Chapter 4
"Chief Panther, I don't know what to do!" Tink cried. "It's been over a week since they started. At first he could sleep without the dreams when sunrise came, but now he has them even then. He hasn't slept a wink since yesterday morning, and he's so tired and shaky he can't even eat."
Panther nodded and looked at Peter. The boy was sitting before him, head bowed in exhaustion. His eyes, when Panther had actually gotten the boy to look up at him, were haunted by unspeakable memories. Peter was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands shook when they weren't clutching each other. He'd been very surprised when Peter had been carried to the village by two other Lost Boys, but after hearing the dreams the boy remembered better than his own memories, he understood why the child couldn't find a happy thought.
"You have tried putting him into an enchanted sleep?" Panther asked. By the look of horror Peter shot him, he guessed that she had and it had gone awry.
"I couldn't wake up," Peter moaned, covering his face with his hands. "Over and over again, and I couldn't wake up. Before I'd wake up when I died, but when Tink spelled me, I couldn't escape. I had even more dreams that night."
"We didn't know he was dreaming," Tink added. "Normally, he screams and talks in his sleep when the nightmares attack. We can't wake him until the dream's over, but we know he's dreaming. But with the spell, he didn't move or make a sound, so we thought he was finally resting." Tink choked off a cry and shook her head, "When I finally released him… I'm so sorry Peter!" Tink wept, remembering the terrorized boy's screams when he'd awakened. "It took us forever to get him out of the hysterics, and I had to restrain him to keep him from hurting himself. He wouldn't speak for hours."
"It's okay, Tink," Peter tried to comfort his friend. "You didn't know. I know you and the others would never hurt me, no matter what the dreams tell me." He looked at Panther again. "I haven't been asleep since then. Tink's helping me to stay awake, but I'm so tired. I won't be able to stay awake much longer, no matter what kind of magic she uses. The dreams are worse if I sleep at night. During the day, they're always just repeats of old ones I had. The new ones come at night. When I'm dreaming, I think its real and I don't remember that I'd had nightmares; even when I'm living one of the old ones I don't remember the time before. But when I wake up, I remember all of them… I can still feel all of them."
"And all of your nightmares are about Captain Hook?" Panther asked.
Peter nodded, "He's in every one of them. Sometimes he does things to me, sometimes he just watches while someone else does it for him. I always die. And every time, it gets more painful, more…" Peter struggled for a word, "detailed… imaginative."
Panther thought for awhile. "Perhaps your fears are expressing themselves in your dreams."
"I'm not afraid of Hook," Peter snapped, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "At least, I wasn't when this started. Some of the ways he's killed me, I didn't know people could do things like that to other people. He's threatened to keel-haul me lots of times for real," Peter winced and ducked his head at the vivid memory: being dragged across the barnacles beneath the ship; trying not to scream, to save his air, and finally being pulled to the surface just before he gave up; then being dragged under again to repeat the process over and over again. "But I never knew what that meant until he did it to me in my dream. How can I dream of stuff I don't know about?"
"I think there may be a terror-sprite attacking him. I can almost feel it when he sleeps," Tink added.
Panther frowned in concern, "Your people banished all the dream creatures from touching us, unless we reach out to them in a dream-quest. You would know before me if one had returned. The island's magic shields my tribe and Peter's from their influence."
"The protections still hold, I've checked them carefully for the smallest hole," Tink sighed. "The only humans they could bother would be the pirates, and I doubt there's much they could show those cut-throats that would scare them enough to make it worth the effort."
Panther nodded and returned his attention to Peter, who was once again sitting with his head bowed, staring at his hands lying limply in his lap. He hated to see the boy in such pain. He'd known Peter all his life, they'd been friends when he was a youth, and when he was older he'd vowed to protect the eternal child, as the old shaman before him had. He loved the boy, and even when Peter's antics caused mayhem he was able to look past his irritation and smile, remembering the trouble he used to help Peter cause when he was a boy. He would do anything for Peter.
"There is one thing I know to do," he said finally as he retrieved his black crystal from a medicine pouch. "Peter, I will try to put you in a dreamless sleep." He held up his hands when Peter drew back. "I will watch your dreams, if you manage to have them. If my magic works, you will not dream and will get the rest your body and mind desperately need. If it fails, this crystal will show us your dreams. Tinker Bell and I may be able to sense something that will tell us why this is happening to you, and I will be able to wake you from your dream."
Peter moaned and began to shake as the shaman spoke. "Please don't. I can't do this anymore."
Panther pulled the boy to him and held him, as he'd done before when Peter was sick or injured. "I have always been here for you, Peter. I have watched over you, even when I was your size I watched over you. Let me help you now. Together, Tinker Bell and I will discover the source of your torment, but we cannot do that unless you sleep. If I can take away your dreams and give you rest, I will – but I cannot cure you until I see the problem for myself."
Peter held the shaman back, taking comfort from the large man's embrace. The Indians were first family he remembered having. He knew he lived with them for a little while when he first came here, before he was completely wild and lived with Tinker Bell. "Don't let me go," he whispered, "Maybe it'll be better when I wake up if you have me."
