The children trudged through the deep snow, nearing the Indian camp nestled in the forest in the south of Neverland. They all wore thick hooded capes that Wendy put together in record-time with the olive-green wool from Hook's ship. They were also armed with the swords they had taken from the Jolly Roger during their first stay in Neverland. Of course, the capes weren't of the best craftsmanship, and some of the seams weren't exactly straight, but it didn't really matter, because the material was a thick, boiled wool. Besides, here in Neverland, no one bothered about seams (except Hook, of course). They were warm and shielded the children from the weather, and this was all that counted.
And Wendy had performed another small wonder. She had changed some of the furs into long warm doublets that reached almost to their knees and were tied with woven leather belts that the boys made from strips. Because they hadn't departed for Neverland in a hurry, but had time to pack, the boys had trousers, shirts and shoes with them. The only one who hadn't thought about shoes was Wendy herself.
The first part of their trip they all flew, but now, as the trees of the forest formed a virtual ceiling, they decided to walk the rest of the way. It wasn't far, but it was impossible for Wendy to go barefoot through the snow, so Peter carried her – a service she didn't mind a bit. But she did mind something else – the fact that he had been so reckless as to deliberately face Hook instead of simply raiding the ship and leaving. He had played with his very life, as he told them all in detail how the buccaneer had caught and almost killed him, she had grown quite upset with him. This wasn't a game, for God's sake, but a deadly serious situation! Nothing would survive in Neverland if Peter died!
In addition, she was shocked to see Peter return with an entire bolt of fabric. She thought he might steal a few remnants which the pirates would never use. Stealing the entire bolt gave her a guilty conscience. Yes, the pirates had acquired all of it by stealing it to begin with, that she knew. But nevertheless she felt sorry. If they hadn't needed the warm wool so desperately, she would have sent it back. At night, of course.
After memorizing Peter's profile, Wendy took the time to look around her, and realized that something wasn't right. She met Peter's uneasy gaze for a moment. Earlier that day, Peter had thought that the snow might be fun, even challenging the boys to a snowball-fight, but now, as midday approached, there was a change in the air – he could feel it "in his bones," as Slightly said; and it wasn't going to be pleasant.
The snow had completely changed the appearance of the island. The bright greenery coated in white looked stiff in the darkening midday. The birdsong had disappeared, and even the bold Never-Bird was suspiciously silent. No gnomes were visible, not one jingle from a fairy reached them. It seemed as if all of Neverland was holding its breath.
Yes, an adventure lay ahead, that was certain, but Peter wasn't looking forward to it this time. He pondered the warnings of the Green Masters, the behavior of the mermaids, and felt some of the depth of their danger. The last of his doubts were destroyed when the morning sun revealed the snow. The incident with Hook had distracted him, but that was past. At last, as he and his friends had started toward the Indian village, he sensed a dark shadow over the island and invisible eyes that seemed to watch him. He felt … threatened.
And he didn't like it a bit. Especially since he didn't know his enemy. And when something threatened him AND Neverland as well, then it ceased being fun! The high-spirited, playful, careless boy turned into a warrior. He was, after all, the prince of Neverland, its custodian, so to speak, and then there was no toying with him. Trudging through the snow with Wendy in his arms, his eyes narrowed and his mouth was drawn in a grim line, he was determined to find out more about those 'written words' and to pressure Great Panther to reveal all he knew about it.
Tink soared beside him. Suddenly there was a snap in the forest near them, and instinctively he put Wendy down, putting his finger before his lips and stepping in front of her. "Who's there?" the eternal boy demanded and his clear eyes pierced the shadows between the trees and the brake.
'Please, Lord, please don't let it be Hook!' Wendy prayed, while the boys around her drew their swords. A tall shadow stepped forward, and, sighing with relief, she saw a man with copper skin, long black hair – decorated with two black and red feathers – and clad in leather and a great woolen blanket, woven in the Indian style.
"Great Panther!" Peter grinned and lowered his weapon. The Indian shaman allowed his eyes to smile, which softened his severe expression. The nearly black eyes shimmered as he looked at the pale English children accompanying the eternal boy. "It is good that the friends of the Little White Eagle have returned. An eagle is a proud bird that flies alone, but even he can get lonely." His warm voice spoke with a strange accent that suited him. Then his glance was on Peter. "I greet the Little White Eagle. You're late. I waited for you yesterday after the earth showed its anger."
