In the Thick of the Night
It was dark and the vegetation of the jungle covered the moon and the stars. The pirates stumbled as quietly as they could through the dark. The faint moans of the defeated Piccaninny warriors quivered at their feet, their lives most likely flashing before their eyes as their blood left their bodies.
One of the crew thought it to be a good idea to light a torch. He bent beside a dead Piccaninny and his blood soaked tomahawk. With a few flicks of the wrist, the spark between the tomahawk and the pirate's flint caught the end of a branch and lit it ablaze. The fire's warmth tickled the pirate's face as he held the torch up, the light reflecting his features in such a way that he appeared to be a goblin seeking children to gobble up.
The pirate heard a sound as if a juicy apple had been bitten into. His face contorted, his mouth agape in horror. Blood trickled from his lips before he fell to the floor and a large, black boot stomped over his lit torch, crushing the flames and the dead pirate's fingers.
Even in the darkness, the onlooking pirates knew it was their brutal captain, Hook, who had taken the life of one of their own and with their numbers so few already. But he was not to be trifled with on a night like tonight. Like a hound dog, he was out for blood and their ambush had only just begun. He said nothing to his men but they all knew where they now stood and no more torches were lit that night.
With the wave of his sword, his men drew further into the jungle's depths. They were careful not to make too much noise and their ears prickled for the sound of a tom tom or the cry of a wolf.
But Hook had his ears hunting for another sound. It was a sound he knew very well back in his youth when he had been captain of a smaller crew and the Jolly Roger was nothing but a distant dream and that blasted Peter Pan was nothing but a distant nightmare. It was a sound he abhorred that filled his body with unsettlement. He cringed at the thought of it and was grateful the darkness would hide any and all hints of emotion that passed through him.
The beating of his heart jolted at the sound. He held his hooked hand up, signaling his men to stop. It was abrupt and most of his men nearly fell over one another in the process.
"Wait here," he hissed. This was his moment, a moment he had been waiting for. A moment he thought might never come.
It had to be her. He was certain of it. There was no one else who despised him so much, not even Peter Pan. Peter despised Hook in a way a child despises any adult when he doesn't get his way. But this hatred that he knew festered within her was of a different kind. A hatred that sprouted from the seed of betrayal, a seed he had planted all those years ago. Back when he was younger, concealing his long red coat all children now feared and passing off as a simple cabin boy who yearned to fly. He was no cabin boy. Not ever.
He remembered the taste of the salty air rushing into his lungs, the wind brushing through his hair, and all sense of gravity completely washed away. And he hated her for it. And he hated Peter for it. He hated them all for it.
Just around the nearby trees he saw her. Resting on a branch but clearly still attentive enough to be wary of pirates, she waited. He knew her sword would be in hand as small as it was. But he was not going to fight her with his sword. This night, he was not playing by the rules.
He approached her slowly, her back to him, each step as delicate as the last. If anyone would hear him, it would be her. He had fooled her once and he knew that is all he would get away with in her lifetime. So he approached her small glow of pixie dust carefully. Inch by inch, step by step, his heart raced with anticipation. This was it, this was the moment he had been waiting for.
The fairy stood on her branch as he loomed over her. He could sense she was about to feel his presence behind her. But he only needed a moment longer. The captain of the Jolly Roger leaned behind the fairy, who was now said to be in charge of all the fairy dust, his lips inches away from her small, pointy ear and whispered softly:
"There's no such thing as fairies."