Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Eleven -Tangled Threads

Rating: PG13

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Author's Note: As you may be aware, I'm working full time now, night shift 40 hours a week, means my writing time is very limited to my days off. Thanks to all who continue to review and enjoy this story, you are the best.

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Peter's arrival at the Indian encampment interrupted a meeting of the elders in the Chief's tent. A party of braves were shouting and waving weapons, all members of Little Creek's family, her son's and grandsons eager to march on the mountain and rescue Fly from the clutches of the pirates. The elders were counseling caution, having no knowledge of the forces the braves would be up against, while Little Creek's family argued for urgency, that the longer they waited the more likely Fly's life would be in mortal danger. Into this heated debate flew Peter Pan, his arrival silencing the combatants for the moment as he stood in the firelight, his expression grim, the fairy sword at his hip drawing curious eyes as it appeared to glow in the flickering light.

Little Creek rose to her feet.

"Welcome back Peter Pan...how goes your search for your woman?"

"I know where she is and the nature of the men who hold her and your granddaughter."

"We know who has her......Hook!"

Peter turned to address the brave. "You are right, it is Hook...but not the mortal man that we knew....Hook is dead, as we always thought."

"You talk in riddles....what do you mean, Hook is dead?...You say that Hook has our Most Precious Butterfly, then you say he's not alive...you are mad!" Little Creek shushed her son-in-law, the father of fly.

"Be quiet....we must hear what Peter has to say."

"Hook has my Wendy and your daughter....but he is not alive, he cannot be killed...he is already dead, as are the men who follow him, who hide in the heart of the mountain."

Muttering broke out among the Indians, many casting furtive glances at the Medicine Man sitting quietly in the corner, observing but not participating.

"How can this be?" Little Creek asked, all eyes turning to regard Peter.

"I don't know how this has come about. I can only relate what has been told to me by those that know. Hook and his pirates exist, but not as living men. They look and live like the living, they fight like the living, and as long as they exist beyond the reach of the moon, they cannot be killed."

Gasps and hushed murmurs greeted Peter's speech. One of the elders spoke.

"If what you say is true, how do you plan to defeat this foe, this enemy that cannot be killed?"

"The moons' light reveals them in their true form...only then can they be destroyed." Peter looked around seeing disbelief on most of the faces, mistrust and wariness on others. In the corner the most revered of the Indian tribe rose to his feet, banging his ornately carved staff on the ground for silence.

"He speaks the truth." Grey Fox swept his arm in a wide arc, the tent falling silent, all eyes fixed on him. "These half-creatures live in the heart of the mountain, they are the spirits of the dead, brought to life by a great evil. They wish only harm to our land, to our people." He pointed directly at Peter. "You are the object of their evil. They have stolen your woman to draw you into their trap. If you go and are killed then everything that is Neverland will cease to exist." Grey Fox glanced at his rapt audience. "If Peter Pan goes to the mountain he will die, and Neverland will be no more. We will be no more."

With a flick of his hand Grey Fox signaled. Immediately three braves grasped Peter's arms, another pulled the fairy sword from his belt along with his dagger. The tent erupted with voices, cries of alarm and disbelief mixing with shouts of anger. Peter struggled against the braves but found himself held securely. Glaring, he opened his mouth to speak only to have Grey Fox once more signal and the tent fall silent.

"Why are you doing this? Let me go!"

"You are the Pan....you have heard the Fairy Queen's words. If you die, we all die....therefore you cannot go to the mountain."

"How could you know what she said? What about your granddaughter?" Peter shouted at Little Creek.

"Is what Grey Fox says true?" Little Creek asked, knowing the answer already. Peter clamped his lips shut, turning back to glare at the medicine man, twisting his body to try and free himself from the braves.

"You can't leave her there...they'll kill her!"

Grey Fox stepped forward, the braves around Peter falling back except for the three holding him tightly.

"What is one woman.....or one child against the continued existence of our world, our home, our way of life?"

"You can't do this!" Peter raged, struggling harder.

"To preserve this tribe, these people, the life of a child is a small sacrifice." Grey Fox replied grimly.

"NO!"

Peter stared around at the people in the tent, noting the dull acceptance on Little Creek's face as she held her daughter, Fly's mother, who wept quietly. No-one would meet his eyes, all turning away, accepting Grey Fox's word as the end of the discussion.

"We will post guards at the entrances to the mountain. If any of Hook's men appear we will be forewarned. No more of our people will be used as hostages again. If necessary we will move to the other side of the island. Neverland must continue as if has always done."