Peter bowed slightly. Great Panther and a few of the other Indians were probably the only grownups he respected. And sometimes, their families took him in as a guest, sharing their warmth and fellowship, a need he never acknowledged, but often felt. "I had to make sure my friends were safe. They were near the sea when the ground shook." He took a deep breath. "The Green Masters spoke with me, and--"
"Peter, please--"
He shrugged Wendy's hand away. "Not now, Wendy. This is important. The Green Masters--"
"Peter! I can't feel my feet!" she hissed, hopping from one foot to the other. The boy turned toward her, surprised, and saw her pale feet with the blue toes, and gasped. He had already forgotten that she had no shoes.
Great Panther approached her, opened his thick poncho, lifted Wendy on his arms and closed the warm garment around them. "Brave Feather is strong as our women, but even she has to submit to the laws of nature!" he said to Peter, who bowed his head.
"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly.
"Come with me," the Indian shaman said, turning. "It is better to talk in a warm tepee, with tea and soup."
"Thank you from my friends and me," the eternal boy answered and grinned. "Their soup is delicious!" he whispered to John, who had stepped up beside him.
"And it will warm Wendy's feet," the oldest of the Darling-brothers said with a hint of reproach in his voice.
"Soup! Hot tea!" the news passed through the boys, and Michael sighed, "What I wouldn't give for a nice hot cuppa!" while he rubbed his cold freckled nose, tugging his poncho tightly about his shoulders. The other boys chorused their approval as well.
Peter scratched his head, smiled with obvious embarrassment, and ran to catch up with Great Panther, already several steps ahead. They followed the shaman deeper into the forest and Wendy explored it with her eyes.
She had been here at night the last time, in apparent midsummer. Thus, she didn't recognize any of her surroundings. It was as though she were exploring a whole new region of Neverland – one she really liked, even in the snow, for she loved snow. The white stuff was the only thing that could transform the grim, dark and noisy centre of London into an almost magical place. But here, she felt that the snow wasn't a good thing – 'Evil,' her mind whispered. It was simply wrong that this beautiful land was covered in cold Her gaze wandered to the snowy treetops and the sky, and she saw that it had grown darker. But… it was midday! "Peter!" she called over Great Panther's shoulder. "Look at the sky!"
The boy followed her pointing finger. At first, he didn't notice anything strange, but then it crept into his mind that the sky was no longer bright because grey clouds had rolled in overhead. The heavens, so clear only moments ago, were bleak twilight, growing greyer as they watched. The artificial evening fast approached, as well as darker clouds. The thin billows had condensed and started to tower up – dark and threatening. Wind rose. In minutes, the sunny clear sky had vanished and transformed into a dark twilight, such as Neverland hadn't seen in ages.
"It has begun," Great Panther murmured and Wendy saw the sadness in his eyes.
"What?" she asked gently and met his uncertain gaze.
"Something our elders prophesied long ago. Something, we knew would come. When the ground shook, I knew the time of darkness had arrived. Yet I hoped--" He sighed and glanced back at Peter, whose face showed grim shock. "We have to hurry. Soon the snow will return, and I want you safe in our village."
The rest of the way none of them spoke. Even Tink, who started to jingle noisily as the dark clouds shut out the light, was silent, now snuggling into Peter's warm doublet.
As the first flakes fell, they could see the tepees and smoke between the dark tree trunks. Two sentries greeted them, clearly jumpy, and vanished as silently as they had appeared. The party passed between the tepees, where boys' noses began to twitch and stomachs to rumble as delicious smells met them in the frosty air, and the dancing shadows occasionally appeared when a door was opened. Here and there, they met a few redskins, and they all greeted the children with kind smiles and nods. Several of the Indian children peeked out, and when they saw Peter, they left their warm shelters and joined him.
Great Panther turned toward the Hogan, next to the chief's tepee where he stood, because the message regarding the arrival of Peter and his friends had already reached him. Beside him stood a smaller figure, and John's eyes widened, recognizing the chief's companion.
