Peter looked on in horror. His home aflame before him, fire dancing throughout the branches and secret entrances. His fairy, who had been asleep in the hollow, gone. His lost boys, his friends, dragged away from him. He tried to call out but his voice was horse from so many cries before. He struggled with his bonds but they were unlike others he had been tied in before. These were a strange metal clasp that locked the hands in place, forbidding him to reach any source of help, his dagger long since taken.
"Peter!" The cry drew his gaze back to his comrades. It had come from the mouth of Slightly, who desperately tried to pull loose from his captor. But his cry was silenced suddenly with a blow to the head. Slightly now hung limply, a broken puppet in the arms of its master. The other lost boys let out screams of morning as their friend did not stir.
Letting out a roar of anger at the treatment of his third in command, Peter launched his body forward, pulling away from his shackles, blood spilling from his wrists as the cold metal rubbed his skin raw. His eyes filled with a glimmer of hope as his body moved closer and closer to the boys, preparing to lash out and destroy those who dared to cross his family until suddenly his body was jerked back away from them, his lithe form flying backwards before hitting the ground with a crunch. The whole world seemed to be spinning, black blotches clouding his vision. The shouts of the lost boys became softer and softer. The last thing he saw was a red coated man with a mass of black curls and a shimmering hook gazing down upon him with a large smirk on his face.
'Curse you James Hook.'