not expecting his enemy to garner pity. “James Hook is a pirate and not worth your pity!”

“But to have lost his hand...” Wendy reproved, her soft heart imagining some poor sailor with a grievous injury. Peter scowled at her angrily.

“Hook manages quite well for a pirate with only one hand. He quickly replaced it with a wickedly sharp hook which he uses for gutting and slitting throats without turning a hair, so don't feel sorry for him. He wouldn't feel sorry for you!”

“A pirate?”

“My enemy and yours. Captain Hook would not hesitate to put you to the plank, so don't spare any pity for him.”

Wendy stared at Peter, noting his high color and tense body, correctly deducing that this Captain Hook was a considerable thorn in Peter's side. “I'll remember what you said Peter, if I'm every captured by the scurvy rat.”

“I'll teach you to fight with a sword so you can defend yourself,” Peter offered, drawing his blade from over his shoulder and pretending to fight a fierce battle with an imaginary foe, the steel blade cutting and slicing the air with quite vicious precision. Wendy watched admiringly, her eyes bright, clapping when Peter finally finished his demonstration of swordsmanship by tossing the blade end over end before catching it in his hand and sheathing the sword once more. Peter looked pleased with himself and gave her a small bow to acknowledge her applause. Wendy found herself having to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn as the long hours without sleep caught up with her.

“Oh please excuse me, it's just I haven't been sleeping well and I'm just a bit tired,” she explained, ignoring the quick frown of annoyance that crossed her companions face. “Maybe you should show me where you live?”

“I suppose so. Maybe you'll remember it, you've been there twice already.” Taking her hand he took a step and leapt into the air. This time Wendy was ready and leapt with him so that they lifted effortlessly into the sky and above the tree tops. Leaving the bay behind them, Peter flew speedily towards the heart of the forest, the trees densely packed like a carpet beneath them. Without warning, Peter dove straight down towards the topmost branches, Wendy drawing in a breath of alarm before finding herself plunged into the canopy and surrounded by leaves on all sides. Miraculously they avoided being speared or snagged by any of the branches, Peter leading them through the filtered green sunlight as if following a well trodden path. Wendy barely had time to take in the fluttering green leaves and dense jungle before Peter pulled her through what appeared to be a thick hedge, the leaves parting before him like a wave and closing behind her just as mysteriously. On the other side was a clearing carpeted with a variety of flowers and low growing plants forming a circle around the base of a tree. Peter set them down, Wendy's feet cushioned by the flowers and sinking in ankle deep. Dropping her hand, Peter raised his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, the sudden sound making Wendy clap her hands over her ears in protest. Before she could remonstrate with him the tree seemed to sprout a multitude of openings, camouflaged hatches swinging open and disgorging several small bodies as if catapulted from the inside. Wendy took a step back as the furred and feathered bundles unwound themselves to reveal a motley collection of young boys, all of them heavily armed with a variety of cudgels, knives and bows. Peter stood where he'd landed, his feet braced apart and his arms folded across his chest. Wendy edged to stand behind him as the assorted weapons carried by the boys seemed all to be pointed at her. In the silence that followed Wendy could hear the soft swish of the leaves above their heads as the wind rustled the branches while birds chirruped and squawked overhead. In a blink the tableau disintegrated, the Lost Boys lowering their weapons and relaxing their martial stance on recognizing their Captain and his companion.

“Oh, its just that girl again,” one particularly grubby individual commented disparagingly. Lowering his tomahawk, he tucked it in to his belt and rolled his eyes at Peter. “Couldn't you get rid of her this time Peter?”

“Shut up Crate,” Peter growled, scowling at his henchman. The other's took their cue and kept their comments to themselves, staring round eyed and warily at Wendy, who still stood half behind Peter and peered back at them with equal caution. “Line up men!” Peter ordered, his troops hastily sorting themselves into a ragged line according to height. Peter unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back before marching down the line to inspect the boys ranged before him. Wendy thought the whole scene very comical and had to swallow hard to stifle the giggles welling up in her chest. His inspection finished, Peter turned and held out his hand for Wendy. “This is my Wendy, as you know, she's here to stay this time.”

“Oh no, Peter really, it was just for a visit....” Wendy protested faintly, but her voice was drowned out by a the outraged and angry arguing of the Lost Boys. Peter clapped his hands over his ears as the boys gathered around him, the one called Crate shouting the loudest between shooting scowling looks at Wendy.

“QUIET!” Peter bellowed, cutting short the many and colorful arguments being debated on all sides. “I'm Captain here and what I say goes. Now cut line and get out of my sight!” He punctuated his order with a sweep of his arm, the boys scattering and darting away into the jungle, the clearing miraculously clear of noise and bodies within seconds. Wendy stood a little aback, wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip as Peter hung his head and breathed heavily, fighting to control his temper.

“Peter?”

“Forget them, forget them all. What I say goes, and I say you're here to stay.”

“But Peter...don't I have a say in the matter?”

For a second Peter maintained his ferocious scowl, then just as quickly it was gone and his expression cleared. Grinning, he flung out his arms and made Wendy a handsome bow, his eyes alight with laughter. “Of course you don't Wendy, this is Neverland and I am it's King. Now you are it's Queen, and a Queen always does what the King wants.”

“What if the Queen decides to abdicate?” Wendy muttered, unable to entirely repress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at his engaging grin.

“Then the King would just have to persuade the Queen that she really wants to stay and keep him company. You will stay, won't you Wendy?”

“For a little while,” Wendy agreed, dipping into a curtsy, her eyes lowered as her nightdress swept the ground. On rising she found Peter had moved so that they almost bumped noses, his lips covering hers in an intense but brief kiss before he moved away and drew her after him.

“Come on, I want to show you the Hollow, it's where we live, at least for this week.”

“This week? Don't you live here all the time?”

“Nah! We have half a dozen hidden hideouts scattered all over Neverland. If we stayed all the time in just one, the Pirates would have us dead to rights. So instead we move between them, a different one each week. It keeps the Pirates confused and incapable of finding us.”

“I suppose that's a good reason, but hardly comfortable, I'd have thought.”

Peter was standing beside the broad trunk of the enormous tree, leaning against the rough bark with a smug grin on his face. When he had Wendy's attention, he poked a finger into a knot-hole, the action precipitating a large area of the trunk to swing outwards and reveal a doorway into the tree. Wendy gasped and bent forward to peer into the darkness.

“How clever, I never would have thought to look there.”

“Follow me, and keep close or the booby-traps will get you.”

“Booby-traps?” Wendy asked in some trepidation, clutching Peter's hand as he led her reluctantly forward into the dark maw.

“Trust me Wendy, I won't let them get you,” Peter whispered, his voice sounding strange within the confines of the tree trunk, Wendy clutching at his fingers as they started down a spiral staircase cut into the living heart of the tree. Wendy couldn't see a thing in the darkness, her senses reaching out as they slowly made their way down below ground level. She could smell the damp sweet smell of freshly dug earth as well as the aroma of fresh cut timber. Her free hand braced her against the wall of the hideout, her fingers brushing over the fibrous walls that felt almost spongy under her fingertips.

“Nearly there,” Peter voice floated to her out of the darkness, her feet stumbling a little on the uneven stairs as they continued down into the roots of the tree. Down below Wendy could see light starting to highlight the stairwell from a archway at the bottom, the golden glow a welcome sight after the suffocating darkness. Wendy crowded past Peter to enter the large room that opened out from the stairwell. She felt relieved to be free of the confining entrance and looked about the room with interest. Peter had left her and sauntered over to what looked like a large, barbaric throne, the high back made of smoothly polished wood hung all about with animal skins, shells and feathers. Supremely at his ease, Peter undid the vine holding his sword harness, dropping it to the floor before sitting down and looping one long brown leg up and over the armrest, his foot swinging as he watched Wendy explore the hideout. Brushing off her skirts she stepped forward and tilted her head to look up at the ceiling several feet above her head. Spidery roots hung down through the earth while bigger roots twisted and writhed around the walls. Several niches had been carved out of the soil to form what Wendy supposed were sleeping bays for the boys, the alcoves lined with more animal furs or soft grasses for bedding. The floor had been lined with soft moss to fill in the hollows in the dirt and provide a soft carpet underfoot. Around the walls blazed small lamps made out of large sea shells, their flames kept well away from the dry roots while providing a steady and bright light. In all it was warm, dry and very cozy

“What do you think?” Peter asked, appearing quite nonchalant while he picked at his nails with a sharp knife, but Wendy could tell that he was actually keenly awaiting her verdict.

“Very......homely. Although I have never lived in a burrow underground, I would say that this is a very snug and comfortable home Peter. Are your other hideouts as comfortable as this one?”

“Some are, some aren't,” Peter replied enigmatically, thumping the tip of the knife into the wooden arm of the chair and launching himself off the throne. “You said you were tired, so you can sleep here if you want to.” He indicated an animal skin hanging on the wall, sweeping it back with his arm to reveal a much larger alcove dug into the wall of the room, the roof and walls covered in small roots that twisted and wove around each other to form a bower. Each root was smooth as if polished, holding the earth back and making a secure cradle for the bed. A multitude of animal skins of many different hues and sizes lay scattered over the surface of the bed, some heaped up to form a pillow at the head and all looking soft and inviting. Wendy smiled tentatively at Peter before hitching up her skirt and climbing up onto the bed, her fingers digging into the soft furs as she turned to kneel in the center of the soft mattress and turned to face Peter. He had secured the animal skin curtain back so that she could see out into the room and now stood waiting for her to speak. Suddenly shy, Wendy blushed and concentrated on stroking the different types of furs.

“This is your bed, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“It's very nice Peter. Did you.....er.....kill all these animals yourself?”

“No,” Peter laughed, “I traded with the Indians for them. They make the best and softest furs.”

“What did you use for trade?” Wendy asked, curious. She was well aware that animal fur in her world was highly prized, her mother owning only a few pieces herself while her Aunt Millicent owned a fine collection of muffs and silky fur collars, all of them costly. Peter shrugged.

“Pearls mostly, sometimes coral. They use them to decorate their dresses and headbands. The mermaids find them for me.”

Thinking of her mother's highly prized but small, single strand pearl necklace, Wendy nodded her head. “Pearls would be a fine trade for these lovely furs. And of course, you can always eat the oysters.”

A brief expression of disgust crossed Peter's face before he hopped up on the side of the bed himself and swung his legs. “Oh we don't eat them. They can't keep producing pearls if we keep eating them. No, they give up the pearls to the Mermaids who give them to me in tribute after they've picked out what they want for themselves.”

“So the pearls are like money on Neverland.....I see.”

“I suppose so. Do you like my bed?”

“It's very comfortable. It seems much bigger than the other beds......” Wendy halted her observations, realizing the implications of what she'd just said. “I mean......I suppose because you're the biggest....er the tallest.....oh dear.” She blushed bright red and ducked her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. Peter appeared not to notice anything amiss with her statement and blithely linked his hands behind his head and lay back on the furs.

“Well of course. I'm the King, and Kings always have the biggest bed, don't they?”

“Of course, I had forgot. So as Queen, do I get a big bed too?”

“Yeah, you get this one, if you want it?”

“Oh I don't think that would be entirely proper Peter. The other's would, well....I don't think the Lost Boy's would like me to be sleeping in your bed.”

“Why not? Kings and Queens sleep together, don't they?”

“Well actually, from what I've read about royalty, I don't think they even sleep in the same palace, let alone the same bed!”

“Then how do they have princes and princesses?” Peter asked, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. Wendy didn't know what to do with herself, the alcove seemingly full of Peter and the air suddenly very thin.

“Um.....I'm not sure we should be having this conversation.”

Peter frowned. “Don't you know where children come from?” He asked, looking at her pityingly.

“Don't be stupid, of course I know where children come from, I'm fifteen for heaven's sake......do you?”

“I'm not stupid, I've seen where babies come from at the Indian village......and anyway, how did we get on to this talk about babies.” Suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed, Peter flung himself onto his back again and stared frowningly up at the roof of the alcove. “Girls always have to talk about blasted babies,” he muttered, rolling onto his other side and presenting his golden brown back to Wendy.

“Well it's not my fault,” Wendy replied heatedly, “you started talking about Kings and Queens and princes and whatnot.”

“I thought you were tired,” Peter growled from the end of the bed.

“I am, and if you'll remove yourself from the bed I'll have a little lie down and close my eyes.” Wendy nudged him with her toe before scooting back up to the head of the bed. With an aggrieved sigh, Peter sat up and slid off the bed before marching back over to the throne and throwing himself into it. Wendy watched him for a second or two before carefully stretching out on the luxurious furs and laying on her side.

“Peter?”

“Yes.”

“I know you said something about days here being only hours back home, but is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. But you do realize I can't stay here forever, even if it is longer than I stayed before?”

“Maybe.”

“Peter?”

“Go to sleep Wendy. The Lost Boys won't be back for a while, but I'll stay and keep watch.”

“I just need a little nap,” she yawned, her eyes already feeling heavy as she snuggled into the soft furs. Once more her eyelids rose, as if to check that Peter was still sitting in his ornately decorated chair, before slowly closing as Wendy gave in to the lull of the soft furs and fell asleep, her cheek pillowed on her palm. Peter swung his foot back and forth over the arm of his throne, watching the girl on his bed slip into dreamland, a smile curving her sweet lips. Somewhere inside him a feeling started to grow, a warmth that was only a spark now, but just as a spark can grow into a blazing fire, so this spark inside him felt as if it could grow to encompass the world. Being supremely confident, he didn't attribute the sensation to nerves or insecurity, but instead decided it was just the way that Wendy made him feel, like the jolt he felt every time she turned her smile on him, her eyes lighting up when they met his, the glow inside making his heart thump and his muscles twitch until he wanted to explode in all directions. Then there was the feeling he got when his lips had touched hers that first time. It was as if an ember had jumped between them, a crackle of energy that acted like magnetism and drew him back again, and again. Even in the glade above, he felt the overwhelming urge to see if the ember was still there, his curiosity urging him to kiss her again, the sensation as alive and vibrant as the first time. He wanted to ask her if she felt it too, but his tongue tied itself up in knots and the question remained unasked. He had to find a way to make sure that she never left Neverland, never left him. The two previous times he'd brought her to his island she been in an all fire hurry to return home, despite apparently enjoying her time with him and the fun they'd had together. This time he wasn't prepared to let her return home, sure in his own mind that if he did let her go, he'd never entice her back again or worse, she not ever want to see him again. So she was here to stay, forever and ever, she was his choice from all the others, she was the one, there would be no others. A yawn suddenly interrupted his musings and he opened his mouth wide, his jaw cracking as he sucked air into his lungs. A moment before he'd felt wide awake, but now he felt the pull of sleep on his eyelids, his chin sinking to his chest as weariness stole over him. Slumped on his throne, he dozed fitfully, his head jerking up every few minutes as he shifted to find a more comfortable spot. At last he gave up the unequal battle and got up, making his way over to the couch where Wendy slumbered peacefully. Divesting himself of his remaining weapons, pouch, pan pipes and other paraphernalia, he crawled onto the bed and up behind Wendy, the bed wide enough to hold them both in comfort. Wendy was still on her side, her back to him, so he lay as she did, staring for a moment as the cascade of hair flowing over the pillow and her shoulders to half way down her back. Careful not to touch her, he lifted a length of her hair and let it fall through his fingers, his mouth opening on another enormous yawn as he settled down to sleep, his eyes drifting shut as Wendy's steady breathing lulled him into a doze. Just before he dropped off, he jerked upright and flicked the animal skin curtain he'd pulled back before, the skin falling forward to seal the alcove off from the room beyond, light leaking in around the edges so that they lay in a faint gloom, safe and secure in a world of their own.

Wendy awoke several hours later to the sound of voices on the other side of the hide curtain. They were hushed and muted and she could only make out one word in ten, but curiosity kept her still, her body warm and relaxed against the furs as she listened intently.

“I say it don't mean anything good for us if she's here,” one of the voices announced loudly, only to be shushed by others.

“Keep ya voice down Crate, we knows how you feels,”

“We managed to get her to leave the last two times, what's so different about this time?”

“He's never brought a mort more than once to Neverland. This one's been here three times now. You don't think that's significant?”

“What's significant mean?”

“Important.”

“Oh....ta.”

“Stow it Squid. I say this time she's here for good. So how are we going to get rid of her?”

“Why do we need to get rid of her?”

“Stupid twit. This one is different. There's only one reason he's brought the mort here to Neverland to stay.”

“Why Crate, why?”

“Cos' he's gonna marry her!”

A muted chorus of awed voices chittered for a second or two before being shushed.

“Hush the lot of ya, you'll wake them up!”

“How do ya know that what he wants with her?”

“Lawd Grub, it's obvious?”

“What's obvious mean?”

“Easy to see,”

“Oh.....ta.”

“He could just want her to cook and clean for us......like a maid or something?”

“A gentry mort like that ain't a maid.”

“She could be here to be our mother?”

“I don't need no stinkin' mother, neither does Peter.....no, she's here for another reason and it can only bode ill for us.”

“I thought she was pretty.”

“Hah! You aint no judge Rat. You think flowers are pretty and rainbows and butterflies!”

“Well, they are....”

“One day your daydreaming will get you caught by the pirates for sure.”

“No it won't.....I'm always the one that warns the rest of you.”

“That's true. Rat has the best hearing......”

“We're not talking about Rat, we're talking about her and how to get rid of her!”

“Well Peter might have something to say about that Crate.”

“Shut up Harry and keep your hoity toity views to yourself.”

“I've got as much right as you to speak Crate, you're not the leader here.”

“Maybe not now, but that could change.”

“Crate, what are you saying?”

“Nuffin....this is stupid talk. All I want to know is how to get rid of the mort.”

“Well I suggest we talk to Peter, find out why she's here...maybe she won't want to stay.”

A murmur of voices in agreement drowned out the next comment, and then it was silent for a while. Wendy lay listening intently, her senses stretching out to the room beyond. Her heart was thumping unevenly, her fingers pleating the bodice of her night gown as she waited to hear what fate the Lost Boys had in mind for her. She had never understood the old adage about eavesdroppers hearing no good about themselves, but now she realized how true the old saying was. Despite knowing that the voices belonged to children not much older or younger than her brothers, their intent sent a chill down her spine, their obvious dislike of her making her want to cry. She must have made a sound because the next thing she knew, a warm hand had captured hers and Peter spoke softly in the darkness.

“I won't let them hurt you Wendy. I'm the captain here and what I say is the law. Don't be afraid.”

Taking care to make as little sound as possible, Wendy turned over so that she faced Peter, his face barely discernible in the gloom.

“You are making a habit of being in my bed, Peter Pan!” Wendy whispered, both angry and immeasurably pleased that he was by her side.

“Well it was my bed first,” Peter argued, also whispering.

“They don't want me here Peter,” Wendy whispered back, “they don't like me.”

“They don't know you Wendy. I want you here and that's all thats important.”

“Am I to be your servant, your maid?”

“No.”

“Then.....” Wendy swallowed. “Did you bring me here to marry me?”

“NO!” Peter hissed, only just stopping himself from shouting the word out loud.

“Then why did you bring me here? If you don't know, how do you expect them to understand?”

“They don't need to understand, they just have to obey orders.”

“Well that won't work.......maybe I should just go home.”

“No. Wendy....please. I want you to stay...to stay with me. You've seen them, they're children, not like you. I need you.....I....”

“Alright Peter......I'll stay, at least for a little while. But what are you going to do about them?”

“Leave them to me Wendy.” Peter's whispered affirmation went a long way in dispelling some of Wendy's trepidation. They lay facing each other, an inch apart, wrapped in the cocoon of the bed, lost in the moment. Leaning forward, Peter pressed his lips to hers, the darkness making the experience more exciting as Wendy responded and tilted her head to give him greater access. Where it would all have led was never to be found out as a loud noise beyond the alcove jerked them apart and Peter swept back the animal skin curtain before leaping off the bed to face his band of boys.

The Lost Boys sat on the floor of the Hollow in a ragged circle. As one they rose to their feet and faced their leader. The tallest stepped forward and pointed a grubby finger at Wendy who sat on the side of the bed watching.

“What's with her Peter? Is she staying for good?”

“What's it to you Crate if she is?”

The younger boy bristled and drew himself up to increase his height. Even so, he was a good inch shorter than Peter who remained relaxed but alert, his arms folded over his chest as he waited for Crate to speak.

“Is she to be our skivvy or your.....” Crate didn't finish, just looked over at Wendy and leered horribly.

Peter remained unperturbed, shifting his weight from one hip to the other as if uncaring of the answer. Wendy sat tensely and watched with wide eyes.

“If Wendy wants to help out with the chores that's up to her to decide. As for the other......that's none of your damn business Crate. I'm Captain and what I say goes......unless you want to issue a challenge?”

“Oh no Peter, Crate didn't mean.....” one of the other boys spoke up only to be silenced by a look from the taller boy.

“I don't need you speakin' on my behalf Grub....I can speak for myself.”

“Yes.......I noticed.” Peter dropped his relaxed stance and stood with his arms at his sides, his muscles tense. “Choose your weapons Crate and lets get this over with.”

For a second the group of boys stared wide eyed at Peter, then suddenly they started to whoop and holla, jumping up and down and rushing around the Hollow in what seemed to Wendy to be a chaotic scramble. Peter and Crate stood still among the chaos while the others leapt and gamboled about them. Totally confused, Wendy slid off the bed and stood clutching at the skin curtain for support.

“What's happening?” She asked, Peter half turning his head to acknowledge her question.

“Crate has issued a challenge, and I must answer it. It won't take long.”

“A challenge...you mean a duel?”

“Stupid mort......we're going to fight of course!” Crate snarled, his dark eyes never leaving Peter's face. “I choose daggers and rope.”

“I agree.” Peter's answer was almost drowned out by the howling boys, the noise like wolves as they scattered about the room, disappearing up a series of concealed tunnels towards the outside. Crate was the last to leave, sauntering over to his bed and collecting his knife. Tossing it casually into the air, Crate left the Hollow via a concealed tunnel leaving Peter and Wendy alone. With Crate's departure, Peter turned to face Wendy, his body losing it's tense stance as he approached the bed. Wendy stared at him wide eyed, not at all sure of what she'd just witnessed.

“Peter, are you really going to fight that boy?”

“It's the law Wendy. He challenged, I accepted.”

“But.....but.....”

“Don't you think I can win?” Peter asked, pulling a rueful expression.

“Of course you'll win. You're taller, stronger and you can fly.”

“Yes, I suppose those could all be advantages, but then you've never seen Crate fight.”

“Is he good?”

“The best there ever was in hand to hand combat.”

“Oh Peter......you don't really mean to hurt each other, do you?”

“You'll just have to watch and find out.”

Rummaging among the furs, Peter produced a leather scabbard which he attached to his vine belt before holding out his hand for Wendy to take. “Come on, they'll be waiting for us.” Once more he led her up the spiral staircase carved within the heart of the tree, the journey seeming to be much shorter this time. Wendy had to shade her eyes when they stepped through the bark doorway, the sun still high in the sky despite the passage of time since she'd arrived. Peter dropped her hand and led the way towards a path that disappeared into the jungle. Wendy followed, all the while looking around and wondering where the Lost Boys were hiding. After a short walk they arrived as what looked like an earthen amphitheater. The bowl like depression had gently sloping grass covered sides and a large circular beaten earth floor. The Lost Boys were seated around the grassy edge while Crate stood in the center of the circle of flattened dirt, tossing his knife repeatedly into the air and catching it. Each toss made the blade catch the sun, flashing wickedly sharp before being caught deftly by its owner again.

“Stay up here Wendy.........this shouldn't take long.”

“Be careful Peter......” Wendy whispered, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Peter grinned and turned to leave, jumping down the broad grassy steps to reach the bottom of the amphitheater while the other Lost Boy's scattered to seat themselves at vantage points around the terraces. Wendy seated herself on the grass and tucked her skirts around her, her hands shaking a little at the prospect of the fight to come. Peter looked relaxed and confident as he stood while one of the Lost Boys bound his left wrist to the other boys' forearm, their difference in height now not so apparent. Peter had drawn his knife and held it in his right hand. The remaining Lost boys seemed to have split themselves into two groups, one to cheer on Crate, the others to cheer their Captain, Peter. Wendy sat in splendid isolation and watched the proceeding with interest and a little fear. The boy that had bound Peter and Crates wrists now stood back and raised his arms to silence the watchers.

“The first to draw blood is the winner,” the boy announced, waiting for the combatants to nod their agreement before continuing. “If Captain Pan wins, then she stays, unharmed and unmolested. If Crate wins, she's out of here!” His speech finished, the boy scrambled out of the arena and seated himself with his friends. Almost at once the boys started up chants to encourage and support their side of the fight, the air filled with shrill voices and loud shouting. Wendy watched in horrid fascination as the two young men, bound together, started to circle around each other, their bound arms held out at full length to give them room to move. The shorter boy gave his arm a sharp tug, pulling Peter closer while at the same time snaking out his right arm to aim his blade at Peter's mid-drift. Wendy pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself screaming as the sun caught the wicked blade as it sliced in an arc aimed at Peter's ribs. Pan danced out of reach, the dirt at his feet puffing up in clouds as both fighters pulled and shifted to bring the other closer to the exposed blades. This shuffling dance went on for several seconds while they tested their balance and strength, both staring intently at the other, the jeering crowd watching all but forgotten as they concentrated on the other's blade. Knife blades flashed towards each other at the same time, the clash of metal on metal ringing out as the two boys circled and parried, the dust rising up to obscure Wendy's view of the fight as the combatants jerked and circled each other in a fierce struggle for supremacy. To Wendy it seemed the barbaric dance would never end, but even as she thought it Peter somehow managed to twist his arm and throw Crate off balance, the shorter boy landing on his back from a clever leg tackle by his opponent, Peter ending up straddling Crates chest, his knife pressed to the boys throat. All around the arena both groups of Lost Boys cheered and whooped, saluting both the victor and the vanquished, Wendy only able to stand there and clap her delight in Peter winning the fight.

“Do you surrender?” Peter asked, his chest heaving from the wrestle to lay Crate down.

“Never!” Crate hissed, the press of Peter's knife against his throat not restraining him one whit.

“Then first blood it is,” Peter announced, pressing home his blade and drawing a thin line across the boys neck. Blood instantly welled from the cut and another cheer rose from the onlookers. Peter then cut the rope binding their wrists and climbed up off his adversary, holding out his hand for Crate to take to help him up. Hesitating only a second, Crate took Peter's hand and leapt nimbly to his feet. Both boys were liberally coated in dust and sweat, the trickle of blood very bright against Crates pale skin.

“You win Peter.....the gentry mort stays.”

“Unmolested and unharmed?”

“As you say,” Crate agreed, taking Peter's hand and clasping it briefly before turning away to face his supporters. Peter wiped his blade on his trousers before sheathing it at his belt. Looking up he saw Wendy still standing where he left her, her hands clasped together and held in front of her mouth. Jumping into the air he flew up to where she stood, landing gently beside her, his face split with a triumphant grin.

“I won!”

“I saw.” Wendy was still staring down at the group of Lost Boy's milling around Crate. “I've never seen a fight before.....”

“Oh that was nothing. You should have seen the fight I had when Jack wanted to be the Pan. That was much worse.”

“Which one is Jack?” Wendy asked, scanning the collection of boys below them.

“Jack's no longer one of the Lost Boys,” Peter stated, staring pensively down at the younger boys milling about the arena.

“He's dead?” Wendy asked, shocked at the thought that Peter might have killed another boy.

“No, worse. He joined Hook's crew and became a pirate.”

“A pirate?”

“Black Jack they call him now,” Peter looked up at the sky above their heads, his mood unreadable. “It'll be dark soon, and I need to wash off this dirt. Come with me?”

“Alright.” Wendy slipped her hand into his and they lifted off into the air, the arena and Lost Boys left far behind as they flew over the tops of the trees. Peter flew them to a clearing which held a pool at its heart, the edge fringed with reeds and bull-rushes. On one side was a shallow gravel beach leading down into the water. On the opposite side was a heaped cairn of rounded boulders that reached up over the pool for nearly twenty feet. It looked strange in the middle of the clearing but Wendy didn't worry about the geological oddity as she touched down on the short turf, Peter letting go of her hand straight away.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Peter crowed, galloping away to clamber up the rocky pile only to leap off into space and plunge into the pool, Wendy's cry of alarm unheard above the tremendous splash of water. Peter's head appeared on the surface and he quickly dived out of sight again, his body slicing through the clear water like a golden carp. Wendy approached the pool from the shallow beach, her toes digging into the gravel and she extended her foot to test the temperature of the water. Peter appeared in the shallows and started to splash water at her, making her laugh and scream.

“Stop it Peter, I don't want to get wet!”

“Why not.....the water's warm and clear and your feet are dirty.” He scooped up a handful of water and doused her, making Wendy dodge back out of range.

“No really Peter....I don't want a bath.....please!”

“Aw...come on Wendy. You can swim, can't you?”

“Well actually.......no, I can't.”

For a moment Peter looked taken aback by her answer, his eyebrows knotting as he pondered what to do next. Wendy stood shaking out her nightdress to dry it from the few water droplets scattered about the hem, not paying attention to what Peter was doing. Her inattention was her downfall when she found herself scooped up and flung over Peter's shoulder so that her head hung down his back.

“Put me down!” Wendy shrieked as Peter started to wade back into the water, unhindered by Wendy's kicking legs.

“As you wish m'lady,” Peter answered, flipping Wendy off his shoulder and on to her back in the shallow water. Flailing, Wendy found herself half submerged and thoroughly soaked, her hair blinding her as she cried out at her sudden wetting.

“Oh you beast....I'm soaked now, and only this nighty to my name. What am I supposed to wear while this dries, I'd like to know?”

Peter lay in the shallows on his stomach beside her, his head gleaming wetly in the sunlight. Unrepentant he grinned up at her, his eyes dancing.

“You could wear something like what I wear,” Peter suggested, idly twirling his finger in the water as a small raft of green leaves floated past him. Wendy also noted the leaves floating on the surface of the water and glanced down at Peter's legs, noting that more of his skin appeared to be showing than normal.

“Er....Peter....are your leaves supposed to be coming off like that?” She pointed to the increasing number of leaves floating on the surface of the water. Peter glanced at them and shrugged.

“Oh yes......they do that if they get wet. I just get myself another suit of leaves when I need them.”

“But.....er....do you wear anything other than leaves?” Wendy asked, Peter looking at her blankly for a moment. “I mean, do you were......underclothes, under the leaves?”

“What?” Peter asked, staring down at himself then over his shoulder as more leaves floated past. “Oh no....nothing at all usually.”

“Oh dear.......oh dear......” Wendy started to mutter, scrambling to her feet and hastily retreating from the pool, her nighty clinging wetly to her body. “Oh dear....” she continued to murmur as she plucked at the wet material to stop it clinging so closely to her outline. “I think I'd better leave you to your bath Peter.......I'll wait for you....er.....over there.” She indicated a large clump of shrubby plants near to the edge of the clearing, averting her eyes from the golden youth still lounging in the shallows, surrounded by a growing flotilla of green leaves.

“Wendy?”

“I'll be over here.......” Wendy hurried over to the bushes and turned her back on the pool, her face scarlet as she contemplated just how many leaves Peter must be wearing, or not wearing by now.

Back at the pool, Peter shrugged again before turning around and plunging into the deeper part of the pool, the last of his leaves giving up the unequal struggle of remaining on his body and instead sluicing off with his dive underwater. Peter emerged with only the vines remaining about his body, his leaf trousers completely missing as he trod water and shook his head to free his hair of water. Looking over his shoulder he could see Wendy still standing with her back to the pool apparently absorbed in looking at the leaves of the bushes beside her. Wendy's hurried departure from the pool had only afforded him a brief flash of wet legs and damp dress as she'd run out of the water, her nighty clinging to her limbs and body in places and exciting his curiosity, outlining as it did the dips and hollows of her body in strange ways. Peter was not unaware that girls were put together quite differently than boys, his insatiable curiosity piqued to find out how different Wendy looked under her voluminous dress, the water affording him only a confused and frustrating glimpse. He knew from his association with the Indians that females came in a variety of shapes and sizes and his close handling of Wendy had told his hands that she had many interesting curves that didn't correspond to what he knew of his own body. It was all bound up in these new feelings that seemed to be taking over his mind and heart, all of them conspiring to make him mad with wanting to know everything there was to know about Wendy and how she made him feel. It had been true when he'd told her that love was something he knew little about, or even wanted to know about, but that it offended him was not entirely true. Were all these jumbled feeling and sensations love? He didn't know, but he was willing to find out.

Standing up in the pool he found the water waist deep, his skin now free of sweat and dust, his hair curling damply on his forehead and against his neck. Wading out of the water he quickly lifted into the air and floated quietly over the grass before silently rising up then lowering himself into the embrace of bushes that Wendy seemed to be so interested in.

Wendy had heard the sound of splashing and hoped fervently that Peter hadn't lost all his coverings when she peeped over her shoulder at the pool. Peter was just rising out of the pool and Wendy gasped before shutting her eyes tight and facing forward again, her back to the glade. She could feel her whole body blush as she stood rigidly to attention, her dress drying about her as she waited for the sound of splashing to cease. A breeze blew past her and she heard the rustle of leaves beside her. Opening her eyes she saw Peter standing within the grove of shrubs, his arms held out from his body as he waded amongst the greenery, his head bent as he looked down towards the ground. Wendy tried to shut out from her imagination the image of Peter flying through the air without a stitch on, but it was hard, she had brothers after all and was not unaware of the male anatomy. Now he was walking through the bushes towards her and she didn't know what to do for the best.

“Don't come any closer!” She finally blurted out, holding up her hands to ward him off. Peter looked up in surprise, as if not realizing how close she was to where he stood.

“It's alright, I'll be done in a minute,” he glanced down at himself and grinned, then strode out of the bushes just as Wendy clapped her hands over her eyes and gritted her teeth. She heard Peter laugh then his fingers prising hers from her face. “Look.”

Wendy blinked at him, noting his laughing eyes, then her own drifted down and widened as she noted his new coating of leaves decently covering him in a thick layer from his navel to his knees once more.

“Goodness........how clever! I thought the leaves of this bush looked familiar. This is where you get your outfits?”

“Yes. They could make you a new outfit too, if you wanted one.....like this.” He looked down at himself then up at her.

“Oh no......I'd need more than a pair of trousers.....I mean....well, it wouldn't cover enough!” Wendy protested, blushing anew.

“Silly......they know what you need without you telling them......they're magic bushes.” Peter rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Well of course they are. I've never known bushes in the park do anything like that before. They usually lose their leaves, not stick them to anyone.” Wendy retorted, nettled by his laughter. Still, the idea of wearing a leaf costume did rather appeal. “I suppose if you promise to turn your back and not peek, I could just try. If it doesn't work I could always put my nightdress back on.”

“Go on Wendy.......try it,” Peter encouraged, stepping back and holding out his hand to indicate for her to enter the bushes.

“All right, I will....but you have to promise not to look and turn your back.”

“Cross my heart,” Peter inscribed an invisible cross on his chest with his finger, grinning all the while. “I'll go back to the pool and wait for you there.”

She watched as he swaggered off, whistling loudly to underline his apparent nonchalance and disinterest in the whole affair. She waited for him to reach the bull-rushes before cautiously entering the thicket of shoulder high bushes. They rustles and parted around her, the leaves seeming to stroke against her legs and arms as she entered their sheltering center. Unbuttoning her nightgown she cautiously drew the thick fabric off over her head, the leaves reaching well up to her armpits and clothing her modestly. Even so she ducked down so that only her head was visible, the bushes around her seemingly closing in and surrounding her as if to hide her from prying eyes. It was very odd and most peculiar to be standing in a clump of bushes with no clothes on, her skin prickling as she stood not knowing what was about to happen next. The bushes seemed to shiver and shimmy, the leaves pressing so close to her body that she felt every vein in the surface of the leaves, every tickle and stroke as if the bushes were alive. Thoroughly unnerved she decided to push her way out of the bushes and away from the unsettling sensations. As she emerged she found that the leaves were coming with her, her body clothed from shoulder to knee with a thick layer of shimmering leaves, one shoulder and arm left bare while the other had leaves down to the elbow. The green swathe of living cloth covered her chest down to just below her breasts, leaving her mid-drift bare to her navel, then they extended from her waist down over her hips, tightly molded to her thighs and legs down to her knees like a pair of breeches. Against her skin it all felt like the softest velvet, moving when she moved and stretching when she stretched. On the outside she looked much like Peter in his leaf-green, with the addition of a thick layer of leaves covering her chest. It was warm and very comfortable and after her initial misgivings that the whole ensemble would fall of at the slightest tug, a quick experiment set her mind at rest and she stepped out fully, twirling to show off her new outfit.

“Peter.....you can look now,” she called, holding her arms out and turning, twisting her neck to see over her own shoulder to her shockingly bare back, the leaves stopping at her sides and starting again just above the base of her spine. Her hair hung down that far and covered the bare skin of her back quite adequately. Peter walked slowly over from the pool, his eyes ranging over her new clothes in obvious admiration. As she turned around for his approval he slowly circled her, his gaze drinking in her pale, slender arms and legs, her golden brown hair swirling like a cape about her shoulders.

“You look beautiful,” he finally stated, standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed her from top to toe.

“It is all very strange. Ladies don't ordinarily wear knee breeches, you know. Although I will admit I did try on John's trousers one day, just to see what it was like. It was very shocking.”

“And how do you feel now?” He asked, his hand coming out to stroke over the leaves at her hip. They were of a lighter shade than his own, and felt much softer to his touch, almost like the feel of the softest leather.

“Very comfortable, much more so than John's breeches,” Wendy laughed, twirling again before stopping to smooth the layer of leaves over her waist and hips, preening under Peter's approving gaze.

“Then if you're done, we'll go back to the tree and see about something to eat,” Peter announced, jumping into the air and preparing to take off. Wendy hurriedly gathered up her nightgown and folded it into a neat bundle before tucking it under her arm. Remembering to think of a happy something, she felt herself lift off the turf and into the air, following Peter as he slowly rose until he hung suspended above the trees. Wendy followed more slowly, her confidence building as she rose higher and higher, her parcel held secure against her body.

With her clothing taken care of for the immediate future, Wendy concentrated on watching Peter and learning how to control her ability to fly, while wondering what her mother would say if she could see her daughter flying in the air clothed in nothing but leaves and a silly smile.

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Chapter: Three - The Banquet
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Peter took Wendy on a different route back to the Hollow, showing her other places of interest, some distant spirals of smoke indicating the location of the Indian village, a destination Peter promised to show her the next day. As soon as they both touched down the tree and surrounding foliage once more erupted with the appearance of the Lost Boys, Crate heading the posse as they surrounded their leader and Wendy.

“Wotcha Peter,” called one of the boys, grinning from ear to ear. Peter turned to Wendy and indicated the cheeky boy.

“This is Top Hat.”

Wendy stared at the boys' head gear and thought how appropriate his name, even if his hat was showing distinct signs of significant wear to the point of almost losing it's black crown.

“How do you do?” Wendy asked politely, the boy executing a small bow, the grin firmly in place. After that each of the other boys wanted to be introduced and Peter signaled each one forward in his turn.

