Greetings again! I am terribly sorry about the delay of this chapter. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or any other characters of the original book. However I do own Dawn, Scarcosta and other mentions not in the book.

Peter was s utterly and completely bored. It was quite a feat to find boredom on such an island with all its adventures, Indians, mountains, and seas. He reminded himself again that he mustn't fly, for he must appear a pirate, not a boy. Slowly the salt wind brushed over the sea, and through Peter's locks. He fidgeted with his belt, his ruffled shirt, his stolen black leather boots. The boots were just a few feet big for the boy, and Peter had known this when he first put them on.

Wendy had handed them to him, nearly smirking, though it was small and wistful. As he had stared down at his leather clad feet, Wendy had giggled. "You'll grow into them, of course." She had said. Grow into them… hmph.

Even worse than the boots though, was his hair. Wendy had simply insisted he wash it. He did as told, and came from the lagoon clean and squeaky, but then Wendy had done the unthinkable. She combed it! Combed his hair! Oh, the misery of that poor boy.

Suddenly this growing up just for Wendy lost a bit of its adventurous qualities as Peter's small boat continued to roll over a fathomless blue sea. Though there was no actual measurement of time on a star of eternity, Peter knew he had been sailing for hours. In a prod of frustration he rumpled his locks, shaking his head and running his fingers through them. There. Messy again. All the better.

The water pushed against the small ship, and Peter held tight to its single mast wishing ever so much that he could just fly there. However, flying had been overruled by John. He had suggested that Peter sail to Crow's harbor where the pirates dwelled, for if he flew, he was sure to be spotted and killed.

Peter missed his worn tunic with its leaves and twigs. These horrible black pants held tight to his slender boyish legs. The only part of his old attire he had been able to keep was his dagger at his side, hanging now on his new belt. However, Peter had snuck his Pan pipes into his coat pocket when neither John nor Wendy had been watching. So it was safe to say that Peter had been able to keep two articles of old attire. Dawn had seen him pack the Pan pipes, but she had just smirked and given a small wink showing that she wouldn't tell. She'd become extremely loyal to Peter, her childish glint expanding every day.

Suddenly the wind picked up and the single sail fluttered, sending the boat crashing over the water in one swift lurch. Peter held tight, and faded in the distance of this bright sea, he saw the cove. An amazing pulsing anxiousness pulled him.

He gazed upon the lair of high society piracy that had once been a small mystery to him. The cove rose from the blue ocean, its opening gaping like the mouth of an enormous sea monster. Its jagged sides broke the waves that tore against it, creating a creamy foaming froth that outlined the cove. Peter could see the small flickers of torch light that illuminated the inside of the cave. Ships dotted the waters around the cove, anchored but swaying on the rolling waves. The great ships were painted all variations of colors, the names glistening in black on the sides. Some groups of ships appeared to be in entire fleets, all having the same color sail. Squinting, Peter made out the name of the ship familiar to him. The "Vixen's Revenge" was anchored alone near the west side of the cove, its lowered black sails fluttering slightly.

A flicker of mischievousness reached the boy's face. "Scarcosta." He whispered.


John looked about his crew, peering at them as a fierce captain might. He had always fancied being the leader, and here he stood before his team, commanding them. John raised his sword into the damp forest air.

"Alright." He began. "Dawn is to commence hunting the boar with Michael. Wendy you and I are going to visit the lagoon to obtain water. Afterwards, we will all meet at the hideout."

Everyone nodded in agreement and comprehension. Then there was a strange and still silence as if something was missing. Peter wasn't here. It was quite odd really. Everyone stood there for a moment holding the silence. The magic of the island was sinking with the setting sun, for whenever Peter was absent, Neverland went into a kind of sleep.

Wendy absentmindedly shivered as a cold wind brushed her frame. "Oh dear." She whispered, her voice shattering the thick silence. She knew that Neverland would hold into a winter state until Peter returned to bring the summer. Since the star was a strange place where things did not occur as in the land of adults, there were no in between seasons for the island. A change of seasons happened rapidly and suddenly, drifting into the opposite climate in one swift wind.

John stiffened as he realized. Internally he cursed himself for forgetting such a thing. Now the plans had to be modified, and immediately the machine of meticulous planning started with a jolt in the Darling boy's mind.

