Hello! Enjoy this chapter! The battle for Neverland begins.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with the original Peter Pan.
The crow was perfected imitation refined by immeasurable time. The echo of it sprang from beyond the treetops, a piercing cry of attack. Peter, his hands still cupped around his mouth, listened to the now distant echo of his wild call. He was sure the sound would reach even the very farthest sides of the island and be heard by the tuned ears of the Indians, perhaps even John, Michael, and Dawn.
Wendy blinked wildly, her fine lashes fluttering like the frantic wings of a hummingbird as she tried to clear her vision blurred by her tears. She choked for a gasp of air, struggling against the pirate's weight on her chest. She only needed just enough. Just enough air to cry his name.
"Pet-" at once her voice was cut off by a large hand smelling of rum. Wendy floundered under the man's weight, contorting in every direction her body could allow her.
The pirate chuckled deep in his throat, amused by her struggle. "Lovely lass, aren't ya?" He drew his face close to hers.
Wendy flinched as the man's scraggly mustache tickled her upper lip. His breath was foul as it reached her sniffling nose. His eyes were enormous with lusty intent. The old scars on his weathered skin were blackened with dirt, one stitched recently with crude effort. A tarnished silver chain dangled from his neck as he leaned fully on her frame, the metal of the chain touching her own neck.
Wendy's mind fluttered between gathering courage and giving up; but this is Neverland! There is no end to courage. There is no chance to give up. Her thoughts hooked on to shear desperation as she thought of her beloved Peter.
Peter Pan was the hero, there is no doubt about that, but must Wendy always be saved? A damsel in distress only waits for her hero, but this is not Wendy! There is a sliver of bravery that is instilled with the childish glint, and this has forever grown in Wendy.
Before reconsideration could be brought upon her determination by her breeding as a lady, Wendy closed her eyes, wrinkled her brow, and launched her head forward and off the ground. Her skull made blunt contact with the pirate's, sending a shattering pain to both their heads.
The pirate's head snapped back with the momentum of Wendy's hit, and with a howl of pain he rolled off of her. He slapped a hand on his forehead where blood now streamed down his scarred face. "You lousy cunt!" he snarled, turning back to face the girl.
Wendy struggled to twist herself onto her stomach and then get onto her knees. With her legs now folded under her, she attempted to stand. However, the dizzying effect of bashing her head against another brought her down. She slumped to her knees, her shoulders bent forward as she gasped panicked breaths of forest air.
Wendy reached out for a tree, supporting herself as he stumbled to her feet. The forest turned sideways and upside down as her vision struggled to come to a halt. She drew in a gasp and yelled. "Peter!"
A glimmer caught her eye in the green of the forest, and there on the ground was her sword. She rushed toward it, grasping its handle along with a clump of dampened dirt in her hand as she grabbed it while running. She knew the pirate was somewhere close. This time there would be no hesitation. She would stab the brute without a thought, except that of complete vengeance.
There came the crackling of brush right behind her. Wendy turned swiftly on her toes as a clumsy ballerina might, and thrust the weapon forward closing her eyes as she did this. She felt the tip of her thin sword graze something.
Wendy dreaded the moment when she would open her eyes. She had either wounded the pirate, or simply chipped him with the blade and he was fast approaching her. Her eyes shot open as she dared to witness the pirate's fate. However, what she saw before her caused an irrepressible screech of shock.
"Wendy, it's not very useful to close your eyes if you mean to stab a pirate." His voice was slightly deepened as he spoke. He had simply blocked Wendy's weapon with his hand.
"P-P… Peter!" Wendy breathed.
The boy before her was Peter indeed. His cocky smile was drawn to one side of his still boyish face, his lips curling delightfully. A black pirate bandanna was tied loosely around his head, tendrils of windblown hair falling from underneath it and into his face. His once white pirate shirt was now an eggshell color, and just a few buttons absent. He wore long black pants that nearly covered his dirt coated bare feet. Peter's shoulders were broader, more like that of a young man's, his once boyish frame now slightly more muscularly defined through his clothing. He still leaned to one side in a familiar careless stance. There was a sword at his side, recently stolen from a defeated pirate and slid through a belt loop. His dagger had always remained at his side, and still did in its original, worn leather sheath.