The Indian girl wore her hair braided, plaited with yellow and red strips of leather. A skillfully beaded headband decorated her head, and she was dressed in a long pale yellow leather dress and a warm poncho made of furs. Her pretty face framed soft dark eyes that shone when she saw the dark-haired boy with the glasses who once saved her life. She looked up at her father, and received a soft nod of his head. With a wide smile, she ran toward John. Tiger-Lily felt her heart racing with joy as she stopped in front of the boy she had yearned to meet again, and blushed, as he swallowed, and a deep pink colored his cheeks as well. "John is back!" she said and -- without any warning -- wrapped her arms around him.
John was thunderstruck and swallowed again, clearly embarrassed. "Tiger-Lily!" he whispered and ignored the snickers of his friends as he returned the gesture. Heavens, what else could he do? Here he was, in the middle of the Indian village, in front of the chief, the shaman, two dozen men and women and his friends, embraced by the prettiest girl in the word, the one whom he really liked! "He… Hello Tiger-Lily. Uh … h-how you are?" God help him, he even stuttered! She must think him a complete idiot! He heard muffled giggles from his friends when he looked straight into Great Panther's and his sister's amused faces. 'Where is a really good mouse hole when you need it?' he thought, still very much a boy.
Lily released him, then looked up – she was almost a head shorter than he – and beamed at him. "Tiger-Lily has waited many days and nights for John to return. She was very sad when there was no sign of him. But yesterday, Little White Eagle said he would go to John's world and would bring him and his friends back. Her heart was full of hope and now … it is light as a feather, dancing in the wind."
John's face had finally reached the color of a ripe tomato, and he wore the silly grin that the others always teased him about. But he couldn't change it. Whenever he thought about the Indian girl, his heart seemed do a somersault, and now, as he finally faced her again, it raced away somewhere inside him. Suddenly he realized, "You … you're speaking our language!" he blurted.
Tiger-Lily lowered her head, while her pretty face also blushed beneath her copper skin. "Yes. Tiger Lily learned it – for you."
John's eyes widened. "You learned … my language … for me?" he asked, amazed.
She nodded slowly. "When we met the first time, Tiger-Lily could only talk to you with her eyes. Now she can say with words what her heart says."
The elder Darling son stared at her. She had learned a foreign language which, in Neverland, was not much use, only for him? She had done it by her own free will. For him! This was … the most impressive and special present he ever had received. "You … uh … you speak our language very well."
She bit her lips. "Tiger-Lily has still much to learn."
Peter cleared his throat. "John, Tiger-Lily? It's great you two can talk to each other, but can we get back to what's happening here?"
John tore his eyes from Lily's to look at Peter, "What do you mean?" then he glanced around. "Where is everyone?"
Peter snorted, then counted on his fingers. "First: it started to snow again!" The two lovebirds glanced up, realizing now that indeed flakes were falling around them. "Second: Great Panther and Chief Rain-in-the-Face have called you twice to join us all in the Council Hogan!" John and Lily both frowned -- they hadn't heard anything. "And third: The eldest, the most important warriors, Medicine-Woman and our whole gang are already in the Council-Hogan and Lily's mother, Gentle Deer, is serving food. So would you both please follow me?"
With glad, blushing faces, John and Tiger-Lily joined the leader of the Lost Boys, who gave his friend a grin. "You really lose track of everything when she's around, hm?"
John blustered, "Like you when Wendy is around!"
This time it was Peter who stopped in his tracks, his face flushed. "I don't know what you mean!"
John shook his head. "Sure! And I'm the king of Persia!"
The Indian princess giggled and winked at Peter. "Tiger-Lily understands Little White Eagle. Brave Feather is beautiful. And she knows that even the fairies danced for you two all those moons ago."
This produced one of those rare moments that Peter was at a loss for words, so he stared at them both as they vanished into the Council-Hogan, feeling the heat rising into his cheeks again.
It was warm inside the great Hogan. A large fire within a stone circle sent heat and light in a large circle, and its smoke was released through the small hole in the curved roof. The floor was covered with thick furs, and on every seat was a warm woolen blanket, which could be used as pillow or cover. The women of the village had dried meat after the last successful hunt. The flesh would last for several weeks and would feed the tribe during the cold time ahead. They had also cooked a savory soup, made of corn-flour with meat and herbs, that tasted delicious and warmed the freezing children and the others. Along with the soup, they served cornbread with nuts, sweetened with maple syrup. Warm sage-tea with honey steamed in wooden bowls and chased away the scratchy throats and the chill from the bones.