Dawn felt the cold wind come on, and knew it was vastly different than the ordinary evening breezes. These winds came not from the ocean, but from everywhere, whispering of the oncoming winter. Having been a resident of London since childhood, she knew when a harsh winter was coming, and this was it.

Everything happened at once as if they all were speeding through time itself. Leaves began to fall of the trees, browning and wrinkling as they descended. A wind rushed through the thick forest, chasing away the warmth and dampness of the summer air. Leaves fell faster, aging into dust before they hit the mossy floor. All around them cold seeped in, and just as the sun set, clouds crept over the sky. The clouds blotted out the night sky, winter creeping ever faster on the island.

Breath could be seen in puffs of vapor now. There was a bleak quiet as animals in the forest scrambled to their hiding places. The birds had vanished, and even the crickets of the soil were gone and silent.

Michael gazed up at the sky. "Snow." He said. The word escaped him as if he had sighed it. Sure enough, the white crystals began to fall just as the summer rains had. In a second it seemed the entire island had been thrust into winter as the sun had set and Peter had left.

John's brows wrinkled in frustration. He hadn't expected winter, not yet. Slowly, he took a breath. "Alright then. To the hideout first to find some more decent winter clothes. Dawn, I need you to come with me afterwards. We will be tracking down the last few boar out here. Despite this cold we still need food. Michael, you and Wendy rush about the hideout and make certain that all holes in the soil and moss roof are patched. You two also need to retrieve the extra bear skins from the lower den. After this, Michael you have to gather as much wood as you can before the snow gets over and inch. Wet wood won't do us any good. Any dry straw you can manage to find is needed also. Let's head out!" So, off to the hideout they trekked.


Peter walked about the boardwalks of the cove, glancing left and right. The inside of the cove was layered with wooden planks along the rocky bottom to make a pathway entrance. He had traveled up the rickety stairs, to find himself on a boardwalk of sorts.

The place smelled of musty rum, and the stench of warm sweat. Pirates from all ships bumbled around, rum jugs in hand, spraying stingy laughs and hearty insults to one another. Everything was illuminated by torches stuck in crevices along the jagged stone walls. The torch light shone dimly in the dark where the sunlight of Neverland did not reach.

Peter cast a hesitant glance behind him where the cove entrance arched opening to the bright seas. The sunlight was fading now, casting ribbons of orange over the waters. Already he felt his magic fading. It wasn't fading; rather it was brushing off him. Thin coatings of pixie dust lay where he stepped, leaving diming golden footprints. Each time less and less dust was left behind. Peter grinned a childish smile that lit all his courage. He ventured farther into the cove where the life of a pirate awaited him.


Indian moccasins trudged through the snow, already five inches thick. Every sound was muffled in the covering of snow, and so the two hunters did not appear to make a sound. Snow still fell in thick white flakes, sticking to every part of Dawn and John.

Dawn adjusted the wooden quiver on her back, held in place by a leather strap bound around it and then strapped across her chest. The feathered arrows clunked woodenly in the quiver. Dawn had chosen the Indian crafted bow and arrow set to suit her on her hunt. A terrible sense of balance had proved it difficult for her to wield a sword, let alone kill an animal with it. Thus, she had trained herself in the art of shooting, proving much better at this than swordsmanship.

The bearskin cloak she wore was simply drenched in snow flakes, the tiny crystals sticking to her everywhere. Although her legs were nearly frozen, the poor maid only wearing her worn maid dress, Dawn was quite content.

John led the way through the trees, expertly trailing their meal for the night through its tracks in the snow covered moss. Suddenly he halted, causing Dawn to nearly stumble onto his back. Through the frost covered trees and the thick underbrush, they could hear the great snorting and rummaging of the island boar. The deep heavy breaths of the thing gave away its position just beyond the next few trees. The boar was spotted easily in the white snow with its wiry brown coat.

Dawn gave a small gasp. In her mind she was wondering how in bloody he-… how on earth she was going to kill that huge thing. Her gaze settled on its thick, sharp tusks. She grimaced. That wild animal could tear her to shreds! She was tossed from her thoughts when John nudged her.

He cocked his head to her quiver, signaling for her to ready. Dawn nodded and drew a blue feathered arrow from her quiver. Carefully and deliberately, she placed it upon the string of the bow, her arm pulled back, creating a thin tension on the wire. John drew his sword from his side and softened his breaths so as to not be heard by the boar.

