Damnation, Salvation, Fire and Steel

Part Three: Metamorphosis

4/4

Twenty-three years have passed since the day that I met her. Such a small thing amidst the carnage of her emaciated village, an insect to either be crushed or ignored. But I saw opportunity in her eyes. Sitting betwixt the corpses of they who had spawned her, eyes glimmering with tears and ears pinned back to her skull…ai, yes. Much opportunity. How she showed me her teeth when I approached, and how confusion lit that grimy face when I offered her the chance for life.

Twenty-three years, and she has only aged so much. Whereas once a battered, filthy pup sat quivering before me, now a lethal weapon of demise hunts the woods, seeking out the destruction of one whom we both despise. Lurking in the shadows of lost memories and simple ignorance, she and I are quite a pair. She who Fate has dealt a bad card, and I who have reached willingly into the flames to snuff them out.

Twenty-three years of training, teaching, giving. Twenty-three years of hiding in the darkness, of dancing just beyond the realm of capture and foiling as many plots as we were allowed without exposing ourselves. Da, if only that was enough. If only he hadn't grown so damned strong so damned fast. So many opportunities wasted, so many chances, but I could not allow her to be caught. Ever.

Twenty-three years is a long time, longer than I would have even thought. Ai, but maybe it only seems so long for the fact that I do not live to live, but live to serve. Is this the life of a slave? Or the life of a traitor? Da, I do not know. But it has been long, summers end too swiftly and winters never end swiftly enough. So many cold nights, cold, cold nights in my chamber. Alone, but never quite. I have her.

Twenty-three years and he still does not know. What an eediot! With all the power that fool boy has, he still has not detected her. But all for the better, I suppose. I have seen his dreams, I have seen what he does. I have done it too, but take no pleasure as he does from that torture. Vile, filthy human.

Twenty-three years and still she haunts the woods, alone. What has been done, cannot be undone. Or forgiven. I ask nothing of forgiveness; I have no need of it. But he must be made to see…he must be made to suffer. I am not the virus. I am the carrier.

Twenty-three damn years! Far too many to allow this to continue, and so we have come to a decision. It must end. The rule must be restored to he that deserves it, not he that craves it. The balance, it will be restored. And he shall suffer the consequences. I have begun what I must do, as the Prophecies foretold.

Twenty-three years for her…forty-nine for myself. Ai, but that it too long. I grow weary of this battle. Only so much time has been given to me to complete my duty, to play my role in the Prophecies. Only so much time…but it is too much time. The year's end is approaching, the year, the second, the moment that signals the fiftieth anniversary of my rise to claim the position I was destined to take.

Forty-nine years, and the suffering will finally end. The Light will devour the Dark, and the Stormrider shall rise from the ashes of dying magic to annihilate that which does not belong here.

Only so much time.

Only so much time…


Hook wasn't entirely sure if he ought to feel a slight measure of amusement at the sight before him, or if he should be rubbing his forehead from the headache he knew must be spawning within his skull. As it was, he was currently sitting at Peter's bedside, watching the boy as he rambled on about how unfair this monster was being and how, when he could see again, he would give him what-for. Not to mention the boy was ranting quite a bit about his lack of vision. Hook hadn't thought Peter was the type to whine; now he felt proven wrong.

"It's just not fair!" Peter was currently moaning, wobbling a bit as he propped himself up on one arm. Blind eyes stared blankly ahead of him as his lips formed a rather bizarre – in Hook's mind – pout. "Why does he have to be so mean? I didn't do anything to him!"

Peter's earlier calm had deteriorated over the time it took him to finish the third cup of rum Hook gave him. Now James regretted making that decision in the first place. Should have suffered with him being the cocky little swine he usually is, he thought sourly, and not this whiny inebriated brat.

Meanwhile, Smee was attempting to console the boy, patting his shoulder lightly before moving to place bandages on the boy's eyes to protect them from infection. "There, there now," the bosun said. "Ye'll get yer revenge, ta be sure. Just like wit' me Cap'n, often 'ave I told 'im he'll get yer guts spilt on th' deck. He 'asn't yet, but there's time, ta be sure."

Hook twitched. Peter snorted. "If my luck is as bad as Codfish's then I fear I shall never have my revenge," he replied mournfully. He continued on, not noticing the red hue Hook's face was taking. "Mr. Smee?"