“This is Stretch,” Peter told her, indicating a thin, willowy boy with an elfin face, his bare arms well defined and belying his fragile appearance.

“I looks weak, but I'm tough as old boots......ain't I Peter?” Peter nodded in agreement.

“I'm sure you are,” Wendy agreed, thinking privately that the boy looked as if he could do with a good meal once in a while.

“This one if called Rat,” Peter indicated one of the smaller boys, the child's pointed face almost twitching like his name-sake. “He's the best at getting into small and difficult places, and sniffing out the best game trails as well as setting traps.”

“How do you do Rat,” Wendy inclined her head, the boy called Rat giving her a nervous smile before scuttling off to hide behind the others. The next boy appeared to bristle with weaponry, his outfit of skins and feathers looking fierce and intimidating, made all the more by his beefy frame and bright red hair.

“Name's Squid,” the boy announced, not waiting for Peter to speak, “I'm the points man and tracker. Best of the bunch for setting an ambush and coshing the enemy.”

“I'm sure you are, Squid,” Wendy replied, shooting a glance at Peter before giving the boy a smile. Squid didn't smile back but instead cleared his throat noisily before spitting a wad of mucus an impressive distance.

“And I can spit the furthest, so there!” Squid announced before turning his back and swaggering behind his mates.

Crate was the next to push himself forward, his chin thrust upwards belligerently. He stood staring at Wendy as if daring her to make a comment, Peter remaining quiet as the boy and Wendy faced off.

“Hello Crate...that is your name, isn't it?”

“It is. I'm the eldest and been here the longest of the boys. I'm Peter's first mate and best fighter.”

“As you showed us all today Crate. Is my being here going to be a problem?” Wendy eyed the scowling boy with some misgivings, his dark eyes searing her. “Do you hate me so much?”

Abruptly Crate's expression cleared and he looked down at his feet. “Don't hate you,” he muttered, scuffing his feet, “just, girls are always so bossy and wantin' a bloke to always wash his neck and mind 'is manners.”

Wendy manfully controlled the nervous giggles welling up in her throat, the boy in front of her obviously trying hard not to insult his leaders new companion. “If I promise not to mention your neck or your manners?” Wendy asked, exchanging a glance with Peter who had remained silent throughout the conversation.

“Guess that would be alright.....seein' as 'ow your wearing the green, does that mean your going to be our mother?”

Wendy gasped and choked a little. “I'm a little young to be anyone's mother Crate.....” she felt a small hand tug at the leaves at her hip. Looking down she saw the smallest member of the Lost Boys staring up at her from his grubby face, huge brown eyes pleadingly begging her.

“Please be our mother.....I miss mine, an' if the other's wos truthful, they'd tell you they miss theirs, an' all.”

“What's your name?” Wendy asked. Peter answered, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“That's Grub.....he looks small and innocent but he's the best thief in the gang. He'd lift the hair off your head and you'd never know it was going!”

Wendy stared down at the small boy, his face now lit with a wide, gap-toothed grin, bathing in Peter's approval and approbation. “Just as well I have nothing worth stealing then, isn't it?”

Peter was looking around the glade for the last member of the troop, seeing a tousled head hiding behind the broad trunk of the Hollow tree. “Come on out Harry and meet Wendy....what'cha hiding for, back there?”

Harry appeared in answer to Peter's summons, the slender boy shuffling forward to stand at the front of the group. He was almost as tall as Crate, but much more delicate looking, the shaggy cut black hair brushed forward to almost obscure the fine featured face. Blue eyes peered at Wendy out from under the thick fringe.

“Hello Harry....I hope you weren't hiding from me?”

“No.” Harry flicked his shadowed gaze over to Peter then back to Wendy. “Are you going to marry Peter an' have babies and stuff?”

“Good Lord,” Wendy blushed furiously, her startled gaze taking in the interested looks of the boys and the amused look painting Peter's face. “Well, as I said before, I think I'm too young to be anyone's mother, let alone my have my own children.”

“But you could marry Peter, couldn't you? If you love him, of course?”

“Oh I don't think.......that is.......well......this really isn't the time to........oh dear........um...” Wendy trailed off, her face as pink as a strawberry.

“Okay you lot.....enough with the questions. Who's on provisions duty tonight?” Peter's voice broke in to the pregnant pause after Harry's unanswerable question. Immediately the boys broke out into a chorus of replies and recriminations, refuting ownership of the chores needed to be done and generally blaming everyone but themselves for no supper on the table. Harry had melted back into the throng while Wendy spun on her heel and walked a way a few steps, fanning herself to bring her hot face under control. Having dispatched the boys with orders to get a meal on the table, Peter casually walked over to where Wendy stood. She was standing with her hands pressed to her cheeks in a vain attempt to leach the wash of color from her skin, giving a startled jump when Peter laid his warm hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

“Yes....of course. It's just a little warm, don't you think?”

“Certainly warmer than your world,” Peter quipped, coming around to face her, his stormy green eyes intent on her face. “Would it be so bad to marry me?”

“Peter, how can you ask that?” Wendy answered breathlessly, her fading blush returning with a vengeance.

“Well?”

“I don't know you.....and....and...I'm only supposed to be here for a visit, not forever.”

“I know enough, why don't you?”

“Because.....well because I don't. Good grief, I've heard of brief courtships, but this is ridiculous. And anyway......you haven't asked me!”

“If I did........would you say yes?”

Totally flustered, Wendy spun away from him, her eyes darting around the glade for some sort of escape. Peter wouldn't give up and darted around to stand in front of her again. Wendy couldn't understand how the conversation had progressed so far out of control and tried to push past him. Peter pushed back and Wendy found herself held in place by his grip on her upper arms.

“You like to kiss me......don't you?” He asked, his eyes locked with hers. Wendy felt her knees start to weaken as she moistened her lips before replying.

“I.....yes.”

“And you don't mind sleeping next to me?”

“Peter, that's hardly proper....”

“Don't you?”

“No....I don't mind.”

“Then you don't mind the idea of being married to me, do you?”

“What?” Wendy asked confusedly. Peter shook her lightly.

“Isn't that what married people do? They kiss and sleep in the same bed and stay together forever?”

“I suppose so...but....but....”

“And now you can fly and Neverland has obviously accepted you.....” Peter continued, his face breaking out into the wickedest grin.

“Wait a minute.....what do you mean Neverland's accepted me? How do you know?”

Peter's gaze flicked down to take in her new outfit, so similar, but not the same as his. “Why do you think the Lost Boys have to run around in animal skins and feathers? The bushes don't clothe just anyone, in fact, as far as I know, I'm the only one that they do this for......before you.”

“Oh,” Wendy's lips remained shaped around that simple reply, dumbfounded to have been chosen by an entire world to be worthy. Worthy of what she wasn't about to question too deeply. Taking advantage of her distraction, Peter swooped down and captured her pursed lips with his own, his tongue darting out and touching hers in a delightfully sinful way that made goose bumps break out all over Wendy's body. The kiss lasted for several seconds before a snort of disgust behind them drew them apart, Peter looking over his shoulder to find Grub standing a little way off, his face screwed up into an expression of extreme repugnance.

“Well that looked truly 'orrible. Is that wot married people do? Try an' suck each uvver's faces off?” Grub asked, blowing out his cheeks and making gagging sounds.

“What do you want Grub?” Peter asked, letting his hands drop from Wendy's arms and folding them instead over his chest before frowning down at the smallest member of the Lost Boys.

“The boys said to tell you.......an' 'er......”

“Wendy,” Peter corrected.

“Wendy....that the blanket is ready for you, if'n you want to come and scoff.”

“Thank you Grub......we'll be along directly.”

Peter waited for Grub to disappear through one of the trees' many hidden entrances before turning back to Wendy. He leant forward to resume what they'd been doing before Grub interrupted, but Wendy nimbly danced out of his reach.

“Blanket?” Wendy asked, dodging to the side when Peter made to lunge at her, his teeth bared in a teasing grin.

“I think Grub meant banquet,” Peter explained, his arms out wide to snag Wendy as she made to dodge past him. Catching her about the waist, he picked her up off the ground and swung her around before dropping her back on to her feet again. Wendy was laughing, the sound abruptly cut off when Peter bent down and hoisted her once more over his shoulder, her legs kicking while she pummeled his back with her fists.

“Let me down you.....you.....brute!” Wendy gasped between giggles, Peter swatting her leaf covered bottom before upending her on to her feet once more. She staggered a little and Peter held her steady while she pushed her hair out of her face from being upside down moments before.

“That was a dirty trick Peter......you're so much stronger than me!”

“And you're lighter than a feather and so easy to tease,” Peter replied, darting away when Wendy made to rabbit-punch him on the arm. “Come on, I'm hungry and I'm sure you are by now.”

“I have to admit, although a lady would never say so......but I'm ravenous!”

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The Hollow was the picture of chaos when Wendy and Peter appeared. The boys were racing around the cavern, a large trestle table now dominating the center of the room. As each passed the table they dropped an empty wooden platter or bowl onto the scarred and scratched surface, the noise of the boys' haphazard table dressing adding to the general cacophony. Peter passed a hand over his face before bunching his fists on his hips and roaring a command for silence. Everyone froze for a second, eyes swiveling to their leader. A second later they resumed their peculiar table setting, this time in relative quiet, even setting down the last of the bowls and plates with a more gentle hand. As Wendy, led by Peter, approached the table the Lost Boys scrambled for their stools then sat watching Peter expectantly. Wendy, bemused and a little bewildered, sat in the chair Peter indicated, the table in front of her almost covered in a strange collection of carved, but quite empty, clean wooden bowls of differing shapes and sizes. Peter took his seat at the head of the table, sending Wendy a warm smile before plopping down in his chair. The boys now looked at their leader in mute appeal, very much like a gang of puppies faced with a mountain of food and waiting for the office to start digging in. To Wendy the bowls and plates all looked empty and she wondered if, belatedly, she was expected to produce the food they waited for. Instead she looked down the table at Peter and tried to catch his eye in silent inquiry. Peter saw her look and just grinned, turning his attention to assessing the boys ranged down either side of the long table.

“Stretch.....your turn tonight.”

“Really Peter?.....Oh bang on!” Stretch exchanged grins with his table mates before rising to his feet and standing with his hands braced on the table edge. The other boys looked expectantly at Stretch, licking their lips as if he was the main course of their intended meal. Wendy watched mystified, Peter dropping her a slow wink and silently telling her to wait. Stretch closed his eyes and she could see his lips moving, a whoop startling her and drew her attention back to the length of the table only to find that the formerly empty bowls were now piled high with food of a staggering variety. The Lost Boys were digging their hands in to mounds of steaming, fragrant meat and vegetables, every bowl and platter full to overflowing with vittles. Wendy gasped and stared round eyed at the banquet laid out before her. One second the table had been empty, now it was groaning under it's laden surface, steam and delicious smells filling the Hollow and making her mouth water.

“Dig in Wendy.....help yourself,” Peter's voice broke in to her stupor and she stared down the table at him.

“How?” She asked, watching in fascination as Rat stuffed his mouth so that his cheeks bulged like his namesake.

“Magic,” Peter stated simply, reaching across and snagging what looked like nearly a whole cooked chicken off the mound in front of him. “It was Stretch's turn to choose and this is what he imagined.”

“Imagined?” Wendy squeaked, looking in appalled disappointment at the mountains of food, “then this isn't real?”

“A real as you want it to be......try something!”

Curious but wary, Wendy stared at the bowls of food and tried to select something that hadn't suffered too badly from the boys depredations. As nearly everything was being eaten with their fingers, Wendy was a little put off by the state of the boys hands, no attempt having been made to wash up before the meal. To her surprise a bowl of water seemed to appear at her elbow, the surface steaming a little. Cautiously Wendy touched the water with a fingertip, finding the liquid just right for washing. Dipping her hands fully into the finger bowl she vigorously cleaned her hands, shaking them afterwards and wiping them dry on a tiny hand towel that appeared off to the side. Peter looked on in open amusement while the boys gaped at their guest as she finished her ablutions. Her ritual concluded, the bowl and crumpled towel disappeared when Wendy looked away, her surprise to find them gone a second later making Peter laugh out loud. Nettled by his amusement at her ignorance, Wendy ignored him and lifted a small wooden bowl to scoop out some delicious looking rice and vegetable mixture in a bowl largely untouched by the ravenous horde. Among the scattered receptacles on the table she spotted a delicately carved spoon, proving perfect for her to eat her meal with. Down at his end, Peter had finished his demolition of the chicken, the bones magically vanishing once he set the waste bowl aside, his attention all on Wendy and her quiet way of eating, so different from the way the boys ripped, stuffed and crammed their food as fast as possible into their mouths. Picking up a small bowl for himself, he carefully scooped out a serving of savory smelling stew from a big cauldron in the center of the table which had remained untasted until now. Still watching the way Wendy ate, Peter sat back in his chair and stared down at the stew. On any other day he would have brought the bowl to his mouth and pushed the contents into his mouth with his fingers. Today he decided to try something different. Looking down he saw the end of a spoon half hidden behind a bowl. Picking it up he leant over his bowl of stew, gripped his spoon in his fist and dug in.

Looking up from her own meal, Wendy was surprised to see Peter emulating her at his end of the table. Unlike the boys, he was spooning his food into his mouth, his blond head bent over his bowl in obvious concentration as he carefully ate. As if feeling her gaze, Peter lifted his head and met her eyes down the length of the table. They stayed staring at each other for a long minute, spoons poised before lips, each a mirror image of the other. Then one of the boys burped loudly, and the moment was broken, Wendy ducking her head and Peter slowly resuming his first attempt at polite eating. The meal was noisy but blessedly short, the younger boys quickly stuffing themselves to the full before reeling away from the table one after another to collapse groaning on their sleeping ledges, leaving Peter and Wendy alone at the table. The table itself was like a battle field with tipped over bowls and food splattered all over the surface. Only down Wendy's end was there any semblance of order or a cleared space. Having eaten her fill, Wendy sipped at a wooden beaker, the fruit juice inside cool and sweet as it slipped down her throat.

Peter sat back in his own chair and rubbed his stomach, his hand reaching for a mug and emptying the contents into his mouth. Setting the mug back on the table he reached up to wipe the back of his hand across his lips as he usually did, but just as he was about to, Wendy caught his eye and shook her head. It was the tiniest of movements but enough to forestall Peter, his hand dropping from his face. Looking for something else to use, he saw a piece of cloth poking out from under one of the discarded plates at his elbow. Pulling it out, he swiped it over his mouth, Wendy indicating her approval with an incline of her head. All around the room she could hear the groans and soft moans of over stuffed boys, the seemingly everlasting lamps flickering around the wall starting to automatically reduce their flames, imbuing the Hollow with shadows in preparation for the Lost Boy's sleeping. Both Wendy and Peter, having slept earlier on, were not remotely tired, Peter already thinking on the places he would take Wendy once the boys were truly asleep. Thinking along similar lines, Wendy rose from her chair and came to sit on a vacated stool beside Peter.

“Do you think the boys would like to hear a bedtime story?” She asked, ignoring the heaped mountain of washing up spread over the table. Peter rested his elbows on the table and leant forward towards her.

“Do you know a bedtime story? If you did, it would surely send them off to sleep. Then I can take you out to see Neverland after dark.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Wendy giggled.

“I know many stories. I used to tell them to my brothers when they were little......” she tailed off, mention of her brothers making her remember the family left behind in London. Her throat suddenly felt tight and her eyes burned as she fought the urge to cry, reminding herself that she was only here for a visit, not forever. Lifting her head, she smiled brightly at Peter, ignoring the crease of inquiry begging a question in his expression. “I know stories about kings and queens and princes and princesses, ogres and giants, pirates and mermaids”.

“Am I in any of those stories?” Peter asked, grinning back.

“Not those stories.....but you could be?” Wendy replied, lowering her eyes. “I could tell new stories, with you as the hero, if you wanted.”

“I'd like that.” He smiled warmly at her, reaching out a finger to smooth against her cheek as she stared back at him expectantly. “But for the time being, I think a story would be an excellent idea. I used to know a girl,” his brow creased as he tried to remember, “ a long time ago, who used to tell stories.......but they never were about me.” Getting to his feet, Peter addressed the room and it's occupants. “Wendy has offered to tell a story, what do ya say boys?”

At once the moaning and groaning ceased and the boys sent up a chorus of excited replies, Wendy finding herself pulled and propelled to sit on the mossy carpet, a semi circle of eager faces surrounding her. All trace of lethargy had gone and all of them focused their bright, intent gazes on the girl at their center. Wendy, flattered by their obvious eagerness, folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, mentally sorting through her varied collection of stories, picking one that would hold their interest. While the small audience settled down, Peter sat himself on his barbarous throne, his gaze intent on Wendy so that when she opened her eyes, his were the first she met.

“Once upon a time there was a young man who lived in the mystical far East and his name was Ali Baba.....”

Wendy's choice of story might have seemed strange, dealing as it did with thieves and cutthroats and a fair degree of violence, but she'd had plenty of experience with what small boys really wanted to hear about, and from the excited glow on the faces ranged in front of her, her choice had been the right one. There would be plenty of nights when a less bloodthirsty story would be more suitable, but for now she had her audience hooked. The boys were not passive as the story unfolded, they added their own comments and opinions on the characters and their actions, snorting in disgust if they disagreed, whooping if they applauded the heroes' actions. In all it was a rowdy and boisterous story-time, the ending greeted with a volley of requests for another story until Peter had to intervene and order his Lost Boys to bed; but only a promise of another story the next night finally sent the tired children off to their alcoves and couches. Grub was the last to leave, approaching Wendy where she sat, his piquant, grubby face lit up with a happy smile as he leant down the short distance to whisper in her ear.

“I liked that one.......no yucky stuff!”

Wendy looked back a little startled, having embellished the story with enough gore and yucky stuff to satisfy a classroom of small boys. “Yucky stuff?”

Grub pulled a face, “you know.........kissing!”

“Oh......you don't like stories with happy endings?”

Grub seemed to think for a moment. “Well....maybe once in a while would be alright.”

Peter approached and shooed Grub away, the smallest of the troop clambering into a hammock suspended from two thick roots that seemed to have grown expressly for the purpose of providing hooks for the sling to hang from. Holding out his hand, Peter drew Wendy to her feet before casting a look around the room. The lights were very low now, barely flickering as he led her out of the Hollow and up into the world above. It was night time, the sky still bearing the traces of a glorious sunset, streaks of pink and purple coloring the grey clouds that made their slow progress across the sky. Behind them stars were starting to appear, bright dots that twinkled like diamonds, not all of them white so that when the sun had completely left the sky, it was like a necklace of rubies and opals strung up among the heavens. Peter drew Wendy along behind him, her hand firmly clasped in his as they walked through the jungle beyond the Hollow. The path was narrow and crowded on either side with thick vegetation, forcing them to follow one behind the other, but not very far along the path widened and Peter drew Wendy to walk beside him. Despite the sun being set for the day, light still suffused the forest, a cool light, like that from a full moon, despite there being nothing but stars in the sky. Wendy pondered on this but quickly gave up worrying about it as the jungle at night took all her attention, the sounds so different from the daytime with the birds all settled for the night. Instead she could hear the rustle of the wind through the branches overhead above the soft pad of their bare feet on the ground. The scent of night flowering blossoms invaded her senses, surrounding them with varying clouds of perfumed air as they walked, Wendy sniffing appreciatively but never able to pinpoint the shrub or tree that provided the source. Their promenade ended when they reached a cleared rocky outcrop, a ledge that ended like a giant step above a slope clothed in trees. On either side the jungle pressed right up to the edge of the drop-off, leaving only the apron of rock they stood on clear of the undergrowth, the ledge giving its visitors a wonderful view across Neverland to the sea. Wendy stood a little way back from the edge, having no wish to see just how high up they were. She was surprised at herself to feel the fear of heights given that she'd flown over the island at some distance above it, but somehow, having her feet on the solid ground had changed her perspective. Peter had no such qualms and quite calmly sat on the edge of the precipice, his legs swinging in space as he leant back on his hands, twisting his head to look up at her.

“What do you think?”

“It's a wonderful view Peter, even at night. It would be spectacular in daylight.”

“Nah.....its better at night. It's called the Moonlight Ledge, and it's not just the view that makes it special.”

“Oh?”

“Watch.”

Wendy found herself a convenient place to sit, just behind and to the left of Peter. Wrapping her arms around her knees she stared up at the brilliant sky overhead, the air and rocks around her still warm from the sun. Peter had drawn one leg up to rest on the edge of the rocky ledge, his elbow resting on the upraised knee, his head turned away from her as he stared out over the vista below.

“Look Wendy!” His sibilant whisper jerked her attention back to the view before her, the dark trees below disgorging tiny pin pricks of golden light. At first there were only a half dozen, so far away to be almost invisible, dancing on the edge of their vision among the tree tops. Then, where there were a few, there were suddenly a cloud, a nimbus of golden specks rising up from the trees below, a throng of dancing lights covering a huge area of the forest.

“Oh Peter...what are they? Fireflies?”

“Fairies.”

“Fairies? Oh how wonderful........and so many!”

The increasing cloud of golden lights were starting to coalesce, rising up from the forest canopy in a single swirling mass made up of hundreds, possibly thousands of the tiny creatures. Wendy watched entranced as the glowing mass rose slowly up into the sky, stray individuals breaking off from the central group to dance around the perimeter before being absorbed back into the twirling center. It was like looking at a galaxy in miniature, the center a bright ball of light with the arms of the spiral trailing as fairies tired and then caught up, the whole colony rising ever higher so that they were level with the stone ledge holding their audience of two. As if sensing their silent watchers the golden mass started to break up, groups of fairies detaching themselves from the central spiral and darting off a little way. There they shifted and danced, forming complex shapes in the warm air, pictures forming like spangled Christmas decorations of flowers and butterflies, birds in flight and dragonflies.

“Oh Peter, they're beautiful.....oh look, what is that?” She pointed to a strange creature being created by one of the splinter groups, the shape looking halfway between a dragon and a horse.

“That's a Neverbeen.”

“A Neverbeen? What a strange name!”

“A Neverbeen is a creature that only lives in dreams,” Peter explained, smiling at Wendy's soft exclamation as the dragon-horse changed into another creature of fantastic design. “See, another Neverbeen.”

“I understand. So these strange creatures have never actually been alive, just the product of the fairies imagination.”

“Sort of. Fairies are such tiny creatures they really don't have much room for an imagination, so they borrow from others to give them the images you see here.”

“Borrow? You mean, they go into a person's head and borrow what they find there?”

“Something like that. Anything you can imagine, they can create when they swarm, like tonight.”

“Does this happen every night?”

“No. Only on special occasions or if I ask them to.”

Wendy turned her head to look at Peter's profile, his face bathed in the golden glow of the fairies. “Did you ask them to do this Peter....for me?”

“Maybe. If I say yes, do I get a reward?” He turned his face towards her, his eyes alight with mischief and something else. Wendy saw the fleeting expression and thought it was longing. The fairies were still cavorting and dancing in front of the ledge, bathing the whole area in a warm, golden light, the leaves and trees all around them gilded with gold and sprinkled with a shower of fairy dust, the fine rain falling over everything. For the most part, the whole experience had been conducted in silence, only the soft rustle of a night breeze disturbing the hushed expectancy of the moment. Now, as the huge, constantly moving mass of fairy bodies passed overhead and ever higher, Wendy could hear a cacophony of fairy voices, like the chime of a million tiny bells tinkling musically from a long way away. It almost reminded Wendy of the laughter of young children as the golden cloud passed up and over the tree tops, taking with it the golden light and strange creatures shaped in the air by the fairies themselves. Once more alone on the ledge, Wendy gave vent to a happy sigh, her lips turned up as she stared out over the now darkened landscape. Having shown her what he wanted her to see, Peter clambered to his feet and held out his hand.

“Come on, the night is not over yet.”

“But......I thought you wanted a reward?” She stared at him, torn between embarrassment and anticipation, knowing in her heart what he'd ask for and more than willing to bestow his reward with alacrity.

“I do, but first I want to take you somewhere and show you something,” Peter told her mysteriously. Taking her by the hand he led her back into the jungle, leaving the ledge and vista behind them. Still feeling bemused and wondrous from watching the fairy display, Wendy went willingly, her hand once more held in his much large palm, his fingers curling around hers in a firm, but unbreakable grip. Against her soft skin she could feel the rough callouses ridging his fingers and palm, evidence of his proficiency with a sword, reminding her that not everything on Neverland was as peaceful and non-threatening as the fairies she'd just watched. Peter was leading her down a different path from the one they'd used before, veering off the track and plunging them both into the deep gloom of the dense forest. The light that had seemed so bright before, now struggled to find a way to the ground, the path almost invisible to Wendy's eyes as Peter led her onwards.

“Is it far?” Wendy asked, stumbling a little over the uneven ground.

“Not far,” Peter replied, not turning his head or relaxing his grip on her hand. The path seemed endless, but just when Wendy was about to suggest they fly to their destination, rather than walk, the jungle started to thin, the dark trees growing further apart and letting in more light. Peter started to jog, forcing Wendy to follow, his eagerness to get where he was going transmitting itself through his grip on her hand, laughter bubbling up and making her breathless as they dodged and weaved among the trees. As suddenly as a flame igniting, the trees ended and they were once more bathed in the unearthly pale light of the night, the stars seemingly brighter and closer than a few minutes before, the sky a twinkling expanse of silvery velvet above their heads. In front of them the ground sloped down in an easy gradient, flattening out into a small coastal plain before butting up to a narrow strip of sand where the land met the sea. The coastline along this side of the island wove out and in, creating a frilled effect as well as a series of bays and lagoons of varying sizes and depths. In one of these harbors sat a dark ship, its sails furled black against it's inky spars, a flag flapping lazily from the fighting-top, the insignia indistinct in the pale light. In solitary splendor the ship rode at anchor, no lights visible from the watchers above.

“What ship is that Peter?” Wendy asked in a hushed voice, despite being so far away that no sound could have possibly reached the shore below. Just looking at the darkened ship made a flurry of goose bumps break out on her arms and the back of her neck. Unable to justify why it should she turned to her companion and waited with bated breath for his reply.

“That's the Jolly Roger, the pirate ship that stalks this island,” Peter replied, all trace of levity gone from his voice. “If the ship is here, then Hook won't be far behind. There's no lights fore or aft which means he's already ashore and on the hunt.”

“Pirates?” Wendy felt a shudder ripple down her back, a thrill of fear and of excitement. “What do they hunt so late at night?”

“Me.” Peter stated baldly, his body tense and ready for action. “I was going to show you the Glass Cove, but it will have to wait now. If Hook is about, then no-one is safe. We'll need to go back to the Hollow and warn the Lost Boys to be ready for battle.”

“Really Peter.....is it as bad as that? Even pirates have to sleep.” Wendy tried to laugh off her fears but a searing glance from her suddenly serious partner chased all laughter from her face.

“There's no sleep for anyone when Hook is hunting. Where he goes, the crocodile won't be far behind and he's not adverse to snacking on anyone that gets in his way!”

Disappointed that her evening was to be spoilt by the advent of pirates, Wendy turned away only to find herself face to face with quite possibly the most fearsome visage she'd ever encountered in her young life. As if held in a vice, her throat refused to release the scream she could feel building in her chest, the man leering horrible as he advanced towards her, a gleaming cutlass in his hand. Wendy finally screamed when the pirate lunged at her, the blade almost reaching her only to be thrust upwards with the force of Peter's blocking parry, his free hand shoving Wendy to the side where she fell, cushioned by a clump of bracken.

“Fly Wendy, fly!” Peter shouted at her as he parried another savage downswing of the pirates sword, the air full of the sounds of violence as he fought off their attacker. Wendy lay where he'd pushed her, breathless with fear as she watched the seemingly unequal contest between the brawny, heavily armed pirate and the young man facing him. Peter's teeth gleamed in the strange Neverland night light, his body twisting and turning like an otter to avoid the wicked slashes and thrusts of his opponent while keeping the man well away from where Wendy lay frozen. She heard Peter's order to fly, but couldn't for the life of her think of a single happy thought while the desperate battle played out before her eyes. In all her short life she'd never really seen anything violent or brutal, only in the books she'd read telling of such bloody conflicts, but they were only words on a page, not flesh and blood men fighting for their very lives with her as the only witness. Suddenly it was all over, the pirate finding Peter's knife buried to the hilt in his chest, a look of surprise briefly lighting his dark eyes before slumping to the ground, blood staining his shirt front. Wendy remained transfixed at the sight of Peter standing over his enemy, his chest heaving, blood covering his right hand which clutched the hilt of his dagger with white knuckles. Baring his teeth in gruesome satisfaction, Peter leant down and wiped his blade on the dead man's clothes before turning his back and approaching where Wendy lay. Taking his hand she stared up at him with shocked eyes, noting absently that Peter appeared to crackle with energy, the fight imbuing him with an aura of excitement and anticipation, evident in his bright eyes and tense muscles rippling on his arms and body. Thankfully, for Wendy's peace of mind, Peter extended his left hand to help her to her feet, his grip almost painfully tight as he pulled her away from the corpse and back into the dark forest.

“We need to get back to the Hollow, can you fly?” Peter's voice was almost harsh, firing the question at Wendy in a tone she'd not heard before.

“I can try.....were you hurt?”

“No. But it worries me that he found us, and why only one man? It's possible he was just an advance scout sent by Hook and it was an unlucky chance that he stumbled over us, but I'm not taking any chances. Come on....” Pulling Wendy behind him, he jogged a few steps then leapt into the air, Wendy towed behind him, his magic lifting them both. She was still in a state of shock, her body cold and her stomach queasy as they flew low over the forest canopy as silent as a breeze. Within a short time they were back at the old tree in the secluded glade, the night quiet around them as they approached. Peter had dropped Wendy's hand as soon as they touched down, his sense on the alert for any sign that more pirates were waiting in ambush, his bloody hand gripping the hilt of his dagger with tense expectation. All remained quiet as he searched the shadows, Wendy standing to one side, her arms wrapped around her middle as she fought to quell the tremors still wracking her slender frame. Satisfied that the area was free of danger, Peter pressed the knothole to open the door, waving Wendy forward in silence and ushering her into the darkness of the interior, the door shutting behind them securely. Still in silence they felt their way down the stairwell and into the Hollow, the night-lights around the wall brightening as they emerged , the sound of sleeping boys heavy in the warm air of the safe-house. Wendy stumbled to a stool and sat down heavily, not able to raise the slightest surprise to find the trestle table gone along with its burden of empty dishes and spilled food. Peter went over to his first lieutenant, Crate, and shook the boy roughly by the shoulder. Crate woke instantly and sat up, a knife in his hand ready to defend himself.

“Hook's on the hunt,” Peter told him, his grim expression enough to tell Crate all he needed to know.

“What's the plan Captain?” Crate asked, swinging his legs off the bed and rubbing his eyes.

“Wake the boys and we'll have a counsel of war.”

“Aye, aye,” Crate sketched a salute before jumping off his sleeping ledge and going to the next bed to wake it's snoring occupant. Peter, meanwhile, was washing off his knife and hands in a bucket of water tucked away in a corner before approaching Wendy who still sat numbly on a stool.

“Come on, you need to rest,” Peter told her, his hands pulling her to her feet, Wendy's eyes darting to his right hand expecting to see blood, and indescribably relieved to see only strong fingers and golden brown skin dusted with fine hairs.

He steered her towards his alcove, his arm about her back to steady her as she leant against him, suddenly weary and a little tearful. As if sensing this, Peter scooped her up in his arms as they approached the bed, laying her down gently against the furs as a shudder rippled through her body making her gasp. Wendy lay on the bed gazing up at him as he bent over her, her mind noting that despite his surprising gentleness with her, his arms, when she lay her hand on one, were as hard as steel, his eyes alight with the prospect of the battle to come. It both alarmed and thrilled her, her lips registering his brief kiss before he turned away, the Lost Boys all gathered and awake, awaiting his orders. Laying on her side, she listened as Peter outlined his battle plan, the boys adding their suggestions for counter attacks and ambushes, the first order of battle to find out where the enemy was lurking and try to anticipate their next move. Hearing the excited chatter and seeing the looks of eager anticipation on every face, Wendy realized they thought it all a grand game, an entertainment laid on for their benefit. None of them seemed to think it a life or death struggle, such as she'd witnessed not so long ago, the boys apparently used to being awoken in the night by their leader and expected to participate in a barbaric ritual of cat and mouse with whatever enemy was threatening them that particular night. Scared and suddenly exhausted, Wendy lay dozing against the soft bed covers until a pair of warm lips woke her, her blue eyes blinking open to find Peter nose to nose with her.

“I have to go Wendy, but you'll be safe here, as long as you stay in the Hollow. The pirates can't get in, even if they do find it, which they won't.”

“What are you going to do Peter?”

“Me and the boys are going to find out where the ol' Codfish is hiding....” he saw a flare of alarm darken her eyes and hastened to reassure her. “We're not going to fight, not tonight. He's already one man down and will know it was my doing. He won't want to fight in the darkness any more than I do, there's too much chance of mistakes among the shadows.”

“You will be careful, won't you?” Reaching out a hand, Wendy rested it against Peter's cheek, feeling the flex of a muscle along his jawline before she let her hand drop back to the coverlet.

“Of course I will. There's nothing to worry about Wendy, just stay here and we'll be back in the morning.” Behind him, the Lost Boys were eagerly donning their armor and weapons, short bursts of laughter punctuated with the metallic rattle of blades sliding in sheaths as they prepared to go out into the night. Peter leant forward to press a quick, farewell kiss to Wendy's lips, the quick peck on her mouth repeated a second later with another, then another, this one not a peck but a searching exploration that temporarily banished her fears under a torrent of fluttering sensations. A sudden bout of coughing and muttering from the Lost Boys separated them, leaving them both staring at each other for an intense moment before Peter rose to his feet and turned his back on her.

“Time to find some pirates lads!” Peter shouted, his arm raised and holding a sword which he swung in circles about his head as he led the Lost Boys out of the tree without a backward glance. Wendy sat up on the bed, her finger tips pressed to her lips and her mind in turmoil. For several seconds she listened to the departure of Peter and his troop, their voices becoming more and more distant as she strained to hear them, eventually fading into silence and leaving her wondering how long it was until morning. Left alone, she lay back down on the soft furs and contemplated all that had happened.

Life had certainly become terribly exciting all of a sudden. So exciting she almost wished she was back in the nursery and snuggled into her old bed with the covers pulled up about her ears. She lay there, thinking about her mother, about her brothers, about her father and the house, about Nana, their enormous St. Bernard dog who liked to think that she was mother to them all. The placid tenor of her life to date had never so much as raised the tiniest ripple of anxiety for her, her future largely mapped out, as was any young woman's of her station in life. That she would one day meet a suitable young man who would court her and share stolen kisses with her, was an expected pleasure to look forward to, the courtship inevitably ending in a proposal, which if accepted meant marriage and leaving the family home to start a new life. Wendy was quite sensible of the possibility that her new life, once the novelty of marriage and having her own home wore off, would settle happily into the same placid and untroubled routine as her life before, the inevitable advent of children the only aspect to imbue fear or excitement into her domestic life. Her future husband would most likely be someone in the mold of her father, employed in some sterling establishment with good prospects and the promise of a pension when he retired. He would be kind, and sensible, prudent with their money and good with the children. Their life would be one of unruffled peace and contentment until they dwindled into old age and companionable domestic harmony, their grandchildren playing about their feet. As fantasies went, it was safe and secure and untroubled by woe or fear, the future a smooth path of unending repetition and bland sameness. Wendy frowned to herself as her thoughts took a turn away from what she'd always contemplated, in her naivety, as the ideal future for herself and instead reminded her of teasing eyes with impossibly thick lashes set above a mouth that promised wicked pleasures and a future filled with wonder and excitement. What imp of perversity had made her take his hand in the first place? What impulse had blinded her enough to even contemplate giving herself into the hands of a complete stranger? What hidden desire convinced her to be carried away to a place where danger and magic danced side by side, each an alluring temptation, each with it's own attractions and terrors? If she was truly honest with herself, she would acknowledge that since coming to Neverland, she had never felt so alive, or so out of her depth. New feelings were bubbling to the surface, demanding to be satisfied, fulfilled and experienced. None of them had anything to do with safety, or peace or dull domesticity, but all of them had everything to do with the young man that stole from her lips and made unstoppable inroads into her heart and peace of mind. It was like she was caught up in a whirlwind, her body and mind no longer her own but swept along, plundered of it's treasures but at the same time given a glimpse of immeasurable riches to be had if she would only throw caution to the wind and take the first step. It was all quite exhausting. Unable to prevent them, her eyes slid closed and sleep stole over her, setting her mind and body at rest, the night-lights lowering their flames so that only soft light played against her closed lids, all sound from outside muffled by the thick trunk of the tree and deep depths of the sheltering earth.

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Chapter: Four – Armed and Dangerous

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Peter crouched behind the broad trunk of a tree and surveyed the pirate camp spread out below. His Lost Boys were similarly hidden in trees all around the perimeter, their furs and feathers an effective camouflage among the leaves and shadows. Peter's eyes gleamed as he watched the rough crowd below, the flash of firelight on cutlass and sword making his blood start to race through his veins. Hook was not in evidence but Peter didn't worry, he knew the pirate Captain would be close by, maybe hunting the forest below Peter's hiding place, a thought that made his teeth itch. The pirates' camp wasn't that far from the Hollow, which made Peter wonder why the cutthroats had decided on this particular area to set up their tents and hammocks. It was a fair distance from the coast and not an area the pirates usually bothered with for foraging or hunting game, but something had brought them here and Peter wanted to find out what. The snap of a branch under someone's foot froze him in place, his ear telling him that several pairs of booted feet were passing directly under and around the tree in which he was hiding. Glancing down, he briefly saw a bright red feather attached to a wide brimmed hat pass below, it's owner oblivious that the quarry it sought was mere feet from him.

With the search party past, Peter inched his way out along the thick branch to get a better view and hopefully overhear some of Hook's conversation with his men when he entered the encampment. In this he was richly rewarded. Captain James Hook strode into the camp amid cheers and hails of welcome from his motley band of men. Behind Hook straggled a collection of more of the same, his first mate, Jedediah Smee, hurrying past his Captain to make sure all was ready. Accepting his men's adulation as his due, Hook sauntered the length of the camp, Smee waving him to an ornate chair lined with plush cushions for him to use.

“Gad Smee.......me boots are pinching, get 'em off me feet quick smart, would ya!” Slumped in his chair, Hook extended one foot, placing the other on his first mates ample bottom and giving the man a hard shove, his boot flying off as intended. A second later he repeated the maneuver with his second boot, his first mate sent flying and almost going head first into a campfire, a gale of laughter greeting the portly little man as he flapped his arms to regain his balance. Instead of getting into a rage, Smee laughed along with the men, gathering up the muddy boots in one arm while rubbing his bruised backside with his free hand.

“Right you are Captain. Have a cup of tea ready in a trice. Just what the Captain ordered, a nice cup of tea.”

“Tea be damned Smee, I wants me wine. None of that dish wash brew you pass off as tea.”