Panther began chanting an Indian lullaby while he rocked Peter gently. The boy smiled, remembering a faceless squaw that had done this for him long ago. After awhile, Peter relaxed and soon afterwards he slipped into sleep. Panther cradled Peter to him, lying the child back so that he could stare down into his face, and placed the crystal on the boy's forehead. Together, the man and the pixie watched over him and waited.
He ran through the forest, dodging the trees and branches that appeared in his path out of the dark. He couldn't hear his pursuers, their footfalls were silent, as befitted their race. But he knew they were coming, drawing closer with every moment. He broke into a clearing and ran faster.
"This way! Here's the boy. Get him! Kill him!" came the ringing calls from above. Peter glanced up in alarm. The stars above him were twinkling and moving, betraying him by calling to his enemies and pointing out his path.
"Why?" Peter screamed, "How could you turn against me?" The cold stars giggled and echoed his questions mockingly. Peter dashed back to the forest, seeking the cover of the trees to hide him from the traitor stars.
Tears blinded him as he ran, and in vain he tried to wipe them away. Unable to see for the wetness of his eyes and the darkness, he ran into something, a wall of some sorts. He fell to the ground and looked up, smiling in hope as he beheld the Indian Chief towering over him.
"Chief Big Little Panther! Help me, they're coming!" Peter begged, relief flooding though him. He's my guardian, no one could ever make him hurt me. When the man held out his hand, Peter took it gratefully. But when the chief clamped down painfully on his wrist and refused to let go, Peter felt the despair and fear fill him again.
"The Great Spirit seeks you, Peter Pan," the shaman intoned. "There is no refuge for you, there is no escape." Suddenly they were in the village, within the ceremonial grounds.
Peter heard a familiar chuckle, and turned to see Captain Hook lounging on a throne. "No, please no," Peter whimpered softly. Something was tugging at him, and somehow he knew what would happen next.
"Great Spirit Hook!" Panther called, "We offer to you your greatest enemy, Peter Pan, as a sacrifice!"
"I accept your offer," Hook purred. "Proceed."
Panther bowed and dragged Peter to and upright wooden pole. Around the pole was a mound of logs and debris. Peter screamed in fear and thrashed, trying to get away from the man's iron grip. But two braves grabbed his wrists and ankles and helped Panther lash him to the pole.
"Peter Pan!" Hook called, "prepare to feel the fire of my wrath, which shall consume you utterly!"
"Burn in Hell!" Peter called back, trying to remain proud and defiant in the face of such hopelessness. He saw the Indians watching impassively, and Wendy and the Lost Boys were standing there with eager anticipation in their eyes, and his pride broke and he began to weep.
"You first, Pan," Hook yelled back. He nodded and Tiger Lily and Hard-to-Hit thrust their torches into the pile, igniting the fuel.
"Stop! Chief Panther, help me! Wendy! Nibs! You're my friends! Panther, you promised to protect me!" Peter begged, but no one seemed to hear him… no one except Hook, who was watching hungrily as the flames rose higher around the boy. Peter drew up tight to the pole as the heat went from uncomfortable to painful to intolerable. He screamed as it became too hot and his clothes and hair ignited and his skin began to burn…
"AWAKE!" Panther commanded again as Tink used her magic to reinforce his. Peter continued to scream, but his eyes opened at last. He thrashed, trying to extinguish himself and flee the pain that had overwhelmed his senses. Panther held on tighter and kept him close. "You are safe, Peter," he repeated again and again, his voice soothing and sure. "It was just a dream, you are safe."
Peter continued to fight, echoes of the dream clinging to him. He still felt like he was burning, but the pain was lessening more with each passing moment. Finally he lay still, panting heavily as reality reasserted itself and he realized where he was.
"I would never do anything like that to you," Panther whispered. "You've seen our ceremonies. There are none that call for human sacrifice." Peter began to cry in relief and Panther hugged him tightly, lightly stroking his back and hair. "We all love you, Peter. You are Neverland's soul. How could we ever harm you?"
"I couldn't remember," Peter gasped between his sobs. "In my dream, all I knew was I was afraid and it hurt and no one would help me. I had that same dream before, last time I slept. Why? Why is this happening? Even Hook can't hate me so much he'd do those awful things."
"I sensed a terror-sprite," Tink whispered. "It wasn't touching him, not directly, and it got stronger at the end."
"It's discovered how to reach him and bypass the shields. You must tell your kin," Panther replied.
"If I take him to Small Monday Island, we can put up extra protections. Even if we can't stop it, we can reduce it enough that it isn't so vivid."
"I can take you there by canoe," Panther offered.
"No," Peter said softly. "You'll have to go near the pirate ship that way." Peter wiped his face and pulled away from the Indian. "I don't want to see Hook, not right now. I don't think I can face him." Peter looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. "Wendy's reading to the boys nearby, waiting for us to get back. Nibs and Slightly can help fly me to the island, it'll be faster than walking."
Panther nodded, agreeing with the boy. Peter was defenseless right now, and if Hook came across him, he'd easily overcome the poor child. "I will gather some things that may help and join you on the island later today." He helped Peter to stand and gave him a pouch on a long string. "Wear this if you sleep again. It may help you find a spirit guide in the dream world."
"Thank you," Peter said and smiled, hanging the pouch around his neck. He turned and followed the pixie to where his friends awaited him.