Wendy's heart fluttered now not with adrenaline, but with shear elation. Immediately she closed the short distance between them tossing her weapon aside, disregarding everything else completely. A familiar magical warmth rose in the Darling girl's chest.
"Wendy…" Peter murmured as her arms closed around his torso. Peter was taller; stature added to him in the absence of Neverland's magic. The boy was nearly two inches greater than Wendy in height. Peter in turn enclosed Wendy in his arms.
Peter felt Wendy's frame shiver against him, her sobs muffled against his tattered shirt. His brows came together in confused concern. "Wendy?" he asked softly. "Wendy, why are you crying?" Horrified that he must have done something wrong, Peter reeled with guilt. Perhaps he had grown too much? A flustered and childish agony lined his features.
"I was so worried about you." Wendy whispered, her voice nearly inaudible as she spoke into Peter's shoulder.
Peter suddenly gave a playful snort. "Ha! No need to worry about me. Why I'm the cleverest, strongest, greatest pirate in disguise you'll ever see!"
Wendy pulled back from against Peter, a lovely smile decorating her tear stained face. "Of course." She answered delightedly. "Of course."
John and Michael trotted along the rocky hillside, dipping down into the brush ever so often to take a breath and scan the forest edge for pirates. The wind came from the north side of the island, crashing against the cliffs at the south.
As John pondered the layout of the island, mapping each ridge, valley, lagoon, and shore in his mind, Michael stood guard. Silently, John tapped Michael's shoulder and gestured toward a tall section of brush that leaned against the jagged cliff side. The boys made their way to the brush in quieted steps with the knowledge that pirates could be near.
Now crouched in behind a spiny bush, their backs against the rough ocean worn rocks, they plotted the strategically sensible route to vanquish as many rum-driven seafarers as possible. John snapped a twig from the brush in front of him.
In the moist dirt he drew an estimated shape of the Neverland Island, marking ridges and mountains with small triangles and rivers and lagoons with slithering lines. John stared unblinkingly at his makeshift map for a moment before speaking.
"Here," John began as he drew an "x" to demonstrate the exact location. "is where the pirate ship would have made land."
Michael peered down at the "x" with a wondering expression. "What makes you say that?" he asked.
John adjusted his spectacles. "This side of the island has the widest range of shore line, so in the event that the pirates are forced backwards against the ocean, they have a desirable amount of ground to regain control. Also this cliff side here against the ocean provides excellent hiding places for the brutes in the rocks were the ocean has carves from caves. It's perfect for an ambush on the Indians. I'm assuming that this 'Scarcosta' woman Peter has mentioned before is on roughly the same level as Hook if not higher. So she would have planned to make land here. From what the Chief told me, Panther helped Scarcosta locate a box that he said contains a map of the entire island."
Michael nodded in vague understanding, as he could not argue with his brother's logic. "Right. So are we going to their base then?"
"Yes. We have to make our way to the ship and capture it. I don't know whether or not the captain will be on the ship or on the island with her troops, but we'll have to be prepared to run into her." John explained.
"Of course we'll take down some pirates on the way too." Michael mused. John let his hand fall onto the hilt of his sword at his side. The thrill of adventure and danger buzzed inside his body. Since he had returned to London when Wendy insisted that they go home and leave Neverland, John had read extensive amounts of tall tales. Myths, stories, and fictions all about pirates; their greed, their captain's calculating minds, their deviousness. Mr. Darling had bred John to be a banker in order to inherit the family wealth. However, among the collections of credit paperwork there had always been a fantasy book lying beneath it all, hidden and secret.
"Yes." John answered finally. "Let's have our own adventure."
Scarcosta spat into the earth of Neverland's forest; sweat beads lingering on her face. She slopped through the thick of a swampy portion of the island just near the mermaid lagoon. The gentle trickling and unhurried brush of the water over the rocks at the lagoon could be heard from her position. Scarcosta did not attempt to camouflage her violent intentions, for she knew that the mermaids possessed the ability to sense danger. Instead the captain pushed forward keeping her determined malevolence about her.
At last she broke through the forest edge to the lagoon. As she sliced down enormous foliage from her path, the darkened blue lagoon opened up before her. A grand cliff side rose from the far eastern side of the water, and there the water around it was darker, indicating its depth. Plateau- like rocks dotted the center of the pool, the water surrounding them lapping restlessly against the sides.