"Aye, laddie?" Smee asked as he finished wrapping the gauze.

"I have to pee."

Hook blinked, then guffawed quietly into his fist. Peter's head turned his way, a frown crossing his face, before shoving the blankets off him. "I really have to pee," he said, pausing for a moment. His face got a strange look to it, and then he said, "Umm…"

"Aye, lad?" Smee asked, helping the boy to his feet.

"Ummm…."

"Spit it out already, Pan," Hook growled.

"Where do I go pee here?"

Hook sighed, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He knew of his men's habits, how they sometimes relieved themselves over the railing, and to be honest he did not approve of it one bit. Although it would be amusing to see Pan try and do that in his current condition, he knew realistically that it was out of the question. "Smee, allow the brat to use my chamber pot. I highly doubt that he's well enough to go to the head and perform his duty there, and considering the circumstances, I would prefer him to stay within my cabin." He glanced up briefly. "Assist him if it becomes necessary."

"I don't need any help!" Peter snapped, nearly stumbling before Smee caught him. His cheeks burned brightly in embarrassment. "I can do it myself!"

Hook snorted. "Under normal circumstances, I'm sure you can," he retorted, barely disguising the nastiness of his tone. "However, need I remind you of your lack of eyesight? Do you honestly believe you can aim properly?"

Peter flushed a brighter shade of red. Hook almost laughed, a sense of delight perking in him at the sight of the boy so flustered. "I am Peter Pan!" the boy said hotly. "I never miss!"

"I'm quite sure," Hook muttered. "Try, then, boy. Try and see, Mr. Smee will be right there with you in case you need…ah…assistance."

Huffing indignantly, Peter attempted to walk, but almost fell again. Smee took the boy's arm and led him gently toward where Hook's chamber pot was, talking to him gently. "Now, lad, there be no shame in it," he told the boy firmly yet gently. "When the Cap'n lost 'is hand, I'd had ta 'elp him, ta be sure."

"Hah! Codfish needed you to help him use the pot?" and here Peter broke out into gales of drunken giggling, at the expense of a very annoyed Hook, who scowled and silently questioned the deities why he was cursed with such a stupid, yet loyal, man as his bosun.

As Smee helped Peter (not without a lot of protesting and then, to Hook's ear's horror, a squeak as an accident occurred), Hook got to his feet and went to the window, pulling the curtains back to stare outside at the storm. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in thought.

We are in quite a predicament, are we not, Pan? He mused. You are weak and helpless, some nameless freak pursuing you in your dreams. I have lost my gunner somewhere out there, and cannot leave the ship thanks to those…mermaids. Or what is left of them.

He watched his men scurry about on deck, tossing things over the side as the mermaids continued to throw themselves at the side of the ship. Cookson was howling something he couldn't make out, but had somehow consented to using his "food" as a weapon and was using it against their attackers.

Turning back, he noticed that Peter had finished and was being led back to the bed by Smee, the boy's face a mask of horror. "I missed!" he mumbled to himself, shocked that he had done such a thing. "I can' believe I missed!"

"There now, lad," Smee said, tucking the boy under the covers. "It coulda been worse, aye? Ya could 'ave been sittin' and missed."

Peter pouted, feeling the urge to cry. "But I'm Peter Pan!" he protested weakly, as a heavy feeling of exhaustion began to come over him. "I never miss! And…" He yawned. "Why'm I so tired?"

"There be a first time for everything, ta be sure," Smee said solemnly, though he was smiling reassuringly. He patted the covers over boy's chest lightly. "The alcohol be getting ta yer system about now, Mr. Pan. That's why yer feelin' as tired as ye are. 'Tis good fer ya, sleepin' an' all."

"But…"

Smee chided him gently. "Don't ye worry about the mess, now, lad! Mr. Smee will take it up clean and good. Ye just get yer rest."

Peter grumbled something about the chamber pot growing legs and making him miss on purpose before he fell into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep. Hook wasn't surprised the boy hadn't lasted long; it was probably his first taste of hard liquor in his whole life, and he had had three cups of it. Not to mention he was injured and weak already.

As soon as he was sure the boy was asleep, Hook approached Smee, his brow drawn together. "Smee," he muttered in a low voice.