“Right you are again Captain. Back in a tick.” Scampering to do his Captain's bidding, Smee disappeared into the nearest tent and re-emerged clutching a long stemmed glass and a dark, corked bottle and a pair of soft leather slippers. Tucking bottle and glass under his arm, he reached for, and pulled over, a folding table to set them on beside Hook before pouring a full measure and handing it to his Captain. “There's ya go sir....nothing like a glass of the ships best to set you up before you eat.”

“Damn your eyes Smee, I have to agree with you. Pity we didn't get a glimpse of that blasted tree, what did he call it?”

“I believe it was the 'Ollow.”

“The Hollow...that's right. Damned stupid name, but who am I to complain if it gets us what we wants, eh Smee?”

“Too right Captain, too right. Peter Pan will never know we're 'ere before we's wops 'im a good'n.”

“Really Smee, sometimes your cant is simply deplorable,” Hook drawled, drinking deeply of the wine, his saturnine features deeply shadowed. He glanced around at his men still busy about the camp. “Anyone seen Trimble? He should have been back by now.”

“No sir....not 'ide nor 'air of him, beggin' your pardon Captain.” One of the men called out in answer.

“Damn.” Hook downed the remains of his glass and held it out to be refilled. “Another man lost to those brats. Where's Black Jack......BLACK JACK!” His bellow brought forth a pirate who bowed deeply before his leader then stood, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You wanted me Captain?”

“Ah, Jack.....good man. Time for you to prove your worth. Your map has brought us this far, now we need you to lead us the rest of the way. Those brats won't be expecting a night sortie, so once the lads have eaten and rested we'll plan our attack before dawn.....watcha say to that?”

“Sound's like an excellent plan Captain.”

“'Tis indeed Jack, as plan's go. Now, what about this other news.....Smee says he's got a girl in tow!”

“That's what the mermaids sing. He was seen with her in Turtle Bay, so they say.”

“A girl indeed!” Hook scoffed, “what would that puling brat know about girls. Never brought one to Neverland before, at least not for longer than a few hours at the most!”

“Quite right, not as long as this one ever, if the mermaids are to be believed. Mind you, I've heard a whisper or two among the tiny folk that this particular female has managed to oust the infamous Tinkerbell from her position as the Pan's companion.”

“Never say,” Hook exclaimed, accepting the silver, double-barreled cigar holder from Smee's hand. “Pass us a light Jack,” he ordered, leaning forward when his newest henchman produced a glowing ember to light the ends of the fat cigars, clouds of fragrant smoke enveloping all three as Hook puffed. “That has to be a first for that fairy baggage. To be ousted from her place by some whey faced London brat....what a joke!” A gust of laughter shook the pirate Captain, the functional steel hook on his right arm thumping against the wood of his chair as he guffawed. When he was quiet again, he blew a cloud and peered narrow eyed at Jack through the fog. “What do you say, Jack? Has the Pan finally found her? Is she the one?”

“It would seem so. Of course, she may be nothing more than some orphaned girl child he's taken a fancy for.”

“Didn't those lying mermaids give you a description? Something more to go on than just that she's a girl?”

“Not really. Other than the fact the mermaid's sister thought the female uncommonly ugly for one of her breed.”

“Hah! Knowing their petty jealously, I wouldn't trust their judgment on that score. We'll have to see for ourselves, won't we lads. A pretty piece would certainly liven things up around here, a new face, a new conquest to lure away.” Hook puffed contentedly, already planning on how to snatch Peter's new companion away from under his very nose. “You sure those soggy sluts told you true?”

“As true as they can, given their inclination. They are as trapped here as we are, and just as eager to prevent The End from happening as ourselves. If Peter Pan is lured away for good, this place will ice over permanently, and nobody wants that, least of all the mermaids. Everlasting hibernations is not my idea of how to spend the rest of my life.”

“Nor I lad, nor I.” Hook drew in a deep breath, blowing out the ensuing cloud so that it sat like some malevolent fog wreathed around his head and blurring his features. “So our course is laid in. We find this girl-child, take her back to the ship, and let fate decide her future. Are we agreed?”

“Aye aye Captain,” chorused his men.

“And the Pan?” Jack asked, his features impassive.

“He'll try and rescue her and put himself neatly into our hands. Fancy another go at 'im Jack? Now you're no longer a Lost Boy, you have as good a chance as any of us at clipping Pan's wings.”

“I don't want to just clip his wings........I want him dead.”

“Just as well my fine fellow-me-lad. 'Cos that's the only way we can win our freedom from this accursed island is with the death of Peter Pan. Only with the last rattle of his mortal breath will the curse be lifted and our freedom won.”

“Then let us hasten him to that end Captain.”

“Indeed Jack........our sole purpose is to that end, and a right bloody one to boot. Gear up lads, we go to hunt the Pan and his Lost Boys!”

Clamping the cigar holder between his teeth, Hook rose up out of his chair and strutted the length of the camp, inspecting his men with eyes that missed little. Above his head, Peter signaled his boys to prepare their weapons. Having heard most of what was said, he wasn't prepared to let the pirates get within a yard of the Hollow and the precious treasure at it's heart. He felt a rage boil up inside him at the thought of Hook getting his hand on Wendy, a red mist rising in his vision as his body shook with the force of his temper. As if in accord with his mood, the clouds that had been peacefully scudding across the sky started to clump together, their fluffy roundness teased out into flying banners of unrest, the stars blotted out as the lowering mass started to rotate above the pirate camp. Feeling a speck of water land on his cheek, Hook tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, his forget-me-not blue eyes widening on seeing the growing mass of cloud gathering overhead.

“Odds fish!” He exclaimed, drawing his men's attention to the sky, the rasp of Hook's sword clearing it's scabbard loud in the sudden silence. “Arm yourselves brutes, Pan is close by!” His men scrambled for their weapons, the patter of rain drops hitting the dusty ground loud as each man held his weapon drawn and tried to pierce the dark shadows around them. Hook stood in the center of the camp, his trusty Smee at his side and Black Jack behind him, everyone wanting to be the first to spot the Pan, and everyone failing to see anything more than trees and darkness. Suddenly the skies opened and a torrent of water dropped from the thunderous clouds, soaking the pirates in a matter of seconds. Impervious, Hook remained as he was, staring expectantly at the trees for some sign of Peter's presence. As suddenly as it had started, the downpour stopped, the hiss and spit of the drowned fires sounding loud in the silence that followed.

“Steady men, keep ya eyes skinned......” Hook had barely finished speaking when a hail of rocks, sticks and other unidentifiable objects rained down on the pirate force from the trees surrounding them, the men ducking and holding their arms above their heads to protect themselves. Hook faired no better than his men, a large, well aimed missile knocking his scarlet and gold hat from his head to lay, its feather broken, in the mud at his feet. The clatter of small and large ammunition fell for a long minute, the yells and cries of pain from his men as rocks found their targets ringing in Hook's ears. While all around him tried to fend off the flying debris, Hook remained relatively unscathed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the dark trees for some sight of the Pan he knew was hiding in them.

“Come out you imp of the Devil! Show your cowardly face and meet me cold steel!” Hook challenged as another hail of pain rained down on the pirates, all his men now sporting cuts and injuries from the unavoidable attack. “Stop hiding and face me like a man, Peter Pan!” Angry that he had nothing to strike out at, Hook turned to his first mate, Smee hunched over beside him with his hands spread protectively over his stocking cap covered head. “Smee, stop cowering, you sniveling wretch, and marshal the men. The brats are in the trees all around us, take the men and go get those cowardly dogs!”

Wincing at the force of Hook's voice and the heavy blow delivered to his nether regions by the Captains slippered foot, Smee scurried away, shouting orders as he ran. Black Jack remained where he was, a trickle of blood snaking down his stubbled cheek from a well aimed stone.

“You and me, Jack, are going to find Peter Pan,” Hook growled, flexing his sword arm and swinging the blade in an arc.

“Right with you Captain. From what I could tell, the one that took off your hat came from that direction,” Jack pointed and Hook looked, his narrowed eyes trying to see beyond the sheltering leaves to the Pan behind them.

“Lead on Jack, I'm feeling lucky tonight.”

With Jack in black and Hook in red they made a strangely dressed pair as they advanced on the tree where Peter crouched, hidden among the leaves. Before either pirate could get close enough to see, Peter flew straight up and above the canopy, invisible to those below. A short flight brought him to the Hollow, the tree and surrounding jungle unnaturally quiet as he alighted on the soft ground cover, his sword drawn and a dagger in his left hand. With his back to the tree, Peter circled the grove, straining his senses for any indication that a pirate had found his way to the tree before him. Satisfied that he was alone, he backed up to the tree trunk and pressed the concealed knot-hole, the door swinging open behind him. Slipping inside, he secured the bark door before running down the pitch black steps, his breath sounding loud in the darkness, the patter of his feet against the earth like falling rain. Bursting into the dimly lit chamber at the bottom, Peter took a moment to sheath his weapons before approaching the alcove where Wendy lay. Sheltered within the tree's heart, she lay sleeping peacefully, her cheek cushioned on her hand and her lips slightly parted . Peter stared down at her and felt as if someone had punched him in the chest, his lungs straining to pull in air and his heart thumping erratically. Why this one girl had a power to disturb him so profoundly, he was at a loss to understand. Leaning down, he carefully pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, loathe to awaken her but aware that the Hollow was no longer a safe haven. The Lost Boys would already be on their way to the Indian village to regroup and wait for Peter to join them, and soon the pirates would be starting to close in. With a wry grimace, Peter reached out and shook Wendy's shoulder, her eyes snapping open and staring up at him in some alarm before she recognized him.

“Oh Peter, it's you,” she sighed, smiling up at him and blinking. A glance behind him told her he was alone, his tense expression making her sit up and rub her eyes. “What's wrong?”

“We have to leave, it's no longer safe. Hook is here.”

“How did he know where to find you?”

“Black Jack betrayed us and led him here. Quick now, we have to leave before they arrive.”

Wendy swung her legs over the side and stood up, Peter already moving away towards the stairs leading up to the surface. A sound from above froze them both in place, Wendy tilting her head and glancing up at the earth ceiling as another loud sound followed the first. “Peter....what is that?”

Unsheathing his sword, Peter held a finger to his lips before running across to the stairwell and peering upwards. Wendy came to stand at his shoulder, straining to make out the strange sounds coming from above. Several more thumps and blows sounded against the trunk of the tree sheltering them, Wendy biting her lip when a particularly loud thump made her jump.

“Can they get in here Peter?”

“Not if the tree doesn't want them to.” Peter grinned at her over his shoulder, another loud thump from above drawing their attention back up the stairwell. After several successive blows, the attackers went silent, Peter and Wendy moving back into the center of the cavern and staring upwards as if to see their besiegers through the tangled roots and solid earth. Feeling more than a little apprehensive, Wendy crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed both arms up and down to dispel the rash of goosebumps that had appeared. Peter still had his sword in his hand, his head tilted to catch any sound of what the pirates might be doing up above. Wendy sniffed, then sniffed again. Not wanting to believe what her nose was telling her, she drew in a deep breath.

“I smell smoke.....somethings burning!”

“They've fired the tree, the bastards!” Peter shouted, anger contorting his features as he raced over to the stairwell, a gust of smoke greeting him as he raced up the steps. Wendy stood at the bottom, coughing a little at the smoke that crept insidious tendrils down the stairs and into the Hollow. Thoroughly alarmed, Wendy stepped backward, her eyes darting everywhere, her imagination making her think that the temperature was rising and the air thinner than seconds before. Peter burst from the stairwell rubbing his eyes and coughing.

“We have to get out of here Wendy, it's a deathtrap.”

“How Peter? Surely they'll be waiting for us...up there. This Black Jack will have told them where all the entrances are.”

“Black Jack doesn't know everything Wendy, so take heart. There are more secrets unknown than known in Neverland, and this tree is no exception.”

Smoke was starting to billow in from other entrances, filling the Hollow with the smell and taste of burning wood, Wendy feeling tears start in her eyes from the acrid fumes. Peter grasped her hand and pulled her over towards his bed, his sword once more at his side. “Follow me Wendy, we'll be safe I promise.” Approaching the wall beside his bed, Peter reached up and twisted what Wendy had thought was just an ornament stuck to the wall. At once a section of earth seemed to fall inward, revealing a tunnel that led away into darkness. Taking one of the still burning conch-shell lamps, Peter bent over and led the way along the earthen passage, the roof too low for them to stand upright, but wide enough that Wendy could stretch her arms out and touch the sides with her fingers to steady herself. She followed the bobbing light in front of Peter through several twists and turns in the tunnel, her feet catching on the pebbles and roots protruding from the ground. At last Peter started to slow, the air clear up ahead of any hint of smoke, a solid wall blocking their way. Setting down the lamp, Peter drew his dagger and plunged it into the soft earth, a clod falling into the tunnel and rolling to Wendy's feet. He worked for several seconds before the wall crumbled, as the other one had done, falling outwards and giving them both free access to the outside. As they stumbled out, Wendy gulped in huge gasps of clean air before sitting down heavily on the grassy slope leading away from the hole. After extinguishing the lamp, Peter joined her, the pair of them enjoying the sensation of clean air and freedom from the close confines of the escape tunnel.

“What happened to the Lost Boy's?” Wendy asked, rolling on to her side and staring at the starlight rimmed profile next to her.

“We'll meet them at the Indian village. I was going to take you in the morning anyway......now we'll get there a bit sooner.”

They lay for a long minute or two, Peter staring up at the stars twinkling above, Wendy pulling up tufts of grass as she mulled over what she was going to say.

“Peter?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you really teach me to fight with a sword?”

“Easily.....but why would you want to?”

Wendy decided to try another tact. “I suppose you believe girls can't do the same things that boys can.”

“Well.....I guess that might be true. Girls are usually weaker than boys, or so I've always understood. Is that wrong?” Peter turned his head to face her, his features outlined by shadows.

“Not entirely. It is true that there are a lot of physical things best left to the men to do, but there are a lot of things that women can do just as well as men.”

“Like what?”

“Well, they can....and they could.......oh there must be lots of things. Anyway, the point is.......will you teach me to defend myself with a sword? After all, the Lost Boy's have weapons and presumably know how to wield them, and they are younger than I am, for the most part. And I'm sure if you taught me, I'd be able to help battle the pirates when the need arose.”

“I don't know......show me your arm.” He waited for Wendy to sit up and extend her arm, the flesh gleaming pale in the soft sheen of starlight. Getting on to his knees, he gripped Wendy's arm and pulled her forward a little, bending the elbow to test the muscles in her upper arm. “Not much here to work with, in fact you'd be lucky to hold a blade let alone fight anyone with it.” He slid his hands down her arm to grasp her hand, turning it face up to inspect the smooth palm. “And this is so soft, you'd blister in minutes.” He held out his own hand palm up, the hard ridge of callouses a direct contrast to Wendy's unmarked skin. “I don't think you'd be very good at sword fighting........”

“But Peter...” Wendy started, affronted at his assessment but unable to refute the truth of his words. “If I can't use a sword, how am I supposed to defend myself if I'm attacked by a pirate or another mermaid or some other enemy?”

“Let me think a moment. A sword is out of the question. It would take too long to harden your grip and build up the necessary muscle to hold it, even two handed. I could teach you to use a dagger, but that's only good for hand to hand, and you'd still be overpowered if your opponent had a sword.” He rubbed his chin, cataloging the assorted weapons sported by his Lost Boys. Suddenly he lifted his head and snapped his fingers. “I know what you can learn to use!”

“What?”

“A bow!”

“A bow? You mean like Robin Hood?”

“Robin who?”

“Oh never mind......but where would you get one, and who would teach me?”

“That's easy, from the Piccaninnies of course. They use bows to hunt and often hold tournaments among the braves. Why Princess Tiger Lily herself is a first class bowman, she could teach you.”

“Princess Tiger Lily,” Wendy murmured the name that sent prickles down her arms. “Didn't you say that the last two times we met we didn't get on?”

“But this time it'll be different. She'll see you belong to me and won't be so jealous,” Peter informed her airily, ignoring the incredulous expression crossing Wendy's face. “And neither will you.”

“Neither will I what?”

“Be jealous......at least of Tiger Lily. She's really very nice once you get to know her.” Peter added, getting to his feet in readiness to leave.

Swallowing down her temper, Wendy took his hand to get to her feet. “I'll take your word for it. Shouldn't we be going there now? Once the pirates realize that no-one is coming out, they're bound to come looking for the way we escaped.”

Peter shrugged. “They'll give up when they find that enchanted trees don't burn very well, plus it's nearly dawn.”

When he failed to elaborate Wendy prodded him to continue. “What's important about dawn?”

“Listen....can you hear that?” He pulled Wendy close. Faintly they caught the distant sound of something ticking, the sound fading then returning, each time a little closer than the last.

“What is that? It sounds like a clock?”

“It is....the one inside the crocodile. I told you the beast wouldn't be far behind the pirates. Where Hook goes, the croc will always show up. It's rumored that the reptile so liked the taste of Hook's hand when I tossed it too him that it wants the rest of him as well!”

“Oh Peter that's horrible.......the poor man, to be hunted like that.”

“Pah, Hook can take care of himself. Come on, lets get moving before the croc decides to make us his before-breakfast snack.”

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

The sun was rapidly rising into the sky when Peter and Wendy flew in to the Indian village, only a few braves from the previous nights watch scattered about the perimeter. They hailed Peter's arrival with upraised hands, showing only the mildest polite curiosity at Wendy's arrival with him. She, for her part, goggled unashamedly. She had seen illustrations and paintings of the noble savages with their long dark hair and sculptured features, she'd even seen one or two photographs in the strand magazine of various tribal chiefs wearing their exotic feathered bonnets. But to actually see a real red Indian up close was as much a surprise as finding out fairies really do exist. Trailing behind Peter, she looked left and right, marveling at the beautifully decorated and adorned painted tepees, the buffalo hide walls brightly colored with images of people and animals and other arcane patterns and symbols. So engrossed in staring about her she didn't realize that Peter had halted and helplessly bumped into his back before falling backwards on her bottom. A trilling laugh greeted her inelegant arrival at the chief's tepee and Wendy could feel her face burn as she scrambled to her feet with Peter's hand under her elbow.

“Wendy, let me introduce Big Chief Talagumpa Proud Elk, and his daughter, the princess Tiger Lily.”

Ignoring the hot flush painting her cheeks pink, Wendy dropped into a deep curtsy, the move slightly spoilt by her having no skirt to hold. Rising up out of her abeyance, Wendy lifted her chin and stared back at the girl standing to the right of her father. To her deep chagrin she found herself staring into a pair of dark sloe eyes tilted up at the corners like a cat, the thick lashes only enhancing their exotic look. The beautifully Indian girl also had a dimple on each side of her cupid bow lips set within a finely bones face with high cheek bones and dark, arched eyebrows. Her hair was as dark as ebony, smoothed back from her wide brow and plaited with interwoven ribbons down her back. Clothed in the finest white deer-skin, fringed and beaded to perfection, the princess presented the quintessential image of an exotic, savage beauty.

Tilting her chin up a notch, Wendy tossed her own hair back over her shoulder and kept her expression impassively polite.

“Chief, Tiger Lily, may I present........Wendy Moira Angela Darling.”

Wendy looked over at Peter in surprise, never expecting him to remember her full name, let alone announce her with it.

“Chief,” Wendy nodded her head at the brawny man, his costume similar to his daughters but capped with a trailing feathered headpiece, the heavy beading framing his face and reaching to the ground behind him. “Princess,” Wendy tilted her head at the Indian girl and received an answering tilt in return. Peter seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, his fingers finding Wendy's and giving her a gentle squeeze of encouragement. Grateful for his support, Wendy managed to lift her lips in a smile, relaxing a little when she noticed the narrowed gaze of the princess fasten on their joined hands.

“Welcome again, daughter of the big smoke,” the chief swept his arm in an arc, “we of the Piccaninnies are honored to invite you into our lodge to share our meal. Peter is often a guest of our lodge and we are pleased to see he has, for once in his life, done as he has been told.”

Wendy looked at the chief in surprise, the big man giving her back an enigmatic smile before ushering her towards the flap pulled back to allow them entrance. The princess had already gone inside and Wendy needed little urging to satisfy her curiosity about what a tepee looked like from the inside. Peter followed with the Chief bringing up the rear. Once everyone was inside the flap was once more lowered, the tepee amply illuminated by fragrant lamps hanging from brackets attached to the central support post. While Peter showed Wendy where to sit, the Chief sat himself down on a comfortable pile of skins, then took off his feathered head-dress which was taken by an Indian woman, one of several bustling about the tent. The center, around the pole, was laid with a large woven mat, around the edge of which guest and family members were seated in readiness to break their fast. Peter and Wendy found a space in the circle and sat down cross-legged with smiles and nods from their immediate neighbors. At once the women still standing started to pass round bowls of food in one direction while another started at the other side with a jug and a string of beakers hanging off her belt. The princess sat beside her father, serenely confident of her position, her dark eyes sweeping around the company but coming to rest on the down-bent blond head of Peter Pan. Wendy, slightly in awe of the handsome, dark skinned people around her, ate her meal slowly, savoring the tasty flat bread and fruit while trying not to stare at the different designs worked in beads on many of the garments worn by the Talagumpa family. Peter was conversing in the native language to the man on his right, laughing at whatever was being said before turning back to speak to Wendy.

“I was just telling Ahanu about last night. He suggested next time I send lightening bolts to toast the pirates backsides.”

“Can you do that?” Wendy asked, her surprise at the extraordinary things that Peter could do, starting to wear off. “Control the weather I mean.”

“Not really, but sometimes, when I get angry or upset, the weather seems to become violent and very localized, like last night.”

“Oh, I see.” Wendy took a sip from her beaker, Peter giving her a quizzical look.

“You don't seem surprised?”

“You said yourself, Neverland is magic, and I've already seen a sun that behaves quite unusually, as well as clouds that act like no clouds I've ever seen before. So being able to control the weather is almost.....anticlimactic”

“Anticlimactic?” Peter looked puzzled. Wendy leant to the side and placed her mouth near to his ear.

“Not at all surprised,” she whispered, before leaning back. Peter caught her eye and gave her a wide grin before lifting his bowl and using his fingers to push a concoction of meat and vegetables into his mouth. The meal was finished and over quickly, the jug passing around one more time, a woman gathering the bowls from each person while another cleared the platters from the mat. Chief Talagumpa raised his hand for silence and waited for everyone's attention to be focused on him.

“My family, my friends. This morning we welcome to our lodge the new companion for the Pan. Wendy Moira Angela Darling, daughter of the big smoke, has arrived as foretold by the wind, and the waves. We congratulate Peter on finding so able a protector for Neverland.” His welcoming speech concluded, the Chief beamed at the assembled company, his eyes twinkling when they alighted on Wendy, who could only return his look and smile, having not understood a word of the native language. Others around the circle were also looking at her, making her nervous and self-conscious. Princess Tiger Lily raised her hand next, waiting for the lodge to fall silent before speaking, her voice husky and melodious.

“I too add my welcome for this Wendy from faraway. I would extend the hand of friendship once more, as I have done before, and offer her a dress of my own, as a gift of friendship to the one the Pan, and Neverland appears to favor above all overs.” Her speech over, Tiger Lily gazed over at Peter, ignoring Wendy as if she was invisible, and concentrating her dark allure exclusively for him. Wendy understood the look, if not the words, and her own blue eyes narrowed slightly, quite able to understand why she'd taken the princess in such dislike the other times she'd been in Neverland. Keeping her thoughts to herself, Wendy turned to Peter for a translation of the Indian girls speech.

“The Chief welcomed you to Neverland and congratulated me,” Peter told her, looking smug.

“What for?” Wendy interrupted only to be ignored at Peter continued.

“Then the princess welcomed you too and offered one of her dresses to wear......”

“Oh did she,” Wendy muttered, Peter choosing to ignore the comment.

“As a gift of friendship,” he finished, a crease forming between his brows as he registered Wendy's mutinous expression. “What's the matter?”

Not wanting to answer that question, Wendy lifted her face, all trace of hostility gone and a smile plastered on her lips. “Why nothing Peter, I was just thinking how kind and generous of the Chief. Could you give him my thanks and also ask the princess if she would teach me to use a bow and arrow?”

“Sure...” Peter turned to the Chief and Tiger Lily and relayed Wendy's gratitude, the Chief smiling broadly while the princess fluttered her lashes and looked coyly at Peter. This seemed to signal the end of their session with the Chief, the rest of the family getting to their feet and leaving the large tepee, Peter and Wendy gaining their feet and waiting their turn to leave. Princess Tiger Lily approached and laid a hand on Peter's arm, drawing him a little way from Wendy as people filed past them. Lowering her voice for his ears alone, she effectively cut the pale-faced girl out of the conversation. Wendy fumed but kept her temper, concentrating on the people leaving the tent, smiling back when smiled at, nodding when necessary. The low voiced conversation between the princess and Peter didn't last long, and Peter soon turned back to lead Wendy out of the Chief's tent and out into the morning sun. Tiger Lily followed but stood to one side, turning her back on the couple in green and signaling for one of her attendants to come forward.

“What was that all about?” Wendy asked, before Peter could open his mouth to speak.

“I was about to tell you. Lily has offered to take you to the Sun Pool to bathe. It's her own private washing pool, so you're very honored She also agreed to give you lessons in using a bow later this morning.”

“How generous of the princess. What will you be doing?”

“Gathering up the boys and planning what to do about Hook, of course.”

“Couldn't I come with you?”

“We'll be having a council of war with the Chief and his braves, it's no place for girls.”

“Of all the horrid things to say!” Wendy gasped, her hands gravitating to her hips. “I bet the princess gets to sit in on these 'councils of war'!”

“I would doubt it,” Peter scoffed, fidgeting and looking about. “Look, there's Top-Hat, and Rat, the other's won't be far. I have to go. Enjoy the Sun Pool.” Not giving her time to protest, he cupped her face in his hands and gave her a hard, searching kiss, Wendy's hands reaching up for his even as he let her go, almost bounding away in his excitement to go and gather his small army of boys before meeting with the other men. A little stunned at the suddenness and intensity of his kiss, she stood for a moment with one hand pressed to her tingling lips. A sound behind her made her swing around, the beautiful Indian princess standing only a pace away, her arms folded across her chest and a hard look in her sloe eyes.

“Are you ready to go, milk-faced daughter of a dung pile?” Tiger Lily asked, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

“I beg your pardon princess, but I don't speak your language?”

A titter passed between the half dozen Indian women gathered behind the princess, their dark eyes glancing back and forth between the two girls. Wendy looked perplexed, unable to understand their whispered comments. The princess continued to smile at her, her expression at odds with her words.

“I would cheerfully gut you, you squinty eyed, straw haired insect,” Lily swept her hand before her to indicate the direction they were to take. Wendy had no idea what the girl was saying, but felt it was not entirely complimentary to herself, the woman behind the princess having a hard time controlling their mirth.

“I'll take it to mean the pool is that way,” Wendy answered, turning away from the giggling woman and walking towards the path indicated. “I will certainly enjoy having a wash. I'm sure my hair must smell of wood smoke after last night, and my feet are really quite grubby.”

“You smell like a pig,” Tiger Lily said, her face reserved but friendly, at odds with her insulting words. Behind her curved lips, the princess was grinding her teeth, this game of insults because the stupid pale-face couldn't understand her language a childish pursuit. Shooting a frowning glare at her attendants to stifle their giggles, the princess walked a little ahead of her guest to show her the way. It was obvious the girl didn't remember anything of their meetings before, and it was also obvious the Peter had made his choice, along with Neverland as she was wearing the leaves. Swallowing her jealousy, Tiger Lily decided then and there to throw off her evil mood and banish the spiteful spirits curdling her words.

“You will find that to swim in the Sun Pool is something to look forward to.”

Wendy gasped to hear the girl speak perfectly clear, if a little stilted and carefully enunciated, English. Keeping her own voice calm and even, Wendy decided to grasp the olive branch offered. “I am told it is a great honor to be invited to use the pool.” She racked her brain for something else to say. “Peter told me you are an expert with the bow.”

“Yes, I am. He has asked me to teach you.”

“I would be most grateful princess, if you could. Neverland is very beautiful, but since I came here, nearly everything I've met – mermaids, pirates, even the Lost Boys - have tried to capture, kidnap or kill me.”

“Neverland is a difficult place, if you are not prepared for it.”

“So I'm finding out. Last night the pirates tried to smoke us out of the Hollow!”

“Hook is a devil, and cunning as a snake. Never trust him. I will teach you to shoot the eye out of a mouse before the day is out, if you wish it?”

“Oh dear, poor mouse.”

“If you are to be of use in a battle, you must be able to kill or else be killed,” Tiger Lily told her, her expression fierce.

“I'm not sure I would be able to kill anyone, princess. I'm sure if I'd known that Peter's world was quite such a blood thirsty one I might have thought twice about coming here.”

“Do you not love the Pan?”

Wendy blushed, knowing full well that Indian girl had seen Peter's hasty kiss. “I haven't known him long enough to answer that question. He's quite different from the young men of my world.”

“As are you.” Tiger Lily remarked. The trail they were following was leading them towards the sound of water, a steady chuckled of a stream running over rocks filling the air as they approached. Birds were in full cry in the branches above, their tuneful trills adding to the morning chorus as the group of women approached to stand at the edge of a circular glade. “This is the Sun Pool.”

Wendy looked on with delight. The trees gave way to shrubs that surrounded a small lake that had formed at the center, the stream feeding in to the pool dropping over a ledge to create a mini waterfall. Each shrub bore a crop of flowers that scented the air and gave color to the greenery. Sunlight filled the sheltered glade, glinting in sparkles off the water which stretched from one side to the other, the channel that emptied it disappearing once more into the trees on the far side. Along each grassy bank was enough space so that the women could kneel and wash clothes, or just sit on the soft turf and dry off. There were no rocks or gravel to harm delicate feet and once they passed beyond the screening bushes, no way for anyone to disturb the privacy of the bathers. Sturdy wooden bridges had been made to span the serpentine lake in two places, several of the woman already using them to take them to a well used washing spot, downstream from the widest part of the small lake. Peering down into the water, Wendy could see that the bottom looked sandy and soft, the grassy edge giving way to the water so that everything was soft and inviting for tender flesh. Flowers dotted the grass, growing no taller than the green spikes and making a carpet of color for them to walk on.

“How beautiful.”

“Come and soak near the falls, the leaves will come off by themselves and the soap plants are there.”

“Soap plants?” Wendy followed the princess along the bank to the deepest part of the lake, the water turning a dark blue but still clear enough to see the bottom. The tiny waterfall frothed when it hit the surface, ripples fanning out and making the water glint like silver. Clustered thickly around that end of the lake were plants covered in green and yellow berries, hanging like cherries over the water. The two girls were now alone, the other women chattering and laughing further along, around a bend and all but out of sight. Tiger Lily kicked off her shoes and reached for the shoulder of her dress, releasing the fastening so that is slid off her arms and down her body leaving her standing in only a loin cloth twisted around her hips. Taking a short run the princess jumped into the pool, her arms around her knees so that she made a huge splash, the water forming waves that slopped against the bank and threatened to over spill. The Indian girl quickly surfaced, wiping the water form her eyes and giving Wendy a wide grin.

“What are you waiting for?”

The lure of the water was too much for Wendy to resist. Taking a more sedate course, Wendy sat on the bank and slid into the water like an otter, ducking under briefly to soak her hair. The princess was plucking some of the green berries from the plants edging the water.

“These are soap berries. You crush them in your hand, rub them together and then rub them all over you. Even in your hair!” Suiting words to actions, she did just that, a quantity of froth rising from her moving hands. Wendy could feel her coating of leaves starting to peel away from her body, the water feeling like silk against her skin as it became more and more exposed.

“I thought the water would be cold, but it's quite warm.”

“The Sun Pool is fed by a hot spring. By the time it reaches here, it is just right.” Tiger Lily explained, soaping her arms and shoulders. Wendy was surrounded by a growing flotilla of green leaves, her costume floating merrily away on the rippling water leaving her as naked as a babe. Keeping only her head and shoulders above the water, Wendy waded across to the Soap Berry plants and plucked several for herself. Copying the princess's actions, she crushed the berries between her hands and rubbed them together. At once a sweet smelling soapy froth filled her palms and she smeared it over her arms and neck and on top of her hair. It felt sinfully wicked to be standing naked in a pool in the great outdoors. Baths at home had, by necessity, been kept short and perfunctory. With hot water at a premium, and the whole family needing to bathe on the same night, it was more of a chore than a pleasure, her long hair proving a trial to wash and dry. Here in Neverland, in the Sun Pool, there was room to move and more warm water than she could ever need to wash and rinse her hair as many times as she wanted. Glad to rid herself of the smell of smoke, Wendy soaped her hair until it squeaked before turning her attention to her body. Tiger Lily had already completed her ablutions, a morning bath a common occurrence for her. She was sitting on the grass bank with her long black hair pulled over one shoulder, her fingers running through the strands to comb them out. Wendy was so absorbed in the novelty of having a wash out of doors that she didn't pay much heed to the near Indian girl watching from the bank. Tiger Lily, on the other hand, was taking great interest in the girl splashing about in the water.

She had expected, as in the previous visits, to take an unreasonable and violent dislike to the girl-from-faraway, and at first, that had been the case. But seeing her clothed in Neverland green, and that parting kiss, Tiger Lily had to admit to herself that all her silly, girlish fancies in regards Peter Pan were just that – silly. Peter had never really shown her more than friendship, and on the few times she'd tried to push it beyond those boundary's, he'd shied away like a startled deer. If she'd really looked and taken notice, even those first two short visits had shown the way the wind was blowing, Peter unable to hide his pride in the girl, his interest beyond the mere curious to something deeper and more long lasting. It was her own delusions that were harder to deny, her wish that Peter would look at her the same way, that she might ignite the light in his eyes with the ease that this pale skinned girl could do without even realizing her power. Giving up those secret wishes would be hard, but even Tiger Lily knew a losing battle when she saw one. Her father had been right, her stubbornness making her blind to Peter's true feelings. A splash drew her out of her introspection and she smiled at the girl standing up to her shoulders in the clear water. Her form was clearly visible and, despite knowing that her own rich, copper skin and enticing curves were attractive to a great deal of braves back at the village, Tiger Lily had to acknowledge that the slender limbs and creamy skin were a combination any man would find hard to resist. Dismissing the last vestiges of her jealousy, Lily rose gracefully to her feet and padded over to where her dress lay warming in the morning sun.

“You will wrinkle like a dried berry if you do not come out,” she called to Wendy, slipping her dress over her head and tying the fastening at her shoulder. “I brought a dress for you to wear if you would prefer it to leaves?”

“Oh, thank you Princess, that's very kind of you. I was starting to wonder if there were any of the special bushes around here for me to use.”

“They are about here somewhere, but for the time being, try this on. See, it is not a rag.” Lily held out the dress for Wendy to inspect, several strings of feathered beading hanging from the decorated bodice.

“It's beautiful. Thank you, I'll get out right away.” Wading over to the bank, Wendy hauled herself out and sat with her feet dangling in the water, her hands squeezing the water out of her hair. As if sensing somehow that she needed to get dry and warm quickly, the sun appeared to intensify, the heat beating on her skin and banishing the droplets of water in seconds. Instead of the usual half an hour it took to dry her hair in front of the fire, the sun managed in minutes, tendrils curling up at the bottom as Wendy fluffed it and spread it out to dry over her shoulders. When the heat abated, Wendy got to her feet and accepted the dress held out by the Indian girl, the cloth soft and silky between her fingers. Lifting it over her head she let it drop over her body, Lily lacing up the shoulder and smoothing the cloth over Wendy's arms.

“There, you look very pretty now.”

Wendy stared into the dark, sloe eyes so close to her own. She sensed the change in the Princess and wondered at it. Instead of the intense enmity that had rolled off the girl before, now there was nothing but friendliness and acceptance in the thickly lashed eyes, a smile curving the perfect bow of the girls lips. “Thank you Princess, you have been very kind to me.”

Tiger Lily shrugged. “There is no reason for us to be enemies, daughter of the big smoke. Peter has made his choice, and I must be content.” She flung her arm wide. “There are many handsome young men wanting to walk with me, and Peter never offered me anything more than his friendship. What there was is in the past; you are the future.”

Wendy ducked her head. “But is it the future I want?”

“Are you not sure? Did you not come here freely?”

“Yes.....I guess so. But......”

“But?”

“This is all so new, so strange. I hardly know what to believe, that this isn't some dream that I'll awaken from in the morning. And what about the future I had thought I had, back in London? What about my family?” Wendy felt a surging rush of emotion choke her and she covered her face with her hands. Tiger Lily looked on in some consternation.

“Do you not want to be here?”

“I don't know. At first I thought this would be like a dream, fleeting and fun, exciting. But then...well...”

“Peter Pan is not an ordinary boy, nor will he be an ordinary man. You are still caught between your world and his.”

“Yes, yes I am....and it frightens me.” Wendy lowered her hands and stared wide eyed at the Princess.

“You know that the Pan can never die, at least not at the hand of evil.”

“Are you saying he's immortal, that he's not human?”

“No. I am saying that the laws of this world would not allow the Pan to be killed by one such as Hook.”

“Then they fight a never ending battle? What's the point of that?”

“The point, if such a thing exists, if to keep the two worlds, yours and mine, in balance. Neverland is a place where dreams become real, where wishes take solid form, where life is an unending cycle of adventure and magic, challenge and suprise.”

“It sound's very tiring, if you ask me. Does it ever slow down, take a breath?”

“Does your world do that?”

Wendy thought for a moment, about the bustle and seething activities of a big city, of the people striving to give meaning to their lives, of the simple task of keeping what they had, of being a success. Even the day to day routine in her own family and household was a constant bustle of sound and movement, of school and home, of life all around them.

“I suppose not. But Neverland is nothing like London...there's no buildings, no trains, no people, at least not in the way London has people.”

“Do you miss all those things?”

Wendy looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together like her thoughts. “I miss my mother and father, and my brothers....but London? No. I heard my mother once asking my father if it would be possible for us to move further out of London, maybe even as far as the countryside, because of the sooty air and dirt of the city.”

“What did he say?”

“That we had to stay close to his work, that we couldn't afford to live like yokels and have any hope of a future for us.”

Wendy fell silent, the feel of the warm sun on her shoulders draining some of the tension from the muscles. “I know they want the best for us, but how do they know what that is?”

“Maybe this is what is best......for you.” Spreading her arms wide, Tiger Lily spun in a circle, her face upturned to feel the sun on her face. “Maybe Neverland is the future you were meant for.”

“Maybe.”

Tiger Lily stopped turning and regarded her new friend pensively. “If we are to teach you to shoot an arrow and hit something other than air, we should start now. Peter will be looking for you soon, and he is impatient.”

“Won't he just come here?”

“The trees would send him in circles!” Tiger Lily laughed, her white teeth bright against her copper skin. “Only women can come here, and only women find it again. Men who dare to go looking soon find themselves anyplace but here.”

“How clever. But you're right, I do want to be able to show Peter I can defend myself and he did say you were the best.”

Tiger Lily preened a little before slipping on her moccasins, Wendy accepting a pair that matched the dress, finding them soft and snug against her feet. Together the two girls, as different as night and day in appearance, waved goodbye to the women still washing further down the lake before heading through the sheltering belt of flowering shrubs to the trees beyond. Once through and into the shadowed depths they found the trail and walked side by side, the shrill calls of the birds following their slow return to the Indian village.