Even though he was uneasy, Peter ate a double portion, for his instinct told him that he would need all his strength. Tink sat on one of his knees and helped herself by dipping bread crumbs into the soup – Peter held the large wooden soup-bowl on his lap – and drank from his tea. The other boys ate heartily and – of course – Tootles had the most, and broke the record for the number of bowls he ate, even evoking a surprised stare and amused chuckle from the normally solemn chief. Wendy threw him a firm glare, but the boy simply ignored it and asked for the fourth large bowl, which was given to him with a disbelieving shake of the head by Gentle Deer.
The only ones who didn't eat as though they'd been starved for the last two days were Wendy and John. Wendy didn't eat much simply on principle, nor did she want to take the food from the mouths of the Indian people who would need it if the cold weather remained. And John only had eyes for Tiger-Lily, hardly noticing that he even had food.
When all were replete, and the bowls were taken for washing, Chief Rain-in-the-Face lit his pipe and sat back on a wooden frame lined with thick blankets. He was silent while he blew the smoke into the four directions of the winds, as was his custom to greet the spirits and to send his thoughts to them through the smoke. He nodded to the shaman. Then, clearing his throat, and Great Panther started to speak:
"Many lives have passed since the day certain strangers arrived on this land. It was then the first warrior of my family was gifted with the special knowledge of nature, and was the new shaman of our people among my family."
Wendy, who was wrapped in one of the blankets and finally felt warm again, gave Peter a questioning glance. "He means it was a very long time ago," he whispered and the girl nodded.
"Once upon a time," she smiled and her friend smiled back.
Great Panther ignored the whispering and continued: "He saw the strangers' distinction and felt their power, but as it is taught in all our traditions, he bid them welcome." He paused. "Their skin was white and glowed as the sands under the sun, as the snow on a clear winter day. Their hair was pale as sunlight and fell past their shoulders like owl's feathers. Their ears appeared as fairies' ears, and their hearing as keen as dolphins. In their eyes dwelt wisdom of the ages, and sight as sharp as a falcon's. Their faces were beautiful, not only in appearance but with kindness and integrity. They were neither young nor old, and moved with the grace of a cat. They were strong and undefeated in battle, but they were peaceful by nature. They spoke with the animals as well as Neverland's mythical creatures. They learned our language in days, and revealed to us the reason for their coming."
Here the shaman stopped and lit his own pipe. The boys exchanged glances and peered curiously at Peter, who remained silent, so they did, too. Peter knew that it was rude to interrupt Great Panther's thoughts and manner of telling, and that it was a tradition pause before the most important point.
Great Panther continued. "They told us they came from faraway and had stepped into Neverland through an opening, a portal made of light. There are invisible passages underground, and where they meet, such portals can open. They said that they could not perform magic, but can influence elements and animals – and humans, as we learned a day later, for one of our young men was injured during a hunt, and one of the strangers cured him in two days." He sighed and laid the pipe aside.
Tink looked up at Peter, her eyes alight. She suspected who those strangers might have been, and her little fairy-heart was struck with anticipation. The shaman met her gaze and nodded – a silent understanding between mortal and fairy. Tinker Bell felt, for the first time since the earthquake and the snow, a kind of relief.
"The strangers warned us that one day a dark man would come, and with him, cold and darkness. He seeks power and might, but Neverland … is in his way." His black eyes turned toward the eternal boy. "You are in his way!"
Peter felt the tension around him. "Why?" he asked. "Why we in his way? Who is this man?"
"The strangers said that he would carry a hunger for supreme might, that he wants to subdue all peoples of the world. He uses the black power none should call upon, and he is obsessed with it. He comes here to destroy Neverland --"
"But why?" Peter interrupted. "If he wants to rule the word, the human world, why is Neverland in his way? I mean, we are far away from the rest of the world and--" He saw Wendy's gaze and stopped. "What?"