"Aye, Cap'n Hook sir?"

"I want the watches doubled tonight," the pirate captain said quietly. "All men are to sleep light and armed, and none are to be on watch alone."

Smee nodded. "Aye, aye, Cap'n Hook sir."


Icky doused the fire, kicking dirt over it to silence the flames and the smoke as best she could. Pausing to sniff the air every few seconds, she began to dart around the campsite, stuffing everything that would fit into her pouch, including the still-unconscious Tinkerbell, who only moaned in response.

The werewolf paused again, lifting her head to scent the wind. Her senses usually weren't wrong, especially when she had been taught early in life to detect the smell of Saxon's goons. Her fur stood on end as her tail lashed. Damnit. This isn't happening. This is not happening!

Quickly, she padded over to Nibs, who still lay limp in sleep. Her brow furrowed as she noted the changes his body was developing even as she knelt down to heave him up over her shoulder. The boy cried out softly, his eyes cracking open. "'Cky? Wha—"

"Shhhhh!" Shifting Nibs around on her back, she forced him to wrap his arms around her neck, tucking her hands under his knees. "We're leaving. Now. Not a word! And stay awake."

Seeming to sense that something was wrong, Nibs fell quiet, resting his chin on the wolf's shoulder as she trotted silently into the darkness of the woods. His mind blearily focused itself on keeping his arms locked around her neck, lightly enough not to choke but tight enough to stay on her back. The bounce of her trot made him feel ill, and he shut his eyes.

"Nrrrrg…"

"Shh!" Icky increased her pace, ears flicking back to catch any sounds from behind them. Though Nibs couldn't hear anything, the wolf could hear the soft trampling of small feet on wet earth and the squelching sound of slugs as they dragged their bloated bodies through the underbrush. She swore mentally, breaking out into a light run.

They had reached the campsite. She could almost see them sniffing the dying fire, growling to themselves. Silently, she thanked whatever gods there were that her kind left barely detectable tracks and they would, at the very least, have a hard time following her. That is, if she got far enough away and somehow managed to hide the scent she left behind.

A piercing howl echoed through the night, causing her hackles to rise. What the hell was that?

From the pouch at her side, Icky heard the fairy within cry out softly as she slowly began to wake. It seemed the jarring of the run had knocked Tink back into consciousness. Icky now mentally cursed the gods for not granting her a lighter step, and for giving her such a hard time.

Now the werewolf was at a full-out run, cutting through the underbrush as fast as she could go, her mind going over the course she knew she had to take. I have to get to the Were-Forest. I have to lose them. Which way? Ack, left!

The howl came again as Icky lunged off the path and into the shadows. Somewhere ahead of her she could hear the sound of running water, while behind her the enemy seemed to have caught her scent and was in pursuit. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Nibs was now very close to throwing up again. His head pounded and his body felt achy and weird. "Uggghh…Icky, please…stop…"

"Can't!" she panted, shoving her way through a particularly dense wall of branches and shrubbery. "I stop and we all die!"

With that said, they exploded out of the woods to come to the edge of a particularly deep river. The werewolf paused for only a moment to remove the pouch from her belt and clamp her teeth around the string that held it closed. Inside of it, Tink's brain was beginning to focus, and she jingled unhappily at her predicament as Icky took a deep breath through her nostrils and waded out into the river.

Nibs let out a slight yelp as ice cold water swallowed up his thighs and hips. Icky snarled something unintelligible at him as she released his legs and began to paddle, struggling with the weight on her back and the pouch in her mouth. The water rose up to her neck as she reached the middle of the river, and on her back, Nibs was nearly hyperventilating from fear.

"Icky…"

If my mouth wasn't stuffed with your damn fairy and I wasn't busy I'd tell you to shut the hell up! she thought viciously.

"Icky, what are those?"

The wolf paused only briefly, looking back. Her eyes bugged out of her head before she turned back to keep swimming, only at a severely increased pace. Oh, shit! Ohhhhh shit!