From his lofty perch high up in the canopy, Black Jack looked down at the distant figures of the two girls walking the track back to towards the village, their voices like fluting birds as they passed beneath and beyond his hiding place. Hook had been right to send him ahead to watch the trail and village for signs that Peter Pan was there. Hook had remained behind to smoke out the tree, already aware that his quarry would find an alternative escape from the trap. Even now the pirate brigands were making their way down to the valley sheltering the village, the intention to meet up with Black Jack and hear his report before finalizing their plans. Certainly Jack would have a deal more information about the newcomer to Neverland than he had before, the very girl he'd come to spy upon passing close enough for him to wish he could see the color of her eyes. She looked comely and young and Jack felt something stir, a crimp of jealousy that knotted his insides and made his teeth clench. Why should Peter Pan be the one to have the pick of the prettiest girls. He'd already toyed with the Indian Princess, and now he had another on his string. It was grossly unfair, and the reason he and Peter had fallen out in the first place.

Jack had fallen hard for the beautiful Indian girl from the moment he first set eyes on her. Tiger Lily had been similar smitten, teasing the two boys as they vied for her childish attention. But Jack wasn't Peter Pan and inevitably lost the battle for the dark-eyed beauty's attention. As the boys grew and Peter Pan started to assert his leadership, Jack found himself butting heads with his Captain over issues that before would have been deemed unimportant. Now they became battles fought to a standstill, Peter and Jack turning the skies of Neverland red with their rampant emotions out of control. In the end it came down to one of them leaving, Jack losing and being cast out of the Lost Boy's band. His rage had carried him as far as the beach, the Jolly Roger rolling at anchor in the bay before him.

At first Hook had treated him as he did any Lost Boy that fell into his grasp, throwing Jack into the brig to molder. Several interrogations later and Jack had managed to convince the black haired pirate Captain that Jack was sure to be useful, not least as a scout to lead Hook and his men against their common enemy, Peter Pan. As soon as Hook signed him on as crew, Jack started to grow, leaving behind his boyish form and becoming a man in appearance and manner. The rest of the crew welcomed him, naming him Black Jack for his midnight hair and brows as much for his brooding demeanor. Soon his previous life was all but forgotten, the rhythm and routine of the ship with it's hard work and quick tempered Captain keeping Jack's mind off his grievances. Being the newest member of the grizzled crew, Jack had to learn quickly the way things were done, discipline meted out with many a meaty fist connecting with his head and producing stars until he got too quick or too strong for such punishment. Now he was the equal of any man aboard, his corded arms and broad shoulders enough to make any pirate think twice before crossing him. Hook noticed, and took the younger man under his wing, making Jack his lieutenant and making use of his knowledge gained when still a Lost Boy and the Pan's right hand man.

Now Jack had only one goal in mind, to bring Pan to his knees and end the spell keeping the Jolly Roger tied to the island of Neverland. With knowledge gained from years of sailing the waters, Hook had surmised that the only way for them to escape the islands hold would be to kill, once and for all, Peter Pan. An uneasy truce with the mermaids brought the pirates more information, confirming what Hook already knew and allowing them to more closely track Peter's movements and actions. The last freeze had cemented their plans, with maps and men sent ashore to search out and destroy the Pan as quickly as possible. The news, that he'd returned with a girl from his last trip, came as something of an unwelcome surprise to Hook and his men. Rumors had been heard, from fairy folk and enchanted creatures that, like Jack, Peter had changed from a boy to a man and had gone looking for his other half. Now it appeared that the rumors were fact and the girl very real, already ingratiating herself with the native population. It only changed the plan a little, Jack grinning with the thought of snatching the girl and the princess together, of Peter flying to their rescue only to be spitted on Hook's sword and thereby ending their long servitude to the island. Maybe they wouldn't have to kill the girl and could keep them both aboard ship as servants, the princess for him and the girl for the rest. That seemed fair. Satisfied he had it all worked out to his advantage, Black Jack slipped down through the branches to the jungle floor, his boots almost silent on the leafy ground as he hurried away to meet up with Hook and the rest of the pirates.

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Chapter: Five – Friends, Foes and moral fiber

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Peter's mind was only half on what was being discussed about the council. His Lost Boys were in good voice, Crate proposing suitably gruesome plans for ambush while Stretch described singularly bloodthirsty ways of dispatching the pirates minus their entrails or other body parts. The Chief looked on with a detached disdain while his braves argued over the probable actions of Hook and his crew and which direction they'd come from. While the rumpus carried on around him, Peter sat beside Talagumpa and thought about Wendy.

His life had been turned upside down by her arrival not once, but three times to Neverland. The first time had been short and unsatisfying, Wendy accepting his hand to bring her to his world, but once there she had been reserved and nervous, shy of him and unwilling to take a risk. Despite that inauspicious beginning, he'd returned to bring her a second time, this visit a little longer, allowing him to show her more of his world and the people in it. But again, she had been reserved and wary, taking an instant dislike to the Indian Princess for no reason that Peter could fathom. But despite the difficult start to their relationship, or maybe because of it, he'd gone back a third time, determined to pursue this one girl above all others. If asked, Peter would have been hard pressed to explain why he'd chosen Wendy, his reasons still not clear to himself, let alone anyone else. That he was attracted to her physically was without dispute, his body wanting to leap out of its skin whenever she was near, the overwhelming urge to touch, caress, kiss and get closer driving him mad without really understanding why that was. He could no more explain the reason his heart almost leapt out of his chest, hammering like a drum every time he touched his lips to hers, or why the feel of her in his arms filled an empty place that had been steadily growing larger with each passing year. All he would have been able to explain was that this girl, this creature from another world far removed from the magic of Neverland, was what he needed, what he craved. Her touch aroused him in ways he never knew existed, his skin tingling wherever she touched, his body leaping to attention from so innocent an engagement as holding her hand or seeing her smile. Seeing her blush when he teased her made him want to tease her again and again, the delicate rose in her cheeks making heat bloom everywhere on his body, his toes curling when the scent of her hair reached out and wrapped him in invisible coils. If he could have done so, he would have wanted to fuse the two of them together, becoming one body, one mind, one heart, never to be parted or separated, entwined seamlessly. It was a far cry from his usual carefree existence, to want someone so badly he could almost taste the need making his blood race through his veins. Even the threat of Hook and his machinations weren't enough to stop his mind wondering where she was, when she would be back within his sight again, how soon before he could have her alone somewhere, his thoughts beyond that point too heated to contemplate. It was as if he had a fever, if such a thing were possible, as if he'd become infected by this girl, her very presence enough to send his blood singing and his hands reaching for her.

Without realizing, his musings had left him staring off into space, a lopsided grin twisting his lips as his thoughts consumed him. Seeing the lovesick look on Peter's face, the Chief lifted up the knobbly stick he used to bang on the ground for attention and poked the younger man with it. Peter jerked out of his reverie and blinked at the Chief, his hand lifting to rub at the spot where the stick had dug in.

“Ow.”

“If fighting Hook is so unimportant, why did you call this meeting?”

“Huh?”

“We are discussing war plans, and you are off,” the Chief made waving motions with his hand, “somewhere other than here.”

“Sorry Chief......er....I was thinking?”

“Thinking about her, I'm guessing.” Seeing Peter's face turn pink, Talagumpa chuckled to himself. “Leave us Peter, you're no good to us in this state. Take the girl somewhere and purge this love-sickness. When you are ready to talk about Hook and what we are to do, we will be here.”

“But.....” Peter looked around the circle, the braves and Lost Boy's oblivious to him and the Chief, the animated plans and outrageous suggestions being bandied back and forth washing over Peter like a wave. “I guess you're right chief. I'll go look for her and see how she's getting on with Lily.” He grinned wickedly at the Talagumpa, “you suggest a purge?”

“Take her somewhere far away. If Hook comes here, we'll do what we always do. He won't be any trouble.”

Peter rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. Snapping his fingers he jumped to his feet. “I know just the place. Thanks Chief, I'll be back.......”

“When you're back , as the Pan. When the warrior is ready to fight and the fool is satisfied.”

“Right.” Peter cocked an eyebrow at the grinning Indian Chief, the man's dark eyes twinkling up at him. Around the circle, the Lost boy's and braves had stopped their animated discussions and were staring at Peter.

“Peter? Where are you going?” Harry asked, the others suddenly silent as they waited for his answer.

“Oh....well....um....carry on men. I trust you to come up with something to foil the codfish and his cohorts. I have.....um....something to do.”

“But...” Crate started to argue, but Peter didn't stay to listen, waving his hand briefly before turning his back on the war council and walking away. All eyes swiveled to fix on the Talagumpa, the Chief lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug, before thumping the ground with his stick.

“We have talked enough. For the time being we must accept that the Pan is not going to be a part of these plans. Tell me what you have decided.”

The Lost boy's exchanged glances between each other, Crate's narrowed eyes following Peter's departure before turning back to face the chief. “This is what I think we should do......”

Peter sauntered through the Indian village, whistling merrily, that small task almost defeated by the grin that threatened to break out on his face every few seconds. Up ahead he noticed two Indian girls walking arm in arm, both dressed in fine deerskin but one with hair the color of jet, the other with hair that glinted gold in the sun. His heart jerked in his chest when he recognized Wendy as one of the girls, her face alive with laughter at something Tiger Lily was telling her.

“Wendy?”

The two girls stopped when Peter hailed them, their smiles turning secretive as they approached.

“Oh Peter, Lily took me to the most wonderful glade with this simply darling lake, with warm water and soap berry plants......”

“Wendy?” Peter interrupted her enthusiastic discourse, his eyes drinking in her curves beneath the softly draped Indian dress.

“Yes Peter?” Wendy looked back at him, her eyes a shining blue as she gave him her full attention. Tiger Lily looked on with some amusement, seeing Peter gazing back at her friend with such obvious absorption, her presence not wanted or acknowledged. She cleared her throat and Peter's gaze finally flickered over her for a brief instant before returning to it's former direction.

“Oh, hi Lily.....the war council is still going if you want to take part.”

“Thank you Peter....but I was going to show Wendy how to use a bow, if you remember.”

Now she had his attention, a frown creasing his forehead as he turned towards her. “You were?”

“Yes. You asked me to?”

“It'll have to wait......I need......er...I have to take Wendy to see something.”

“But Peter......I was looking forward to...” Wendy found herself suddenly free of Tiger Lily and being bundled along, back the way she'd come. “Peter please, at least let me say goodbye to the Princess!”

“No time.....gotta go now......” Peter muttered, his hand firmly about hers, as unyielding as steel. Wendy looked back at her new friend and shrugged helplessly, waving as Peter bore her on towards the edge of the tepee's.

“Goodbye Wendy.......I'll see you when you get back,” the Princess called after them, grinning at both her friends, recognizing the signs, determination on Peter's to have Wendy to himself, and a growing acceptance by Wendy to be had.

Peter was almost running now, Wendy towed in his wake until the inevitable happened and she stumbled, Peter barely pausing to swing her up in his arm and jump into the air all in the same move. Wendy gasped, wrapping her arms about his neck as the ground fell away and Peter carried her off.

“Good heavens Peter, if I didn't know better I'd think you just kidnapped me!”

“I did.”

“You did? But what about Hook, the pirates....don't you think they're going to attack the Indian village?”

“Maybe.....but the Chief has that all in hand and anyway, the braves outnumber the pirates plus the Lost boy's are there to help out.”

“Well, yes. But I thought you wanted me to learn how to use a bow? As you could see, the Princess and I are good friends now.”

“I did see, and I'm happy. I told you she was alright.”

“You did....and she was.” Wendy lay her head on his shoulder, not bothering to pay much attention to where they were going. “Did you....I mean, was there ever a time you thought......that is....” Wendy felt her cheeks heat up as she tried to voice the question begging for an answer. Peter glanced down at her and saw the small frown furrowing her brow.

“You want to know if I ever kissed Lily?”

Wendy's cheeks flared bright red and she wouldn't look at him. “She is very beautiful, and I think she might have thought that you and she......”

“I did get an Indian kiss from Lily after I rescued her from Hook's clutches. He'd taken her prisoner and tied her to a rock to drown.”

“Oh Peter, how horrible!”

“He only did it to get me there to rescue her. It worked, and as plans went it was a good one.”

“You admired his plan?”

“Hook is a cunning old codfish, but he can never win against me.”

“You're very sure of yourself.”

“Of course,” he gave her a smug smile, dark lights twinkling in his eyes before he turned his attention back to his flying.

“I see. And for rescuing the Princess you got a kiss?”

“An Indian kiss.” Peter lowered his head to hers and rubbed his nose against hers, nuzzling her cheeks but not kissing her in the conventional way, lip to lip. “That's an Indian kiss.”

“Oh. So you've never kissed a girl on the lips before you met me?”

“I didn't say that. Only that I hadn't kissed Lily that way.” Peter laughed at Wendy's outraged expression, choosing that moment to swoop down towards the ground in such a way to make his passenger clutch her arms more tightly about his neck and squeal in fright. As a ploy to take Wendy's mind off him and the Princess, it worked to a point, Wendy deciding to drop the discussion about Peter and his conquests and instead look about her and where he was taking her.

“Oh my....” Wendy whispered faintly, barely feeling her feet touch the ground as she gazed about her. Peter hadn't flown for every long, so she assumed they weren't very far from the Indian village. What she hadn't taken in to account was his speed, their trip in fact taking them round to the other side of the towering volcanic peak that dominated the islands topography. Here there was no evidence of habitation, the jungle as thick and impenetrable as virgin forest, the air filled with the fluting calls of multitudes of birds, whole flocks rising up from the canopy to wheel and flutter in colorful living clouds before settling again. The trees were very straight and tall, like columns of smooth bark, their lofty tops filtering the sunlight so that it fells misty and green to the ground below. Shafts of sunlight broke through and made bright patches on the leaf litter, making the shadows that much darker and mysterious. They had landed in a small clearing, its edges ringed with stones of different heights and shapes, the grass underfoot fringing the rocks and bases of the trees like fine strands of hair. As Wendy stepped forward she could see faint rings laid out on the ground, her first impression that they were formed by white stones, but a closer inspection telling her that they were small mushrooms just broaching the green sward, creating numerous small rings of fungi among the grass.

“This is a very special place,” Peter told her, “'tis full of magic.......fairy magic.”

“You can feel it. These must be fairy rings, and those standing stones, like the ones I've read about.”

“You have these in your world?” Peter's eyebrows had risen in surprise, his hands gravitating to his hips as he waited for her answer.

“Oh yes....well......the fairy rings were explained in a journal I read. Apparently the fungus spores spread out in ever widening circles each time they produce mushrooms.” She reached down to pick one, the white ball feeling soft and silky between her fingers. “I wonder if you can eat these.”

“Ur...Wendy? Please don't pick any more of those.....the fairies are rather particular about their special place.”

“Oh, sorry.” She bent down and replaced the mushroom where it sat, now canted on one side. She walked over to one of the large upright stones, her fingers grazing over the surface, surprised to feel faint indentations under her fingertips, a carved pattern appearing faintly on the rough face of the rock. “There's something carved onto this rock.”

“They hold the ancient fairy magic at their heart,” Peter explained, coming to stand beside her, his own hand reaching out to touch the grey rock face. “Every full moon the fairies gather here to dance and feast and hold their fairy councils. It's quite a spectacle.”

“How wonderful. The moon was nearly full last night, will they be coming tonight?”

“Maybe,” Peter smiled secretively. “But we'll have to wait until dark to find out. In the meantime, I wanted to show you something else.”

“Neverland is truly full of the most wonderful things Peter. I'd imagine you'll never, ever want to leave here.”

“Of course not. Why would I ever consider such a thing?”

“Oh, no reason.” Wendy fiddled with the beading on her dress. “I'll have so much to tell my brothers when I go home again, and mother and father will never believe half of what I'll tell them about Neverland.”

Peter gaped at her disbelievingly. “What are you talking about? You're not going home, you know that. You're here for ever and ever!”

“Oh no Peter.....I couldn't do that. Why my poor parents might think me dead and grieve quite unnecessarily, and what about my poor brothers, they will cry and think me gone forever. I can't do that to my family.”

“But....but.....” Peter stammered, his face turning quite pink. “You can't leave me...I won't allow it.”

“Won't allow it?” Wendy turned slowly to face him, her own color high. “Won't allow it!”

“I'm the King, you're my Queen......Neverland accepts you, the Indian's, even the princess accept all this. Why do you not?”

“Because it isn't right. This is all a lovely dream Peter, but just a dream. A very detailed and exciting dream, I'll grant you that, but I can't stay here...I don't belong amongst fairies and pirates and mermaids. I have a family, a place in my world, a future to consider. I'm not a child to run away from all that.”

“But you'd run away from me?” His hurt, bewildered expression tore at her heart, but she remained firm, imagining her mother's face, her family's heartbreak if she never returned.

She reached out a hand to him, “I can always come and visit?” Her hand touched empty air, Peter having jerked back from her, his face contorted with frustration.

“Visit? To do that you'd have to have gone and come back from here. You can't leave, I won't let you.”

“Peter,” Wendy spoke in a voice she recognized as Miss Finchin's at her most prim, “are you suggesting to hold me prisoner here? For I tell you now, it won't do!”

Peter was struggling to contain his temper, his thwarted desire making him stalk back and forth across the green grass, his brows drawn down over his eyes. Wendy stood and watched, her chin held high and her hands clasped in front of her, trying desperately not to shake and show how fearful she was. She could see that Peter was working up to a towering rage, his shoulders and arms bunched with hard muscle as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Swallowing hard, she held to her resolve and lifted her head another notch. Peter abruptly stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his expression clearing like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

“This is a test, isn't it? Something you and Lily cooked up to tease me.” He crossed his arms and looked smug at having figured out why she was being so contrary. Wendy wanted to stamp her foot and slap the silly grin off his face.

“Of all the silly things to say, of course it's not a test. It's the truth Peter. I can no more abandon my family than you can abandon Neverland forever. It's not the right thing to do, and I won't do it.”

Waving his hand as if to dismiss her words unsaid, Peter continued to regard her with his infuriatingly smug smile, unfolding his arms before swaggering over to her, circling around where she stood.

“It won't work....I don't believe you. You can't lie to me Wendy.....I know.”

“Know what?” She could feel heat rising in her face as her own temper started to take over, her fingers clenching into fist to box his ears if he would only come close enough.

Peter continued to circle around her, his eyes dancing, waving his hand towards her features. “You can't lie to me with those eyes, or that mouth. Want me to prove it?”

Wendy's temper boiled over and she took a swing at him, Peter dancing back out of reach and laughing, the sound further enraging her. “You touch me Peter Pan and I'll.....I'll......box your ears!”

As if to test her, Peter spread his arms wide and bent forward, tilting his head to bring his chin within her reach, an impudent eyebrow rising to taunt her. With a hiss of fury, Wendy lunged, her small fist swiping through the air and missing completely, her wrist caught in a vice like grip, her swing catching her off balance. Peter used his grip to his advantage, Wendy literally falling into his arms as he twisted her arm behind her back to hold her in place, bringing them chest to chest. She struggled,but couldn't twist free of his grip, her bare feet making no impression on his shins, her free hand quickly caught and held behind her back with the other. Glaring up at him, Wendy could only purse her lips as his came down to claim their prize, her mouth clamped shut against his persuasive enticement. Peter maintained his sweet assault a few seconds before pulling away, Wendy's eyes shooting sparks into his as she fumed silently, her mouth shut to him. Keeping her hands behind her back within his clasp, Peter used his free hand to roam over her face, ignoring her head toss and furious glare. Tracing her cheek, he had to pull his hand away when she tried to bite him, her lips pulled back, baring her small, white teeth.

Wendy was keeping up her ferocious stance with some difficulty. Peter held her effortlessly plastered against his body, her chest mashed against his, his legs braced to keep his feet as her own tried to find purchase. His very nearness was undermining all her defenses, his heat through her dress melting her resistance as she struggled to get away. Her attempt to bite him had been a reflex born of fear that if he tried to kiss her again she'd not be able to stop herself kissing him back. His presence was enough to make her knees go weak and her head spin, the puff of his breath against her cheek sending shivers up and down her spine, the tug and pull of her dress as he shifted his balance against her body making her gasp in shock as tingles prickled her skin. Without realizing it, she was relaxing into his hold on her, her body accepting even as her mind continued to rebel, his quick grin of triumph unacknowledged as her eyes slid shut and her lips welcomed his.

He released his grip on her hands, his mind crowing as he accepted her capitulation, his arms wrapping around her and pressing her closer, in truth wanting to meld the two of them together, all anger and enmity washed away in the flood of feeling coursing through him everywhere they touched. Her arms no longer confined, she quickly wrapped them around his neck, her response to his kiss all the more intense having only seconds before wanted to hate him, but now could only melt against him and give herself up to his eagerly plundering mouth.

Somehow they ended up laying on the soft grass, lips and tongues still enthusiastically exploring new territory, legs entwined and arms wrapped about the other. Peter's large hand was roaming over the soft surface of her dress, dipping into the hollow of her waist and over her hip, tracing the contour of her thigh then back up again, smoothing over the deerskin as if leaning her shape and texture. Her own were not exactly still, taking their own journey over his shoulders and arms, kneading the muscles bunched under the sun warmed skin, her fingers threading through his hair and scalp, tracing the shape of his ears and nape, all the while yearning for something more. When his hand closed over her breast she realized just what more could entail. With great reluctance she wrenched herself away from him, her mouth open as she gasped for air, still bound within his arms, but her mind a little clearer once free of his drugging kisses.

“Peter.....Peter stop....”

Peter didn't hear her, his mouth occupied with mapping her neck while his hand marveled at the hard pebble against his palm as he brushed it repeatedly over her breast. Wendy groaned and flung her head back, well aware, even if her lover was not, of where this was all leading.

“Peter, we have to stop........now.” Shoving hard against his shoulder, Wendy managed to get his attention, Peter lifting his head to blink at her, his hand not stopping it's wicked fondling even as he focused on her wide eyes and flushed face.

“What did you say?” He grinned at her and leant forward to capture her mouth again. Wendy twisted her face way and thumped her fist against his arm.

“No Peter.....we can't do this. We have to stop!”

“Why? I'm liking this,” he nuzzled her cheek with his nose, “You're liking this,” he squeezed her soft breast through the dress, “why do you want to stop?”

“Be-because.....” Wendy found it hard to concentrate, Peter lapping at the skin under her jawline, his hand tracing circles around her breast, circling closer to the peak even as his leg nudged between hers, his bodies response to their lovemaking hard against her thigh. “Because....” she swallowed and fought for control over her wayward body. “I'm a lady, and ladies don't do this with gentlemen until they are married.” She sighed deeply as Peter's hands and mouth stilled against her. “I can't do this with you......I'm....I'm a virgin. On-only my husband is allow-allowed to go this far....” Peter was like a block of stone against her, cold and hard. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at her with his fathomless eyes, their sparkle gone.

“I am the king and you are my queen. That makes this right.”

“No Peter, it doesn't. Kings and queens are just make believe, and I can't let this go that far. I'm sorry, but I can't.”

Peter tried to lean forward and kiss her again but Wendy turned her head to thwart him, her body shaking as she fought for control. The enormity of what she'd been so close to doing had been like a douse of cold water, every moral fiber screaming out that it was wrong, her heart wailing that it was right and her head fighting its own battle against her frustrated desire. Something in her stillness communicated this to Peter, his grip on her loosening. Slowly he pulled away from her, sitting up so that his back was to her. Wendy sat up as well, pushing her hair back off her face and tugging at her dress in an attempt to calm herself.

“Is there someone.....back there? Do you already have a husband?”

“No.....no I don't have a husband.”

“But you won't let me be your husband?”

“You can't be Peter.....this isn't the real world...this is Neverland where fairies and pirates live, where dreams are made real and you live an enchanted life. It isn't real.....not like my world.”

“I don't understand. You're not making any sense!”

Silence fell over them, Wendy drawing her legs up and turning away from him. All around them the forest fluttered and breathed, birds wheeling over head, filling the air with their peeping cries, ignoring the silent pair below in the glade.

“I think I should go home now.”

Getting to his feet, Peter held out his hand to her, his face averted. Wendy took his hand, her eyes lowered. The sun was directly overhead, it's heat seeping in to her frozen limbs as they slowly rose into the air, Peter leading rather than holding her, his eyes never once meeting hers as he flew her back towards the Indian village. A thin plume of smoke rose from the forest, indicating where the pirates had tried to fire the huge tree, their efforts useless and already being repaired by the tree itself. The village came into view and Peter set them down just outside the first of the buffalo hide tents. Wendy was biting her bottom lip to stop the tears from breaking through, her vision blurry as she faced the tepees. Peter had distanced himself and stood off to the side, his hands hanging by his side.

“I'll arrange for a fairy guide to take you back. Goodbye Wendy.”

Choked by her misery, Wendy couldn't raise her head, her fingers twisting together as she tried to speak past the lump in her throat. Unable to bear the silence a second longer, she lifted her eyes only to find Peter gone, the forest silent around her. Overhead the sun was blotted out by clouds massing above the trees, a chill wind brushing past her and making her skirt flap around her legs.

“What have I done?”

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21/11/06

chapter: six – villainy afoot

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Peter flew through the air as if a dragon was nipping his heels, his sword arm swinging back and forth, lopping off chunks of tree top as he passed, the blade flashing and reflecting the few shafts of sunlight still penetrating the darkening cloud layer overhead. Unable to pacify his anger with fighting inoffensive trees, he flew like a streak of lightning towards the coast, to where the Jolly Roger rode at anchor. Peter wanted to fight someone, anyone and he sorely hoped that there were enough pirates left aboard the ship to satisfy his blood lust. Shadowing his every move, a bright speck of light fluttered in his wake, ducking and diving to miss the leaves and branches unfortunate enough to get in Peter's way. Tinkerbell had all but forgotten why Peter had banished her, and anyway, he never meant it for very long, so she had come in search of him, not at all surprised to find him in a towering rage and venting his spleen left and right. Keeping a safe distance, she tagged along , her light bobbing back and forth whenever Peter seemed to be looking in her direction, making sure he couldn't spot her right away. Her luck held and Peter remained oblivious to his fairy friends' presence, too intent on finding something that would fight back to worry about anything else. Tinkerbell, seeing the gathering clouds and flashes of lightning correctly surmised that it was all the fault of that lumping great girl that had the Pan in such a temper, the tiny fairy feeling suitably smug that the silly ass had only taken Peter's interest for so short a time. Sure that she would be welcomed with open arms, Tinkerbell preened herself and darted forward to catch up with him, the Pan already diving towards the ground and leaving his glowing shadow far behind.

Lazily wallowing among the waves, the ship below looked innocent and deserted, Peter swooping down with a yell and his sword swinging, only to find nobody there to fight after all. Despite searching the entire upper deck, he found no-one to lure into a good slanging match, let alone a fight. Doubly frustrated he perched on the topmost mast, digging his sword into the wood before settling down to brood on what had happened.

Tinkerbell, seeing Peter engrossed in the horizon, settled herself in the fold of a sail and waited to see what happened next. Off in the distance she thought she heard the distant boom of a cannon, but dismissed it as thunder, the sky getting ever darker as the minutes passed. The ship was starting to pitch and toss, held in place by it's huge anchors, but not immune to the rising swell, the waves now white capped and angry. The wind was rising, whipping and snapping at the canvas sails, catching any loose ropes and making them dance like snakes, Peter apparently impervious to the building wrath of nature, his mood perfectly matched by the weather.

Brooding over what had happened, he tried to make sense of it all, his mind replaying as much of the conversation he could remember, the parts not overshadowed by his clamoring emotions or his over eager response to kissing Wendy. One minute he'd been part way to paradise, the next, he'd held an armful of insane female, spouting all sorts of nonsense about going home, and grieving parents and other such idiocies. He was sure that, until he'd made the mistake of filling his palm with her soft breast, Wendy had been as excited and eager as himself, her kisses as wild and sweet as strong wine, more potent than the beer the Indian's brewed. It had been only when he'd found the hard pebble of flesh beneath her dress that she'd struggled to be free and started spouting a load of cods wallop about husbands and the rights and wrongs of what they were doing. Peter shuddered, the very word husband making his insides twist, as if the word alone was enough to strike a mortal blow. He thought he'd made it clear to her, that he, Peter Pan was to be her all, her King, her prince, her husband, her everything, hadn't he told her so? The thought gave him pause; had he told her that, had he made it clear to her? If he hadn't, could that be why she was so set on going home? Would that be all that was needed to make her happy, make her stay?

Indignation flared and his eyes gleamed, how dare she want to go home! Neverland had more than enough to offer any mortal, let alone one truculent girl. There was food and shelter and Neverbushes for clothes, and that was only the basics. He hadn't had a chance to show her the real treasures of Neverland, the Diamond Grotto with it's sparkling walls or the Dazzling River were jewels of every color mixed with the grey river gravel. And what about the Rainbow Waterfall, or the Emerald Lake, all were treasures he had wanted to share with her, to watch her wonderment as he displayed Neverland's beauty to her. He had lived with such marvels all his life and took them for granted, using precious stones like marbles and hardly noticing the wonders around him. But with her, he could see them all again through her eyes, relive the joy of discovery and awe, experience it all for the first time with her, as well as pursue more earthly pleasures, those that had only been hinted at up to now.

Not that long ago he wouldn't have considered having a girl live with him in Neverland, his antipathy to females and their wiles, largely influenced by his abandonment by his mother, leaving him a carefree and callous boy with no thought beyond the next battle or meal. His life had been untrammeled and heart free, no cares or worries to weight him down or make him think that there might be more to life than being a child forever. Then he'd lost his shadow, one night while he skipped about the rooftops of London, the wily shade darting out of reach and leading him on a merry dance among the chimney pots and slates until it disappeared through an open window and beyond his reach. As far as he knew, it was still there, hidden away by the grownup that found it, lost to him, and with it, his perpetual childhood. From that night on he felt the change grow large within him, his body reflecting the changes with a growth spurt that left his younger companions behind, his height and breadth doubling until he was an equal to Hook in strength and reach. Along with the physical changes came the emotional ones, feelings intruding where before they had remained banished and ignored. He became moody and irritable, the Lost Boys learning the warning signs and keeping clear of him when his moods turned violent, Peter's physical strength deterring everyone but the most foolhardy to wrestle with him, only Jack and Crate daring to stand up to the Pan. Fortunately for all, Peter's unsettled period passed quickly, his emotional ravages leaving Neverland with a crop of new and interesting scars, but it's inhabitants largely undamaged by the storms. Now a new and unsettling emotion was causing the wind to rise and the seas to boil, love creating a host of new emotions that he was ill equipped to either deal with or understand, his body on fire to explore the new feelings, his heart acting erratically to the mere presence of Wendy anywhere near him, and his emotions in a turmoil of conflicting desires. He thought that simple action would be enough to expunge the jealousy and hurt fighting with his burgeoning passion and sense of loss, but that had proved to be unfulfilled by the simple fact that all the pirates appeared to be on land, instead of aboard ship.

Frustrated, he stared out at the gathering storm on the horizon and tried to think of a way he could change the way things were turning out.

A bright flash of lightning, followed by a sudden, chilling downpour, shook him out of his depressing thoughts, his head tilting as he opened his mouth to drink of the rainwater, the liquid icy on his tongue. Soaked to the skin, he stared ruefully up at the dark clouds circling his head, the rumble of thunder like the growl of a big cat thwarted of its prey. Why did it suddenly matter so much that this one girl stay and bear him company, didn't he have friends enough, didn't he have distractions aplenty to banish boredom? Why, oh why did he have this overwhelming need to go back and beg her forgiveness and plead with her to stay, what had happened to his independence, his pride, his aloofness? Apparently it only took a pair of sea blue eyes to shatter all his previous notions on life and living it. Half disgusted with himself, Peter couldn't stop the wry grin from sneaking on to his lips, his brows gradually lifting as his spirit lightened and his heart took flight. At once the downpour ceased to drench him, the clouds above his head ceasing to whirl like tornadoes, their color changing from black to grey but not entirely to fluffy white. Shaking his head like a dog and sending spray in all directions, Peter started to laugh, the chuckle starting deep in his chest and rising like the sun until it broke from his mouth in a loud burst of sound, the shout turning into a crow as he leapt into the air in a burst of energy, throwing off his melancholy and instead starting to use his head. All he needed to do was show Wendy what she really meant to him, demonstrate his feelings in all their turbulent glory and she would surely see that he was worth a hundred times more than returning home to dreary London and her unexciting life. Of course, he'd have to come up with a something to ameliorate not seeing her family again, but surely he, the Pan was more attractive than any family could be? Of course he was, the supreme arrogance of beautiful youth giving him the only answers he'd listen to. Satisfied that his course was clear, Peter circled the empty pirate ship, flying loop-de-loops over the deserted decks before somersaulting once and heading towards the tropical shores waiting patiently for his attention.

Soaked, battered and not a little out of temper, Tinkerbell fluttered her wings and shook out her short skirt, shivering dramatically before heading off after Peter, her tinkling cries for him to slow down going unheeded as she struggled to keep up with his rapidly disappearing form.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Wendy regretted her hasty demand to go home almost immediately, her calls to Peter to come back choked off as her tears strangled her and his body disappeared from sight. In despair she sank to the ground, her head bowed, unable to face seeing Tiger Lily or anyone right at that moment. With her hands over her face, she tried to make sense of her conflicted feelings. It was true she missed her family terribly, but it was also true that there was something about Peter that was proving almost irresistible, her heart bouncing around whenever he happened to glance her way, his touch enough to make her almost swoon. On top of all this was the delights of Neverland itself. If she had to describe to another person the perfect place in all the world, Neverland would encompass almost everything she could think of. Added to it's natural charms was the excitement of knowing that a magical element existed as well, something that had been a part of many of her dreams as a child, her imagination supplying the magic when her mundane world failed to produce it. Now to have visited a place where magic really existed, to see it, touch and even be apart of it was all her fantasies come true. Neverland even made her most fantastical stories seem tame by comparison, the reality of seeing fairies dance and a boy fly unaided by mechanical contrivance was almost too good to be true. It was like she was a little girl again, staring so hard at the illustrations in a book, so wishing they were real and that she could step into the pictures and dance with the elves and pixies. Here in Neverland she was at last in the illustration, a part of the story between the pages of a wonderful book. As if that dream wasn't enough, the characters inhabiting this book had become real for her, the hero as handsome as any hero she'd read about, more handsome and daring than Robin Hood, or Sir Galahad, and added to all that she was living the part of the heroine, swept of her feet into the best of all romantic stories. It was all so confusing and wonderful and alarming to be apart of one's own fantasy, bringing with it expectations that she was ill prepared to meet, along with a welter of intense emotions that she felt ill-equipped to deal with. It was easy to ask to return to her home, to the security of her former life where nothing more was expected of her other than to grow up, behave and become a nice, safe, loving wife to some unimpeachable young man, together to live a life of peace and quiet and not one iota of excitement. Did she really want to go back to that? Was she really prepared to give up every fantasy she'd ever had, including several she'd not even thought of yet, for the sake of seeing her dear family again? Could she really so heartlessly leave Peter behind her and go one to love another in his place?

A sound behind her jerked Wendy out of her internal contemplations, her head half turning to see who was behind her only to have a large and very calloused hand clamp firmly around her face, blocking any sound she might attempt to make as well as rendering her frozen in shock.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A voice hissed in her ear, hot breath fanning her hair against her cheek.

Hauled to her feet by a brawny arm clamped about her waist, Wendy found herself swung up and around, her fingers scrabbling at the hand still pressed against her mouth, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air, her heart thundering in her ears as she watched first one then half a dozen disreputable looking men appear from the thick undergrowth, their narrowed eyes fixed on her as they crept silently forward. The loud boom of a cannon sounded nearby, the cries and shouts of the Indian's racing to defend their village from attack drawing further away while Wendy stared wide eyed at her kidnappers.

“Let's get the chicken trussed and get outta here.” One pirate growled, gesturing for another man to come forward and start securing rope around Wendy's ankles and knees, her hands yanked down and tied in front of her, while a greasy rag replaced the leathery hand, just as effective in keeping her quiet. When she lay at their feet, immobile and terrified, the small party of pirates allowed themselves to relax a tiny bit. The first part of the plan was complete, now they just had to leave the village without being seen and carry their prisoner back to the prearranged rendezvous with their Captain, while also keeping a look out for the Pan. Unable to do more than mew her protest, Wendy found herself lifted and hung over one man's wide shoulders, her head hanging down his back, the world spinning dizzily below her as the raiders left the outskirts of the Indian village and made their way silently back into the jungle. In her mind she screamed for Peter, screamed for him to fly down and rescue her, her fears escalating when the pirates around her deemed themselves far enough away not to need to be quiet anymore and started to make comments about Wendy and her fate at the hands of their cruel Captain. After an hour of tramping through the thick jungle, the men paused to rest in a small clearing beside the narrow track, wiping sweat from their faces and leering openly at their nearly insensible captive. All round them birds called to each other, whistling and hooting oblivious to the small raiding party gathered below. Wendy tried to wish herself up into the trees and away from the awful pirates, but her thoughts were anything but happy and her body remained held by gravity against the uneven ground. The man who had the task of carrying her had dropped her with little care, Wendy sure that she would be black and blue by the time they reached their destination, whatever that might be. Just as she managed to roll herself upright, another pirate appeared from the jungle, his dark hair and dark clothing marking him apart from the others. Cold black eyes swept over her and sent a chill down her back, his swaggering stride carrying him past her recumbent form until he stood among the ruffians, a wine skin appearing in his hand to be passed around the pirates.

“Good work lads......you got the wench. Hook sends his complements and tells you all to drink up, me hearties.”

Tossing the wine to the nearest pirate, Black Jack grinned widely and watched as the man gulped down the sweet liquor with scant regard to it's quality or taste. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, the pirate then passed it to his mate, the action repeated until all the members of the raiding party had taken a good mouthful. Taking the skin from the last man, Jack made to lift it to his own lips, but then held it out in a toast before taking a sip.

“I give you the most black hearted pirate ever to sail the Neverland seas!”

To a man the pirates turned to stare at Jack, mouths opening to query or protest but unable to do either as, one by one, they succumbed and slumped to the jungle floor like so many broken puppets. Wendy looked on helplessly while the black haired pirate carefully checked each man, satisfied that the drug had done it's worst and rendered them all unconscious. Putting the cork back into the neck of the wine skin, Jack slung it once more over his shoulder and finally turned his attention to the captive sitting dumbfounded beside the trail.

“I suppose you're wondering.......no, I know you are wondering what I'm about, but it is too soon to tell all, so you'll have to wait and find out, as Hook and your precious Pan will....in the fullness of time.” He grinned good-naturedly at Wendy, squatting down on his haunches to check that her gag was still in place and her hands secured. Slicing through the bonds securing her knees and ankles, Jack hauled his captive to her feet, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she swayed. Wendy could only stare at the newcomer while blood flowed into her legs, tears springing to her eyes with the pain.

“Stamp your feet, it'll help.” Jack suggested before turning away and making a quick search of the men spread insensible on the ground before him. Wendy started to edge away, sure that she had a chance of escape. Unfortunately she only got as far as three steps before Jack returned to her side, hung about with an assortment of weapons stripped off his comrades. “Come now my lovely.....you don't want to be leaving Black Jack so soon?”