"You're mad....Hook won't stop...he's already trying to wipe our the Mermaids, he's almost succeeded with the Fairies....you will be next, if we don't stop him now!"

"You may be right Pan...but we cannot allow you to risk your life. It was agreed long ago that if there was any serious threat to your continued existence that every effort would be made to ensure you did not come to harm. For the sake of those that have safeguarded you in the past, and those that will do so in the future, I order that you be bound and kept safe until the danger is passed, or proof that the hostages can no longer be used to lure you to your death."

"Proof.....you mean when you find Wendy and Fly's dead bodies.....NEVER!"

Renewing his struggles, Peter wrenched an arm free and lashed out at Grey Fox, almost catching the man as he danced back. Quickly Peter found himself secured with tough leather cord, his hands tied behind his back and his feet trussed. Still struggling he was quickly carried from the tepee and taken to another tent off to the side of the camp. The Indians followed at a distance in almost complete silence, headed by Grey Fox. Little Creek had left the main tent and headed back to her own surrounded by her family, her sons both bewildered and angry at the turn of events. Although Chief Panther was the nominal head of the tribe, Grey Fox was the real power and few were prepared to gainsay the Medicine Man who, it was rumored, spoke with the spirits of the island. Once inside their own tepee, Little Creek signaled for her family to gather around.

"What are we to do?" Asked her son-in-law, the father of Fly.

"Peter is the Protector of Neverland.....not Grey Fox. I am no more willing to give up on finding our Precious Butterfly and the Wendy lady than Peter."

"Then we are going alone?" Asked one of her younger sons, his hand on his knife.

"We may be going to our deaths, my son. You heard Peter....Hook and his pirates are not mortal, not living, but you also saw that sword. It can only have come from the Fairies. If they have faith in Peter, then so should we."

Gathered in the half light of the tent, Little Creek stared at each of her sons and their offspring and mates. Each returned her look with one of hope and defiance. Nodding, Little Creek started to speak in hushed tones, the whole family joining in the planning as they huddled together.

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Peter lay in the dark, his body tense as he fought to free his wrists from the tough cords that bit painfully into his skin. He was stunned at the turn of events. He had never stopped to consider that maybe others knew what the Fairy Queen knew. Grey Fox was one of the oldest of the Indians, his presence always there in the background but his voice rarely heard. Now it was revealed that Grey Fox was the real leader of the Indian tribe, his word law in their world above all other, including the Elders.

He cursed knowing that if he'd taken the Fairy guard with him into the Indian camp he wouldn't be lying trussed up like a chicken. Instead he'd ordered the Captain of the Fairy troop to await his return from the Indian camp as Peter had expected no opposition, more fool him.
Grunting, he twisted again, tugging at the bindings, sweat trickling down his face with the effort. A noise from outside made him freeze, his ears straining to hear. The whisper came again and Peter turned his head to stare at the flat wall of hide that was the back of the tepee. As he watched something poked through the wall and started to slide down leaving a gaping slit as it passed. Peter twisted his neck back and checked on the braves left outside his door as guards. They were still there, but only one was awake, the other nodding over his post.
Peter turned back and watched as the sharp point of the knife finished its downward path and returned to make a cross ways cut to enlarge the opening. Within seconds a small figured had been handed through the cut. Without a word being said small fingers were placed over Peter's mouth to signal silence before busy hands sliced through the cord around his feet and hands, the rush of blood back into his fingers and toes making Peter bite his lip to still a cry of pain. The small figure waited while he massaged feeling back into his extremities, then signaled Peter by tugging on his sleeve to follow his rescuer out of the hole. Outside Peter found himself surrounded by Little Creek's family who hustled him away into the tree line on silent moccasins. The group moved quickly through the trees and away from the camp, the children as silent as their parents, Peter ignoring the sting of his cuts and bruises.

At a sufficient distance from the camp the group stopped and surrounded Peter once more, Little Creek coming to stand in front of him, her nut brown face tilted up so that he could see the gleam of her dark eyes.

"We are yours to command Peter Pan. We have our weapons and our belongings. We cannot return to the camp, we have gone against Grey Fox and are now no longer of his people. We are all prepared to follow you into the mountain to rescue our Precious Butterfly, your Wendy and defeat Hook."

Peter looked around at the silent group, their hopes and fears reflected on their faces, everyone hanging on his reply.