"Don't you care that a madman wants to subdue my world – the world you began in as well?" she asked, half unbelievingly, half shocked. "All the people living there, all the men, women, children--"
Peter blinked surprised. "Of course I care. I just don't understand why this 'dark man' wants to attack Neverland when it's not his goal." He pursed his lips. "If he destroys Neverland, I will lose my home, and for most children, Neverland is the harbor where they anchor their dreams – and sometimes visit."
Chief Rain-in-the-Face spoke for the first time. "That is the reason, Little White Eagle," he said, his voice calm and rough. "Everything in the universe finds its balance. Where there is shadow is also sun. Where is bad you can find good. And where there is despair and sadness, there is also--?" He didn't end the sentence, but looked at Peter.
The eternal boy raised his eyebrows. "Hope and joy?"
The Indian chief nodded and Great Panther spoke again. "And this – hope and joy, courage and loyalty – are you and Neverland. The strangers told us that the dark shaman will use the despair and sorrow to rule the people. As long as you have hope, you're strong and will fight. But if you lose hope, you will surrender."
Peter nodded slowly. "I remember," he murmured. "I remember the battle with Hook all those moons ago, when he tried to make me believe that Wendy would forget me and wouldn't-- " he paused, searching for the right word, his cheeks warming again, "—she wouldn't care about me." He ignored the boys' glances and fixed his eyes on Great Panther until he felt Wendy's hand touching his arm.
"You know he lied!"
Peter caught her gaze. "Aye! I got the best proof of it and--" his friends started to smile, and he and Wendy turned pink. The other adults exchanged amused glances with each other, remembering quite well their own experience of giving their hearts.
Great Panther finally shifted and cleared his throat. "The strangers said that the dark shaman had far to go before he would arrive here, but now it has happened. The first signs have been given."
Wendy nervously licked her lips. "The snow?"
He nodded. "It reveals his power. But the first sign came as his foot touched Neverland: the ground shook with loathing and fear."
"The earthquake!" Tootles gasped and Nibs and Curly gulped. "That was the first sign!" This was not good!
The chief straightened his shoulders. "The shaking was the first warning, the snow is now the second. The dark shaman is here, and he will not rest until the island is his. The easiest way to do that is by killing you, Peter." It was rare that the leader called the eternal boy by his given name, and it made the warning that much stronger.
"Just let him try!" Peter answered grimly.
"He will. He will send his eyes and ears out to search for you. His dark creatures will be everywhere, and even you will not be able to avoid them all," an old warrior, who wore the symbol of the greatest warrior of a tribe, spoke and looked at the boy with dark, old eyes. His white hair was drawn into one long braid and a single black and white feather hung from a small braid at his temple.
Peter groaned. "Wonderful. Surrounded by beasts and Hook and all his pirates!" He shook his head. "And the day started so well!"
"Ironhand should not be your concern now, Peter," the Chief said softly. "The dark shaman is the greater danger."
The boy laughed humorlessly. "Easy for you to say. At the moment, he's searching the entire island for us, and is, well, amazingly irritated with me. Much as I hate to admit it, in this state, he is a problem."
Great Panther blinked in soft surprise. "Why is Ironhand so angry with you that he leaves his giant canoe in such weather?"
Nibs shrugged. "Hook's usually in bad mood."
"Especially when someone dumps him in the snow three times, embarrasses him in front of his men and steals from his ship," Wendy commented pointedly, and earned a sharp glare from Peter.
"Don't start on that again," the boy growled.
Wendy made a face. "Admit it. This time he has a reason."
"The time to play pranks will come again, Little White Eagle," Chief Rain-in-the-Face said with a smile touching his eyes. "And Brave Feather shouldn't be so upset. Our young ones prove their courage in much the same way."
"With pirates?"
"Before, with other tribes or fierce animals. But here are only the white men on the giant canoe, so: yes." The girl shook her head and sighed, 'Men!' She saw Peter's triumphant grin, but he refrained from saying, "Told you so." The shaman collected their thoughts again. "Avoid Ironhand in the next days, Peter. You will need all your resources for the fight ahead."
"But what can I do?" the boy asked, again captured by the problem at hand. "I don't know what he looks like, what his name is, where he is, what his plans are, his weak spots, or anything! And you tell me he has dark creatures to assist him, and I don't know what they can be. How shall I fight an enemy like this?" Suddenly he seemed to remember. "The strangers-- They told you more. The Green Masters said that there are written words and --"
"The forest seers talked with you?" the chief gasped and oldest about them began to murmur.