Grasping her upper arm, Jack led Wendy off the trail and into the jungle, careful to check behind him and cover up any trace of their passing by sweeping away their footprints in the dirt. Looping a length of rope through the binding around Wendy's hands, he pulled her along behind him like a tame goat, her efforts to slow him earning her a sharp jerk on the line that made her wince from the pain in her wrists as the rope cut into her flesh. Wherever her original captors had been taking her too, she was now being led away in an entirely different direction and always further away from the Indian Village and possible rescue. To make her situation worse, the leaden skies that had been threatening finally unburdened themselves, drenching Wendy within seconds in a downpour that wiped away any trace of their passage through the jungle. Her captor, who she supposed must be the Black Jack that Peter had mentioned, the former Lost Boy turned pirate, seemed unperturbed by the weather, his face lifting to the rain in apparent pleasure as he tugged his reluctant captive along behind him. At one point, while the skies still thundered down around them Jack turned and flashed a bright grin at Wendy.

“You must have really put his nose out of joint girl. What did you say to him to put him in this sort of temper?”

Almost blinded by the rain and her hair, Wendy's only reply was to turn her head and ignore the question, Jack not really expecting an answer and tugging her forward as he pushed through the dripping jungle. Soon the rain stopped, the vegetation starting to steam as the sun made an appearance, springing into the sky as if catapulted there, heat radiating so hotly from it's blazing face that Wendy could almost imagine it had moved closer to Neverland for the sole purpose of drying it out as quickly as possible. In less time than she would have ever thought possible, both she and the jungle were dry once more, the birds resuming their fluting chorus as if torrential downpours and quick drying jungles were an everyday occurrence. Feeling a trifle light headed, Wendy mused that maybe they were and she should expect all manner of strange weather phenomenon before the day was done. Large rocks had started to appear between the trees, huge monoliths that dwarfed the humans walking between them. Some of the surfaces appeared decorated with carvings, the swirling patterns running like snakes over the surface of the boulders, Wendy feeling the world start to tip as she stared at one particularly ornate example, the surface carvings swirling around her head like whirling dervish.

“Easy girl.....put your head between your knees and take deep breaths.” Jack's unwanted presence made her jerk back, black spots dancing in front of her vision. Ignoring her physical protest, Jack drew Wendy down to sit on a small rock perfectly suited for for the purpose, his knife flashing in front of her eyes for a moment as he sliced off the gag, Wendy drawing in huge gasps of air as she flopped forward, doing exactly as he suggested.

“Still got a ways to go before sundown, and I'm not up to carrying you, despite your slender form,” Jack laughed, sliding his knife back into its holder before turning to survey the rocks around them. “Impressive aren't they?” He tilted his head to indicate the carved monoliths. “Used to come here all the time in the old days. Played hide and seek, hunt the Lost Boy, where's the fairy.....them's was good times.”

Feeling better, Wendy raised her head and stared up at the tall youth, her hands lifting to shade her face from the sun. “Why did you give up being a Lost Boy is you enjoyed it so much?”

“Well there's the rub, you see. Can't be two Pan's in Neverland, only room for one at a time. I thought it was time Peter stepped down and let me take his place. He disagreed, so we fought over the issue. Peter won, I left......and joined Hook.”

“And became a pirate,” Wendy finished, lowering her head and staring at her hands. “Was it so bad having Peter as your leader? How is Hook an improvement?”

“Have you met Hook?” Jack asked, folding his arms and leaning against one of the towering stones.

“No.....but I've heard a bit about him.”

“He's a fearsome Captain and a bastard when his temper's roused, which, with Peter Pan taunting him every chance, is often. What choice did I have? Join the Indian's? Not likely.....I had no liking to live like a savage, no more than I wanted to live aboard that maggoty barge the Jolly Roger. But I had to go somewhere.......so Hook was offered my services and he took me aboard.” Jack lifted a wine skin from around his back, uncorking it and holding it out for Wendy to take a drink. Seeing her withdraw he frowned briefly before letting out a bark of laughter. “This isn't the drugged skin......threw that away long since. Just plain water.” He held the skin out again and this time Wendy took it between her bound hands. After a mouthful or two she handed it back.

“Why have you kidnapped me?”

“Maybe I just want to put a spoke in the Pan's wheel....” Jack offered, waving his hand airily. Wendy sniffed.

“Hardly worth all this trouble just to upset Peter. Plus you'll have Hook on your trail before too long. His men were taking me to him, weren't they?”

“What they were, or were not to do is in the past. I have you know and intend to keep you. Hook can go to the devil, and the Pan with him. I have my eyes on another prize.”

“But what has that to do with me?”

Jack suddenly shed his nonchalant attitude and lent down to gather up the rope. “What I want is my business and none of yours, Miss Nosy Parker, so keep your trap shut and those feet walking. I want to put more distance between us and them before it gets dark.” Yanking on the rope Jack pulled Wendy to her feet and set off between the stone monoliths, passing from shadow into sunlight like a dark wraith ahead of her. They continued onwards, passing beyond the forest of stones, plunging once more into the depth of the jungle, the cries of birds and thrum of insects enveloping them as the sunshine became dappled and filtered green through the leafy canopy. After another hour of tramping over leaf mold and lichen they reached a demarcation, the lush greenery giving way to blackened and twisted tree trunks, the ground grey with ash. Burnt fingers off bushes and plants rose out of the ash like skeletons begging to be released from the ground, no evidence of leaves on any of the tortured limbs. Barely pausing, Jack tugged Wendy forward, the ash rising up and coating his knee high black boots in seconds, Wendy's skin turning grey as tiny eddies of ash swirled around her legs and skirt. Here there was no shelter from the sun, the bleak landscape stretching away down into a steep valley and up the other side and over the ridge.

Jack didn't stop to look around, his stride lengthening so that Wendy almost had to trot to keep up. Turning his head to left and right, he looked nervous, the tension reaching out and enveloping his captive so that she almost screamed when a growl came from behind and off to the right.

“There's something behind us!” Wendy yelped, twisting against the rope to peer over her shoulder.

“Run you stupid girl! We have to get across this blasted valley before the Ashbeast catches us.....don't fall or we're lost!”

“Untie my hands! I can't run like this!” Wendy cried out, her eyes wide as another growl, closer than the last, sounded from nearby. “Untie me!”

Skidding to a halt, Black Jack hesitated only a second before slashing through Wendy's ropes, his fingers closing over her bruised wrist to pull her forward, his knife left unsheathed as they ran forward. Grey soot and dust rose up around them, choking the air as their feet pounded across the scorched earth. Wendy didn't dare look behind her, too intent on keeping her feet as they skidded and slithered down the steep hillside, a trickle of grey water snaking over the valley bottom. A mournful howl sounded from above them, echoing off the hills around them as they scrambled over the creek and up the other side, feet and boots slipping on the inches thick ash. The air was thick with the smell of burnt wood, tendrils of smoke rising up from some of the stunted bushes as the two humans scrabbled together up the slope, the insistent howls chasing their heels. Jack pushed and pulled Wendy to the ridge ahead of him, turning back to face the creature stalking them, a blast of heat washing across the slope as they broached the peak of the hill. Wendy slipped and tumbled over, a scorching wave of fire singing her feet as she rolled down the other side, a cry behind her and a roar presaging another wave of broiling heat before she landed in a disheveled heap up against the broad trunk of a tree, the air knocked out of her in a rush. The cool shade revived her quickly and she stared up the slope, noting the cut off line where the burnt vegetation gave way to lush greenness once more. Black Jack seemed to be fighting something invisible to her, his body twisting and turning, his dagger slashing out in wide arcs, the unseen enemy keeping the young pirate on his toes. Abruptly the fight was over, Jack thrust backwards as if from the force of a sweeping tail, his body flying through the air to land on his back a third of the way down the slope, thereafter to tumble head over heels and end up sprawled at Wendy's feet like a rag doll. A bright gush of yellow flame spurted over the edge, the creature responsible invisible behind the rocky ridge, a final bellow the only evidence of it's existence before it departed. Jack lay sprawled on his back, eyes closed, his hair and clothes singed in places as if he'd passed too close to a fire. Wendy coughed, reaching out a hand to see if the young man still lived. As her fingers tentatively touched his arm, Jack lurched in to life, his eye wide and mouth open as he scrabbled to regain his feet.

“What was that?” Wendy gasped, “what was chasing us, and why did it stop?”

Swaying, Jack reached down to give Wendy a hand up. “The Ashbeast......dragon.....whatever you want to call it, is slow, but deadly. We were lucky it was asleep and only halfheartedly decided to give chase.” Wiping a hand across his face, Jack didn't realize he'd left a wide swathe of soot like a black paint streak across his skin. Wendy could feel her own skin itch from the dirty dust coating her from head to toe, her eyes smarting and stinging.

“Why did it stop at the ridge?”

“Its' natural boundary. It eats only things that are burnt to a crisp. Magic keeps it from roaming too widely and devastating everything in its path.”

Disgusted at her grimy state, Wendy could only snort her disbelief. “Why keep such a creature here at all?” She had intended her question to be rhetorical, but Jack chose to ignore this and answered anyway.

“Would you prefer it running rampant in your world? If not safe in Neverland, where would it go? At least here it is limited and contained. It's one of the reasons I chose this way rather than another.”

“So we could get cooked by a dragon!” Wendy stared at him, “are you mad? I don't think much of your plan, whatever it might be.”

“Well, mad or not.....we're past the beast now, and none are likely to want to follow. Be so kind as to put your hands together...” Jack raised an eyebrow and held out the rope to bind her again.

“Must you? I'm black and blue already and hardly likely to want to try my luck returning through that valley.”

Tilting his head on one side, Jack regarded her for a long moment. “I think it wise to keep you close awhile yet girly, girl. I have a feeling there is more to you than meets the eye.”

Fuming, Wendy submitted to having her wrists bound, glaring mutinously at her jailer when he pulled out the grubby gag and wound it around a hand as if contemplating it's use. Apparently Jack thought better of the idea and used it instead to tie back his straggling hair from his face. Squinting up at the sky, Jack noted the sun starting it's downward path to evening, the heat of the day past and night starting to draw nearer with every minute. Clouds had started to gather off to the east, a veritable tower of thunderheads building impressively into the sky.

“I think your beloved Pan has discovered your absence. We could be in for a stormy night.” Tugging on the rope, Jack lead Wendy once more into the depth of the jungle greenery, the sky quickly blotted out as they tramped further into the wilds of Neverland.

20/01/07

Chapter: Seven – The Hunt for A Wendy

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Peter arrived back at the Indian camp to find the place in turmoil. Several tepees were burning, the occupants aided by their neighbors in throwing buckets of water over their burning homes. The spiked palisade that usually protected the tribe was splintered and holed in several places, evidence of the use of a cannon and shot in the assault. Braves and Lost Boys scurried around like chaotic ants, voices raised in shouted commands and jumbled information about the enemy and defenses. His first thought was to find Wendy and ensure that she was safe, but his intentions were routed by the arrival of his troop of followers who all crowded round, shouting at the top of their lungs to be the one to tell Peter what had happened and their part in the defense of the village. Unable to make out a word, Peter jumped into the air and hovered a few feet of the ground, effectively shutting up his Lost Boys and making them focus on him.

“Quiet the lot of you! Obviously Hook has been here, I can see that for myself. Is anyone dead and where is Wendy?”

Crate elbowed his way to the front of the Lost Boys, waving his hands to shush the others before speaking.

“No one dead Peter, lots injured though. Haven't seen Wendy since you left with 'er this morning.”

“I left her outside the village.” Peter replied tersely, turning his head to find the one person who would know where Wendy might be. “Have you seen Tiger Lily?”

Tophat answered this time, his black tatty hat pushed to the back of his head. “She was in the thick of the fighting Peter, despite the Chief telling her to stay back. Over there's the last time I saw her,” he pointed to where a large crowd were gathered around Talagumpa, the Chief waving his fighting stick in some agitation. Touching down again, Peter marched over to the group and shouldered his way through to the Chief. He heard the Indian Princess' name mentioned by the braves and fear spiked in his chest. Talagumpa saw him and raised his hands to quiet the crowd.

“Pan, I am glad you are here.”

“Sorry I missed the battle Chief. Have you seen Wendy or Tiger Lily?”

“I have seen nothing of your Wendy, but the news is worse of my daughter. Hook has her.”

“Hook! What happened?”

“Ever impetuous my Tiger Lily,” the Chief threw his hands up, “took a party of braves to rout the pirates when they retreated. The braves returned, but not the Princess. Those that survived said that she was taken prisoner.”

“Have you sent a rescue party after them?”

“I was just organizing that when you arrived. Will you go Peter? Will you rescue my daughter?”

Peter bit his lip. No one seemed to know where his Wendy was, and now Tiger Lily urgently needed his help. The Lost Boys stood behind him, watching and waiting for orders.

“Crate, Tophat and Rat. Gather your weapons.” He didn't bother to watch as the boys raced off. “Chief, I'll need your fastest braves to go with me. We have to catch Hook before he returns to the Jolly Roger. If he has Tiger Lily, we need to free her as quickly as possible.” Peter paused as the Chief relayed the orders, a small group of young braves gathering to one side just as Crate returned with the other two Lost Boys, fully laden with weapons and provisions. Peter turned to the three boys and directed what they'd take. “We want to travel fast, so only load up what you need. Squid? I leave you in charge of the others. Make a search of the village for Wendy. If you find her, keep her safe until I return. If you don't, question anyone and everyone if they saw anything during the raid. I originally left her over there,” Peter pointed to the end of the village. “So start searching there if nothing else comes to light.”

“Aye, aye Peter!” Stretch and Squid both saluted their leader, Grub and Harry gazing apprehensively at Peter as he turned to join the search party for the Indian Princess. Overhead the once clear skies were starting to look ominous again, the angry grey of before now transformed into a towering white bank of cumulus, a veritable mountain of cloud that gleamed white and gold in the afternoon sun. As quickly as possible, the small rescue party took their leave of the village and their Chief, Peter leading the braves and Lost Boys out of through the broken palisade and into the tree-line to where the pirates had been last seen. One of their party was a survivor from Tiger Lily's group and led the way forward when Peter indicated him too, those remaining behind watching until the party of young men were swallowed up by the thick vegetation. Turning away, his face tight with worry, Chief Talagumpa issued a series of quick fire orders, sending his people scattering to set the village to rights and tend to the wounded. The remaining Lost Boys slowly turned away and trudged towards the end of the village to where Peter had said he'd left Wendy. They already knew that Wendy wasn't anywhere to be found among the tepee's, having conducted a quick survey from the onlookers gathered around the Chief. Now they searched the area beyond the village, Squid squatting down to inspect the ground every few paces.

“Over here, yous fellas over here.” Squid peered intently at the ground, his fingers running lightly over impression made in the dirt and leaves. He waited for the others to gather around before pointing out his find. “You can see here, and here.......there's been a scuffle, lots of boots and someone with bare feet, or at least one bare foot.”

“Wendy?” Harry asked, squinting and turning his head to see the impressions better.

“Could be.......it's a small print, narrow like a girls.”

“That's nothing.....Harry has teeny tiny feet,” Stretch snorted, elbowing Harry and ducking the blow aimed at his ear.

“Well I wasn't here, was I,” Harry pointed out, scowling at Stretch before turning his attention back to Squid. Grub peered between his companions legs, the better to see what they were all talking about.

“Yup, reckon it's pirates,” Squid rose up and stared at the surrounding trees. “They went off this way. Should we follow or report back?”

“We'll never catch up with Peter now, and they went off in the opposite direction,” Stretch observed, running the edge of his hand under his nose. “Best we follow these tracks and see where they take us.......eh.”

“What if we sent Grub back to the village to tell the Chief.....” Harry suggested, only to be shouted down by the smallest member of the Lost Boys.

“Oh no you bloody don't,” positively bristling Grub scowled horribly at his friends. “You don't leave me out of this adventure. Harry can go tell the Chief.....I'm going with you!”

“Well I'm not about to leave either, so you can forget that!” Harry shouted, stamping his feet and shaking a fist at Grub.

“Enough you insects. We follow the trail and see where it leads....agreed?” Squid asked, glaring at each member of his small band. “Agreed?”

“Yeah Squid, no need to shout. We're with you,” Stretch grinned at their temporary leader, then winked cheekily at the other two. Squid glowered but ignored the snickers behind his back.

“Right then. We have enough weapons and provisions......let's go.” Lifting his arm, he waved the small party of Lost Boys forward, leading them along the faint path quite some way before stopping again. “Summit happened here. Look at all that flattened grass and drag marks.” Squid paced the small area, counting under his breath. “Six in all.....laying down on the job, if'n you ask me.”

“What about Wendy?” Grub piped up.

“Hmmmm,” Squid peered at the ground, following the drag marks that led off in one direction, then retracing his steps to follow another, fainter, set of tracks leading off at right angles to the trail. “Someone tried to hide their tracks......” he muttered, bending down and brushing his hand over the ground. “Did an okay job....but not good enough to fool me!” Triumphant, Squid pushed back some branches at the side of the path and slithered through the gap, the others following as their leader disappeared from sight. An hour later they had reached the standing stones, the sun coloring them scarlet and orange as it slid towards the horizon, the sky overhead still dominated by the towering white cumulus, the clouds now tinged gold and pink by the setting sun. Stretch, Harry and Grub all collapsed gratefully on the ground, scattering their belongings as they panted heavily. Stretch passed around a water bladder while Squid went off to search around the huge monoliths for clues left by their quarry. They watched Squid work his way back towards them, finally flopping to the ground and accepting the water bottle and taking a swig.

“They was here alright.......didn't stop for long, I reckon, but passed on again.”

“I'm tired....” moaned Grub, using his pack as a pillow and curling up as if to sleep.

“Me too,” added Harry. “Can't we camp here for the night and carry on tomorrow?”

“Reckon that's a good idea Squid,” Stretch agreed with the younger members, his mind already on what they would have for a meal.

“And I reckon we push on and see where this leads us,” Squid growled, scowling at his dirty feet.

“But the sun is setting and it'll be dark soon,” Grub whined, looking to Harry and Stretch for support. The other's nodded in agreement.

“Sure enough Squid, this is as good a place as any. You know the ol' saying....early to bed, early to rise....we can be back on the trail before the quarry is awake!” Stretch waggled his eyebrows at Squid, in the hopes of winning him over.

Looking at each member of his troop, Squid had to concede they were all tired and hungry and ready for a rest. It had been a long day since their eviction from their tree home, all the planning of the defense of the village, then the battle itself, and now their trek across Neverland. “Alright.....we rest here. Stretch, see about getting a fire going, we can warm up a can of water and make tea.” Amid the chorus of hurrays from his companions, Squid found himself smiling. He enjoyed being a lieutenant and leading his small band of Lost Boys, the thought of Peter's gratitude when Squid found and returned the Wendy gave him a warm fuzzy feeling of impending success. Whoever had taken Wendy, and Squid had a fair idea who it might be, was unlikely to make much headway with a reluctant hostage, so catching up with them shouldn't take more than another day. The tracks indicated there was only one pirate to contend with, and up against four Lost Boy's he didn't stand a chance. Success was assured. On that happy thought, Squid turned his attention to the bustle around the camp fire and the smell of cooking food.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Wendy stared into the flames of the fire, her mind largely blank except for a constant litany that repeated endlessly. “Please find me Peter, please find me.”

Jack was sitting opposite her turning a rabbit on a stick, the fat off the carcass spitting sparks when it dripped into the flames.

“Nearly ready,”

Wendy looked up from her contemplation of the flames and stared at the young man responsible for her predicament.

“I need to.....I need to answer the call of nature. Please untie my hands?”

“Can't you manage as you are?” Jack asked, frowning at her. Wendy felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck and face.

“Do I need to beg?”

“Oh alright......but be quick about it. If your not back in two minutes, I'll come looking for you.” He deftly untied the knot and slipped the rope off her wrists. Wendy rubbed them gratefully then got to her feet, turning her head to find a suitable place. Jack pointed with his knife to a large bush at the edge of the firelight.

“That'll do. Use that one.”

Lifting her chin, Wendy padded over the to bush and ducked behind it. The thought of running did briefly cross her mind, but she really did need to relieve herself and she'd lost both moccasins in the flight from the Indian village, leaving her vulnerable. Plus she had no idea in which direction to run, having no possibly way on knowing where safety from Black Jack might be. Feeling more comfortable, Wendy shook out her Indian dress and emerged from the bush to find Jack already on his feet and walking around the fire.

“I need to wash my hands before I eat, they're black with soot,” she held out the offending articles which were quite awful in all their dirt. “You could do with a wash as well.”

“We passed a pond a little ways back Follow me, your highness, and you can wash up there. No tricks mind. If you try to run I'll truss you up and you won't be very comfortable for the rest of the night.....understand?”

Wendy nodded her compliance, waiting for Jack to lift a flaming brand to use as a torch from the fire and lead the way to the pond. They both looked as if they'd been sweeping chimneys, covered from head to foot with sweat and ash from their encounter with the Ashbeast, or dragon, as Wendy preferred to think of it. After a brief walk they reached the small pond, the surface dark under the trees, reflections of the torch flames dancing over its glassy face. Wendy knelt down and thankfully splashed water over her face and neck, wetting her hair as well before sluicing up her arms and cleaning her hands. Jack had to make shift one handed before he managed to wedge the firebrand among some rocks, then copied Wendy's ablutions and cleaned himself up. Feeling cooler and undoubtedly cleaner, Wendy followed Jack back to their campsite, the fire still burning merrily under the rabbit carcass. While Jack tended their meal, Wendy finger combed her hair back from her face before tying it at her nape with a length of fringing off her dress. Her feet and legs were still black, but at least she could eat her food without coating it with a layer of soot. Jack was finally satisfied that the meat was cooked sufficiently, lifting the stick from the flames and laying the steaming meal on a flat rock. Using his knife he cut the joint almost in half, handing the smaller portion to Wendy on a bed of thick leaves before attacking his own serving with obvious relish.

While enjoying the meal far more than she expected too, Wendy studied her gaoler as he devoured his portion of the rabbit. To her eyes Black Jack was the complete opposite of Peter, his coloring and everything about him in direct contrast to his former leader. Jack looked older than the age she suspected he was, Wendy suspecting that life among the pirates would be difficult and stressful, the more so for someone more used to swinging through trees than swabbing a deck. That Jack had risen quickly through the ranks proved that the young man was both intelligent and resourceful, a survivor with a glib tongue to keep him alive. In that he was very alike to Peter, Wendy smiling as she remembered some of Peter's more outrageous suggestions and cajolery. Not realizing that she was staring, Wendy was snapped out of her thoughts by a harsh laugh.

“See anything you like?”

Embarrassed to be caught out, Wendy blushed and ducked her head, concentrating on the remains of the rabbit. Jack chewed on his meal and stared across the fire at his captive. He was both surprised and intrigued by his prisoner, not having expected her to be so staunch in the face of adversity or so courageous. She wasn't as beautiful as Tiger Lily, at least not in his opinion, but that didn't detract from her other qualities. She had pluck and wasn't a watering pot, and her figure was trim, if not as rounded as the princess. In all quite an attractive package with her long, honey-gold hair and sky-blue eyes, Jack mused. That she was meant for Peter added a certain amount of interest, the idea of luring her away from him briefly passing through Jacks' thoughts, only to be discarded as an unnecessary distraction. His plans were still taking shape, the ultimate prize being the defeat of Peter Pan, the end of Hook's reign as Captain of the Jolly Roger and Black Jacks escape from Neverland with his skin intact and limbs whole. How Wendy fitted into this grand scheme was yet to be made clear, Jack only having a vague notion of Hook's plan to free them all from the clutch of the island. All he did know was that he had to get the wench deep into the White Mountains, the high ridge that ran along the spine of Neverland, the volcano peak at it's start and the sea at it's end. It would take them deep into uncharted territory, beyond, he hoped, the reach of Hook and his crew, and Peter's, albeit briefly. In his time spent with the Lost Boy's, the areas explored had only encompassed a small part of the island, the boys limited by how far they could go on foot or by canoe, the same limitations as set for the pirates and Indians. Only Peter had the freedom with flight to roam the length and breadth of Neverland, and Jack was sure that even Peter hadn't been everywhere. It would take more than one lifetime to explore every valley and river that was bordered by Neverland's rocky shores. Jack pulled himself out of his thoughts and glanced across at his captive. Wendy had eaten all of her rabbit and tossed the bones into the bushes. Now she sat yawning as she stared into the flames of the fire, her eyelids starting to droop. A brief spasm of pity gripped his heart but was just as quickly discarded.

“We'll be making an early start to get what sleep you can.....” As he spoke a distant howl rose up from far away, the sound soon joined by others, the eerie sound rising and falling and making the hair stand up on his neck.

“What.....what is that?” Wendy asked, her eyes very wide awake and dark.

“Nothing to worry about....as I said, sleep. We'll be gone by dawn.” Jack played with his knife and peered intently into the shadows beyond their small fireside. “I'll keep watch for awhile.”

The howls were dying away, gradually fading until only the crackle of the fire could be heard over the beating of his heart.

“There, see....all quiet again.....sleep.” He grinned into Wendy's worried eyes, deliberately keeping the grin in place even though his own fears were making him jumpy. Wendy slowly lowered herself down to the ground, cushioning her head on her arm, her body tense, her ears straining to hear any more of the unearthly howls. When it remained quiet, she started to relax, her eyes closing at last as she slipped into an uneasy slumber. Jack remained on alert, his assumed grin slipping as he put more wood on the fire and poked it to make the flames leap. He had heard of the wolf pack, but never seen them anywhere near to where the Lost Boys usually lived and played. By pushing deep into Neverland's dense jungles, they would quite likely meet a number of denizens never encountered before. Anyone more faint-hearted would turn back now and take their chances, but then anyone else wouldn't have the prize firmly fixed in their heads, as Jack did. With that in mind, he pulled out a small whetstone from the backpack and started to hone his knife, the rhythmic swish of the stone on metal settling his nerves until he was almost humming to himself in satisfaction. Tomorrow they would put more distance between themselves and their pursuers, even supposing that Peter and Hook knew where to look. More likely they were at a loss to find their quarry, or too busy to look, a situation that Jack would take every advantage of.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Tiger Lily stared at the men around her, mentally dispatching them all in every manner she could think off, the more gruesome the better. Several of them already sported a variety of injuries and the Indian Princess took pride in knowing that she had been the one to cause the wounds, as well as her braves and fellow villagers. Her raiding party had been a mistake, she realized that now, hindsight being a wonderful way to reflect on her rash bravado, but it had seemed too good a chance to miss, the pirates fleeing from the whooping Indian's until they, in their turn, faced their pursuers and a battle was on. Tiger Lily was sure they would have won if she hadn't fallen for Hook's trap and been captured so early on, her escort fighting like madmen to free her, only to die at the hands of the pirates, one by one. It had both maddened and grieved her to see her people cut down like wheat, her own fate nothing as she fought to be free, only a blow to the head finally bringing it to an end. When she awoke she was being carried far from the Indian village towards the coast and whatever fate Hook had in mind for her. Dulled by pain and regret, she remained compliant, barely raising a flicker of interest even when several pirates returned to join the main force, their movements sluggish as if they'd been drugged. She found out later that in fact they had been, the drug so effective they were able to tell Hook little of what had happened, or who had done the dastardly deed. Hook had raged, the Princess hearing the name of her new friend bandied about among the tirade and she suspected that Wendy had been the target of the pirates, and somehow lost in the fray. In this, she rejoiced to know her friend was free, but further comments made her realize that her own predicament was dire indeed. In his rage, Hook stalked over to where the Indian Princess lay bound and helpless, surrounded by armed guards. Pushing his men aside, the pirate Captain used his metal hook to yank the Princess to her feet, her toes barely touching the ground as she dangled in front of him.

“What trickery have your people been up to Tiger Lily?” Hook snarled, his teeth very white behind his dark mustache. “Who drugged my men.....eh?”

“How should I know......or care,” Lily spat back, glaring daggers at her captor. Hook shook her until her teeth rattled.

“If you value your skin, you'll tell me!”

“I know nothing of your men or what potion they drank.......if it had been me, they would have been poisoned, not drugged!”

Hook started at that, his eyes opening wide as her words sank in.

“Very true, very true. So who else would want to steal my prize? Not Peter Pan......he'd have taken delight in fighting each and every one just to show off, before stealing off with his Wendy......so if not you, and not the Pan.......” Hook slowly lowered Tiger Lily to the ground, his gaze staring off into the distance, apparently forgetting her presence as his mind turned over the evidence. “Smee!”

As the Princess watched, Hook spoke rapidly to his first mate, the Captain's eyes gleaming red as he tapped his chin thoughtfully while he waited for his first mate to return with the information he'd asked for. Mister Smee ran up, puffing, and saluted.

“Two are missin' an' unaccount'd for Cap'n Sir.”

“And who might the truants be?” Hook asked, sliding his eyes around to fix on his portly lieutenant.

“Trimble is one.....'e went missin' afore the battle for the 'Ollow. An'.......er.....um...” Smee looked away then back then down at his feet. Hook lifted his lip in a sneer.

“The other one Smee?”

“That'd be Black Jack, Cap'n Sir. Bin missin' since afore this afternoon's fracas.”

“Thank you Smee...that will be all for now.” Turning on his heel, Hook paced away, the Indian Princess forgotten as he pondered the new threat to his plans. “So, the young tar thinks he can outwit ol' Hook, does he. We shall see. Smee!”

Tiger Lily found herself once more hoisted onto a brawny back as the pirates once more set off, their destination presumably the coast and then their ship, Tiger Lily fighting to keep her whits about her despite her sore head. She was sure that her Father would send a rescue party and they wouldn't be far behind the pirates, plus if Peter returned to the village, and the clear skies seemed to suggest that he would, he would want to be apart of any fight that involved Hook and his men. Resigned to being helpless for the time being, Tiger Lily slumped head down over the man's shoulder and accepted her fate, until circumstances allowed otherwise.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Peter and his party of warriors were too late to stop Hook boarding his barge, the flotilla of small boats well beyond of the Indian's bows and spears from the bank of the inlet. Impotent to do more than watch, Peter, his Lost Boys and the braves shadowed the boats from the tree line, their bodies flitting between the trees as the pirates strained at their oars. The towering thunderheads that had followed Peter across the island now blotted out the sun, plunging the foreshore into shadow and providing more cover for the rescue party. They could see Tiger Lily settled amidships in the lead boat, surrounded by a dozen or more pirates, several armed with muskets and alert to any movement from the shoreline. Beyond the sandbank that protected the mouth of the river, the imposing rock formation known as Skull Rock rose up out of the sea, the socket like caves in the sheer walls giving the granite monolith it's name. In the distance bobbed the Jolly Roger but Hook didn't head towards his ship once his fleet was clear of the sandbar. Instead he split his crew, half to return to the ship, the rest to go with him towards Skull Rock. Perplexed, Peter used his telescope to keep track of the pirates as they pulled against the current and rounded the boulder strewn skirt of their destination. As he kept watch, the braves sought and found three canoes hidden above the high tide mark, the warriors quickly dragging the wooden craft across the pristine sand and into the clear water. Peter gave orders to the Lost boy's to use the third canoe to keep a watch on the pirates aboard the Jolly Roger and wait for his signal before taking the Indian's and paddling after Hook. The shallow canoes flew over the waves, spray arcing up and dousing the occupants as they bent over their paddles. The pirates had disappeared from view to the far side of Skull Rock and the cave entrance on the seaward site, the mouth of the cave carved out by the pounding waves, getting wider and wider until it was now almost big enough for the Jolly Roger to enter by.

High above the two canoes laboring against the waves, Tinkerbell flew, shadowing Peter and keeping watch on events. She was still wary of approaching him, unsure of his reaction to her return. It was almost a relief to be able to watch and yet remain uninvolved with the drama playing out below. If to an outsider it would have appeared cowardly, she didn't mind, her one thought only to keep Peter in her sights and help him if the need arose. She did wonder why he didn't fly after Hook, rather than take the more pedestrian route and remain with the Indian's, but she supposed he had his reasons. As she fluttered out of sight she glanced uneasily at the clouds gathering overhead. The sun was sinking fast towards the distant horizon and the sea was starting to whip itself into a frenzy, the weather as ever in tune with the Pan's mood. Well aware of their destination, Tink veered off and approached the sheer rock cliffs on the sheltered side, darting into one of the dark caves and flying at top speed down the winding tunnel until she reached the main cavern in time to see Hook disembark from his longboat on to a rocky ledge.

Settling herself near enough to see and hear everything, but out of harms way, Tinkerbell waited to see what was about to take place. She could see Tiger Lily being hoisted ashore and left to stand to the side of the Pirate Captain, his men scattering to find hiding places behind rocks and among the ledges. Obviously they were planning on ambushing anyone who came to rescue the Princess, a plan that had been played out many times over the years. Somehow, this one seemed to be more deadly than the other times, Hook looking inordinately pleased with himself as he manhandled the Indian Princess along to a seaweed encrusted ledge where rusty manacles hung in readiness.

“Sorry the accommodations are not up to your usual standard, Princess....but then, you're a savage! What do you know of standards and fine things!” Amused at his own whit, Hook laughed darkly, his henchmen echoing the laughter from their various hiding places. Hook scowled, “quiet you brutes!” At once silencing his men and making them slink back in to hiding. “Now, m'dear, where were we. Are yes, setting you comfortably to await rescue by Peter Pan.” Setting down his own ornately decorated musket, Hook forced Tiger Lily over the edge of the ledge and into the cold water, passing a chain through her bonds and leaving her to hang with her back to the slimy rocks, the waves buffeting her with each swell.

“Comfy?” Hook inquired, grinning down at his gagged and bound bait. “No? Ah well, you'll just have to wait with the rest of us for the resourceful Peter Pan to fly down and rescue you. And when he does,” Hook lifted his gun, using his hook to cock and prime the powder. “I'll shoot him right between his noble intentions,” he growled, his eyes taking on a red gleam.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Chapter: Eight – Battling on All Fronts

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It was still dark when Wendy opened her eyes, the fire having died down to embers while she'd been asleep. Jack was a darker lump opposite her, the knife clutched in his hand catching the last flickers of flames licking the blackened wood. Unable to tell what had awoken her, Wendy briefly closed her eyes, sleep stealing up again only to be dispelled by a soft growl sounding almost in her ear. With the hairs on her neck standing upright, Wendy stiffened and held herself rigid, her senses straining for what was out there in the dark. A bright flash of lightning way off in the distance briefly illuminated the clearing and Wendy gasped as light reflected off a circle of eyes peering out of the jungle around her. The growl came again and this time it was very close, Wendy imagining that she could feel the fetid breath of the wolf on her face as she lay frozen in place. Another flash of lightning speared across the sky, showing the circle of wolves for a split second, a huge grey beast approaching where Black Jack lay still sleeping, the creature pulling back its lips to expose a wealth of sharp, white fangs. Feeling her throat close up in sheer terror, Wendy tried to call out, to move, but fear kept her mute, her eyes wide as she watched the stealthy creatures approach. A log suddenly collapsed into the fire sending a shower of sparks into the air. At the same moment the giant grey wolf pounced, gripping Jack with his jaws around the young man's neck, effectively pinning him to the ground. At the same time Wendy felt clawed paws press her down to the ground, a hot breath panting against her cheek, but no teeth against her flesh. Jack was fully awake now and tried to free himself, flailing with his knife hand only to have it bitten by another wolf who held his hand immobile and made Jack drop his knife. With the two humans safely captured, another creature appeared on the scene and padded over to where both Wendy and Jack could see him clearly in the dying light of the fire.

“For why do you travel the wolf's domain, humans?”

Wendy heard the voice try to speak, but the words were mangled by the teeth and tongue trying to speak them.

“I-I can't.....don't understand you.”

“Why are you here?” Growled the voice again. Wendy tried to decipher the words but couldn't make head nor tail of them.

“I-I'm so sorry......I can't understand a-a-a word you j-just said.”

A concerted growl from the pack made Wendy duck her head and bury it in her arms, sure that the wolves were about to eat them both. Realizing that communication was going to be all but impossible, the leader of the pack signaled his brothers to allow the humans up but to keep them closely guarded. Wendy felt the paws lift off her body and waited, expecting to be bitten or worse at any moment. Instead she felt a nose pushing at her to sit up. Doing just that she was then urged to get to her feet. Jack was also released, although the wolf gripping his hand didn't let go, making Jack bend over once he was upright. Two of the wolves bounded forward then turned their backs on the fire, using their back paws to kick dirt over the embers, dousing the fire and all light along with it. Wendy tried to see Jack's face in the dark but it was no good, the wolves around her tugging at her dress and urging her to follow the pack, her former captor similarly treated with wolves chivying his heels with nips and bites to keep him going in the right direction. The wolves obviously had excellent night vision and could see their way clearly, but their prisoners were not so lucky, Wendy stumbling and tripping along the invisible path through the trees, curses coming from Jack as he encountered the same difficulty and received a nip for his clumsiness. Occasional flashes of lightning pierced the woods, showing Wendy the pack jogging through the trees like liquid shadows, their coats a perfect camouflage for the night. The trek seemed endless and terrifying, the trees snagging at their clothes and hair, the wolves all around them constantly bumping the nipping them along, dragging at trouser and skirt when they lagged or fell down. After what seemed like hours, Wendy could start to make out shapes in the darkness, the dawn not far off as grey light filtered down to the forest floor. She could see now that the pack was made up of a great many wolves, more than she'd thought possible. All of them were big, shaggy animals in the peak of health, their coats colored in variations of grey through to black, and brown through to white. Wendy was being shadowed and moved along by mostly smaller members of the pack, their coats a mixture of brown, caramel and snowy white, as if they all belonged to the same family. When she looked back at Jack, he was surrounded by much bigger animals, their coats predominantly black and shades of grey with massive shoulders and gleaming teeth. With the light they were able to make a better pace, the wolves starting to lift up their heads and howl, answering calls from more animals off in the distance. Suddenly the forest started to thin and Wendy could see a broad meadow through the trees, the wolves not on guard duty bounding off through the tall grass, their tails held high as they raced to greet more members of their pack. A chorus of yips and barks ensued as family members greeted those returning, an orgy of tail wagging and bottom sniffing identifying everyone among the pack. Wendy and Jack were herded towards a mound of dirt and made to site down, their guard reducing to only two wolves, both of them with piercing black eyes and powerful bodies. Jack was trying to wrap the bite on his hand with a grubby length of shirt material, all the time cursing under his breath while shooting the wolves angry glances. Wendy watched the reunion of animals with both delight and trepidation. There must have been nearly fifty wolves altogether, the pack milling around, forming and reforming family groups until at last the greetings were over and the two captives once more became the center of attention. Wendy recognized, from the black stripe on his face, the wolf that had made noises that seemed to be speech, the animal finding a small mound to stand on while the others gathered around for all the world like an audience waiting for a parliamentary speaker to start his oration. Once the pack was silent, the wolf did indeed start to speak, a mixture of almost human sounding word intermingled with barks, growls and yips but spaced in the pattern of human speech. Wendy listened in awe, hardly daring to believe what was going on in front of her, having never heard of such behavior in any animal before.