Scarcosta glanced up at the sky now visible in the absence of trees. Still looming storm clouds blocked the Neverland sun, casting only a dim light on the island. The lagoon, no longer glistening under the sun, gave an ominous feel to the air. The pool's surface was still, save for the ripples against the rocks. There was a murkiness caused by silent movement under the water stirring up the sand. The smooth dimness held a mysterious intent, the mermaids' presence becoming heavier but still unseen.
"Show yourselves you beastly she-fish!" Scarcosta shouted to the vacant appearing lagoon water. The captain's purpose was simple as well as perilous. Her knowledge of the mermaids that occupied these waters was vague, though she was certain they were allied with Peter. The only thing Scarcosta was unaware of was the nature of such creatures as mermaids. The mermaids of Neverland simply adored Peter. Their fawning over his Pan Pipe melodies, their sweet playfulness as they twirled the tendrils of his hair; it was the expression of complete surrender to Peter's charm. Although Peter had no interest in the mermaids the way in which they were interest in him, he considered them a part of his gang and often gathering information on the pirates from their travels out to sea. There was that, and he very much enjoyed their constant show of attention toward him. However this fondness was directed only toward Peter. Perhaps it was his magic, or perhaps just his boyish charm, but the mermaids of Neverland considered all others besides Peter to be a nuisance. Every other person that wandered into their lagoon domain was a toy, a malevolently good time to be had. This perhaps was the origin of the pirate legends of mermaids. For they lured them in with soft, irresistible song and once they just reached the edge of the water, it was death.
A ripple sounded suddenly from a corner of the water with a small movement of something just barely flicking the surface. The melody that ensued then came from nowhere and everywhere, the air around the lagoon clouding with the eerie tones. Like a chorus of delicate voices, the song rose from the water. The haunting sounds swelled against the dense forest, seeming to encompass all other voices of the island, quieting even the wind.
A dismal emotion twisted Rosaline's heart, unnamed sorrow circling her mind. Unearthly melodies from the mermaids' entrancement grew slightly louder, echoing now against the narrow cliff side. Silently, glistening wet faces of surreal beauty began rising from beneath the calm, murky water. The eyes of each, a sharp blue accompanied by intermingling flecks of green; every pair of them were unblinking and still. Only one of them rose further out of the water. She leaned back against one of the plateau rocks, exposing her mysterious form only from the waist up. Her image was dazzling, an incandescent beauty. Her slender form leered at Scarcosta. The mermaid's bare chest glistened, beads of silvery water, rolling down her breasts and her stomach. Her pale complexion and shimmering golden locks contrasted against the dim lit lagoon.
For a moment Rosaline's mind was completely still, enthralled by the continuous melody, the mysterious creature before her. The spell cast on her was drawing the captain closer, closer to the water. Her leather boots padded slowly against the damp sand of the lagoon shore as she closed the distance between her and the mermaids.
Suddenly the mermaid song grew lazier, slightly less alluring than before. This occurred just as Scarcosta was nearly within reach of the lingering creatures. Gently, with a sinister playfulness, one of the mermaids stroked Rosaline's sodden boots. Suddenly, the dark haired mermaid wrapped her long fingers around the pirate captain's ankle. Almost simultaneously, as the melody faded, Rosaline was thrust from the entrancement and realized the danger to her.
Horrified at her close proximity to the awaiting water, Scarcosta gripped her sword and slashing blindly at the hand gripping her leg. A pained hiss came from the mermaid, as she drew her bloodied hand back into the water, sinking finally until she was submerged. Several mermaids now exposed their pointed, fang-like teeth, hissing with aggravation.
The golden haired mermaid that had been leaning against the rock, now disappeared under the water, soon followed by all others. Rosaline stumbled back from the shore to where she was certain the she-fish could not reach her. From its hostler at her belt, she drew her pistol, determined to take at least a few of the mermaids out of commission. Any ally of Peter's was to be killed on sight, and this she had ordered of her crew in the event that they should find a member of his side. Take no prisoners. She wanted no one to interfere with the battle she would have with Peter.
Her thumb cocked the pistol. The mermaids were completely concealed, even as Rosaline scanned for any movement under the surface. With little consideration the captain stepped right against the shore of the lagoon, hoping to draw the mermaids to her. She knew now that their intention had been to drag her under.