"You risk much Little Creek...you and your family risk everything. I will do no less. I will take anyone who is willing to join me....but I will not take the children." Some of the women started to talk only to fall silent when Peter raised his hand. "I know many of your women are as brave fighters as their men, but the children are your future. They need to be taken to a safe place."

"We have already discussed this Peter....the children will be taken to the caves to await our return. The rest, men and women, will follow you."

"I have others to join us......" Putting his fingers to his lips Peter whistled sharply, twice, the sound carrying through the trees. Within a few seconds a cloud of bright lights approached, coalescing into the group of Fairy guards given by the Fairy Queen to aid Peter in his fight. They hovered overhead, regarding the strange assortment of Indians below with some curiosity.

"We also have this......" One of Little Creeks sons stepped forward with something wrapped in a blanket. He handed it to Peter who unraveled it to reveal his Fairy sword. In the blanket it had appeared dull and lifeless but as soon as Peter touched it, it glowed as if alive only reverting back to dull metal after he tucked it into his belt.

"Let us get ready.......Little Creek, get the children under way, the sooner we start for the mountain the better, it has already been too long."

With the minimum of fuss the children were quickly rounded up and led away by two of the older women along with an older man who pulled a cart piled with provisions. Once they were gone Peter crouched down to discuss their plan of action.

"It will take many hours to traverse the distance to the mountain on foot. I have a way to shorten that time." Digging into his shirt Peter withdrew the pouch of fairy dust. Some of the braves muttered uneasily, but most just looked on with intense curiosity.

"Are you suggesting we fly Peter?"

"Yes Little Creek........it will give us a head start on anyone tracking us from the Indian camp and get us to the mountain sooner."

"What do we have to do?" Asked one of the braves.

Peter pinched a small amount of the softly glowing powder from the pouch and sprinkled it on the mans' head. The others watched in wonder as the golden dust settled on the mans dark hair and bare shoulders.

"Now....think of something that made you very happy, either a person, or a thing or something that happened...whatever made you laugh." Peter instructed. For a moment the brave screwed up his eyes and appeared to be thinking hard. As they watched he floated several feet straight up, his eyes still closed. A collected gasp brought his eyes open and he looked down to see his family staring up at him in wonder.

"Blue Cloud....you are flying!" Little Creek laughed to see her youngest son floating among the tree branches. Peter launched himself effortlessly into the air and joined the astonished young Indian, showing him how to push off and turn until the Indian brave was following Peter in and around the dark tree trunks as if born to fly. One by one the rest of the warriors were introduced to the fairy dust until the glade was full of flying bodies, swooping and diving with only hisses and grunts to indicate their presence. When Peter felt the troop were sufficiently confident, he signaled them back to earth. There they gathered their weapons and provision before launching themselves once more into the air to follow Peter and his brightly glowing fairy guards towards the dark bulk that was the mountain of the moon against the starlit sky.

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Wendy pressed a hand to her chest to still her hammering heart as she hid once more in a small niche off to the side of the main tunnel. It had seemed like hours, but most probably only minutes since she left her locked room with George's help. Now they were trying to find a way to the surface while avoiding any of the pirate horde that inhabited the maze like passageways riddled throughout the mountain. It hadn't taken them long to become hopelessly lost with all the tunnels looking the same as the last, George giving Wendy the slight advantage of being able to warn her when someone was coming to give her time to hide. So far they had been little hue and cry after her escape giving her some hope that they might be lucky and find a way to get out. As she waited, concealed in the shadows, she tried not to dwell on the prospect of Peter being captured by Hook and his hordes. The various methods shouted out when she'd been held by Hook was enough to make her feel sick and faint all over again. Swallowing hard she pressed her shaking hands against the cold rock wall and tried to listen over the thunder in her ears, for George's return. His appearance made her jump, her nerves frazzled by the game of cat and mouse.

"Wendy?"

"Oh George...you scared me to death!"

"Sorry...you have to move now....the passage is clear and there's another fork ahead."

Wendy groaned to herself. They had encountered more twists and turns than a bowl of spaghetti, her sense of direction completely ruined the further they went.

"And Wendy? The passage is completely in the dark....you'll have to trust me to lead you."

"Dark? But that's a good thing...it means the pirates aren't using it, we'll be safe."

"Well....yes....but it means you won't be able to see where you're going....neither will I."

"Oh....that's not a good thing."

"And you'll have to hold my hand."

Wendy shuddered, remembering how cold he felt. "I can do that. Let's get going."