“I almost expect him to call a vote and have them all raise their paws,” Wendy whispered to Jack, watching the scene intently.

“I wouldn't be surprised if they did. These are not ordinary wolves, if you hadn't figured that out already.”

“Not wolves? But.......”

“Oh I grant you, they look like dogs, behave like dogs....as you can see, but they were not always as you see them now.”

“What were they?”

Jack suddenly laughed softly to himself. “Have you any idea what Neverland really is?”

“I don't understand you.”

“What do you think Neverland is here for?”

“Here for? Is it here for something?”

“Not something.....someone.”

Wendy stared back at Jack, confusion on her face. “Someone? Are you meaning Peter?”

Jack stared back, his eyes dark and intense. “How old are you?”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“Answer me girl.....what is your age?”

“If you must know.......I'll be sixteen in just under a month's time.”

“On the cusp...neither a child nor yet a woman. He chose you well.”

“What are you talking about, what has my age to do with anything?”

The two huge wolves guarding them growled and stirred before turning their attention back to their leader still talking behind them. Jack shuffled closer to Wendy and lowered his voice.

“How old do you think I am?”

“This is ridiculous. We're the prisoners of a pack of wolves, likely to be torn apart at any moment and you are rabbiting on about our ages!”

“Alright...how old to you think Peter Pan is?”

“Fine, I'll play your silly game. I suppose......a year or two older than me, maybe the same age as you?”

“Then girly girl, brace yourself for a shock,” Jack grinned knowingly. “I've been on Neverland for the best part of one hundred and sixty years, give or take a decade.”

“W-w-hat?”

“And your precious Peter.....well, no-one really knows how long he's been here. Hook reckons for as long as Neverland has been in existence....maybe longer....”

“Wait.....what are you saying.....that....th-at....Peter is hundreds of years old?”

“Maybe thousands.....nobody knows....”

“But......he.....you.....can't be.....it's impossible.” Wendy stared at Jack appalled, her eyes darting over his face as if hoping to see some evidence of times' stamp on his features.

One of the wolf guards suddenly snapped at Jack, the other animal insinuating himself between them to halt their conversation. The wolf on the mound had finished his speech and was trotting over to where Wendy and Jack now stood some distance apart, their guards beside them.

“We have taken a vote and decided to hand your fate over to one you will understand.”

Wendy stared helplessly at the wolf, unable to understand his guttural way of talking, her mind in a turmoil over what Black Jack had just told her. To her surprise, Jack answered the wolf in the same growling, barking language.

“Why not summon the Pan.....or Hook and hand us over to them?”

“Because we know what you are trying to do, Black Hearted Jack. We know you harbor dark feelings for the Pan and want his reign to end by using this female as your weapon of destruction. We cannot allow you to take matters into your own hands.

The fate of Neverland, of us all could depend on the outcome. Hook is no better than you, a taker of pelts, and the Pan is not the one to make the decision about his own fate.”

Wendy looked on, bewildered, while Jack continued his conversation with the wolf, some of the words and names almost recognizable while the rest was nothing more than the barking of dogs.

“Then let us go our own way.....what I'm doing will benefit us all in the end. You can't want to continue on like this into eternity?” Jack argued.

“That is our right to decide....not you. This discussion is at an end. The female will go with the wives and have something to eat. You will be taken somewhere to wait.” Having said all he wanted to say, the pack leader turned and left, the two guards instantly surrounding Jack and nipping at him to move away from Wendy.

“Where are you going?” Wendy cried out in a panic, “what did he say? What were you talking about?”

“Go with them....they'll look after you. Just remember....they are not entirely what they look like!” Jack called out before being chivvied away by his guards. Wendy found herself once more surrounded by a pack of wolfs with coats of brown, caramel and white, the animals tugging at her dress to make her walk forward, while others danced around like excited puppies or herded youngsters ahead of them to avoid being stepped on by the towering human. Wendy glanced back over her shoulder, but Jack was already lost to sight, only the howl and bark of his escort telling her where he went. A wet tongue lapping at her fingers drew her attention back to her own predicament, the wolves leading her over to what looked like a brush cover, the roof interlaced with green branches that sheltered the interior from the sun, and a dirt floor swept clean and dry. Wendy was pushed and cajoled into the strange hut and urged to sit on the ground. When she was settled, several of the puppies staggered over to her to investigate her dress and feet, their fur silky soft under her fingers as she fondled their floppy ears and stroked their soft puppy coats. Several female wolves looked on indulgently, either sitting our lounging, as their offspring entertained the human girl, their eyes alert to any sign of danger to their babies. Being familiar with handling dogs from her experience with Nana, Wendy soon relaxed and enjoyed the playtime with the puppies, several small bodies squirming on to her lap while others tried out their puppy teeth on her toes and fingers. To her surprise, several more female wolves appeared carrying strange, twig baskets containing a variety of fruits and nuts, dropping them at Wendy's side and nudging them towards her.

“Are these for me?” Wendy asked, smiling nervously at the she-dogs as they nudged the baskets again and looked expectantly at the girl. “Thank you very much. I am feeling hungry after that long trek last night.” The fruit offered was all ripe and ready to eat and Wendy bit into the juicy flesh with obvious relish, her audience watching her every move with an intensity that was unsettling. Too hungry and thirsty to be afraid, Wendy tucked into her breakfast with a healthy appetite, the puppies helping her out and licking her fingers free of their sweet, sticky juice at the end. Well fed and feeling quite happy amongst the female wolves, Wendy felt the fingers of sleep steal over her, the strenuous, stressful night catching up with her at last.

“Thank you very much for that wonderful meal, I don't know what I can do to repay you,” yawning widely, Wendy lay down on the dirt floor, the puppies gamboling around her and jumping on on her body as she relaxed and laughed, watching them. Within minutes she was unable to keep her eyes open and slipped into a doze, the female wolves shooing the puppies away to let her sleep in the shade, one brown and white wolf staying to keep watch.

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Tiger Lily's night had been as fraught with terror and discomfort as Wendy's. Chained to a rock and suspended in cold sea water was enough to make anyone on edge, but to have to witness a battle between your Enemy and your Rescuer was enough to make the stoutest heart quail.

It was fully dark before Peter made his move, together with the warriors that had followed him to rescue the Princess. Hook and his men were hidden within the sea cave, awaiting Peter's arrival to snap shut their trap. While Tiger Lily shivered in the sea water, Hook crouched expectantly only a few feet away. Knowing that Hook was baiting a trap made Peter cautious as he crept down the wall of the cave, the braves spread out and making their way stealthily to where the pirates waited in hiding. One by one the Indian's found, fought and silenced their quarry, reducing Hook's force with each muffled, unnoticed victory. The noise from the rising tide made distinguishing sounds difficult and Hook was unaware that anything was wrong until one pirate, in fear for his life, screamed and launched himself off his ledge, diving into the sea to escape his fate at the hands of the Indian's. After that, the battle was full on. Between flashes of lightning outside, the inside was lit up with bursts of musket fire, gouts of flames as shot after shot blasted at the fleeing shadows of their nearly invisible foes. Hook rose up from his hiding place and bellowed for someone to tell him what was going on, his own musket cocked and ready to fire. While the braves kept the pirates occupied, Peter dropped almost soundlessly onto the broad ledge where Hook stood ready. Some sixth sense, or maybe just years of playing the same game over and over, alerted Hook, the Captain swinging round and firing at the same time, winging Peter so that blood gushed from a flesh wound in one sun bronzed shoulder. Hook laughed triumphantly, throwing the musket away and pulling out a pistol from the sash about his waist.

“Thought you could catch ol' Hook unawares whelp! We've played this game too many times for me to be caught out so easily!”

A flash of a thrown blade buried itself in the broad sleeve of Hook's arm, throwing off his aim as the pistol roared, the shot barely missing Peter's head as he ducked. Hook threw the spent pistol at Peter and yanked the knife out of the material, the blade only grazing his good arm.

“Losing your aim, dear boy....is that the best you can do?”

“Have at thee Hook!” Peter yelled, drawing his sword from it's scabbard and bringing it down in an arc designed to lop off Hook's head, or at least eviscerate him. Dancing out of reach, Hook drew his own rapier and stood poised on the balls of his feet, the blade flashing wickedly in another burst of lightning. Blade met blade and sparks flew as each opponent tested the others reach and strength. Both were experienced swordsmen, both had the ability to wield the weapons to the others detriment, but as with every battle engaged between Hook and Pan, it came down to who had the strongest motive to win. A broad grin lit up Peter's countenance as he circled his enemies form, the Captain keeping the younger man's eyes locked with his as they tried to find some weakness in defenses that had been tested time and again and rarely found wanting. Lightning flashed almost continuously, the roar of thunder near deafening as the two combatants circled and feinted, blade against blade while feet searched for purchase on the slippery rocks made more so by the lashing waves whipped up by the wind. Each blow was met by a counter, each lung blocked and parried. For Tiger Lily, reluctant witness to the fight, it appeared like some macabre dance, Hook and Pan moving forward and back in some strange pattern, both wearing the same expression of fierce concentration. It ended in a moment, Hook swinging at Peter's head, the pirate losing his footing on a piece of seaweed, allowing Peter to land a stunning blow with the hilt of his sword to Hook's jaw, knocking his opponent out for the count. Not bothering to deliver the coup-de-grace Peter hurried to where Tiger Lily hung in chains, releasing her just seconds before two pirates finally reached the ledge and tried to skewer them both. Lily pushed away from the rocks and trod water, out of reach of the pirates but unable to help Peter who now had to fend of two attackers. Swimming to the ledge, the Princess hauled herself out despite numb legs and chattering teeth. Finding Hook's prostrate form, she searched for his sword. Making her shaking limbs stiffen, Tiger Lily lifted the ornate rapier and shuffled forward to help Peter against the pirates. Her help ended up not being needed, Peter able to rout one of the ruffians while the other took the cowards way out and dived into the sea. Panting heavily, blood streaming from his injured shoulder, Peter swung around to see Tiger Lily tottering towards him, her blade held shakily in two hands.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking to meet her and taking Hook's sword from her grasp.

“Cold....tired.......freezing,” Lily's teeth chattered noisily and she wrapped her arms about herself. Sheathing his own sword but keeping a grip on Hook's, Peter warily approached the mound that was the pirate Captain. Using his toe, Peter nudged his enemy, ensuring the man was truly unconscious before roughly stripping him of his ornate frock coat.

“Here...put this on, it'll help warm you.”

“Thank you.....” Lily took the coat and hastily shrugged it on, her face screwing up in an expression of disgust but grateful for it's instant warmth.

Putting his fingers to his lips, Peter let go a shrill whistle, the sound echoing off the enormous cavern again and again. From the shadows, the Indian braves presented themselves, each expressing to the Princess their joy at her rescue.

“Everyone accounted for?” Peter did a quick head count, before directing them to use Hook's long boat, handing Tiger Lily in himself while the braves sorted out the oars. “Pull away me hearties, we've a way to go to get home.”

Outside the cave the sky was starting to clear, the storm passing over and leaving behind crystal clear stars over an inky sea. The Princess still shivered, her former bravado buried under the weight of weariness, so Peter put his arm about her and let her rest her dark head on his uninjured shoulder. The distant peeping of sea birds flying overhead guided the boat across the stretch of water to the shore, the lights of the Jolly Roger just visible along the coast. After collecting the canoes and beaching the long boat they all stood on the sand and stared out towards the hulking bulk that was Skull Rock.

“Why didn't you kill him?” Tiger Lily asked, a spark of anger coloring her voice in the dark.

“I can't kill a defenseless man, would you have me stab him when he's unconscious?”

“Hook is never defenseless Peter......you could have ended all this.”

“Ended what? If I know anything about pirates, Black Jack is just waiting for me to kill Hook for him so he can step into the Captain's shoes. Which would you prefer?”

“I suppose so. This was not like other raids Peter....I almost feel that my capture and the raid on the village were only a mean to an end....not the end itself.”

In the darkness Peter jerked in surprise, her words ringing alarm bells in his head. “What do you mean?”

“I don't think.....oh I don't know, I'm so tired I can hardly think at all.....”

“We all are. We're safe enough for the time being, we'll make camp here then return to the village in the morning....agreed?”

No-one disagreed and a fire was quickly built on the sloping beach, the signal for the Lost Boys in the bay to return to shore. One of the braves caught a brace of fish while the others set up the campsite, the meal consumed voraciously before they all settled on the warm sand to sleep away the rest of the night. Peter slept close to where Tiger Lily lay huddled in Hook's coat, his mind turning over what the Princess had said. If Lily was right, and her capture was merely a ruse to draw Peter into another trap, and not a particularly clever one, then what was the real purpose of the attack on the village and everything that followed. He thought of Wendy waiting for him back at the Indian village and was tempted to fly back that night, but even as he thought it a yawn nearly cracked his jaw, the wound in his shoulder reminding him that he needed to see to that come morning. Turning onto his uninjured side, Peter listened to the sounds of the Indian's and Lost Boys around him, their soft snores and the distant roar of the waves lulling him to sleep.

With the dawn they were up and on the move, the sun still below the horizon as they trekked through the jungle. A quick tally of injuries reinforced the need for a side trip, Peter leading the way to a secret place hidden deep in the vegetation.

“Where are we going Peter? I'm sure the village is not this way?”

“You are right Lily.....its not....but a healing pool is.”

“A healing pool?” Tiger Lily's face lit up, all the lines of tiredness falling away. “Oh Peter that's marvelous.”

“Thought we could all do with a soak before we return to the village. It won't take long, plus I need some new leaves.” Peter stared down at his costume, several patches of skin showing through the coverings. He was still decent, but only just. Lily giggled and told him to hurry, the braves and Lost Boys grinning at the thought of the pleasure to come. They didn't have to wait long, the jungle soon parting to reveal a cloud of steam rising from a system of hot pools, the vegetation particularly lush around each pool, screening it from the one next to it. With whoops and yells, the braves scampered over to one of the bigger pools, throwing weapons and clothes in all directions as they raced to be the first in. Crate, Tophat and Rat bounded noisily over to one of the smaller pools, clothes flying, whooping in delight. Peter laughed out loud while he led the Princess to a smaller pool, steam spiraling lazily into the air before threading through the overhanging branches above. They could hear the laughter coming from the other pools and smiled to each other.

“Off you go Peter...I can't wait to get in!”

“Maybe I should stay....for your protection of course,” Peter waggled his eyebrows outrageously and Tiger Lily laughed.

“I prefer to bathe alone, thank you.....so run along....” she waved her hand, her eyes twinkling. Tiger Lily was well aware of Wendy's presence unspoken between them. “Make sure the leaves cover everything....this time!” Lily watched a tide of crimson rise up Peter face, turning his ears pink.

“You said you wouldn't mention that again,” Peter grumped, feeling the blush staining his cheeks while a broad grin stretched his lips. “I told you at the time, it was just a mistake.”

“Of course Peter.....as if I don't see enough bare bum-cheeks in the village, with all the idiots there trying to catch my eye.” Tiger Lily snorted, her fingers busily unbraiding her long plaits. “Just see you don't let it happen again.”

Peter lifted his hand in a wave before turning away to find his own steaming pool, his mouth still curved in a smile as he recalled the incident the Princess alluded to. He'd been going through a difficult time, his body reacting every which way to the slightest stimuli with embarrassing consequences. One such incident had involved a swim, new leaves and the Princess. Pushing through the dense plants fringing his pool, Peter stepped straight into the steaming water, sighing with contentment as the water soaked into his sore muscles, gradually easing the pain in his shoulder as he sank into the deepest part of the pool, the bubbles closing over his head like a warm blanket. Surfacing, he found the water full of his leaves, the substance of his clothes shriveling in the hot water before sinking from sight. Floating, he stared up at the steam weaving lazy patterns in the spears of sunlight slanting through the canopy. In the distance he could hear the Indian warriors splashing and horsing about, nearer to hand he could here Crate and the other two Lost Boy's shouting and mock-fighting. More faintly he caught the notes of an Indian song floating up from the Princess's pool. Above his own pool a small flock of jewel colored birds sang and twittered, their bright bodies darting from branch to branch, calling to each other in their flute like songs. One bright spot separated itself from the flock and floated down towards him, the bright light resolving into the form of a familiar looking fairy.

“Tink....you came back!”

Pleased that Peter seemed happy to see her, Tinkerbell preened and fluttered across the surface of the pool, alighting here and there and making circular ripples appear about Peter's floating body. Finally she floated down and landed on his chest, walking delicately across his skin until she stood just below his chin.

“I thought you'd come back eventually.....I do forgive you for your bad behavior as I'm sure you didn't mean to be.”

Happy to be forgiven for a transgression she'd already forgotten, Tinkerbell clapped her hands and tinkled merrily up at Peter, her wings bright with light and fairy dust. This was the Peter she knew and loved, this golden boy floating in a sea of steam, his long limbs lazily paddling in the water, his long lashed eyes closed as the water worked it's magic. Content, she sat cross-legged on his chest and sang, her voice blending with those of the birds in a sweet harmony while Peter dozed beneath her, his chest lifting her up and down as he breathed. This was her Peter Pan, with no great lumping girl to interfere or intrude.

At length, Tinkerbell had to fly up as Peter finished his bath by sluicing himself all over, paying particular attention to the wound on his shoulder, the skin already healed over, all trace of blood washed away. By the time Peter hauled himself out of the pond only a scar remained to show where the bullet had scoured a furrow in the brown skin. Flexing his shoulder, Peter absently rubbed the injury, his body once more whole and healthy, all scratches and bruises healed. Spotting a Neverbush, he sauntered over, whistling as he pushed his way in to the thicket, the leaves rustling around him in a frenzy while Peter let his head fall back and turned slowly. Tink hovered overhead, getting an eyeful of the Indian's pulling on their clothing, the Lost Boy's still wrestling each other while trying to get dressed and the Princess wringing out her long hair before checking that her fringed tunic was almost dry. When Peter emerged from the Neverbushes, he was once more clothed from waist to knees in a bright covering of leaves. Stopping briefly to gather up his weapons, he wandered over to stand just beyond the hedge of jungle that shielded Tiger Lily's pool.

“Ready yet?” Peter called out, “need a hand?”

From further round the pool Tiger Lily appeared, her dark hair flowing down her back, her dress molded to her form, the tunic having shrunk a little in the warm water when she washed it. “I feel as clean and fresh as a newborn babe. These pools are just wonderful.”

“Certainly magical.....look,” he flexed his previously bloody shoulder, Tiger Lily running a finger down the scar that puckered the skin.

“Doesn't it even hurt a little bit?”

“Nope....not even a twinge.”

“I don't feel tired either. We should reach the village by nightfall.”

They joined the party of young warriors gathering up their bows and knives, each of them looking refreshed and ready to do battle again. Crate swaggered up, followed closely by Tophat and Rat, both boys still shoving each other and grinning.

“I'll fly the Princess back to her father. The Chief will be anxious for news of the Princess. It will also give the village time to organize a feast for you, the returning heroes.” Peter shared a grin with Tiger Lily when the braves and Lost Boys started to whoop and stamp their feet at the thought of being hailed heroes by their friends and family. Tinkerbell hovered overhead and when Peter waved her down, sprinkled fairy dust over the Indian girl, coating the dark hair with sparkles. After saying their farewells, the pair then flew straight up, leaving behind the steaming pools waving warriors and gleeful Lost Boys, Tinkerbell not far behind them as they set a clear course back to the village. Peter, in deference to Tiger Lily, didn't fly at top speed, despite a nagging worry that all was not well back at the Indian village, his brow creasing in a frown as he negotiated some particularly tall trees, his companions keeping up but just barely.

“Peter slow down....please....I'm not so adept at this flying as you!” Tiger Lily's plaintive cry slowed his pace a little, Peter turning to watch her fly towards him, Tinkerbell's bright light darting back and forth around her.

“Sorry Lily. I just feel......I don't know....I just.....Wendy!” He finished on a sigh, “I don't know what's the matter with me, but I feel that something you said might just have a ring of truth to it. What if everything has just been a ruse to lure me away from Wendy, leaving her prey to....I don't know what!”

“I understand......truly I do. Go on, Peter, fly your fastest back to the village and find out. She may be there waiting for you.......” Tiger Lily tried to look hopeful, but even she was starting to feel a lump of dread growing inside her.

“Tinkerbell....make sure Lily gets home safe,” Peter listened to a brief protest from his fairy friend, but a stern look silenced the sound of tiny bells and the fairy agreed to his request. With a quick wave, Peter turned away and streaked off, leaving the Princess and the fairy far behind in the blink of an eye.

“I hope he finds her safe and well with my father,” Tiger Lily muttered, floating forward once more, Tinkerbell darting around her head like a demented firefly, trying to urge the girl faster through the air. “It's no good Tinkerbell, I can't go any faster.”

7/02/07

Chapter: Nine – In Luke-warm Pursuit

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The wolf pack was leading them higher and higher into the hills, the slopes becoming steeper until the humans were almost on their hands and knees. It was past midday and the heat of the sun was bouncing off the grassland in waves, the few trees capable of providing some shade becoming farther apart as they climbed. Wendy mopped her face with her hand, a sympathetic whine coming from the wolf keeping pace with her on once side.

“I'm sure you must be suffering more than me with your thick coat,” Wendy remarked, the wolf replying by lolling out a long pink tongue and panting. All around them the wolf pack was strung out over the slopes. Only the adults had accompanied Wendy and Jack, the puppies left with their mothers in the broad meadow, the trip too long and arduous for the young to attempt. Jack was using the sleeve of his shirt to mop his forehead, sweat making the material cling to his back and chest, his long black hair hanging free around his face.

“This is a bloody torture,” Jack swore, his boots slipping again as he tried to find purchase on the sloping hillside, Wendy having a better grip with bare feet.

“Maybe you should take your boots off,” Wendy suggested, receiving a dark look for her trouble.

“Maybe you should just shut up, miss hoity-toity!”

His next utterance was a yelp when one of the wolves lunged forward and bit him, a painful nip on his backside. “What the bloody hell was that for?!”

“I don't think they liked the way you spoke to me,” Wendy suggested, fighting to keep the smile off her face as Jack limped forward, rubbing at the sore spot with one hand. They continued in silence for a little while, always heading upwards, the trees all but vanished from the hillside now, leaving only tussock and scrub and no shade from the sun. One of the black wolves came forward, Jack's water pouch on it's back, offering it to Wendy. Undoing the buckle, Wendy eased it off the wolf's back and gratefully unplugged the cork, drinking deeply of the water before passing it to Jack, who took it grudgingly, but drank all the same. The pack were all laying down in the grass around them, tongues lolling as they panted, Jack and Wendy also sitting, looking back down the slope at the distance they'd come and the view laid out before them.

“What a view,” Wendy breathed, “I've never seen anything like this before.”

“Bloody place is full of wonderful this and magnificent that.....sometimes you just wish it was damn ordinary.”

“London was ordinary.....and smoky, grimy, noisy, smelly.......very ordinary.”

“Are you prepared to swap it for all this?” Jack swept his arm in an arc to indicate Neverland, “because this is what you are getting in exchange. A half wild, barbaric wilderness with little or no civilization, nothing ordinary or safe or predictable, in fact anything but.”

“Maybe I'm tired of the safe and predictable,” Wendy retorted, staring defiantly at the view.

“And maybe you're happy to kiss goodbye to soft beds and running water, fashionable clothes and books!”

Jack's biting words made Wendy start. “Books?” Not realizing she'd spoken aloud, she jumped when Jack let out a hard bark of laughter.

“Yes missy.....books. There ain't no libraries on this lump of dirt, no museums or art galleries, restaurants or hotels....”

“What would you know of such things if you've been here for hundreds of years?” Wendy cut off Jack, her gaze scathing.

“Even the Greeks had libraries.....and I'm not some ignorant peasant!”

“Well neither am I! I'm not some soft, wilting flower to give up at the first hurdle. And anyway.....Peter traveled to my world, why can't I travel as well?”

“True.....but will you be satisfied with fleeting visits? Peter will never want to stay longer than a few hours...his heart, his soul will always be here. No woman can break that hold on him....no even you, love.”

“This is ridiculous.....I haven't even decided if I'm going to stay here in Neverland....so all this is just stupid hot air.”

“Not stay? Do you seriously think this place will ever let you go now?” Jack snorted, his face creasing with a wide grin. “Don't you think we've tried.....more times than I can remember...more times than there stars in the 'eavens.”

“Tried what?”

“To leave this place...to sail away and never come back....to die and stay dead forever.”

“You're talking nonsense, of course if you die it's forever.” Wendy shifted uncomfortably.

“No here....not in Neverland. How do you think 'ol Hook manages to keep his crew? If every pirate killed stayed dead, the ship would be empty in weeks. It ain't called Never Neverland for nothing. Nobody ever dies....not forever...they all come back....one way, or another. Not always in their original form, mind you. That took a bit of figuring out at first, but it soon came clear that certain animals and things were turning up, out of the blue you might say.”

“I don't understand what your saying.”

“Look. You know I said that these wolves are not what you think they are.”

“Maybe......” Wendy bit her lip, dreading what was to be said next.

“Well.....let's just say they weren't always members of the pack. It's a kind of renewable resource, if you like. When a creature or person dies within Neverland's boundary, they are reborn into one thing or another. Sometimes into the same form as before, if the need is there....sometimes into a different form. It explains why there are never more than sufficient crew for the Jolly Roger despite the number of battles and lives lost over the years.”

“What you say is...crazy.”

Jack shrugged. “There's an old saying....don't ask me where it comes from, cos I don't know. It goes something like....While Life is Renewed then Neverland Flourishes – If ever a Life Ends Forever then Neverland Perishes.”

“But you said yourself....everyone...everything is renewed in Neverland.” Wendy looked at Jack, confusion clear on her face.

“Quite right.....but then everyone, everything has been here for a very long time, so long they are part of the whole shebang. Part of the fabric of the place, if you like.”

“So?”

“You are still connected to the world beyond Neverland.....you are still uncorrupted, unsullied, untouched by this place....by Peter. You are the only creature on this whole island that can still die and stay dead.....forever.”

Wendy stared open mouthed at Jack, her eyes wide as she tried to understand his meaning. Jack lay back in the long grass, his hands clasped behind his head, his mischief done.

“But if that happens....then what you said....about Neverland perishing...it could come true?”

“It could girly girl. We could all be released from this hellish prison and set free, free at last,” Jack answered her triumphantly, his black eyes gleaming as he smiled smugly at Wendy.

“I could be the means to destroy all this?” Wendy asked faintly, feeling nauseous. Jack nodded his head, pulling up a grass stalk and starting to chew on it. The wolves around them suddenly rose up and circled them, one reaching down to nip at Jack's boots, the young man rapidly finding his feet to avoid being bitten again. Wendy rose more slowly to her feet, her mind numb from everything that Jack had told her. “I don't believe you,” she said, stiffening her back and lifting her head imperiously, “I don't believe you at all. I think you've made all that up to frighten me and to justify your nefarious intentions.”

Jack shrugged and turned away, the sly smile curving his lips hidden from Wendy as he started up the slope once more. That should give the stupid girl something to chew on, and hopefully send her running back home before any more damage could be done. Satisfied that he'd sown the seeds to influence the decision Wendy would soon have to make, Jack tramped up the hill in a much better mood than he'd been in before. Behind him, Wendy focused her gaze on the slope ahead and tried to shut out the conflicting voices in her head, all of them screaming at her to leave Neverland as soon as it was possible.

Not long after their short stop, the wolves suddenly ceased their climb, Wendy and Jack not noticing until they were several steps ahead. A short bark from the leader of the pack alerted them that the wolves were no longer beside them. Jack turned around and took a step back down the slope only to be met with a trio of snarling black wolves, their teeth very white and sharp in the afternoon sun. Wendy didn't move from where she was, her eyes wide with trepidation.

“What's happening Jack......why have they stopped?”

The pack leader stepped forward and addressed himself to Wendy, despite her inability to understand him.

“You, humans, must keep climbing and reach the Cave of Dreams, there you will find one who will know what to do about you both. Keep going as you have, you will reach it before dark.”

Jack chewed over what the wolf leader had said, Wendy looking over at him for a translation, her gaze darting back and forth between the leader and Jack.

“What did he say?”

“That we have to go on alone and to keep climbing until we reach some cave up there,” he pointed up towards the summit.

“Is that all?” Wendy asked, glancing up the slope and squinting to see how far they still had to climb. Jack nodded and turned to go, but the wolf leader hadn't finished yet.

“Know this, Black Jack, we will remain here until we have a signal that you have reached your destination. Do not think to return down this mountain until you have been to the Cave of Dreams. We will know and you fate will be sealed.”

This time all the wolves bared their impressive fangs, presenting Jack with visions of being torn to pieces in a painful and hideous death. Swallowing, he nodded to the pack leader and turned once more to continue the climb. Wendy hesitated before following, the brown and white wolf padding forward and pushing it's head under her hand for a stroke before turning away to let the girl follow the young pirate up the hillside. Wendy felt a sudden loss and wanted to call the animal back, her eyes pricking as she raised her hand to bid them all farewell before turning her back on them. As she started to climb after Jack, the wolves all lifted their muzzles and let out a series of howls, baying at the sky in farewell for several minutes before sinking down into the long grass to start their vigil. Far below and off towards the east the sky was turning an ominous color, the late afternoon sun almost cowering from the growing sheet of black cloud starting to thicken and spread over the sky.

It would seem that the Pan was finally aware that his Wendy was missing.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Peter had arrived back at the Indian Village to find it a bustle of activity. The women were engaged in the usual domestic toil of daily life while their menfolk worked to rebuild the destroyed tepees. Still others worked to rebuild the stockade, the Chief directing the warriors as they used ropes to position a new pole to fill one splintered by cannon fire.

Peter touched down at a run, approaching the chief almost out of breath from his flight from the coast. Talagumpa grabbed Peter anxiously, the mans huge hands clamping like manacles around the younger man's upper arms.

“You found her...my daughter?”

“Yes Chief....she follows with Tinkerbell.....did you find Wendy?”

“My Lily is unhurt, untouched?”

“Yes...yes she's fine. What about Wendy? Has anyone seen her? Where are my Lost Boys?”

“They searched the village then took off....in that direction, or so it was reported to me.” Talagumpa let go of Peter after giving him a searching glance. “What happened to the men I sent with you?”

“They follow along with Crate and the others.”

“Good. We'll prepare a feast for the returning heroes....you will be our guest of honor!”

“I can't...I have to go....” Peter found himself lifted off the ground, once more gripped by the Chief's meaty hands.

“Not a request....an order. This has been a fight to sing about for years to come...and my Lily will want to thank you properly, as will the village for her safe return.”

“You don't understand.....Wendy....” Peter tried to struggle, but despite the Chief's age, he was very fit, Peter unable to loosen the grip on his arms even a smidgen

“Tonight we feast....tomorrow you go find your Wendy. Do I have to make a spell?”

Well aware that the Chief could tether him in one place with the utterance of just one word, Peter ceased his attempts to free himself and slowly nodded his head, his mouth set mutinously. Chief Talagumpa grunted his acknowledgment of Peter's defeat, releasing the younger man slowly and indicating for a party of warriors to come forward and escort Peter to the Chief's tepee. Fuming, Peter allowed the braves to take him to the large tent, its sides richly decorated with painted images and ceremonial feathers of many colors. With an angry glance over his shoulder, Peter flung back the doorway flap and went inside, the braves standing guard either side of the entrance, their brawny arms folded over their broad, copper colored chests.

As unusual as it seemed, in this instance the Chief had the whip hand over Peter. It was both custom and unalterable that whenever Peter was involved in the rescue of any of the tribe, it was the perfect excuse to host a banquet in his honor. Usually this was greeted with enthusiasm by everyone, including Peter and the pattern was firmly set. On this occasion Peter was wishing himself anywhere but inside the Chief's tepee, his feet tramping back and forth over the dirt floor until he was sure a furrow was forming. The only thing keeping him from going mad from worry and frustration was the report from Crate that apart from boarding the Jolly Roger, the pirates that had left Hook at Skull Rock had not had a prisoner with them, and there was no sign of one aboard the ship. Which meant that Wendy was still on Neverland and not a captive of the pirates, a small comfort but one that gave him some relief. Another point to consider were the second party of Lost Boys were also not in the Indian village, which meant they were following a lead, and probably going to find Wendy and bring her back at any moment. It would be madness to go off without some idea of where she was or what direction she went, Peter kicking at an inoffensive basket as he pondered the alternatives. He could leave the village, but he'd have to avoid every Indian brave within the compound as well as the Chief, who could quite capably invoke a binding spell and confine Peter forcefully. That the Chief had never resorted to such an extreme measure spoke of the long years of association, but even he had limits, and Peter wasn't prepared to test those boundaries without just cause. The more he reasoned, the more Peter managed to convince himself that Wendy was in no danger – this was Neverland, his kingdom, his world. She would be safe until Peter was free to set out in search for her, happy in the knowledge that his Lost Boys – Stretch, Harry, Grub and Squid, would take good care of Wendy and lead her back to the village, maybe even in time to take part in the feast. Content with his convenient logic, Peter ceased to pace like a Tiger and sank down on his haunches, accepting the beaker of Indian beer offered to him by one of the Chief's wives, the good woman only now noticed as she came forward from cowering back in the shadows.

Tiger Lily duly arrived in the village just before midday, Tinkerbell leaving the Indian girl to be welcomed and heartily embraced by her father, while Tink went in search of Peter. She fervently hoped the stupid human girl had been swallowed by the crocodile, but that was too much to hope for so she contented herself with finding Peter Pan who was on the verge of being tipsy from all the Indian beer he'd been supplied with. Following the sound of Peter singing lustily at the top of his lungs, Tink flew into the Chief's tent and alighted on a decorative feathered war bonnet hung against one wall. On seeing his fairy friend enter the tent, Peter stopped singing and jumped to his feet, the beaker of beer going flying as Peter flung his arms wide.

“Tink.....you're back!”

Smiling smugly, Tink fluttered through the air and hovered inches from Peter's face. “Where else would I be?”

“Tink......I missed you. Why'cha go away?”

“You banished me....you silly ass,” Tink answered crossly, peering at Peter while he tried to focus on her with eyes that had a tendency to go cross-eyed in the attempt.

“Did I? Why'd I do that?” Peter slurred, batting away a brimming beaker of beer being handed to him by one of the wives.

“Because of that great lumping girl you brought here, that's why?” Tink shouted, sticking her tongue out as an added insult to the missing Wendy.

“Girl.......what girl?” Peter threw his arms wide, rocking back on his heels and teetering for a second before righting himself.

“Only a great big codfish with straw for hair and huge googly wishy washy eyes that batted like dirty great butterflies every time you looked at her,” Tink roared, her speech sounding like the discordant clashing of tiny bells to the Indian woman watching and listening to the exchange. Peter just grinned at the enraged fairy and blew her a kiss.

“Oh you mean Wendy....she's not a codfish......she's bootiful.”

Tink suddenly realized that bringing Wendy into the conversation had been a grave misjudgment. Peter now stared off into space, his eyes unfocused as thoughts of Wendy crowded his beer muddled thoughts. As if the mere thought of his missing love was enough to sober him, Peter suddenly shook his head violently, his hands rising to hold on to each side as if he expected something to come flying out of his ears. Staggering, he groaned under his breath and bent over at the waist. Watching all this, Tink started to feel concerned for Peter, her wings beating fast as she flittered about the tepee, cursing the Indian woman for poisoning the Pan with their dreadful brew. All they saw was Peter clutching his head while the fairy buzzed around the tent and tinkled in her funny fairy voice.

“Wendy.....I almost forgot about Wendy....how could I?” Peter chastised himself as he fought the effects of the beer which clouded his thoughts and made his head feel three times larger than normal. “Tink....where's Wendy?”

“I don't know.......you've lost her?” Tink asked hopefully, only just missing the hand that shot out to catch her by darting upwards and out of reach.

“Dammit Tink......I have to go.” Ignoring the wives who tired to prevent his going, Peter shoved through them to the entrance flap, flinging it wide before stepping out into the afternoon sun. The Chief was coming towards the tepee, Tiger Lily at his side and a crowd of Indian's on either side. Seeing Peter, Talagumpa hurried forward and enveloped Peter in a chest crushing hug, the younger man all but lost and incapable of freeing himself until the Chief chose to free him from the suffocating embrace.

“Father....father, let Peter go...he's turning blue!”

Released from the Chief's arms, Peter staggered back, his head reeling from the effects of the beer and the lack of oxygen. Tiger Lily stepped forward and put her arm about Peter's shoulders.

“Did you find Wendy?” She asked, trying to ignore her father who looked like he wanted to hug Peter again. “Was she here when you got back?”

“No....and I don't know where she is. The Lost Boys are gone too.....” Peter tried to clear his mind from the fog of alcohol, his ears ringing from the cheers of the people around him, squinting up at the sun to try and gauge the time of day. “Lily I need.....I need....” Peter felt hands clutching at him, several braves lifting him up to sit on a pair of wide shoulders, other hands keeping him from falling as the men carried Peter off and paraded him like a conquering hero all around the village. Children and dogs screamed and barked, jumping up and down as the triumphant procession wound away from the Chief's tent and towards a large fire built up in the middle of the village. Peter twisted around and saw Tiger Lily speaking to her father, the Chief bending down the better to hear her, his face turned to follow his people as they headed for the feast to come, with Peter in their midst. A second later Peter managed to twist around again, catching the Chief shaking his head at whatever Tiger Lily was saying, her pleas falling unheeded. The crowd reached the bonfire and the braves holding Peter up on their shoulders, lowered him to the ground where he stood hemmed in by happy faces and hands eager to touch some part of him, several leaves torn off as souvenirs making him fear that he'd soon be naked if they didn't stop soon. A wind was starting to pick up, blowing the flames of the fire every which way, the carcass hung on a spit over a bed of coals getting bits of leaves and dust blown all over it. Amid cries of alarm, the Indian women hurried about throwing thin clothes over the bowls of food standing ready, the better to protect them from the wind sending eddies of dust about the village. Slowly, the happy crowd became subdued, the Chief approaching the group surrounding Peter and waving them away. Tiger Lily followed behind, her expression solemn.

“I'm sorry Peter....I did try to make him see reason,” Lily shrugged, taking a step back when her father frowned down at her.

Talagumpa raised his hands and everyone fell silent. “We are here to celebrate the safe return of our Princess, my daughter, back into the fold of the tribe. Her rescuer stands before you and we feast in his honor.” He waited while the crowd clapped their approval, whistles and yelps filling the air until the Chief raised his hands again. “The Pan will be leaving us tomorrow on a great quest.” Ignoring the questioning look sent his way by Peter and Tiger Lily the Chief continued. “He will be going to bring back the one he calls his Wendy – the one we have known would come to us, come to Neverland.” The Indians roared again, Peter unable to make himself heard above the shouts and yelps. The Chief ignored the signals sent his way by Peter and spoke again. “Tonight we will send this brave warrior on his way with a full belly and strong medicine – he will need both is he is to be our savior once more.”