Standing where they had been only moments before was a horde of…things. Icky didn't know what they were called, but she knew they belonged to Saxon. They had to have been a new breed, though, seeing as she had never seen them before. They looked like badly sewn hand puppets made with different parts of human and animal parts. Patches of different sorts of animal skins created a horrible collage on their bodies. Tufts of fur here, scales there, misshapen heads and fangs hammered into cracked bone, their bodies mismatched and sporting the symbol of their master upon their bellies.

Or maybe he was just waiting to unleash them, Icky thought mindlessly as her feet scrabbled with the loose gravel of the riverbed.

Gasping, the wolf launched herself up onto land, wet fur gleaming in the darkness. She glanced back again, removing the pouch from her jaws to pant heavily. Nibs's arms around her neck tightened a bit, and her ears flattened.

"Come back," someone from across the river moaned.

"Come back," echoed a few others.

"Come home with us," said another. "Be with us…"

Icky snarled, feeling cold inside. But she made no reply, and stuffed the pouch back in Nibs's face. "Hold onto this. Don't drop it, for god's sake!" Nibs took it, and his eyes widened a little when he heard Tink's weak cries inside. "Don't open it yet either!" the wolf hissed, tucking her arms under the boy's legs again. "The last thing we need is letting her out and then losing her, especially with these freaks on our tails."

"Can they cross the river?" Nibs whispered, hugging the pouch to his chest gently before tucking it into a pocket on the inside of his vest.

"I sure as hell hope not," Icky muttered darkly. "But I'm not sticking around to find out!" And with that, she turned and fled into the woods once more, shuddering inwardly as the cries of the beasts followed them through the dark.

Nibs felt her trembling and hugged her neck tighter. Resting his chin on her shoulder again, he bit his lip hard enough to bleed as several waves of pain raced through him, making his eyes blur. Oh, this was not his idea of a good night.

Behind them, they suddenly heard the crash of bodies throwing themselves into the river, and Icky yelped, muscles tightening in fear. "They're crossing!" Nibs gasped.

"Oh, nuts!" Icky's feet practically flew over the ground as she raced on, every howl and snarl from their pursuers echoing in her ears. She could feel Nibs's heart pounding against her back, the smell of his terror wafting into her nostrils and amplifying her own fright.

The howls grew louder with every second as more of the beasts crawled up on the bank of the river and began the chase once more. Around them the forest was eerily silent, as though it too feared what was coming. Icky and Nibs swept through the bushes, terror screaming in both of their heads as the pounding of feet grew louder and louder.

Just as the enemy lurched into sight – which caused Nibs to scream at the top of his lungs – Icky launched herself through another weave of particularly nasty thorn bushes and into open space. She gasped, freezing for an instant as her eyes scanned the area. With what was probably the greatest howl of victory she ever made, she caught sight of the looming edge of the Were-Forest.

"HAH!" she screamed, nearly making Nibs fall off her back as she surged forward, sprinting across what seemed to be the longest stretch of land the boy had ever seen. He couldn't help himself, he had to look back, and just as they reached the halfway point their pursuers burst from the darkness of the woods, shrieking.

Not much farther! Icky thought wildly, her chest aching from the deep breaths she was taking, the strain of running with extra weight on her back pressing down on her. Not much farther! Just a bit more!

"Hurry," Nibs coughed, his head beginning to spin crazily. "They're coming!"

Damn it Abura, you had better not be sending us to our deaths! The werewolf thought dimly as she leapt over a log and splashed through a shallow marsh. Muddy water sprayed up in her wake as she ran, taking no notice of the dim lights that floated within the waters like some weird group of fireflies. The Were-Forest loomed before them, fifty yards away. She could see the branches moving, hear the trees groaning as they began to wake. Nibs's voice in her ear and the muted cries of Tinkerbell urged her on, thrusting the last of her speed into use.

All around them there seemed to be a terrible drumbeat, and everything felt as though it were going in slow motion. Their heartbeats pounded crazily until they matched with every beat, their breath white in the suddenly chill air. They could feel ice forming on their clothes as every muscle in their bodies seemed to freeze, dragging them down.

Seconds passed, and within them Nibs and Icky slipped into the shadows of the Were-Trees, allowing the darkness to swallow them up. And with their passage into shadow, the ice melted, the chill vanished, and all that was left for them was exhaustion and weariness. It was right about then that Icky finally stumbled.