A hand crashed to the surface, followed instantly by the head of a red haired mermaid. The mermaid's torso followed suit as she launched herself from the water in attempt to grab Rosaline by the legs. Rosaline swiftly stepped back, just avoiding the grasp of the mermaid. The mermaid was temporarily beached as she had flung herself too far on the land. Her scaled green tail flopped hopelessly behind her, splattering wet sand into the air. She clawed against the sand still reaching for Scarcosta's boot.
Taking her chance, Rosaline stepped forward and plunged her sword into the exposed back of the mermaid. The agonized cry of the creature pierced Rosaline's ears, as its high pitch resonated against the cliff side. Now noticeable gills fluttered against the neck of the creature as it gasped, its metallic skin glowing against the sand.
Rosaline jerked her weapon from the writhing mermaid with a swift, unsympathetic pull. Suddenly the mermaid lay still in the sand, her gills no longer pulsing, her tail lifeless and twisted. In an instant there was a shrill rising of newly angered hisses from the water accompanied by shrieks of sorrow.
Scarcosta shot blindly into the water, the impact of the bullets spraying droplets from the surface. She fired a shot, cocked the gun, and after she had polished off three rounds, watched as blood dissipated in the water like smoke.
Something inside Peter's chest curled and contorted as he heard the faint but distinct cries. No other creature he knew could make this shriek, so high pitched that it battered one's ear drums.
"The… mermaids…" he whispered incoherently. Wendy looked up from dusting the dirt from her Indian crafted clothing.
"Peter? What is it?" she asked, the gentlest concern in her tone.
"The mermaids!" Peter shouted.
"What about the merma-"
"Come on Wendy! We have to get to the lagoon!" Peter quickly interjected. He grasped Wendy by the arm pulling her with him as he ascended. Wendy's frame was slightly resistant to Peter's grasp, for she cared nothing for the mermaids of Neverland. A selfish agitation grew over her as she remembered the mermaids toying with her, flipping their tails intentionally hard against the lagoon so that the water soaked Wendy's nightgown. Though Wendy would not admit it, the mermaids cheeky fawning over Peter stuck a horrid bell of jealousy in her.
Now though, after missing Peter for the immeasurable time she had, Wendy was not about to let her love out of her sight. At the moment Wendy and Peter broke through the canopy of the forest, the foreboding chill of the air silenced them both. Feeling this, Peter dashed through the air tugging Wendy along behind him as he flew with great speed.
The treetops flew below them, the variations of greens morphing together. Without warning the green broke off into a deep blue. Peter began the descent as he and Wendy angled their bodies downward toward Marooner's rock.
Peter alit with Wendy on the rock, hastily retrieving his Pan Pipes from his side. With precise fingers, he played the soft song of the mermaid call. Long legato notes followed swiftly by a flurry of pitches. The sound echoed; the dead feel of the lagoon only brought to the foreground now by the unanswered melody.
Peter halted mid-tune and stared at the unmoving water around the rock. Why had the mermaids not answered?
Wendy stood silent against Peter. She peered across the lagoon toward the shore. There a strangely familiar figure stood just against the forest edge. Her dark locks fell into her eyes, her captain's hat held tight in her fingers along with a bloodied sword. Wendy's gaze traveled from the pirate captain Scarcosta to the sand were a mermaid lay dead, her back still glistening with water beads.
As Wendy looked back at Rosaline, Rosaline looked on at Wendy. Simultaneously both women realized what this encounter meant. Wendy was stark still as she watched a devilish smirk curl upon Scarcosta's rouge lips.
Peter felt Wendy's frame stiffen beside him. With a mischievous flash Peter's eyes caught the sight of his enemy. Peter grinned with excitement nearly forgetting all about the missing mermaids; that is until his gaze settled on the bleeding creature on the sand. His eyes flickered from his dead friend, to Scarcosta's sword, and to her smoking gun.
"The mermaids are lovely creatures. Unfortunately they are dreadfully annoying. I couldn't very well have them swimming free on my island now could I?" Scarcosta mocked. She watched as Peter's features betrayed his rage. "Oh, are you angry with me?" she teased, leaning forward and imitating Peter's pouting face. "Have you forgotten that this is war?" Scarcosta shouted.