Still semi-transparent, George led the way back into the tunnel, Wendy close behind him. Her feet ached from running along the rough rock floor but made no protest when George waved her forward and she ran as fast as she could with her blue velvet skirt hitched up above her ankles. They reached the fork and George led her down the left hand passage, the floor quickly becoming hard to traverse with the amount of dirt and rocks strewn over the surface and the fading light from the last torch still flickering at the junction. Wendy stopped, hopping a little as she hissed in pain from stubbing her toe on a rock. George appeared more solidly in front of her, his eyes looking over her shoulder as they paused at the limit of the faint light, ahead of them only inky blackness. George looked worried.

"I've never been down this passageway Wendy...I don't know where it leads or even if it leads anywhere."

"Anywhere would be better than back there with....them." Wendy put out a hand and felt the abrasive rock wall. "We can't stop...every moment we waste here means Peter getting captured and worse. I won't be used as a Judas goat....we have to get out of here."

"Then hold my hand.....lets hope this tunnel leads us to where we want to go."

Wendy felt the chill before his ghostly flesh touched her, her fingers flinching slightly as his icy hand closed around hers. She couldn't repress the shiver that ran down her arm.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it......I'll keep one hand on the wall while you take the lead."

With hesitant steps, Wendy drew in a deep breath and followed George, literally blindly, into the unknown.

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Peter and his brave followers arrived at the first tunnel as the moon rose over the horizon. It was quite full, casting a bright swathe of light over the island, the flank of the mountain painted in harsh shadows, the moon almost yellow as it sat low in the sky. The Fairy guards had been instructed as to which tunnel would most likely lead into the interior and they showed Peter one concealed by a series of large rocks that created a labyrinth that lead into a wide cave which in turn had two entrances to the tunnels at the back. The Indian's lit the lantern's they'd brought with them, refueling them with oil before lighting the wicks and casting bright yellow light over the ancient rocks and stalagmites. The lanterns were usually used for night fishing by the Indians and each one could be closed to block the glow without losing the flame. With the lanterns on long poles, the whole group could travel easily along the jagged passage, the angle of the floor leading downwards into the interior of the mountain. They had left all unnecessary provision in the cave mouth, carrying only fuel for the lanterns and their collections of weapons. Peter had told them about the Drops of the Moon given to him by the Fairy Queen, and all agreed to keep this for use against the pirates, in the event they could not lure them to the surface. They had only a few hours of moonlight to achieve their goal before the sun rose, their objective to find and free Wendy and Fly then lead the pirates to the surface during the retreat and hopefully lure the pirates to their doom in the moonlight. As plans go it was tenuous at best and no one was fool enough to put too much faith in its execution, but they all knew that they could no more leave Wendy and Fly to their fate than stop the tide coming in.

At first the tunnel was jagged and broken, the floor uneven and rock strewn, making progress difficult, but the further they progressed the better the tunnels became, as if cleared of debris and tidied up by someone. There was no evidence of anyone using the passageway, the dust underfoot undisturbed by feet for millennia, but they remained on alert anyway, listening and looking for any sign of anyone else in the tunnels.

Their first encounter with the creatures dwelling in the mountain came without warning, the lead brave running back to warn the main group that a party of pirates were approaching fully armed and looking very much alive and lethal. Peter had already discussed a plan of attack that involved using the Drops of the Moon but it would take precision marksmanship from the Indians and the element of surprise. Quickly hiding their lanterns to the side of the tunnel, the Fairy Guard dimming their lights, Peter and his warriors formed their ranks, the ones in front crouched low, the second row standing behind them and the ones behind standing in the gaps between. Peter stood to the side, the vial of precious Fairy magic poised to allow a single drop to fall and ignite the earth for the briefest of moments. The brave that had warned them had crept back down the passageway to act as a lure for the unsuspecting pirates, their cries getting closer as the brave ran back to where Peter and the others waited. As Fleet Foot rounded the bend in the corridor Peter raised his hand and the Indians raised their bows, arrows notched and ready. With horrible screams the pirates rounded the bend, skidding to a halt when they saw the three banks of Indians waiting for them. They only paused for a moment before they advanced at a run, screaming and waving their weapons over their heads. Peter tilted the bottle and a single drop of silvery liquid fell from the crystal lip, the droplet falling to the dust as the group of ten or more pirates were twenty feet from his band of braves. As soon as the drop hit the dust bright light flared into life, as bright and white as snow, casting dark shadows over the hellish scene of screaming pirates and stoic Indians. The light didn't stop the pirates who rushed forward only to find their bodies hit with a wave of arrows that found their mark with deadly accuracy. With each arrow that thudded into a pirate body, the light of the moon bathing their contorted faces, that body crumbled into dust, the parody of life snuffed out, the screams dying as each arrow found its mark before the light of the moon faded within three breaths. In the darkness that followed the only sound was the harsh breathing of the Indians as they surveyed the now empty passageway. Lanterns were quickly unshuttered and yellow light showed the results of their brief battle. All the pirates were gone, the only evidence of their existence being piles of dust with arrows at their center. Although shocked at the suddenness of the brief battle they gathered the fallen arrows and looked to Peter for the signal to proceed.