The two moved forward, closing in on the beast. Dawn aimed straight for the boar's liver, a fatal shot. She glanced at John. He gave her a small silent nod, and with that she let fly the arrow from her bow.

The arrow zipped through the thin winter air without a sound, but just at that moment the boar shifted causing the arrow to only glance its torso. Enraged, the boar stomped about, snorting and roaring. The cut from Dawn's arrow bled from the flesh, dripping in crimson spots onto the snow. A sudden cringe of fear clenched Dawn, and she realized the boar was going to charge them both.

John's hand met with Dawn's and he pulled hard on her, to get her to move. "Move!" he shouted. They stumbled over the ground, snow crunching under their hasted steps.

John knew very well that they could never outrun the boar. Swiftly he turned, gripping Dawn's hand tighter, pulling her along. "Get another shot ready. I'll buy you the time."

John Darling watched as the boar charged, tusks coming forward. The great animal plowed through the snow, heading straight for him. John simply readied his sword and his stance, ready to dodge the deadly tusks and slice a glancing blow.

The beast drew closer, feet away from John now. Suddenly the boar's dark little eyes darted to Dawn who was far off to John's left. In a less than graceful movement, the animal skidded to a half stop and changed direction, its hooves scraping against the frost and snow.

Dawn gasped, her new arrow clutched in her hand. Shakily she placed it, pulled back, closed her eyes, and let fly the arrow. There was a sickening crack as the arrow made contact with the boar's skull. The beast went down, skidding along the snow.

Dawn sighed in relief, believing the beast to be dead. Her breath trailed out in a puff in the cold winter air. John with shocked eyes had seen the shot. He knew that the boar couldn't be dead. An educated young man, he had studied animals in his university studies. Boars where known for their tusks, but also for their incredibly thick skulls.

Just then, the boar stood, and shook its massive head with a disoriented snort. "Dawn, run!" John yelled, frantic, his voice climbing an octive higher. Dawn scarcely had a moment to scream before the boar charged her. She leapt for dear life to her right, landing with an "umph" in the freezing snow. Arrows lay scattered as they had been thrown from her quiver.

All she heard was the boar's agonized squeal, and then John's soft breathing. She stood from the ground, brushing the flakes off her dress. A look of shock came over her expression at what she saw.

The boar on its side, its black eyes wide from its moment of pain before death; John still holding his sword steady in the boar's side. Dark crimson blood seeped from the animal, pouring over its tangled coat onto the pure white snow. John panted heavily, his hair dangling wildly in his face, shadowing his eyes. He pulled the sword from the animal in one hard yank.

He stumbled over to Dawn, and finally reached her, having to hold himself up on a tree. He pressed his back to the frosted tree. "Nice shot," he breathed. "Would have killed him… but boar's skulls are thick…We got him though."

A shiver of terror ripped through Dawn. Somehow John's words had been strange, strangled almost. She stepped forward and gently brushed the tangled locks from his face. He winced slightly. A scrape now rested on his cheek. Dawn inspected him further. In a moment of shear horror, Dawn realized that John's side had been grazed by a tusk. Just a graze, not deep, but still the crimson blood poured from it, and that was enough to strike fear into anyone.

"Oh…John…" she nearly whimpered. John just gave a wry smile.

"I'm alright. Come one let's get this thing back to the hideout." He suggested bluntly. John pushed himself from the tree, only to stumble forward and almost to the ground. He sighed miserably in pain. Then a warm hand clasped his arm.

Dawn draped the Darling boy's arm over her shoulder. She was just a bit shorter than him, but she managed to support his left side. "I'm sorry Mr. Leader, but I'm going to have to disobey that command. Let's get you back first. Michael can help me drag our beast to the hideout after that." She insisted teasingly. A tiny, sly smile graced her face.

"Fine." John sighed. He had meant to sound disappointed, but he simply couldn't.

Here you are! I hope you enjoyed this chapter... and I will try to be more diligent about getting these written and posted. What will happen to Peter as he becomes a pirate? Will he join a ship's crew, or wander in the coves? How will the rest of the gang cope with winter? Oh dear, so much trouble in Neverland. Please review if you wish.