As the sun rose over the Neverland, Peter stirred, finding himself surprisingly comfortable. No lingering visions of heartache and woe filled his mind - he could only recognize Wendy's soft, sweet scent. His dreams had been littered with that scent - even his nightmares.
He sat up, realizing that he was on the mattress, instead of perched in the corner. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking in the scene. Yes, it was the Home Underground, but something was different to him. His eye lingered over every nook and crevice in the hollowed innards of the huge tree, over Wendy (though not by necessity as much as he just liked to), and then settled on Tinkerbell's boudoir.
The small wooden door was nearly ripped from its hinges, swaying silently back and forth. Fairy dust glimmered along the entire area. It is impossible to tell if a particular dust belongs to a particular fairy, but Peter instinctively knew that the dust was Tinkerbell's. She had struggled, he assumed.
He woke Wendy, his demeanor calm. He was not shocked by this occurence - he was merely surprised that they had not killed Wendy and himself in their sleep. He unbuttoned the collared shirt that Wendy had given him, which was no longer a clear-white, laying it aside. The shirt needed a good washing, Wendy noted, picking it up from the floor and folding it neatly.
"Peter, do you think Tinkerbell will be okay?" Wendy asked, fiddling nervously.
"Sure, she can take care of herself." He replied, checking for his dagger. He glanced around, searching out something else.
"What are you looking for?" Wendy asked him curiously.
"The bow and arrows. The Lost Boys left them here..." Peter replied, still flying up and down the room in search of the lost items.
"Bow and arrow? But don't you have your dagger?" Wendy questioned her companion, standing and making the bed.
"Oh, not for me. For you!" Peter exclaimed, as if it were so very obvious.
"Me? I have never even held a bow before! Besides, how are you supposed to shoot a fairy? The arrow is bigger than they are!" Wendy protested, but finally relented and took the bow. "You know I won't hit anything."
"With that kind of talk, of course not. I think that when the time comes, you will know what to do." Peter offered her the bow, smiling confidently.
"So are we just to barge in there, arrows and daggers ready?" Wendy asked, fingering the well-worn bow.
"Of course, what else would you do?" Peter asked her, fastening a leather pouch and sheath to the belt-loops of his trousers, which were now torn and dirty.
"It's just...Don't you think it is a bit dangerous?" Wendy asked, knowing the question sounded utterly naive.
"It wouldn't be an adventure if it weren't!" Peter replied exuberantly, taking Wendy's hand. "We have to go now."
"But Peter, what if something bad is to happen to us? They are fairies! We are just children - we have no magic to fight them with!" Wendy said, grasping his hand but resisting his pull.
"The fairies have good form. And I do believe the only one we have to be concerned about is the one we saw yesterday." Peter told her, pulling her again.
"B-But I killed him!" Wendy gasped, her eyebrows knitting in frustration. "He - or it, lived?"
"Probably. Fairies usually never harbor bad blood between them...Only a dark fairy does that, and we would have heard about it if he had followers." Peter said, still tugging at her.
"I'm scared..." She whimpered, still resisting.
"Don't be. I'll protect you." Peter smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand. "You'll always be safe with me."
Wendy trusted Peter with all of her heart, and his words melted her fear. As the joyous thoughts filled her head, she lifted off the ground, as did Peter, and the two left the Home Underground.
The Grove was obvious from the sky, as it was greener than the rest of the forest. They easily landed in one of the highest trees, carefully making their way down, so that they had a good vantage point. They had to spy on their enemies.
The thrill of the adventurous nature of their actions ran through Wendy. I do believe that she was trying to forget the awful London she had witnessed, and trying to immerse herself in the beauty and danger of Neverland.
Peter was overjoyed at Wendy's new freedom in adventure. If things were exactly as they had been, she would still be adventurous, but still a cautious maternal type. She was free, as was he, and they had great adventures with no limits within their sight. At least, that was how Peter saw it.
The pair watched from the thick bows of a particularly large tree, their eyes straining to focus on the small, shimmering figures that flitted to and fro across the clearing. The joyous tinkling of bells was heard, rising from the ground into the sky, the gay sound sweeping over all. No loud gong-like voices were heard - only the beautiful bells chimed below.