She didn't know what did it, but she felt something catch on her paw and trip her, sending her crashing into the shrubbery. Nibs unceremoniously flew from her back to hit the ground with a painful thud and a cry, rolling wildly until he slammed against a tree and stopped, gasping in pain. The pouch with Tink in it had been flung somewhere into another patch of brambles, but the whole forest could hear her swearing, so it wasn't like she had been lost.

Once her mind stopped spinning, Icky growled and rolled over, dragging herself to her feet. She shook her head, ears flapping a bit, then blinked and looked around. Yelping when she spotted Nibs, she immediately padded over to him and started sniffing the boy, who grunted in pain.

"Nyrrrg…"

The werewolf huffed, fur standing on end as she turned to stare between the trees. Her eyes widened when she saw the beasts almost within the forest, grabbed Nibs harshly by the arm and dragged him to his feet. Nibs cried out in pain.

"Sorry," Icky muttered, trying to pick the boy up again. Unfortunately, her legs gave out on her and the two toppled to the ground again, neither of them going without small cries of surprise and pain. "Aw, shit!"

Nibs cried softly, wrapping his arms around his ribs. His shoes had ripped open to expose paw-like feet, claws and all. The stub of a tail he had earlier was half at the length it would be when the transformation finished, and already his ears had turned wolf-like and furry. Not to mention he had a layer of soft, gold fur where most of his skin had been before.

Icky swore again. "Fuck!" Her head snapped about, eyes widening again as their pursuers entered the forest, bearing down on them. Quickly pushing Nibs away from her, she staggered to her feet and drew a spear from her belt. We are so fucked, she thought, as adrenaline rushed through her system, fighting her exhaustion. We are so, so fucked!

"Icky!" Nibs hissed, opening his eyes briefly.

"Not now!" the werewolf cried, raising her spear in preparation for battle.

Suddenly, just as the horde was upon them, a loud roar echoed throughout the Were-Forest. Icky looked up just in time to see an enormous vine come flying out of nowhere, the tip stabbing into the breast of the first beast to pounce. It shrieked and fell back, blood spurting every which way as its heart was ruptured.

Icky jumped back with a small cry of surprise and fear as more vines and branches tore from the overhang of leaves above them, shooting towards the monsters like lightning. Astonished eyes watched as demented bodies were ripped apart, pieces flying in all directions. Arms, legs, and heads were severed from the monster's bodies and pinned to the ground, or to other trees. Blood stained the grass as entrails exploded this way and that, soaking everything in gore.

Icky threw herself down over Nibs to protect him as another beast charged, and was promptly killed as a vine thrust between its jaws and exited the other end in a shower of blood and other nasty liquids. Roars thundered throughout the Were-Forest as the trees came alive, howling their anger to the skies as they picked off Saxon's minions one by one, yet never seeming to take notice of Icky and Nibs.

The two huddled in the shadow of one particularly pissed off tree, who knew they were there but didn't really care all that much. The two watched as the tree disposed of one creature after another, their eyes bulging out of their sockets as the minions who remained made vain attempts to flee.

"What…is going on?" Nibs whispered, huddling against Icky, his eyes as wide as saucers. Icky could only shake her head, watching as the last few beasts were brought down and left in shreds upon the forest floor.

"I've no idea…" Is this why you sent us here, Abura? She thought.

Nibs shifted uncomfortably, pressing the palm of his hand against the side of his face. His whole body ached like mad, and he felt rather…well, weird. And there was something painful poking him in the back of his pants. Leaning away from Icky for a moment, Nibs fought the tremble in his body as he twisted himself around to see just what was poking him.

"………"

Icky turned her head as Nibs let out a small gasp. She frowned at first, but then her face took on an expression that translated into the words 'uh-oh' in english.

Bleary eyes peered intensely at the gold and white tail that emerged from a rather large rip in the seat of Nibs's pants. It began to wag, slowly at first, sweeping the ground as it went back and forth, and Nibs felt a rather large drop of sweat slide down his cheek. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I guess I should have mentioned that," Icky muttered, as Nibs let out a shriek that she was sure the entire island could hear.


Author's Note: Next chapter - Night Mares and Dream Snakes! Feel the evil of Saxon! View the insanity of Abura! Watch as Slightly and co flee, and Icky and Nibs... well, you'll see. Bwahaha.