"They can be defeated...." Fleet Foot whispered to his mother.

"Did you ever doubt that the Pan would prevail? Foolish boy." Replied Little Creek ruffling his hair as they set out once more, another brave taking point as they rounded the bend.

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Fly was crouched uncomfortably behind some tumbled crates at the back of the huge cavern, her eyes red rimmed with fear and tiredness. She was still shaking from her close encounter in the tunnel. Having slept for a few hours she'd awoken to hear voices coming down the passageway towards her. Having no where to hide she simply curled herself into as small a ball as she could and kept as still as possible, hoping to pass as a rock in the dim light of the tunnel. Her plan seemed to work, the pirates passing her by without a glance, the yellow torch light disappearing from sight before Fly found the courage to uncurl herself. She waited to see if they would return before scrambling to her feet and continuing her journey towards wherever the men had come from.

She was very hungry and thirsty and liberally coated in dust and sand, but her determination burned brightly, stopping her fears from overwhelming her. She started to see light coming from up ahead and she approached the cave opening on silent feet, keeping low and close to the rock wall. She had to blink against the light of the many torches that burned around the walls until her eyes accustomed themselves to the harsh, smoky atmosphere. Most of the men she could see had their attention fixed on the man sitting in a throne on a rock ledge on the opposite side of the cavern and Fly used this to slip silently along the wall to the cover of the crates. No one saw her and she breathed a little easier, having a clear view of between two of the crates while remaining hidden. There seemed to be nothing much happening and Fly almost fell asleep again but a shout jerked her head up and she peered between the boxes to see a man run into the cavern, skidding to a halt at the base of the rock ledge before jabbering to the man sitting on the chair above him. Fly couldn't hear what he said but a man dressed all in black, who stood behind the chair, suddenly started to gesture to several of the pirates who rushed out of the cavern down one of the tunnels as the men left behind muttered and gathered closer together.

The man in the chair had not moved while his men milled and shifted, his body slumped as if uncaring of the alarm that seemed to spark and jump from pirate to pirate. Only once did he move, to gesture to the man in black, who leant down to hear what his leader had to say.

Fly heard a noise and ducked back down, hugging the crates as three pirates appeared from the tunnel near where she was hiding. The men jumped down the ledges leading to the floor of the cavern and reported to the leader in the chair, their words unclear to Fly from that distance. After passing on their information they were waved away and climbed back up to where Fly hid, seating themselves within a body length of the crates. Fly shuffled forward and listened closely as they started to talk.

"He's not best pleased with what we had to say..."

"'e obviously expected the brat to come sooner for 'er."

"Well...wouldn't you? She's a tasty slut....I'd sure hurry to get 'er back if I'd lost her."

"Yeah...but we all know what a horny bastard you are Wilkes..."

The men laughed quietly before talking again.

"She won't get far....and gawd 'elp 'er when they catch up with 'er....the Capt'n won't be in a good mood!"

"Is he ever? Don't know why 'e didn't just top her before....either that or give her to us to have a bit o' fun."

"Reckon he 'as 'is own plans for the moll...and I don't blame him for that....don't fancy being in Eli's shoes when Hook's finished with 'im."

"Yeah...poor bastard.....full moon tonight too....reckon 'es a gonna."

"So will we be if we don't go and watch that tunnel...get to it lads."

Fly shrank back as the men passed her, their boots ringing on the rock floor as they disappeared from her sight.

Fly tried to make sense of their words, her forehead furrowed as she tried to decipher their meaning. If the 'she' was Wendy, then it appeared that she had managed to escape, but they expected her to be caught and soon. But who was the Captain?

Too tired to make sense of it all, Fly curled up and tried to ignore the pangs of her empty stomach.

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(will Peter and his brave band be in time? Will Wendy and George find a safe passage through the labyrinth? Will Fly remain undiscovered? Tune in next week for another exciting chapter)......tbc.....ttfn