Peter shot back with the first chance her got, stepping forward on the rock. "Your enemy is me you stupid minnow! Why I'll… I'll leave you with stumps for hands and give ya a peg leg as a souvenir!" Peter pointed furiously at the captain now. "I'll slaughter your worthless crew! I'll leave you with nothing!"
Rosaline scoffed loudly, her mood turning sour. "You've already left me with nothing!" she screamed. Long gone was the composure of the feared Captain Scarcosta. It had withered with her underlying hatred, her ripped heart. Such grief was all consuming, and no amount of planning could hinder the imitate explosion. "You took him away! I already have nothing! Kill that crew of lazy bastards, I don't care! I want your death Peter! There is no crocodile come to devour me! There are no she-fish come to drown me! There are no Indians to shoot me with their arrows! You! You are the only threat to me. I'll spill your blood and then this island will be without the magical flying nuisance it so tolerates!"
Scarcosta cocked her pistol and took aim for Wendy. "But first I will leave you alone as you have left me." Her voice was nearly inaudible as she said this, her hand trembling wildly as the pistol nose centered on Wendy's breast.
Peter saw this immediately.
All things happened simultaneously; Rosaline's pistol shot rang out, Wendy screamed, and Peter threw his body at Wendy, outstretching his arms to circle around her.
With the force of Peter's momentum, the two were thrown off Marooner's rock. With labored effort Peter zipped right across the lagoon and disappeared with Wendy into the tree line.
Wendy resisted the blackness coming over her eyes, for she knew this was no time to faint. She felt the air rush around her and the image of the lagoon below her was replaced by the damp soil of the forest ground. However suddenly, Wendy realized that the ground was coming up to them, or rather they were falling to the ground at great speed. She struggled to turn her head and look at Peter who was grasping her tightly around the waist. At the moment she knew something was horribly wrong, the two crashed to the ground.
Wendy cried out as she and Peter skidded into the dirt. For a moment she was motionless, stunned by the fall, her arms and legs scraped and bruised. She moaned as she used her shaken arm to push herself off of her stomach.
"Peter." She called hurriedly. "Peter!" Her eyes searched about the ground. Instantly his form caught her eye.
Wendy rushed to him, stumbling on her wavering legs. She knelt beside him as he lie face down in the dirt. Peter stirred, a small groan escaping him. He began to push himself up, though his arms nearly gave in as he tried.
"Peter!" Wendy gasped. "Are you alright?"
Peter hoisted himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. With one hand he swiped the dirt off his face and gave a pained smile. "Of course, Wendy." He whispered. Peter attempted to conceal the burning at his side. His hand pressed firmly against his left side, the warm blood already seeping through his fingers. Wendy studied his false smile; her eyes became filled with anxiety as she saw Peter's brows knit together in agony. Peter quickly turned his head from her as he winced, pressing harder on his wound.
"Peter!" Wendy screeched. "She's shot you." The Darling girl's gaze settled on Peter's side, his hand still covering the shot. With tenderness much like a mother, Wendy placed her hand over Peter's. "Let me see." She demanded. Peter childishly shook his head.
"I'm fine, Wendy…we have to go… make… sure…" Peter's voice trailed off as he was unable to keep it from wavering under the pain. It appeared that he had attempted for a moment to stand up, and instead had only been able to lean forward, gasping in pain.
"Let me see it." Wendy said again. There was a demand to her tone, but this was only briefly heard under the concern. Peter slowly peeled his hand from the gape, revealing the extent of his wound to Wendy.
Wendy knew instantly that he had thrown himself onto her at the lagoon in order to protect her. "Oh, Peter." She cried as she looked at the wound. "You… you didn't…" Tears threatened the barrier at her eyes, dignity blocking the way. Wendy Darling was afraid. Her Peter, her Peter was hurt and death was no stranger in Neverland. It did not choose to claim only pirates.
"Wendy…" Peter said. He forced her gaze up as he placed his fingers under her chin.
However, before anything more could be said. A great trudging came to their ears. The pirate's boots came into view first, the black leather familiar and unwelcome. Scarcosta's delighted smile gleamed as she looked down upon Peter lying against the tree. "Silly, silly boy." She chanted. "Your life is mine now."
Oh dear. Poor Peter. Will Scarcosta kill the great Peter Pan after all? What will be the fate of John and Michael as they attempt to capture the "Vixen's Revenge"? What has become of the mermaids? Review if you wish, though they are greatly appreciated.