Peter nodded. "Yesterday, shortly before the earthquake." He reported (as best he could) the Green Master's words and the arrival of the raven. Most of the others grew grim-faced as the boy finished, and there was a long moment of silence in the Council Hogan as glances were exchanged. Suddenly Peter knew why. "You know about the prophecy!" Great Panther only looked at him, but that was proof enough for Peter. "Please, tell me what it is. It might tell us how to find this wizard, how to defeat him. Our all lives depend on it."
Suddenly, the silence ended as all the men started to speak at once. Peter joined them, angrily speaking in their language, arguing. Great Panther exchanged a long look with his chief, who gave a curt nod. The shaman breathed deeply, and stood with his hand lifted, saying firmly: "Peace, my brothers! And use the tongue of the blue-eyes so that our guests might follow our deliberations!"
"Blue-eyes?" Michael whispered and John murmured back.
"Us. White men."
Tiger-Lily, who sat near him, smiled. "It is true. John has blue eyes."
The shaman glanced at Peter, whose eyes shot daggers at an older man with whom he had quarreled. "My little white son should compose himself as well. Great Panther knows that our lives depend on those written words and that it is time for them to be spoken again."
"But the strangers made us vow that we would not share the written words with anyone!" one of the older men said.
"Strong-as-a-Bear was wise even before his hair turned white. But tell me, my brother: for what are the words written, and why did the strangers impart them to us, if not to use them when the time has finally come?"
"Is Great Panther certain of this?" the older warrior asked with heavy accent.
The shaman fixed him with his eyes. "The strangers said that thunder would rule the tides and that winter would cover the island. The second sign has already begun and --"
It was that moment a rumble of thunder rolled through the trees, startling the council. Great Panther lifted a brow. "Does someone still doubt that the time the strangers told about has begun?" The others, boys included, shook their heads, their faces ashen.
The shaman nodded at a young man next to him, who stood up and left the Council-Hogan. Silence fell over the other ones; only the sighing wind and the dark thunder was heard. From somewhere a short screech sounded through the storm. It was gone so quickly that it could have been an imagination.
Peter sat between his friends, lost in thought. Yes, he knew that life in Neverland was always dangerous, not only because of the beasts of the jungle and the pirates, but – after all this was the adventure – the magical appeal -- of the island in his eyes. But he had never dreamed that someone might want to destroy Neverland. Neverland was a world unto itself, with its own peoples, creatures, weather patterns. Here lived a multitude of inhabitants; the fairies and the skeaghshees, the gnomes and the dwellers of the swamps, forests and mountains, flocks and herds, the mermaids and the watershees, the animals and the mysterious unicorn that no one had ever really seen, the Indians and – of course – the pirates (even though his enemies, he accepted them as inhabitants of the magical island, too). But if Neverland were destroyed, they all would lose their home and, Peter was certain, their lives as well. This wasn't a game now, this was a deadly serious undertaking – far too grownup for his liking, but it seemed that there was no other choice. Who ever this warlock adversary was, he had already arrived, and had announced the battle.
Peter was startled as suddenly the blanket at the entrance was lifted and coldness swept into the Hogan. The young warrior had returned and hastily closed the blanket behind him. Snow glistened in his black hair and he had wrapped the poncho tightly about him. Removing his hand from beneath, he handed the shaman a leather-bundle, laced together. Almost reverently, Great Panther took it and knelt down by the fire, untying the laces. "For countless suns, only the wise of our tribe knew of its existence and where it was hidden. The strangers advised us to wrap it in oil cloth, in leather and fur, to protect it against weather and time. We followed their wisdom and concealed it where no mortal nor immortal would think of, until now. We kept it secret, and that secret is now revealed."
He opened the oiled leather bundle, took out a parchment roll and gave it to Peter, who took it hesitantly. It felt stiff in his hand, and with infinite care, he opened the lace that held it together, and gently unrolled the old parchment. He looked, saw the writing, and blinked, bemused. "These letters -- they are different from those that Hook uses," he murmured.
Slightly, who sat beside him, looked over his shoulder. "Are you sure?" Of course, he knew that Peter couldn't read.