Peter managed to catch Princess Tiger Lily's eye but the girl was only able to shrug and hold her hands up, having no more understanding of what her father was speaking about than Peter. Obviously there was something going on that neither were aware of, but somehow the rest of the tribe knew about. Finding himself being shepherded towards another tent, Peter dug in his heels and tried to twist out of the grasp of the braves ranged either side of him. A hand suddenly came down on his shoulder and the Chief uttered one word, “mesta.”

At once Peter felt all the fight go out of him, the braves easily conveying him unresisting to the tent and inside. There he was stripped, washed, painted and dressed before being ushered outside as docile as a lamb. Not only was his body compliant but his mind as well, washed clean by the simple, yet powerful magic wielded by the Chief. As guest of honor, Peter was placed in an ornate chair, a feathered ceremonial bonnet placed on his head, the trailing ends reaching the ground on either side. On his right sat Chief Talagumpa, on his left the Princess Tiger Lily. All the people of the tribe sat ranged around a large circle, the fire at it's heart and Peter at its head. Temporarily relieved of all worry and responsibility, Peter sat like a puppet, accepting food and drink without comment or complaint while warriors and maiden's danced for his entertainment and drums filled the evening air with a throbbing rhythm that set the blood singing and the heart pounding. As the feast and the night wore on, Peter even got up and danced himself, stamping his feet and whooping as loudly as any of the braves, his body glistening with oil and sweat, paint gleaming brightly on his gold skin, while his moccasined feet raised a dust cloud with each step. Tiger Lily, prompted by her father, danced for Peter while he sat panting at the end of his dance, the Indian princess making graceful, delicate hand movements while her feet moved her around in a pattern, always bringing her closer to Peter. As the voices rose around them, Tiger Lily, caught up in the beat and pattern of the dance, ended it by throwing her arms about Peter's neck and kissing him soundly, the startled young man returning her enthusiastically until the Princess pulled back, blushing scarlet amid the cheers and whoops of her people. Hastily she returned to her place on the other side of her father, Peter sitting bemusedly in his chair, his fingers lifting to touch his lips as if in a dream. The night wore on with more drinking and dancing, the stars visible between the scudding clouds, the moon not yet risen. The Chief finally clapped his hands to signal the end of the feast when Peter toppled out of his chair, face first into the dirt. Two braves picked up the insensible Pan and carried him to a tent nearby, dumping him on a pallet of furs after divesting him of his feathered war bonnet. Tink watched the men leave then fluttered down and sat on the pillow beside Peter's head. Catching a whiff of beery breath, the fairy screwed up her face, wafting her hand up and down and making rude noises about boys who can't handle their beer, before fluttering off to find a bed for the night. The village settled down quickly, the fires quenched, and guards placed until only the sound of snoring filled the air. Those left on guard heard the distance howl of a wolf, the mournful sound soon taken up by other voices, the cries filling the night before suddenly stopping, leaving the listeners whispering between each other and wondering just how far away the wolf pack was.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

While Peter submitted to being feted by the Indians, Wendy was experiencing something similar in a cave that almost defied description. She and Jack had reached the yawning mouth of the cave just as the skies opened and rain poured down from the clouds that had been gathering all afternoon. Jack had thought to himself it had been an indication that Peter was hot on their trail, but now it seemed it was not the Pan at all. A flash of lightning chivvied them across the rocky floor and towards the back of the wide cavern, the flashes of lightning revealing no obstacles to hinder their mad dash from the downpour outside.

Wendy had turned and was watching the cascade of water creating a curtain across the mouth of the opening, her eyes wide as the sheer fury of the storm outside. The air was becoming chill and she rubbed her arms to chase away the goose flesh, her teeth clenched to prevent them chattering. Jack was more interested in the cave itself than the weather outside, his eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the gloom between the flashes of light.

“This is supposed to be the cave of dreams?” He muttered to himself, staring at the high ceiling then the back of the cave, sure that he'd seen something after the last flash. A bright slice of light washed the interior, illuminating everything for a brief second, and Jack drew in a gasp, sure that he'd seen movement among the rocks. Suddenly a light flared into existence, a torch held in a sconce against the rock wall, the flame leaping as first one then another further along burst into light. Wendy let out a small shriek when a torch flared into life near to where she stood, the invisible torch lighter setting those on the opposite wall burning once all were lit down one side. Soon Jack and Wendy were standing in a cave so brightly lit that is seemed they stood inside a fire itself, their multiple shadows dancing madly on the floor and walls like so many fire sprites.

“J-Jack?”

“Nothing to do with me....”

“Then who...?”

“Maybe I can answer that,” a voice, deep and mellifluous, drifted from the back of the cave, the two young people turning to face the man walking with stately grace towards them. He looked familiar despite being dressed in a flowing robe dyed in a multitude of colors like a discordant rainbow.

“Chief Talagumpa?” Jack queried, his voice carrying a world of disbelief even as he spoke.

“Is that...Tiger Lily's father?” Wendy asked, mesmerized by the man's measured approach. “How did you get here?”

The man came to a halt several feet from his visitors, his face studiously bland as he regarded them, his shadowed eyes missing nothing as they stared unblinkingly as the pair before him. In one hand he held a tall staff, the wooden surface heavily carved and ornamented with stones that caught the light, twinkling like stars.

“You are Black Jack, are you not?” The man asked, his dark eyes coming to rest on the young pirate.

“I am....who are you?” Jack had already guessed that the Indian before them was not Chief Talagumpa, despite a remarkable likeness to the man. “Are you his brother or twin?” Jack persisted, taking a step forward. The man lifted his chin a notch and stared at Jack down his patrician nose.

“Stupa,”

Jack found he couldn't utter a word, his hands reaching for his own throat as he tried to make a sound come out of his mouth. With eyes wide, he opened and shut his mouth, no sound coming from him despite his best efforts. His fear and amazement turning quickly to rage, Jack launched himself at the man with his hands outstretched like claws.

“Bindum,” said the man, his free hand performing a single gesture towards Jack, rendering the young man immobile in mid air, frozen with his feet off the ground and his hands still outstretched.

Wendy watched it all with her heart drumming loudly in her chest. The Indian man looked like the Chief, it was true, a startling likeness indeed, but it was obvious that he wasn't who he looked like, his clothes quite unlike what the Tribe wore. What he had done to Jack filled her with a dread that threatened to rob her of her senses, the torches along the wall starting to bob and weave erratically. Suddenly she was no longer on her feet but laying down, a soft couch at her back and the roar of the storm gone. Sitting up, Wendy swung her legs off the pallet and looked around. She was still in the cavernous mouth of the cave, but water no longer sheeted down outside, the entrance black and huge with only a few puddles to indicate the presence of the waterfall it had been before. Torches still burned along the walls, but fewer than before and there was no sign of either Jack or the Indian man. Leaving her comfortable couch with some reluctance, Wendy padded across the stone floor, her eyes darting in all directions for some indication of where her companions had gone. A glance upwards made her stop in her tracks, her mouth falling open as she stared at the paintings adorning the roof of the cave. The flickering blaze of the torches revealed a richly painted ceiling, the colors amazingly bright and glowing, the figures of animals and people rendered almost lifelike as they danced across the rocky surface, the variety of creatures both mythical and real quite astounding.

Slowly she made her way further and further into the cave, the images almost leading her onwards, the torches behind her extinguishing themselves as she progressed inward. Despite all the frightening and wonderful things she'd seen, Wendy felt little fear, the sheer beauty of the painted ceiling dispelling any fear of the artist who had created such a wonder. A sound made her pause, the far distant mournful howl of a wolf, soon joined by others, caused the hair on her arms to stand up. While the wolves howled, Wendy stood still, listening to the eerie sound until it died away and all was silent again. Ahead of her more torches flared into life, leading her ever onwards, deeper and deeper into the hillside, the paintings starting to extend to the walls, the figures dancing alongside her, encouraging her onwards.

Guided only by her own feeling that this was where she needed to be, Wendy walked forward, a new sound drawing her onward, the distant sound of music so unearthly it made her want to run towards it, just to find out what was making so sweet a melody.

Behind her, the torches that had put themselves out melted once more back into the rock walls. Her footsteps in the dirt and dust of the cave floor quickly swept away so that there was nothing to mark Wendy's passage through the cave, the cavern left unmarked by any evidence that a human form had ever entered or passed through. Even the painted ceiling was no more, the bright images once more turned to stone and rock, their form lost in the shadows and striations of the marble surface.

Wendy had entered the cave of dreams.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

20/2/07

Chapter: Ten – Closing the Gap

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Stretch squatted in the shade of a tree, Grub and Harry beside him while they waited for Squid to indicate their next move. They'd tracked Wendy and her abductor across the blackened wasteland, avoiding the Ashbeast by the simple ruse of making a large enough bonfire to keep the beast happy while they crossed it's domain unmolested. They had found the campfire and seen the marks of the Wolves, Squid pronouncing gloomily that they'd be lucky to find much more than scraps if they caught up with them.

“Look how many were here,” Squid pointed at the ground, “ 'undreds of them. They're dog tucker for sure!”

“There's not blood, no ripped clothes,” observed Harry, staring around the campsite.

“I've never seen a wolf, Squid,” said Grub, awe evident in his voice, “ 'ave you?”

“Nope. We don't hunt them, they don't 'unt us. It's the law.”

“Then where does the Indian's get the pelts?” Stretch asked, “ 'cos I know Peter's bed is covered in them, ain't it.”

“Ask the bloody Indian's, I don't know. I only knows that if we leave them alone, they leave us alone,” Squid growled, his eyes never leaving the pattern of paw and foot prints on the ground.

“But we have to follow them, if we're to find the Wendy Lady.” Happy pointed out, Stretch and Grub nodding their agreement.

“True.....so keep your eyes pealed, and yelp if you see anything move,” Squid ordered, waving them forward to follow him. “It'll be dark soon and they'll have the advantage, so move fast and quiet-like.”

“I don't want to be dog tucker Squid,”

“And ya won't be Grub. Remember – fast and quiet.”

The small party of Lost Boys made good time, the tracks of the wolves and their captives clear in the mud and dust of the woods, Squid barely needing to glance down to see the way to go. Soon they were standing in the shadows of the trees bordering a great meadow. They could see off in the distance the forms of wolves moving between several raised mounds of dirt. Apart from the distant barks and yips of the wolves, there was not evidence of a human among them. Squid had out his spyglass, the small tube held to his eye as he searched the meadow.

“Nothin' but pups and females, far as I can make out.”

“Well, that's a relief. They're not likely to attack us, are they?” Harry asked. Squid lowered the glass and gave the younger boy a scathing look.

“Females are the most vicious, 'specially when defending their young.”

Harry, Grub and Stretch all swallowed, sweat breaking out on their palms and foreheads as they waited for Squid to finish his reconnaissance of the wolf meadow. Still holding the glass to his eye, Squid spoke again.

“Don't see no males. Reckon we circle around, down wind of that lot and see what we can pick up on t'other side. Maybe they took 'em somewhere.....”

“Maybe they ate them already,” Stretch moaned, barely ducking in time to avoid Squid's fist.

“Shut your cake hole.” Squid ordered, glaring at the others in turn before motioning them forward. “Follow me and keep your 'eads down.”

Bent double, the four Lost Boys sped through the thick grass, its rank height keeping them hidden from the wolf families up ahead. Squid held onto his collection of weapons to stop them jangling together as he ran, the others doing something similar as they raced to reach the trees without being detected. Once more in the shadows of the forest they rested before sending Stretch up a tall tree to get a better view over the meadow. He shimmied down and joined the others, sprawling his long frame out and fanning himself.

“Still nothing but pups and bitches, far as I can tell.” Stretch reported, swatting at an insect.

“Good. We still 'ave 'ours before dark, let's make the most of them. Stay downwind, an' keep low until we gets higher up the hill. Look out for tracks 'cos I reckon they must have gone up, if they was here.”

“Right you are Squid,” “Right O Guv'nor,” replied the others getting to their feet and hurrying after him as he stomped off between the densely packed trees.

An hour later and they had picked up the trail again, Grub spotting the imprint of a bare foot in the soft earth, Stretch reporting a mass of wolf paw marks shadowing the human trail.

“Reckon they went willingly?” Harry asked, looking back down the hill, the meadow no longer visible but still making him nervous.

“At least they're still alive,” Squid grunted, taking the lead and waving the others onwards. The dense thickets gave way to woodland, and eventually thinned to hillside pasture. The sun was well down in the sky when Squid called a halt, raising his arm and signaling for the others to get low.

“What is it?” Harry asked, exchanging worried glances around the open area, the tall grasses seemingly dotted with large rocky outcrops.

“Don't you smell that?” Squid asked, tilting his head and sniffing the air. The others did the same, Grub screwing his face up with the effort.

“Smell what?” Harry asked. Squid shook his head and flattened himself on his belly, the others following suit. There were few trees this far up the slope and the sun was starting to sink, highlighting the cairn of rocks at the summit.

“Wolves,” Squid hissed, easing his bow off his back along with an arrow, the others exchanging uneasy looks before doing the same. Grub lifted himself up enough to see over the heads of the others, his quick glance noting a quantity of large black rocks scattered over the ground ahead, like marbles tossed carelessly about.

“There's nuffin there but a bunch of old rocks,” Grub whispered, shrugging when Squid shot the young boy a glare. As they lay in the long grass, the last of the sun warm on their backs, the four boys heard a noise that made the hair on the back of their necks stand straight up. The first haunting howl was quickly joined by a chorus of others, the air suddenly full of unearthly sound coming from all around the small huddle of Lost Boys, the last of the sun leaving the rocky outcrop above and casting the hillside into long shadows and gloom.

“Squi-i-id?” Harry's tremulous voice cut through the sudden silence following the departure of the sun. A flash of lightning suddenly rent the sky, making all of the jump, the sky suddenly black with cloud. Another flash preceded a downpour that soaked everything on the hillside in seconds. Squid started to curse under his breath, the rain flattening his hair and making it drip into his eyes. Like a tap turning off, the rain suddenly stopped, the sky clearing in a way that only happened in Neverland.

As if the rain had been a signal, the rocks devolved into the dark shapes of massive wolves, the black mounds surrounding the small huddle of wet boys in an unbroken circle. The fierce looking beasts walked forward, a growl from one alerting their prey only a second before they were surrounded, Harry letting out a shriek when one creature suddenly snapped at him, seizing the boys' bow and splintering it in two.

One animal stepped forward from the pack and opened it's mouth.

“This is no place for Lost Boys,” growled the animal through it's frightening teeth.

“Did that-that wolf sp-speak?” Stretch asked, his eyes as wide as saucers. Squid ignored him and answered the leader of the pack.

“We're lookin' for someone. We saw tracks and followed 'em.”

“The one you seek is in the Cave of Dreams and beyond your reach. Go back Lost boys,” the wolf growled, its dark eyes gleaming in the half light.

“We can't......” Harry started to say.

“Only the Pan can enter the cave. If you won't leave you will stay with us and wait. Surrender your weapons.” The leader growled more forcefully, the other members of the pack baring their teeth in a frightening array of white, pointed fangs.

“Reckon we should do as he says Squid,” Stretch muttered, edging back and bumping in to Harry and Grub.

“Reckon so.” Squid agreed, dropping his quiver and knife onto the grass at his feet. “Hand over ya stuff boys.....”

With the Lost Boy's disarmed, the pack started to melt away, leaving only a few to guard the boys. The sky was now clear and covered in stars, the black rocky outcrop at the summit framed by diamonds on a velvet cloth.

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Wendy swayed, her feet almost dancing over the rocky floor, the music leading her ever onwards. The figures beside her urged her onwards, flickering like flames over the rock face as they frolicked and cavorted on the painted stone canvas. So absorbed by the experience, she didn't notice when the passageway opened into a round cavern, the music leading her to dance in a circle, Wendy spinning faster and faster until she was breathless and dizzy, laughing for the sheer joy of it. Abruptly the music ended, the figures on the walls fading into nothing and leaving their captive standing in the center of a rocky room. Wendy stared about her with some surprise, the rounded entrance to the cave now replaced by a wooden door set into a stone frame, each of the six doors sporting a different design carved into their surface. Shiny brass door knobs invited investigation and Wendy stared at each door in turn before making her choice. She was a little fearful of being enclosed in the round room, but the ceiling was so high she didn't feel shut in, a light infusing the walls and casting no shadows as she stood hesitating in the center. Looking down at her feet she could see what looked like six different paved pathways leading one to each door, radiating out like spokes from a central circle in which she stood.

“Am I supposed to choose?” She asked out loud, turning full circle, “is that what you want me to do?”

No one answered her, despite her repeating the questions and waiting for an answer for several minutes. She stayed standing in the center, almost afraid to step out of the circle, staring at the doors and trying to make out the carvings. It was as if a veil drew over her vision every time she tried to focus, the images remaining elusive until, she supposed, she decided on which door to try first. As if to help her make up her mind, the light in the cavern dimmed and only remained around one of the doors, a faint light now appearing to come from behind it.

“So you want me to try this door,” Wendy chewed her lip for a second before stepping on to the pathway that led to the door outlined in light. Above the door, carved into the stone lintel were words.

“A future to consider” Wendy read aloud, “what could that mean?” Feeling incredibly nervous, Wendy reached out her hand for the round brass door handle, the metal cool to the touch. With a quick twist and a pull the door opened outward, the view beyond the door obscured by a swirling white mist. Drawing in a steadying breath, Wendy stepped through the doorway and into the mist.

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Jack paced his cage like a tiger, the bars not moving when in a rage he gripped them in both hands and tried to shake them loose. Frustrated he went back to his pacing, the stone walls closing in on him, raising a sweat that beaded lip and forehead. He'd awoken on the stone floor, his head aching to find himself alone and caged like an animal. He'd shouted for someone to free him for the first hour, then spent the next searching for a way out, only to be left hoarse and exhausted at the end. Now, after a rest, he was pacing again, a flickering pitch torch his only companion. He turned away to walk the few steps to the back of the cell, and when he turned he found himself facing the old man that looked as alike to be Chief Talagumpa twin.

“Hell......where did you spring from?” Jack yelped in surprise, taking a quick step back. The old man smiled enigmatically as he thumped the end of his staff on the stone floor. At once the metal bars faded away, leaving the two of them standing in a cave with no entrance or exit. Jack felt sweat trickling down his back, his fears starting to make his heart thump and his hands go clammy. Clenching his fingers into fists, he fought the urge to beg the man for release, instead glaring balefully at the man to hide his terror.

“You have had a taste of what will become of you if you do not change, Black Jack. You have no reason to fear or envy Peter, he is not your enemy.”

“What can you know about anything?” Jack shouted, leaning forward and poking a finger at the man's chest. “I should be the Pan, not him, and I would have been if I hadn't slipped. I was winning.....”

“You would never have won, it was not your destiny.”

“Peter's weak...he doesn't deserve to be the Pan,” Jack cocked his thumb at his own chest, “I was stronger, faster. Look at him now, mooning over this girl....weak and not worthy!”

“Who are you to decide who is worthy Black Jack. You were quite prepared to sacrifice that girl to destroy all of Neverland...or so you believe.”

“And I would have succeeded if those damn dogs hadn't intervened.”

“You should be grateful Jack, the wolves may have saved your life.”

Jack snorted and ignored the older man, swinging away to glare at the stone walls.

“I am not Talagumpa, as you must realize, but I am connected with the Chief. What he knows I know, and what I know is passed to him. You could say I am the heart, and the Chief the eyes and ears. In that way the good of Neverland and its life source are kept in check and balance. You tried to stamp your own mark on a process you know nothing about. If you had succeeded did you think you would escape the consequences?” His robes swirling around his legs, the old man circled Jack and came to stand in front of him once more. “Are you not interested in what your destiny might be?”

Jack had his arms folded over his chest in a futile defiance of the words battering at his senses. The old man smiled serenely at him, his dark eyes holding a wealth of secrets and wonders as well as a strange sense of peace and trust. Slowly Jack started to relax, some of the anger leaching out of him as he held the old man's stare. “Where's the girl?” He asked at last.

“Wendy Darling is facing her own trial. If she is to stay here in Neverland, she must fully understand what she is giving up and taking on. A choice you were going to take away from her, from all of us.”

Jack looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with a sharp stab of shame. “I just want to leave this place.”

“That you can never do Jack....you time in the real world is past and gone. Neverland is your home, your place. Either that, or oblivion.”

“And if I choose oblivion?” Jack asked, looking up and meeting the old man's gaze.

“Would you not rather see what a different choice could give you?”

“How?”

“Just walk through that door Jack....a simple twist of a door knob and you could come out the other side a changed man.”

“I like the man I am!” Jack retorted, some of his belligerence returning. The old Indian just smiled slightly and leant of his staff, his robes moving as if a breeze blew through the cave. Jack wondered at that as he felt no such swirl of air on his face. Puzzled, he turned to find a wooden door behind him, set into the stone wall as if it had always been there. A faint light rimmed the wood, the brass knob glowing as if in invitation.

“Will I see you again?” Jack asked, resigned to walking through the door. The old man beamed at the young man, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“Anything is possible Jack...remember that...anything is possible.”

Feeling his fears melt away, Black Jack tilted his head up and straightened his shoulders. Without a backward glance he marched up to the door and reached out to wrench it open, the brass handle warm to his touch. The door swung wide on well oiled hinges, a soft white light bathing the young man. Jack hesitated a second, then stepped over the threshold and disappeared into the mist beyond, the door swinging slowly shut behind him. It then disappeared into the rock face as if it had never been. In the center of the room the rainbow clothed man with the staff stretched out his arms before tilting his head to stare up at the rocky ceiling.

“So let it be.” Stamping the staff three times on the stone floor, a light started to glow around his head, infusing his robes and body until it appeared insubstantial, the light fading into nothing and leaving the cavern empty and dark.

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Wendy batted her hand to clear the fog in front of her face, her eyes opening wide when she saw what was in front of her. A path led through a grassed graveyard to a small church, the bell pealing out even as she stood hesitating at the church gate. The faint sound of organ music drifted out of the open doorway along with the raised voices of a congregation singing. Bemused, Wendy made to step forward, her legs impeded by the quantity of skirt now covering her. Staring down at herself she gave a gasp, her fingers smoothing over the white satin and lace of the bodice, before making a check of her head to find a flowered bandeau holding a veil in place. She was wearing a wedding dress, of all things, her feet no longer bare but shod in dainty satin pumps while her hands were encased in white lace fingerless gloves that extended to her elbows leaving a short stretch of skin before disappearing into delicate puff sleeves like wisps of cloud on her shoulders. The organ music had stopped and the bell no longer ringing and Wendy started up the cobbled path towards the Norman arched doorway, drawn irresistibly inside. After the brightness of the sunshine, the dark interior blinded her for several seconds, her blue eyes blinking to adjust. The church was more of a chapel with only a few pews on either side of the aisle leading up to the alter rail, the wall behind pierced by narrow stained glass windows. The end of each pew was decorated with flowers and ribbons and everyone present turned as one to stare at Wendy as she stood at the end of the aisle, everyone that is except the man standing waiting for her at the steps leading up to the alter. He was tall and broad shouldered, but beyond that she could see nothing of his face or coloring Still bemused she started down the aisle, the peoples faces pale blurs as she tried to focus on the man standing still with his back to her. Her steps faltered when she saw a white robed priest approach and face her, beckoning her forward. At last the man who stood in the place of the groom slowly turned to face her, his face older than she'd seen him, his long dark hair slicked back and tied in an old fashioned queue.

“Jack?”

“Aye, you were expecting someone else?” He reached out his hand but Wendy took a step back, her head shaking as she tried to understand.

“No.....I can't marry you......this is all wrong.”

“It's you that's wrong......everyone's waiting, come on.”

“No.....no...I can't.....not you, never you....” grasping her skirts in her hands, Wendy fled the church, her thin shoes slipping on the slate floor as she darted out the door and back into the sunshine. An uproar followed her out, people shouting and calling her name, a few crashing chords sounding from the church organ as she fled down the path towards the gate. Her veil flew out behind her like a tortured wing, snagging on a hawthorn bush as she passed, her fingers fumbling with the gate latch. At last it let go and she flung it wide casting a glance over her shoulder as she ran into the road.

Only to find herself back in the round walled cavern, the wooden door slamming shut behind her as she skidded to a halt in the circle. Panting, Wendy looked down at herself, her wedding finery all gone leaving behind her grass stained and grubby Indian dress and bare feet. Passing a shaking hand over her eyes Wendy closed them briefly before turning back to face the door she'd so precipitously shot through. To her shock it was gone, the path leading only to an solid rock wall, the outline of the wooden door clearly visible, but of the wood planking with it's brass doorknob there was no sign.

“Oh thank goodness....” she breathed, her heart starting to slow from its hectic thumping. When her breathing had slowed, Wendy tried to understand what she'd just been apart of. It was unthinkable that she'd marry Jack, wasn't it? For one she was too young to get married, she didn't even like the young man in that way, did she? What exactly was she supposed to do? One thing she did know, Jack wasn't remotely the marrying kind, even if Wendy thought of him that way, which she didn't. “Oh no, I don't,” she reiterated to the empty room, “and no one will convince me otherwise.”

That dealt with, Wendy decided to choose another door, “for one must lead me back to the outside, surely.”

Deciding to let fate choose, Wendy closed her eyes and slowly turned in a circle, stopping after a few seconds and pointing her finger before opening her eyes. It was childish and she blushed to think that anyone was watching, but it worked and she slowly made her way down one of the paths to stand before another of the wooden doors. This one also had a motto carved over the lintel and she read it aloud. “A future unwanted.”

“Well that could have been that last one, if anyone had bothered to ask me.” With only the faintest of hesitations, Wendy reached for the door handles and opened the portal, again finding a white mist shrouding what lay beyond. “In for a penny...” she muttered as she stepped into the swirling mass, the door closing slowly behind her.

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Peter awoke thinking his mouth had suddenly grown an extra tongue, and a furry one at that. Rolling on to his side he groaned, his body feeling strange and heavy as if he'd been fighting nonstop for days on end. The Indian tepee was gloomy but light was already starting to bleed in around the entrance flap revealing that he had slept in solitary splendor in a tent that usually housed entire families of the natives. Beside the sleeping pallet had been thoughtfully placed a pitcher of water, Peter grabbing the urn and upending it, tipping the entire contents into his mouth so that it spilled over and doused his neck and chest as well. It was cold and went a long way to waking him up more thoroughly. Tossing the jug aside, he managed to find his feet with the aid of the central pole, his body still feeling lethargic but the sensation starting to ebb the more he moved around. He looked down at himself, a little surprised to find all his leaves gone and a pair of leggings in their place. Also he was liberally painted with red and white daubs, streaked after the water and from him scratching at his chest. His face felt tight as well and he suspected that more paint was decorating his cheeks, flakes coming away when he investigated.

“I must look a mess,” he mused out loud, his voice sounding odd in the empty tepee. Staggering a little, but feeling lighter with each step, Peter made his way to the entrance flap and pushed it to one side. Squinting, he left the tent and paused to stretch before walking a little unsteadily through the Indian camp. Everywhere was evidence that a great party had taken place the night before. Small fires still smoldered and gourds littered the ground while the camp dogs helped themselves to whatever scraps had been left out overnight. The sun was starting to rise, burning off the morning chill as Peter made his way out of the camp and into the trees beyond. Once out of sight of the village he leant against a tree for a moment, feeling a surge of energy reach out to him from the tree itself as if offering to help him. The sun speared a shaft of light through the trees and Peter stretched out his hands towards it, its warmth and strength adding to his energy levels and banishing the lingering lethargy in his limbs. While his body renewed itself and threw off any remaining after effects, his mind started to clear as well, memory flooding in and reminding him of the events of the last day or so.

“Wendy!” Her name rolled off his tongue and he felt his heart leap in response. Noises from the village behind him announced that others were stirring and he needed to leave now or be detained further by the Chief and his well meaning people. Keen not to be found, Peter started to run, his body feeling lighter with each step until he knew that he could fly once more, leaping into the air and shooting upwards like a meteor, the ground falling away until he halted his steep climb and hung in the air, looking back down at his island, his Neverland. Somewhere below him were his Lost Boys and His Wendy. He had to find both, but first he needed to re-equip himself and get a new suit of leaves. His memory supplied the location of a nearby cache of weapons as well as other needs, his body streaking back down towards the island in a blur of speed until he disappeared into the upper canopy of the jungle forest and out of sight.

An hour later he re-emerged from the forest tree tops once more clothed as Peter Pan and ready to start his search. He felt renewed and invigorated, his hair taking on the glow of sunlight, reflecting the sheen of vigorous health evidence in his bronzed skin and honed muscles. It was as if he'd been newly minted, the energy of the trees and animals of his island buzzing through him and making him stronger and faster than he'd ever been. The wounds from his fight with Hook were fully healed and barely visible, his mind clear and fully focused on only one thing – to find where his Wendy was and bring her back.

A bright light bobbed up beside him and he looked to his left, grinning at the tiny sprite rubbing her eyes as she hovered beside him.

“Mornin' Tink.”

Loud chimes met his greeting, the tiny fairy grumbling at him for not waking her and leaving her behind.

“Well, you're here now, so let's get going.” Another chorus of tinkling chimes answered him and he laughed.

“Yes I know what I'm doing Tink. No more delays or distraction. If the pirates attacked the south end of the camp, then we start our search at the north end. Now keep up, or you'll get left behind.” With a cheeky grin at his fairy companion, Peter swooped down and darted between the trees, Tink struggling to keep up as he wove a fast paced path through the forest, back towards the Indian village to the trail that circled northwards. Alighting on the path, Peter soon found where the pirates had been stupefied by Black Jack, Tink finding the break in the jungle that showed the path leading off at an angle, the same one taken by Jack and Wendy, and later by the Lost Boys on Peter's behalf.

“Well done Tink.....let's be off!”

Like a hawk following its prey, Peter over flew the trail leading up to the monoliths and further until he reached the boundary of the Ashbeast. Here he landed briefly to check where the trail led before leaping once more into the air, his keen eyes following the clear tracks in the sooty ash coating the ground. Over the next ridge he picked up the trail and found the small fire where Jack and Wendy were found by the wolves. With Tink in close attendance Peter walked around the campsite, noting the paw marks as well as the footprints left by the Lost boy's following Wendy's trail. Peter didn't know who had taken her, but from his footwear and other evidence it was obviously one of the pirates. The only thing Peter knew for sure was that it wasn't Hook himself that had her in his clutches, plus the fact that whoever did was traveling away from where the pirates and their ship were currently berthed.

“The wolves have them Tink......time to reacquaint myself with the pack. It's been awhile.....” Taking a second to check his weapons, Peter once more leapt into the sky, Tink right behind him. The sun was high in the sky, its warm infusion giving Peter a surge of confidence that he'd soon be reunited with Wendy and everything would be the way it should be. He would soon dismiss all her misgivings and convince her of the rightness of them being together. It all seemed so simple now, he just had to tell her how he felt and everything would be alright. Buoyed by his happy thoughts, Peter flew like an arrow along the well marked wolf trail until soon the broad meadow appeared before him.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Inside the cave of dreams time had no meaning. Sitting cross legged on a flattened boulder, an old man in a rainbow colored robe drew his staff back and forth in the dust of the cave floor, drawing intricate patterns that briefly flared into life, coiling and writhing for a few seconds before returning to just inert scratchings made by someone passing the time. Walbassa stared thoughtfully at the ground, his fingers letting go of the heavily carved staff, the magic spell continuing without his guidance with new pictures drawn even as the old ones disappeared back into the dust. With his hands free he pressed them together as if in supplication, his eyes closing, his mind flying free of the cave and its confines and ranging over the world outside. He saw Peter arrive at the broad meadow, the boy landing among the grasses and carefully approaching the wolves and their pups.

“Yes Peter....I would be cautious. It's been some time since you visited with them.” Like a bird freed from a cage, Walbassa left Peter and the meadow and flew further, circling back after some time to the rocky outcrop and the two held within. He dwelt briefly on the girl, now entering her second dream, the images blurred and requiring him to concentrate harder to see them clearly. Grunting to himself, he left her and focused on the young man he'd sent on a journey into the Never Realm. He knew what was truly in the boys' heart and was sure that in the end he would make the right choice. Satisfied that everything was going as it should, Walbassa released his hold and came back to himself, the staff ceasing it's independent movement and falling comfortably back into the old mans hand when he reached for it.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

29/3/07

Chapter: Eleven – So Many Doors, So Little Time

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Wendy Darling flapped her hand to clear the grey mist obscuring her vision, an image becoming clear of a street remarkably similar to one she'd traveled every day of her life back in London.

“Why......I'm home!” Perplexed, Wendy turned and found that the doorway was gone, only an alley way stretching behind her with dark shadows and noisome piles of rubbish. In fact everywhere she looked appeared abandoned and desolate, the street pavement cracked and damaged, the roadway covered in dead leaves and windblown detritus. “What has happened here?” She asked out loud, taking a tentative step forward to the edge of the footpath. The sky overhead was leaden, the houses either side of her shut up and looking uninhabited for some time. An odd noise made her look up to see a strange elongated balloon pass overhead, its engines droning like enormous bees as it slowly made its stately way over the roof tops and out of sight. “Whatever in the world was that?” Wendy mused, stepping off the pavement and into the roadway. An eerie silence pervaded the block of terraced housing, no shouting or clatter of wagons and carts, no hansom cabs or horses neighing, no dogs barking or evidence of people at all. Yet this was usually a busy roadway with servants and residents bustling about their business, the traffic trundling along almost all hours of the day and night. “Hello?” Wendy called out, stepping over a large pile of dead leaves accumulated around a broken wooden box cast away in the middle of the road. “Can anyone hear me?”

Silence greeted her calls, only the wind whirling the brittle leaves along the street made any sound. The drone of a motor heralded the return of the unusual flying device over the buildings, Wendy watching its slow progress before walking quickly towards the house that she recognized as her own. Taking the steps two at a time she lifted her hand to rap the door knocker only to find the front door unlatched, swinging inward and revealing the dark interior of the house. Looking back from her more elevated position, Wendy could see what looked like a pile of debris in front of where a house would have stood further down the street, bricks tumbled half way across the street, along with broken furniture and blackened beams. Thoroughly alarmed, Wendy hurried into the entrance lobby of her home.

“Mother......Father....I'm home. Is anyone here?” Hurriedly she peered into the two front rooms, both of them empty and the furniture covered in Holland cloths, ghostly in the grey light from outside. “Please, can anyone hear me? Is anyone in the house?” With her breath leaving her in sobs, Wendy climbed the staircase, her hand slipping on the banister and causing her to stumble on the landing. Everything was where she'd left it, the pictures still on the walls and the rooms as she remembered, except for the dust coverings over the larger pieces. The difference was the complete absence of life, her fingers fumbling with the recently installed electric light switch, the toggle not producing anything other than a dull clicking noise. Desperate for light, Wendy pulled open a drawer, looking for matches or anything to use to light one of the ever present oil lamps placed beside the beds. She found nothing in any of the drawers, they were all empty of clothes, belongings and the usual clutter associated with human habitation. One drawer stuck as she tried to pull it out, Wendy tugging it with more force than usual only to have the handle break off in her hand. Scared and angry, she lashed out at the drawer, pulling it out with both hands and dashing it on the floor.

“Where is everyone? Where are you?” Wendy screamed at the empty room, her voice echoing through the house. Apart from the distant drone of the flying machine going over the roof, there were no other sounds in the house or from the street. In a panic, Wendy flew from room to room, searching desk tops and mantles for any letters left behind, thinking distractedly that if her parents had to leave in such a hurry they may have left a message for her. The search was in vain, Wendy ending up back where she started, standing in the gaping doorway on her own home, no wiser as to what had happened to her family, or where they had gone. Sinking on to the top step of her home she hugged her knees, burying her head against them while tears leaked out of her screwed tight eyes, soaking her skirt. How long she stayed there she had no idea.

“Are you lookin' for someone deary?”

The voice made her jump. In front of her stood an old woman, stooped and wrinkled, clothed in rags and looking in dire need of a good bath.

“Yes.....yes I am. The family that lived here....” Wendy indicated the doorway behind her. “Do you know what happened to them?”

“Let me see,” the old woman tilted her head to look up at the house, squinting slightly before returning her gaze to the girl in front of her. “This be the Darling house, isn't it?”

“Yes...that's right. George and Mary Darling lived here, with their three children....”

“Three? Oh no deary, not three.....just two boys, if I remember rightly.”

“No, that's not right. There was a girl, the eldest...” Wendy willed the old lady to agree.

“Nope, never heard of no girl.....oh wait a minute, now you come to mention it. There was a girl once, a long time ago. Such a kafuffle there was at the time. She went missing. Yes, that's right, disappeared out of her bed as if she'd never existed. Had the police around here sniffing about and disturbing folk, a right ol' muddle.”

“But.....I've only been gone a little while...” Wendy said faintly, the old lady not taking any notice and carrying on with her narrative.

“I remember now, they posted advertisements in the newspaper, and went around knocking on doors for every such a long time.” She sighed, settling her hands together across her chest. “Sad business it was, and no mistake.”

Wendy sat sunk in a well of misery, her brain unable to think beyond that fact that her family had been frantically looking for her.

“Of course, we all thought she must be dead, poor girl,” the old lady rambled on. The drone of the flying machine interrupted and the old lady spat violently on the pavement, her face creased in a ferocious scowl. Raising her fist she shook it at the zeppelin as it floated over head. “Bastards, go back to the Kaiser and bomb him!” She turned back to face Wendy, at last noting the girls devastated expression. “Did you know the family deary?”

“Yes......I did.” She looked up. “Please.....what has been happening here? What are those strange flying things? And what happened to that building down there, where is everyone?”

“Well now, fancy you not knowing.....been living on an island somewhere? It's the war deary, the war. Bombs dropping down on honest folk and blowing them all to bits, it's dreadful, I tell you. Simply dreadful.”

“War?” Wendy stared at the woman blankly. “What war? What year is this?”

“What an odd question, it's nineteen sixteen. There's only one war, the one that's ruining good men's lives is what. Now come along, you can't stay here....we've been luckier than some and not been bombed the last couple of night, but with that bloody great thing cruising overhead we'd be mad to stay here.”

“Nineteen sixteen.....ten years have passed!” Wendy looked profoundly shocked, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “But the house......my family..”

“Come along now......they're long gone, safely out of London if they've got any sense. You come with Aggie, I'll see you safe. Hurry now, it's getting dark.” As if to punctuate her warnings, the ground shook as an explosion rocked the street. “Oh my gawd, they've started.....hurry deary, hurry or we'll both be blown to smithereens!”

With a surprisingly strong grip the old lady pulled Wendy down the steps and across the street, another explosion, closer this time, making the ground undulate and almost tripping Wendy as she hurried after Aggie. They were heading for the alleyway, the drone of the zeppelin sounding loud over their panting breaths, Wendy looking back once over her shoulder to see a gout of flame explode from one of the terrace houses, bricks and glass raining down on the street. Suddenly they were plunged into darkness, the tall walls of the buildings cutting off any light from the overcast sky. At the mouth of the narrow passage, a huge explosion blew the two women over, slamming Aggie into the wall and sending Wendy sprawling. Smoke and dust choked everything, billowing clouds enveloping them as they coughed and moaned.

“Get up deary......get up,” Aggie wheezed, “get yourself through that door now. You be right safe there....go now!”

With streaming eyes and still coughing, Wendy staggered to the door and wrenched it open, almost falling through.

