*A/N: as for why Hook couldn't get them himself if he could put pixie dust on the army, he's a coward and him and his men have tried so many times to kill Peter and Wendy that he's given up, so he's trying something new. And he gives them a 5-day head start because there's nowhere they can go anyway (since Peter won't leave Neverland) and he still needs more time to train the army. Hope that's sufficient.

I was just thinking- I wish I was British because I love the way they write-- I just finished reading A Great and Terrible Beauty and even though Libba Bray's not really British she says she grew up on British humor and I love the way it's written. If any of you are looking for a really great book, read it!! I stayed up all last night finishing it because I couldn't stop. On with the show!

Never mind. There's a line from a Lord of the Rings Fanfic that I want to post a quote from, because I think it's amazing: "The blades glinted in the sunlight and sang in metallic voices as Elenath lept, spun, and thrust Calmakil towards Haldir multiple times." It's about a sword battle obviously; it's from the fanfic Where Love May Lead by emi-kins if anyone's interested. Doesn't that line paint an amazing picture? It captures it perfectly without once saying anything about sword fighting or anything. I love it!

"Ugh, this darn sword is heavy. Peter can't seriously expect me to fight with it, can he?" Wendy wondered under her breath in a disgusted voice. Although I've always wondered what it would be like to kill a pirate, have them look at me with fear in their eyes, she thought. Well then sir pirates, better watch out for Wendy! I'm the fearsome Wendy, the horrid, bloodthirsty Wendy Darling! Oh, Wendy dear, do get a grip on yourself. She sighed, raising an eyebrow and grimacing at the extent to which her imagination had run. She shivered slightly involuntarily; That's a bit frightening, I'm starting to startle myself. Odd.

She awkwardly lugged it up into a fighting stance, but just as soon dropped it, the hilt of the sword landing hard on her bare toe. "Gracious Lord Almighty!!!" she screeched for lack of better wording as she grabbed the said digit and began hopping up and down on the soft forest floor, squeezing her long-lashed eyes tightly shut.

"Yaaah!"

Suddenly, from behind a tree, our dear friend Peter appeared, sporting a drawn knife close at hand.

"Wendy! What in the world is wrong? I could hear your screaming all the way in Mermaid's Lagoon!" He asked in a concerned tone, eyeing her body flailing on the ground, now on level with the fallen leaves.

"Peter I give up! I can't possibly learn to use such a horrid weapon, let alone manage to cause damage with it!" Wendy sobbed.

"I see". He sighed. "I'll just have to find you another weapon, means of protecting yourself. When Hook lets him army out, you need to have a way of holding your own, Wendy. I'll be fighting, I won't be able to be with you at all time, no matter how much I'd like to." He stroked her head, a slight smile pulling at the side of his mouth. "Wendy, it seems impossible. We've four days to figure ourselves a way to beat an army of over a hundred, and we've only ourselves. Oh of course there's the Lost Boys, John, Michael, but when it comes down to it, they can't really fight. We've been playing games all of our lives, Wendy. As much as I don't want to admit it, I'm growing up in my own way here, maybe not physically, but mentally. I can't help it. And I can see how serious Hook is this time, it was written all over his face. What are we going to do, Wendy?"

"Well first of all I would like to know where all that came from, Mr. I'm always to be a boy, won't grow up. Perhaps Neverland has been holding a secret from you, but it seems you've figured some of the magic of this place out." Looking deep into his eyes, Wendy said trustfully, if a bit naively, "I believe in you, Peter. You've never let me down, and I know that our wills and wants for the good to prevail will overcome all the evils Hook throws at us. So," she began twirling her finger playfully around one of his locks of hair. "What kind of weapon did you have in mind?"

Peter reached behind his back and slyly pulled a bow and arrow in front of body, placing it in Wendy's lap. "You're to be the next sharpshooter of Neverland, Miss Wendy Darling."

Wendy's eyes widened as she fingered the strings, arrowheads and crossbow. Eagerly she picked it up, attempting to string the arrow onto the bow, but only managing to knick her finger on the pointed edge of the carefully crafted arrowhead. Oh, poppycock, must I continue mangling myself yet further today? She thought.

"Careful, it's sharp. Here, I'll show you." Looping his arm around hers and catching her hand in his, Peter carefully slid the arrow through the strings, explaining each step to the seriously concentrating Wendy.

"Now, pull the arrow back with your other hand, that's good. Concentrate on that tree, Wendy, don't let it out of your sight, oh Wendy turn around it's coming out the other end. And let go!" Peter talked her through it, then watched the stone arrow bite through the air, spinning slightly and trailing a feather on its tail. It struck the tree with a force that thrust it into the brown bark, stopping its plight with a crack.

"Peter, oh Peter! Did you see that?! I shot that, Peter, I can do this! Oh, what a wonderful day it is, Peter Pan!" Wendy jumped up and down, a glowing smile lighting up her already pretty features. She flung her arms forcefully around a reluctant Peter, whose mouth turned up into a smile as he buried his nose into her hair.

"Alright, Wendy that's enough! We still need to teach you to act on your toes and in the middle of chaos, which is really harder than it sounds. We've four days to perfect your archery and that's not nearly enough!"

"Well that's a quick way to doom someone's happy mood, Peter. I'm going back to the hideout to fix dinner. See you back there." Wendy said with a bit of disappointment in her face, yet still ecstatic from her success.

"Sure." Peter slid down against the tree and pulled out his pipe, courtesy of the treaty he had negotiated with the Indians. "We're doomed." He sighed.