The boy showed his second in command the parchment. "I know the letters Hook uses when he writes in this big book on his desk. I've examined several pages of it at times as well as the books when he wasn't in his quarters. These letters aren't the same!"
Wendy bent forward to him, as well as John and Nibs, staring down onto the parchment. "They're beautiful!" the girl whispered as she saw the gracefully curved script.
Nibs snorted. "Yes, and completely strange. Great! We have a prophecy we can't read!"
John polished his glasses on his shirt, took the parchment from Peter, and examined it. "Yes, they look strange, but if you look closer you can interpret the different letters. This one could be a 'Y' and this a 'F' and an 'E'."
Slightly nodded. "And this could be a 'M' and this a 'N'. Let's try to puzzle it together." They glanced at Peter who nodded, quite relieved. In fact, he could neither read nor write his own language, let alone a totally foreign one.
"Do you have anything to write with, Great Panther?" Curly asked and John looked at him askance, whispering a "They're Indians, Curly. Indians don't write, but communicate in pictures, or verbally."
The shaman smiled. "The savior of our tribe's daughter is right. But I think I can help you." He gave him the leather and a charred stick from the fire. "Now you can make the marks that the white men use."
John grinned. "Thank you." He looked at the document in Peter's lap and then at Slightly. "This could take a while."
"Take what time you need," Chief Rain-in-the-face said and stood slowly up. He wasn't exactly thin and his thick middle was a tribute to his wife's excellent cooking. "We invite you to stay the coming night in our village. The winds rage, sending more snow. It is dangerous outside, even for someone fearless as the Little White Eagle. Perhaps it will calm again tomorrow, and you can start your search for the dark shaman, rested and sated." His eyes found Wendy, and for the first time an almost fatherly smile played at the corner of his mouth. "And Brave Feather needs warm boots and a warmer dress. Our women will help her with what she needs."
Wendy smiled in gratitude. "Thank you so much, Sir," she answered softly.
Peter bowed from the waist in his sitting position, and thanked the Chief in the Indian tongue. These were offers they all gladly took. It was late afternoon, and still the storm lingered over the island. The blizzard had grown heavier and every creature – whether magical, animal or human – had sought shelter. John, Michael, Slightly, and one of the twins sat with bowed heads over the prophecy, arguing and scribbling, while the others played a Neverland version of rock-paper-scissors not far away.
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Neverland had grown silent, seeming to crouch down beneath the raging wind. Peter stood at the entrance and watched the driving snow pile up outside. He didn't like the situation. His friends were still working on the parchment, and because he couldn't help them, he had nothing to do, and his adventurous nature was bored and frustrated. Yes, they needed time to translate the puzzle, but he felt deeply that the one thing they could not spare was time.
He heard the screeching above him and looked up. The snow was blown into his eyes and he blinked several times. There! There he almost saw something – a dark shadow, like a giant bird. But it passed away before he was able to make out what it was.
Sighing he backed into the warm Hogan. Instinct told him that it would be better to evade the invisible eyes he could feel around him. As he returned into the structure, Great Panther nodded at him and left, and Slightly said: "Peter? I think we have it! Great Panther is calling the others." His eyes lit and he took his place near the center fire. The other warriors and the elders had left them shortly after the boys started to decrypt the lines, only Medicine-Woman, Great Panther and Tiger-Lily had remained with the other children.
"What does it say?" Peter asked anxiously and sat down beside John, who had written the prophecy down on the leather. John had the best handwriting, next to Wendy, who was talking with Tiger-Lily and Medicine-Woman.
Yes, Wendy had also helped the boys, going against the Indian tradition that no females were allowed to meddle when males held their pow-wow, but the girl was very good at breaking rules and defying tradition. Good thing, too, for she was more familiar with fantasy, and more able than the boys to understand the meaning behind the strange words. Because of this, she glanced with frightened eyes at Peter. "It says quite a lot, but it's still a riddle," she answered, and took his hand in hers. "Peter, it doesn't sound good."
Our young hero frowned, and saw how pale the others were. For an instant, he felt icy fear creeping up his spine, but it didn't last long, for his mirth and confidence was always close by. He whispered to Wendy: "Don't forget: Hope is the last thing to die!"
She nodded. "Exactly what the dark wizard intends to bring about. He has begun to make this intention real."
TBC…