To find herself back in the cave once more, the wooden door banging shut behind her before melting back into the stone. Wendy whirled, her breath catching, “Aggie!” Her shout echoed back at her as she stared at the now solid wall, the door gone forever. Drawing in a steadying breath, Wendy slowly turned, her hands clenched in to fists as she tilted her head and shouted at the enclosing rock walls.

“This was supposed to be the cave of dreams,” she indicated the doors with a flick of one hand, “these are just nightmares! I want to go home!”

For a few seconds she waited, anger welling up and spilling over in tears and frustration. Oblivious to her turbulent emotions, another door became illuminated, beckoning her in, even going so far as to click open by itself so it stood a little ajar. Not enough to see inside, but enough to entice. Wendy ignored it for almost five minutes, then her commonsense won out. “I'm not going to get out of this horrid place unless I go through a door, am I?” She addressed the walls for want of anyone to talk to. Getting no reply, she scowled horribly then approached the waiting door. Looking up she read the script carved in to the lintel. “ A future so near. Now what in the world is that supposed to mean? Let's hope its a happier prospect that the previous two.”

Angry, and a little fearful, Wendy yanked the door wide and stepped through. There was no mist or fog this time, she walked right in to a thick jungle, the leaves and trees pressing close around her so that she couldn't see in front, behind or above. Pushing her way through the tangle, she almost fell into the clearing on the other side. The canopy was cleared here and sunlight poured down like a great golden shaft, the jungle all around looking darker in contrast. Blinking at the sudden change in light, Wendy shielded her eyes and squinted, seeing something at the center of the grassy glade, but unable to make out what it might be. The turf felt cool and soft under her bare feet, her steps noiseless as she approached. A gasp escaped her lips when she recognized the shape sprawled like a broken puppet, arms and legs flung out from the body and left at awkward angles.

“Peter!” Hurrying over, Wendy dropped to her knees and stared at the young man laying before her, his body like a rag doll cast away by a child. His face was turned away from her, his chest barely rising as he drew breath. “Peter what happened, why are you here?” She started to notice other things, the bruises up and down his arms and lower legs, the splotches of blood smeared over his torso, pooling at the base of his throat and visible in trickles from his nose and ears. “Oh Peter...what happened to you?” Gently she reached over and brushed his hair away from his face, her touch rousing him to turn his face towards her. Dark circles ringed his eyes and a deep gash ran up into his hair line. He coughed, his spittle colored red, his face contorted in a pain filled grimace as he fought to regain his breath. He stared up at her, no recognition in his gaze.

“Who are you?”

“Peter....its me, Wendy.....don't you remember?”

“We-endy......what a funny name. Are you an angel come to take me to heaven?”

“No.....oh no, Peter.....you're not going to die, don't think that.”

“I think you must be an angel....I can see your wings, and you look so pretty,” he swallowed with difficulty, his feverishly bright eyes never leaving her face.

“I have to get you some help Peter.....but I don't know where we are. Is the Indian village close?” Wendy tried to force a smile to her stiff lips, her eyes anguished a she listened to him take another painful breath.

“All gone....everyone gone....no one left to ask...” Peter smiled weakly and closed his eyes. “Neverland will be gone soon to.”

“Peter who did this? Was it Hook....did you fight again?” She picked up one of his hands, folding it between her own.

“Don't remember.....I suppose so......will it still hurt so much in heaven?” He opened his eyes again and Wendy felt her heart break at the life ebbing out of him. “Can you take me now....there's nothing to keep me here.”

“No, no Peter......there has to be someone who can help. What about your fairy? Can't you call her to use her magic?”

“No more magic.....no more fairies. Nobody believes anymore Wendy, not in magic or fairies or in me.”

“I believe Peter......I believe in you....in Neverland, in all of this. I'm sorry I didn't say so sooner, but I want to stay here, I want to stay with you.....please don't die.” Choked by tears, Wendy held his hand up to her cheek, kissing the broken knuckles and willing her strength in to him. “I will stay Peter....I'll stay and be your Queen.”

“I think I'd like to have you as my angel,” Peter rambled, his eyes unfocused as they drifted from her face to stare up at the sky. “I could quite enjoy dying if I knew you were there to meet me..........” His voice faded away, the light of life leaving his eyes, his last breath sighing out of his body and taking his soul with it. Wendy still clutched his hand, blinded by tears and barely able to breath for the sobs choking her throat. His stillness finally impinged on her grief, her heart giving an audible snap and sending a lancing pain through her chest when she realized he was gone.

“No.....oh no.....” leaning down, she pressed her lips to his, the flesh still retaining a little warmth, but no breath left in his body, nor light in his staring eyes. Peter Pan was dead. Above her head, the sun winked out of existence, plunging the glade into a gloomy half light laden with shadows. A distant roar was all the warning she got before a howling wind raged overhead, tossing the trees and branches back and forth until they broke and rained down, leaves swirling around like a blizzard, only the small space around Peter's body remaining clear of the maelstrom. Blinded by her tears, Wendy didn't see the jungle start to blacken and rot around her, the greenery melting away like paint running in the rain, trees crashing to the ground before being picked up by the wind and whirled away in a mad tornado of destruction.

Wendy felt numb, her tears drying up and her sobs subsiding as shock took over and she remained kneeling by his side, his limp hand still clasped in her own. All around her was mayhem and chaos, Neverland reducing itself to nothing more than bare rock, barren of all life, it's magic destroyed with no hope of renewal. Two figures appeared, striding through the howling storm, untouched by the destruction around them. Wendy saw them approach but didn't react to their presence, her mind unable to think past the tragedy in front of her.

“So....Wendy Darling......arrived just in time for the Coup-de-gras,” Hook's dark voice washed over Wendy like a cold shower, snapping her out of her stupor and leaving her with a white hot anger pouring through her.

“He's dead Captain Hook, and beyond you reach.” She turned to fix the other figure with a baleful glare. “Satisfied Jack? You got what you wanted....the end of Neverland.”

“Don't blame me for this love. This is all your doing, not ours.” Jack and Hook exchanged a quick glance before turning their attention to the girl getting to her feet.

“What are you saying? I didn't cause these injuries, these wounds!” Wendy held out her hand, palm up to show the blood coating them. “You did this......you killed him.”

“Do you think we could have succeeded if you hadn't already struck the mortal blow?” Lifting one dark brow, Hook smirked at her, tormenting her so that she wanted to strike at him and wipe the leer from his lips.

“You left him Wendy......left him alone......all he wanted was your love, your adoration. But no, you had to whine about your family, your duty.......never a thought to his feelings, his longing to be loved.” Wendy heard the words dripping from Jack's tongue but couldn't bring herself to accept them.

“You're wrong.....I didn't.....I haven't left him.....”

“But you're thinking of just that, aren't you girly girl. You want to run away and leave all this behind you, leave him behind to rot in this infernal paradise, his own personal hell.”

“It's too late for all that..........he's already dead!”

“Ah, that's where you're wrong Wendy Darling.......it's never too late in Neverland. This is just one future path, as are the others.....this is not real, it is an illusion, a nightmare to end all nightmares.” Hook's eyes gleamed redly as he stared at her. Wendy stared at the pirate Captain and his cohort, the two men sporting smirking grins that seemed at odds with their intentions.

“But isn't this what you wanted? For Peter Pan to die and release you from the hold this place has one you both?” Wendy asked.

“To be sure, it was the plan. But really, when one considers the alternatives, what is there out there for the likes of us.” Hook waved his hands in a flourish, indicating the wreck and ruin all around them. “The world has forgotten James Hook, as surely as the world has forgotten about magic and wonder. Neverland is the final refuge for the unwanted, a bastion against the world's ills where magic is nurtured and love conquers all.”

Wendy looked at Hook askance, the pirates manner and speech at odds with his bloodthirsty demeanor. She felt confused and unsure, her grasp on reality spinning out of control.

“I can change all this....can't I.” She stated, refusing to look at the corpse still laying at her feet. “I can do something to stop this happening.” She flung her arms wide to indicate the total devastation surrounding them.

“Anything is possible, you just have to believe,” Jack told her. He took a step back away from Hook and the small tableau they formed. “Anything is possible.”

“Every girl has to face the inevitability of leaving her home and family at some stage. You cannot remain a child forever Wendy Darling. Here you have the opportunity to love and be loved in a way you could never hope to attain in the world you left behind.” Hook held out his good hand and closed the fingers over to make a fist. “Grasp it girl.....keep all this alive, keep the magic alive.....”

“Keep the magic alive...” Wendy repeated, watching as Hook stepped back and disappeared into a mist the same way Black Jack had done. Alone, she looked down to find that Peter's body had gone, leaving her standing in the middle of a barren rocky island without a single twig of vegetation or sign of life. “I will keep you alive....all of it.....I do believe.”

Sighing she closed her eyes, suddenly weary of the emotional upheavals, her mind made up, for once in accord with her heart.

When she opened her eyes she was back in the cavern, the remaining three doors that she'd left behind reduced to just one, the others absorbed by the rocky walls.

“Please let this be the one to lead me back to Neverland....I think I've had enough of dreams and nightmares.”

As if in answer to her plea, the door creaked open by itself, a warm glow beckoning her in. Taking her last walk along the paved path, Wendy pulled the door wide and stepped through without bothering to pause and read the motto inscribed on the lintel.

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Peter and Tinkerbell slowly approached a boisterous family group of females and youngsters, the wolves standing at bay as soon as they realized they were no longer alone. For a moment no one moved, Peter remaining where he'd landed, his feet apart and his knuckles on his hips, Tink hovering somewhere above his shoulder. Then one of the larger females slowly approached the young man, getting to within a foot of where he stood before lowering herself to the ground in a gesture of submission. Peter remained still as a statue, the other members of the pack coming forward to copy the lead female until he was surrounded on all sides by wolves laying on their bellies, their muzzles buried in the grass and bright eyes fixed on him. Even the puppies and youngsters were quiet, following the example of the elders and laying down before the human in front of them. Relaxing his rigid stance, Peter let his arms hand loose by his sides, a grin breaking out on his face as he indicated with a wave of his hand to the lead female.

“It's been a long time Lupa....still bossing the girls around, I see?”

At once the senior wolf leapt up from the ground and launched herself at Peter, the boy and wolf rolling on the ground in joyful reunion while the other wolves stood around with tongues lolling, watching the sport. After a playful few minutes, the large female jumped off Peter and yipped at him, Peter wiping his face and laughing.

“Yes, you got me good Lupa. It's been a while since I visited the meadow. Maybe you should show me your latest additions?”

Still sitting in the long grass, Peter waited while Lupa marshaled the other wolves and youngsters, parading them all before him, Lupa taking special care to show off the latest litter of tiny pups, dropping them in his lap to fondle and play with while she looked on protectively.

“They are beautiful Lupa.....almost as beautiful as their grandmother.”

Handing the puppies back to their anxious mother, Peter rose to his feet and set off across the meadow, the wolf Lupa loping easily at his side. Every now and then Peter would reach down and ruffle the wolf's fur behind it's large ears, the animal growling appreciatively when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“I've come to find someone Lupa....she came this way with a pirate.”

Lupa sat on her haunches and opened her jaws, her liquid eyes fixed on Peter.

“Ferru took her and the young man up the hill to the Cave of Dreams,” Lupa growled, the words just distinguishable.

“Ah.....Walbassa. Since when?”

“Last eventide. Ferru still up there, probably guarding the Lost Boy's that followed.”

Peter laughed. “Nothing sneaks past those sharp eyes, or keen noses.”

“Lost Boys could do with a bath sometime.” Lupa retorted, her muzzle stretching into a fair imitation of a human grin.

“I'll tell them you said that,” Peter replied. “I have to go now and catch up with Ferru.”

“Bring the lady with you next time you visit Peter......I think Diz would be happy to make your lady her pet.”

“Diz is all grown up? When did that happen? Sure I'll bring Wendy back......I'd like to see Diz again myself.”

“You were ever her favorite pet, Peter.”

“I remember. I have to go now....I'll send Ferru back to you when I see him.”

“Goodbye Peter.......good luck.”

With a final scratch behind the wolf's ears, Peter flew up into the air, Tink not far behind him. Together they left the meadow and headed up the hillside, weaving between the tree tops while keeping an eye on the rocky outcrop at the crown. Very quickly they reached the bald summit, the steep hillside spread out below them, dotted with several dark figures that resolved into the males of the wolf pack, a rising crescendo of greeting howls meeting him as he set down in their midst. Four tousled heads popped up out of the grass and cheered to see their leader arrive to save them.

“Peter.....you've come to rescue us!” Harry shouted, jumping up and down. Grub did the same, a grin as wide as his grubby face beaming at Peter in adoration and gratitude.

“They were never in danger,” Ferru growled when he padded over to greet Peter.

“I know.” Peter replied, offering his hand outstretched into which Ferru placed his paw. “And I thank you for your good care of them.”

Ferru slanted his head towards the outcrop further up the hillside. “Walbassa has been busy this night. No one has returned from the cave as yet.”

“Then I've come at the right time.” Turning to face his small troop of boys, Peter folded his arms over his chest. “ Your mission if done and I'm proud you braved so many dangers on my behalf. Ferru?” Peter turned to address the wolf. “Can you provide an escort to take the boys back a short route than they arrived. I'd like them to avoid having to go back through the Burnt Valley.”

“I will escort them myself.......”

“Oh no, send another. I promised Lupa I'd send you back directly.” Peter grinned at the wolf, the animal grinning back.

“Then I will do as you say.” A series of yips and barks sent the main pack on their way back down the hill, leaving two and Ferru to remain behind along with Peter and the Lost Boys.

“Sim and Pit will lead the Lost Boy's back to the Indian village,” Ferru growled, jerking his head to indicate for his two volunteers to start their task.

“Go with the wolves, I'll see you at the village before too long.”

“What about Wendy and that pirate she's with?” Harry asked, his expression anxious.

“Not for you to worry about nipper,” Peter replied affectionately, ruffling the younger boys mop of hair. “Tell the other's we'll be back soon. Now scoot!”

Peter and Ferru watched the small troop of boys and wolves make their way down the hill until they were out of sight. Peter turned his head to face up the slope to the towering cairn of rocks.

“Do you wish me to stay and wait?” Ferru asked, cocking his head to look up at Peter.

“No......we'll follow soon.”

Without further ado, the large black wolf sprang away and started down the hillside leaving Peter to start the short journey up the steep climb, Tinkerbell still hovering over his shoulder having remained quiet until that moment.

“I can't go in there Peter.....you know that, don't you?” The tiny fairy darted in front of Peter making him pause in his climb.

“I know Tink.....”

“I'll go then......don't let that Walbassa try any of his tricks on you,” Tink scolded before darting off, her brightness swallowed up by distance after only a few seconds. Peter continued up the slope, the looming rocky escarpment broken only by the dark mouth of a large cave directly in front of him.

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4/4/07

Chapter: Twelve - In The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

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Peter approached the Cave of Dreams with a spring in his step, supremely confident that everything was going to turn out the way he both wanted and expected. But, as is so often proved by experience and circumstance, nothing ever works out entirely to plan.

The mouth of the cave yawned wide and dark despite the bright sunlight. Peter had to blink several times to accustom his eyes to the gloomy depths, the dusty floor criss-crossed with many footprints, none of them distinguishable as Wendy's. As he progressed beyond the reach of the sunlight, some of his confidence drained away, his cocky grin fading as he looked around. The sound of falling rock made him pause, his hand going to the knife at his belt, but it was only another slide of rocks joining those already mounding the floor in irregular heaps, testament to the age and infirmity of the rock above.

Halting his steps when he could no longer see up ahead, Peter chewed on his lip and frowned.

“Walbassa? Are you hiding from me?” His voice echoed back a multiple of times, with no reply forthcoming. “Walbassa? It's I – Peter Pan come to collect my Wendy.” He waited impatiently for the echoes to fade before trying again. “Walbassa, answer me!”

Again he heard the sound of falling rock, this time from up ahead in the darkness. “Who's there?” Peter called, his forehead furrowed as he tried to see beyond the shadows. “Stop hiding and come out into the light?” Drawing his sword, Peter tensed in readiness for a fight, his blade giving off a dull sheen in the half light. Nothing and nobody appeared to answer his challenge, the cave as lifeless as when he'd first entered.

“Dammit old man, what game are you playing.”

Unable to proceed without light, Peter withdrew back towards the wide opening, his sword held ready but his former confidence blown to the four winds. This was not going at all as he'd expected.

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Wendy stepped through the last portal, her feet touching down onto hot sand, her skin instantly prickling as bright sunshine heated her face and blinded her. Throwing up her hands to shield her eyes, she became aware of the dull roar of the sea not more than a few meters in front of her.

“Where on earth have you brought me this time? This isn't the cave or the hillside.”

Still shielding her eyes from the sun's glare, Wendy crossed the sand into the shade of a large palm tree, the sand cool underfoot and the sun no longer blinding her. Able to see, she searched the beach and ocean for any sign of life or an indication of where she was. She assumed she was still on the island of Neverland, but there was no way on knowing where along the extensive coastline she'd been dropped.

“Am I still dreaming? Or is this really Neverland – here and now, not in the past or the future.” She turned her head to look around, the stretch of sand leading off in both directions until it curved out of sight, no headland breaking the seemingly endless expanse of sand and sea. The ocean was a deeper shade of blue than the sky, the breakers gleaming impossibly white as they broke on a reef a hundred feet off the beach, the resulting waves lapping busily at the sand, shooshing and sighing with each ebb and flow. The beach itself was unblemished by footfall or rock, only the graceful lean of numerous coconut palms breaking up the fringe of the beach before leading into the interior and the jungle beyond. It was as if she was the only person in the entire world. In fact in both worlds, if she really wanted to be pedantic.

Reasoning that this was only another dream, Wendy sank down and sat on the cool sand, her arms resting on her knees as she stared out at the never ending pattern of the tidal flow. The occasional Gull drifted overhead, a white speck against an azure sky, their cries faint as they passed on their way to their feeding grounds. Off in the distance Wendy could see a multitude of different sea birds diving into the sea beyond the breakers, the water churned into a froth as the birds sought the fish swimming just below the surface. She watched as the shoal, chivvied and pursued by the birds, moved further along the coastline and into a deep water channel, escaping the birds who flew off to find more food out of sight of where she sat. After that, she only had the waves and the warm breeze for company, even the jungle, a scant fifty feet from where she sat, was silent for once. No parrots fought over nuts and berries, no exotic cries disturbed the murmur of the waves, the boom of the distant breakers lulling Wendy so that she curled up with her head pillowed on her arm and slept.

So complete was her slumber that she never saw the ship sail into view, or notice it anchor off her beach. She didn't see the boat lowered into the water, and didn't see it rowed through the breakers to beach itself near to where she lay. She certainly didn't notice the rough men who careful trod across the pristine sand on silent feet to stand within the shade of the palm tree and gaze down at her in wonder and surprise. It was maybe just as well that she slumbered through being picked up in brawny, tattooed arms and carried back to the boat, cradled against a massive chest as the boat rowed carefully back to the ship. Even the jolting of passing through the breakers didn't bestir her, the passage up the side of the ship not raising a twitch, nor the short journey to the Captain's cabin. There she was deposited as gently as a lamb onto the velvet covered bed within, without once fluttering an eyelid or expelling a single sigh.

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Hook gazed down at the girl and was so overcome he could only wave at his men to leave, his brain unable to formulate words to describe the good fortune laying so innocently within his cabin. It was his first close look at the woman-child that was thought to have the power to bring about the end of Peter Pan, and Neverland. Certainly Black Jack believed that was the case, although Hook had his doubts that anything so fragile and indefensible could possibly pose a threat. He felt his lips rise up in a smile while his fingers lifted a skein of her hair, the strands slipping through, across his skin like the softest swansdown. While he gazed down at her, Hook started to formulate a new plan, one that included keeping this fair child to grace his barren life, thus stealing her away from the Pan but not reducing Neverland to rack and ruin. Peter would be devastated to lose his plaything, the very thought giving Hook a delicious thrill. In time the puling brat would come to acknowledge that Hook had won without ever firing a shot, the girl his own instrument of revenge for the many fights, like the one most recent, Hook left defeated by a mere stripling, his men and plans in hopeless disarray.

Now this ripest of plums had been dropped in his lap, the Gods favoring James Hook for once in his miserable life.

The girl stirred and Hook withdrew his hand, not wanting to be caught mooning over the chit, his reputation likely to suffer if his men ever found out. He'd held the post of Captain for longer than most men lived, the crew unable or unwilling to challenge his right to be Captain, no serious contender in all the years of his tenure. Only Black Jack had carried the slightest whiff of ambition, the lad the most likely to challenge his mentor as any of the motley crew. But Jack wasn't aboard, the young pirate missing, his fate unknown but quite possibly having something to do with the girl turning up on the beach. How, he had no idea, only thanked his lucky stars that he'd decided to take an extended sail around the shores of the island to recoup his losses and allow the crew to mend from their recent encounter with Pan and the Indians.

Sitting himself in his chair, he slowly stroked his black mustache, the ends quite rigid with wax to keep them to a nice point, his closely cropped goatee also groomed to perfection. Only his long hair refused to be tamed, the glossy black ringlets cascading in profusion over his shoulders like a veritable periwig, the color unmarred by threads of silver despite the considerable period of time since James Hook last counted a birthday. To all outward appearances, Hook had stopped aging once his years had reached thirty, his body still trim and muscles strong despite the crippling loss of his right hand. Even now he could feel the phantom tendons flex and pull his missing fingers into a fist, the gleaming gold hook mocking him when he looked down to see the hand no longer there.

“Damn you Peter Pan...and damn that wretched beast for taking me hand!” As if sensing the disquiet of his elusive prey, the distant sound of a clock ticking could be heard over the creak and groan of the ship around him. What color was left in Hook's pale face drained away completely, his bowels turning to liquid as the sound came closer, a distant thump against the hull of the ship announcing the arrival of the crocodile in search of the one meal that got away. Leaping to his feet, Hook rushed to the latticed windows lining his cabin and checked that they were all latched and locked. Satisfied that the beast couldn't enter that way, Hook stumbled ashen faced to his cabin door, wrenching it open and making his way on deck, his men already running about the ship, some leaning over the side to better see what was stalking the Jolly Roger.

“Get this hulk under way you lazy good-for-nothings!” He climbed to the poop deck taking the stairs two at a time, his wine red coat tails flying behind him. “Smee, get us the bloody hell out of here...we can still outrun the creature!”

His crew scurried up into the rigging, while others manned the windlass, the anchor rising at a phenomenal speed, urged on by the bosun's ready application of the whip. Soon the ship was making headway, leaving the crocodile far behind, the doughty creature not giving up it's chase despite the unequal pace. Hook snapped his spyglass shut, the creature now no more than a speck in the waves. Satisfied that he was out of immediate danger, Hook gave instructions to the helm before returning to his cabin, ordering Smee to get a meal prepared within the hour. Quietly opening the door, he checked on his sleeping guest before shutting it behind him. Finding the cabin stuffy he unlatched the windows and flung them wide, a gust of sea air washing over him and causing him to breath deeply before turning back to the room. To his profound shock, the young lady was sitting up and looking with some bewilderment around his sumptuously appointed cabin. At length her gaze swiveled to where he stood with his back to the windows. She didn't look particularly alarmed, only mildly curious, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

“Are you the one they call Hook?”

In answer he raised his right arm, the gleam of the golden appendage answering her question. Seeing her mouth form a perfect oh of understanding, Hook smiled thinly and sauntered towards her.

“And you must be the one everyone is looking for,” he drawled, approaching the bed at a measured pace much like a panther stalking its prey. To her credit, the young woman didn't flinch or blush, instead just kept her remarkable eyes pinned on him, watching his every move. When he had crossed the floor and reached the harpsichord set in one corner, he turned his back on her and flipped out his coat tails before sitting down and lifting the cover protecting the keys. Wendy watched him, mesmerized by his graceful movements, his glossy black ringlets and overall sophistication in appearance. That his costume belonged to a previous century or more was certainly a curiosity, but its rich fabric and decoration didn't detract from Hook's presentation, the overall effect of a cultured man of the world giving Wendy quite a different impression than one she'd expected to make, of the dread pirate she'd heard so much about. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat there while Hook ran his good hand over the black and white keys in a small trill of sound. Her eyes wandered over the fixtures and fittings of the Captain's cabin and wondered how much reflected the man sitting before her, his fingers now coaxing a tune from the ancient instrument, even accommodating his disability by modifying the tune to allow him to use the metal hook in place of his missing fingers. She listened entranced as music filled the cabin, a dainty melody that almost brought a lump to her throat with its sweetness. When it finished she felt compelled to reward the performance, her hands applauding him so that he was perforce to rise and bow, extending a leg in the finest example of a courtly bow any girl could wish for.

“Thank you m'dear, it was but a trifling tune.”

“Oh no....it was lovely, and so.......”

“Unexpected?” Hook answered for her, his dark brow quirking in self mockery. “Even pirates need to pass the time in some fashion when they're not engaged in pillaging and piracy.”

“I suppose so. You are not at all as I was led to expect.”

“Should I be flattered?” Hook smiled, his teeth very white and predatory behind his black mustache “I would have to know what was being said of me, to accept your words as a compliment.”

Wendy felt heat steal into her cheeks, not used to such subtle banter, and certainly not at all equipped to cross verbal words with a pirate. “I think you know very well what every one says.”

“Good gad, are you saying I don't live up to my fierce reputation?” He laughed, blue eyes twinkling, “I can see I'll have to lop off a few heads to raise myself in your estimation!”

“Oh please......don't do that!” Wendy jumped to her feet, highly agitated that her foolish words would cause someone to die for them. “I only meant that......well......you don't exactly look the way I'd expected you to.”

“You mean, I assume, that you expected someone with a coarse appearance and even coarser behavior, as only one of that ilk could possibly be a pirate.”

“I....no.....you put words in my mouth. I'll say no more as you're surely twist them to suit. I think you mock me.”

“Forsooth, m'dear, I would never mock one who appreciates the finer arts and compliments me so prettily. But enough banter, you must be hungry and have a hundred questions. I hear my first mate approaching with a meal, and I'm sure you would like an opportunity to....er.....refresh yourself?”

“Please.” Looking down at her fingers, Wendy twisted them together, her thoughts confused as her host opened the cabin door and ushered in a short, rotund first mate bearing a huge silver tray covered in a variety of dishes. Behind Smee came more sailors carrying trays sporting an assortment of jugs, carafes and platters, all of which were laid the table dominating the center of the room. While his men laid the table, Hook ushered Wendy to an alcove set in one corner, the cleverly disguised screen revealing a tiny bathroom, complete with commode, fine porcelain jug and washing bowl, plus an assortment of toiletries laid out under an ornately framed gilt mirror. Fine towels hung beside the sink bench and a small stool completed the furnishings. Hook smiled benignly when Wendy looked up at him in some surprise.

“Again, not what you were expecting, I'm sure. Would you prefer if I gave you a wooden bucket and a rag?”

“You are teasing again.”

“Of course. I will see if I can find you something more suitable to wear,” he pinched the sleeve of her Indian dress, his lip curling, “ than this rag.”

As if suddenly aware of her state, Wendy felt her cheeks turn hot with embarrassment, the Indian dress certainly in need of a good wash. “Thank you.” Briefly she remembered the leaf outfit she'd worn, albeit briefly, the freedom it had afforded her, as well as the implications of wearing it. Hook merely smiled a small smile and turned on his heel. Wendy turned back and caught sight of herself in the small mirror. “Oh good Lord.” Hastily she poured water into the basin before scrubbing her hands thoroughly, then used a wash cloth on her face and neck. A sudden thought made her look down at her feet, her mouth twisting in a grimace when she noted their state. More water and the hurried application of the wash cloth worked wonders, the basin now full of a grubby slurry, but her toes once more pink and clean again. A bristly hairbrush was ruthlessly applied to her hair, the knots bringing tears to her eyes as she brushed them out.

“I have this for you to change into......Miss?”

“Darling.....Wendy Darling.” A dress appeared around the end of the partition and she took it, Hook remaining out of sight on the other side. Delicious smells were starting to waft from the table making Wendy's stomach growl in anticipation.

“When you are ready Miss Darling.” Somehow Hook managed to draw her last name out so that it sounded like an endearment, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

“I won't be long.” She waited until his footsteps had returned to the other side of the room before dropping the dress and lifting the Indian beaded tunic over her head. She quickly pulled the other dress over her head, hardly noticing it's color or design in her efforts to get dressed in haste. Shaking out the skirts she turned to regard herself in the mirror, turning and twisting to see as much of the dress as possible. It was blue, like forget-me-knots, with small puffed sleeves and a sash to pull it in at the waist. The garment was very much in the style of a jeune-fille with it's round neck and unadorned fabric, but she didn't mind. It was clean and fresh and felt soft against her skin. Inwardly wishing that she had a pair of slippers to match, Wendy drew in a large breath and stepped out from behind the screen, her fingers worrying at her hair while she waited for a comment from her host. Hook sat at the table facing her, his left hand paused in the process of lifting a strangely shaped wine glass to his mouth.

“An improvement, if you don't mind me saying m'dear.” His eyes roamed hotly over her figure, dwelling briefly on the budding curves highlighted by the simple style of the dress. “Now take a seat and see if I can tempt you with something here.”

Smee held out the chair for her as Wendy took the seat opposite the pirate Captain, the first mate sporting a pristine white apron over his salt stained clothes, another cloth thrown over his arm in the manner of a waiter. He bustled up to Wendy and offered a dusty bottle for her inspection, the label indistinguishable against the opaque brown glass.

“Muscat miss?” Smee inquired, his eyes darting back and forth between his Captain and their guest. “Or maybe rum?”

“Er.....no thank you, I don't drink spirits.”

Smee bustled off leaving Wendy to stare at her host over a table laden with all manner of dressed seafood, an enormous red lobster taking center place alongside a glass bowl overflowing with exotic fruit. Hook raised his glass again and Wendy saw that it was actually a large mother-of-pearl seashell chased with gold and set onto a glass stem. Hook noticed her interested stare and raised his eyebrows. He held the shell glass up.

“Part of a ships plunder off the Carribee,” he announced, his hook sweeping over the assembled plates and cutlery. “As is all this....one of the benefits of being a pirate.” He smiled in satisfaction and sipped his wine. Wendy stared with new eyes at the richly appointed table with its gold chased plates and cut glass servers. Swallowing, she raised her eyes to Hook.

“What happened to the owners of all........” she indicated the table with a sweep of her hand, “ this?”

“Had no further need of it, if I remember. Not a lot of call for cutlery and plate wear at the bottom of the ocean!” Amused at his little joke, Hook laughed out loud, his first mate grinning as well. Smee approached the table with a large brown box. Sidling up to Wendy he flipped the lid back to reveal a humidor full of fat cigars. Wendy stared back at the first mate in some dismay to be offered something so inappropriate.

“No thank you.”

Smee shrugged and snapped the lid shut, moving around the table to offer the same to Hook. This time the offer was accepted and Hook took two, laying the cigars beside his plate. “Can I not tempt you to something here?” Hook asked, pushing the plate of lobster to Wendy's side of the table. She couldn't deny that she was hungry and reached over to break off a lobster claw and place it on her plate. Smee was instantly at her side offering a pair of silver pliers to crack the hard shell and reveal the sweet meat inside. The meal proceeded in this stately fashion for nigh on an hour, Wendy sampling several of the dishes and pronouncing them very fine when asked by her host of her opinion.

“I don't get to entertain often, and certainly not a lady. We're just rough sailors and have little use for fine manners,” Hook waved his hand and indicated for Smee to start clearing away the debris of the meal. Wendy hadn't eaten a great deal, but her stomach no longer growled and the orange she was peeling with a small paring knife was plump and irresistible.

“I have to say, Captain Hook, that a meal of such splendor was not how I expected to be treated.”

“Clapped in irons and thrown in the hold?” Hook asked, his mouth crooked up in a half smile.

“Something like that,” Wendy murmured popping a segment of orange into her mouth.

“Now that would just be a waste, don'tcha agree?”

“As it would have been me in the irons, I certainly agree, but it begs the question of why you haven't done just that?”

“I can see that you are determined to get an answer out of me, m'dear.”

“I would know what you plan to do with me sir. If given a choice, I would like to be returned to Neverland.”

“Well there you have the rub. Choice is not a luxury I can allow, given the circumstances.” Hook leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze intent. Wendy carried on eating her orange, her throat tight and making swallowing difficult. There was nothing threatening about his manner, but she could see why Hook had the reputation he did. Using the finger bowl provided, Wendy rinsed her fingers and wiped them on the snowy napkin beside her plate. Unable to avoid it any longer, Wendy raised her eyes and met those of Hook, her gaze held and locked with his so that she wondered if this was what it felt like to be a mouse cornered by a Cobra.

“You won't return me to the island?” She asked in a whisper, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. “Then what do you plan to do with me?”

Hook held her gaze for a second longer then lowered his eyes, breaking the contact and concentrating on putting one of the cigars into a silver holder designed to hold two at a time. While his guest waited for his answer with bated breath, Hook leisurely finished his small ritual, the double silver cigar holder clipped to his hook after being held to a candle for lighting. A blue cloud of smoke blew from between Hook's lips, writhing its way up towards the ceiling where it hung like a thin storm cloud, roiling and twisting against the decking. Smee finished clearing the table, leaving behind a glass decanter and fresh glasses sitting on a silver tray before his Captain. The tension in the air was palpable, Wendy looking strained and tight lipped as she waited to hear her fate from the man opposite her. Tapping the ash from the end of his cigars, Hook narrowed his eyes and leant forward.

“Didst thou ever think of becoming a pirate, Wendy Darling?”

For a heartbeat, Wendy stared at Hook with her mouth hanging inelegantly open. “A pirate! Are you mad?”

“I don't think so. Is it so unreasonable a question? You have run away from home, after all. I don't think it illogical to suppose that you might want another life to take the place of the one you left behind.”

“I didn't run away......I .....” Wendy faltered.

“Didn't run away, you say,” Hook mused, “were you stolen then? Kidnapped from you bed at knife point?”

“No....not exactly,” she felt heat start to bloom in her cheeks.

“Ah, then you were enticed. Beguiled and bewitched by a pair of roguish eyes and a ready smile.” Hook sighed theatrically, “one would hardly believe it of you, m'dear. To be so taken in by such shallow attractions.”

“I wasn't....it wasn't like that.......Peter.......well....” She stuttered to a halt, unable to put in to words what her feelings were. Hook watched her expressive face with keen eyes, her every thought as plain to him as if writ large upon her features.

“You're in love with the flying brat.....good gad, and you so sensible and straight headed. You disappoint me.” He formed his lips into a small moue, tutting to himself and rolling his eyes, smoke wreathing his head when he exhaled. “You do realize he's quite incapable of returning that love?”

“What do you mean?” Wendy asked, her expression guarded. For a pirate, Hook was dangerously perceptive, her secrets known without her breathing a word.

“I mean, m'dear, that Peter Pan is quite deficient in that capacity. He is all flash and no substance. He'll take your love and trample it like so many daisies under his bare feet. He'll take your devotion and dash it against his cold heart and shallow affection. In a word, the Pan is a bounder and blackguard, a libertine who collects young girls hearts like butterflies pinned to a board, left to languish and die of neglect.”

Wendy stared at Hook quite aghast, her heart hammering. “I don't believe you. You're just saying this to turn me against him. It is you who is the scoundrel, you are the pirate, not Peter!”

“Such loyalty does you credit, m'dear,” Hook stubbed out his cigars and unclipped the fitting from his hook. “What would you say if I offered you a place on me crew?” He raised one eyebrow and gave her an arch look. “I might even be able to send you back home, if that's what you want?”

“Home? You could do that?”

“Anything is possible...” he threw his arms wide, “this is Neverland after all.”

Wendy nibbled on a nail, her thoughts chasing each other around in her head like rats on a wheel. “I would need time to think all this through, Captain Hook.”

“Of course.....I would expect nothing less, Miss Darling,” again he drawled her name like an endearment, the sound prickling up and down her arms and putting her on edge. “You may take all the time you need. You will be my guest and stay here, in me cabin. Smee will be on hand and take care of your comfort.” Hook rose to his feet, his smile firmly set in place, his first mate bobbing his head in agreement.

“For sure I will, Cap'n.” The portly first mate bobbed again and tugged at his forelock as Hook strolled past and pulled the cabin door open.

“I will await your answer with.....interest,” Hook flung over his shoulder at Wendy before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him. For a moment Smee and Wendy stared at each other, neither entirely sure what to do or say next. Smee cleared his throat several times while Wendy fiddled with the skirt of her dress nervously. Eventually the first mate dragged over one of the chairs near to the door and plonked himself down in it, folding his arms across his chest.

“If'n there's anything ya want, just let me know miss.” Satisfied that he'd discharged his duty, Smee promptly dropped his chin on his chest and closed his eyes. Wendy stayed where she was until the sound of soft snores reached her at the table. Getting up slowly she approached the cabin door, pausing when Smee snorted then settled back into his doze. She tried the door latch but found it didn't move. It was locked. Stepping away from the door she cast her eyes over the cabin, determined to find a way out. The windows offered a good opportunity so she hurried over to them, unlatching the first she came to and swinging it wide. Cool air rushed into the room and swept her hair away from her face. Leaning out she could see the wash of water rushing past below her, the drop to the sea enough to give her pause, as did the distance to the shore when she twisted to see past the hull of the ship. Even if she was a particularly strong swimmer, which she wasn't, the distance would be a challenge and like as not end up with her drowning before she got close to the shallows. Not willing to give up her life so cheaply, Wendy discarded the idea of jumping into the sea, instead choosing to sit on the plump cushions of the window seat and gaze out at the distant view of Neverland, so close and yet too far to help her. Hook had said a great deal and she felt like a storm tossed piece of flotsam, pulled in different directions by the current and wishing for nothing more than a peaceful harbor She wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't just another elaborate dream and that any moment she would find herself back inside the cave. As the minutes passed and nothing changed except the cadence of the first mates snores, Wendy had to admit that her circumstances had less to do with a dream, and more to do with bad luck in being captured and held prisoner aboard the Jolly Roger. Hook had said a great many things that Wendy discounted, relying on her heart to tell her the truth, unable to accept that Peter didn't have deep and genuine feelings for her, despite their short acquaintance. Didn't she believe in love at first sight? Wasn't that belief why she clung to the old fairy tales and storybooks that reinforced the idea, and which she embraced whole heartedly? If she doubted Peter, did she also doubt her own reactions, her feelings towards him? She could hardly refute that she felt a great deal when Peter kissed her and held her close, so great indeed that she nearly succumbed and surrendered her all on the strength of that kiss alone. No, she knew that Hook was wrong about Peter and his feelings, and it was surely only a matter of time before her faith was rewarded with her rescue. Of course, Peter would have to know where she was, a problem when you consider that she'd been kidnapped by one pirate, immured in a cave, then somehow captured by another pirate and now languished in a cabin, hidden from everyone. Absorbed by her thoughts, Wendy didn't notice the glimmer of scales and the thrash of a tail appear and disappear in the water behind the ship, the mermaid choosing to keep out of sight of anyone on the top deck for fear of being shot at. Instead the creature swam effortlessly in the wake, the dark eyes