A familiar figure fluttered among them, moving slower than the rest. Peter recognized her at once, and began to whistle an unfamiliar tune. The tune was a code between Peter and Wendy, that Peter had developed at a very young age. He tried in vain to get her attention, but she kept at her slow flutter. A pained expression replaced his look of fascination. Wendy felt his muscles tense through the branch, and she touched the crook of his elbow, getting him to look at her. She shook her head, for she knew he wanted to sweep into the middle of the world below.
Needless to say, even a warning from a beautiful girl cannot stop Peter Pan. He took her hand flew into the air, pulling Wendy behind him. She wanted to cry out, but knew that doing so would risk revealing them even more than that moment. Peter stood lightly on another branch, about twelve or so feet below the last one. He held Wendy's hand tightly, before grasping her waist and holding on the branch next to him. Wendy was quite flustered from the quick flight, but his hands on her waist made her even more so!
Peter motioned to stay quiet. He pointed down, and made a few quick motions with his hands. Wendy knew he was trying to tell her something, like the game of charades, but she had no earthly idea what he was trying to communicate.
"Peter, I can't --"
Now, Peter had to think very quickly. If he were to hush her, which he knew he had to do, he should use his hands, but they were holding her on the branch, for even with his support, Wendy teetered to the left and right. Peter did what came to his mind first, which might give you an insight to where his mind was when he was with Wendy.
He kissed her.
His lips met hers, the hidden kiss finding its way to its rightful owner. Wendy's eyes widened in surprise, but she did not shriek, nor did she push him away or slap at him, despite that it was a mmost ungentlemen-ly thing to do. Once Peter was sure that she understood the rule of no speech, he pulled away, a very deep red blush rising in his face.
Wendy smiled at him and squeezed his hand, which were both still laced around her waist. This only made him blush deeper, and he nearly lost his balance himself!
No more motions were attempted, as it was obviously not the best way for them to communicate. Peter instead found it best to mouth the words that he would like to say to her, and hope beyond hope that she understood what in the world he was talking about. Well, not talking, mouthing.
He mouthed to her that they were to fly lower, onto a particularly low hanging branch, only seven feet or so about the highest flying fairy. She nodded, still pink in the cheeks from the unexpected kiss. The two glided down, as if walking on air, to the next branch. It would have been a perfect landing if it were not for the loud groan the branch gave as the two children's weight settled on it.
As Peter heard its beginnings, he quickly leapt off of the branch, lifting Wendy with him, but it was too late. The noise had already been heard.
Hundreds of tiny, beautiful eyes turned and stared at the two children. Silence reigned as the children stood frozen, staying still in the air.
That was when the pandemonium broke out.
Fairies flew this way and that, their dainty voices shrieking into bells being swung too fast for their ropes, right before the rope snaps and the bells fall the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces. Wendy shrieked as fairies flew all around her, pulling on her hair and school dress, trying to escape themselves, not to harass her at all.
Peter pulled Wendy close to him, the two children holding eachother tightly as fairies flew by the hundred past them, sometimes scratching, biting, clawing, and generally crashing into, them.
"Peter! We have to get out of here!" Wendy screamed, trying to be loud enough for him to hear her over the din.
He could not hear, although he could see the look of fear in her eyes. He tried to direct them to the ground, as did Wendy, both trying with all of their might to stay together but get to the ground also. It was not nearly as easy as they had thought afterall.
When they finally reached the ground, nearly all of the fairies had retreated to their homes. All but two. The only fairy left near them was the familiar figure they had seen before - Tinkerbell. A weakened fairy, she lay on the ground, the cool earth soothing her damaged body. She needed at least three days of rest in order to rehabilitate, but she was too weak to move herself to a place of rest. The others fairies had no care but for themselves when it came to their lives. The children were no longer surrounded on all sides by frantic fairies, but by the cool silence of the forest. It was as if they had experienced a hurricane, and had reached the eye of the storm - a peaceful reprieve from the things to come. The two loosened their grip, simply standing, hands interlocked in case of the need of another quick get-away. They stood, glancing around for signs of danger.
They should not have stood still.
A horrible aura pushed its way into the peace of the forest, its dark, dank, rotten smell permeating through the air, becoming immediately apparent to any who cared to breathe through his or her nose.
A vulgar cry that I dare not write for fear of recieving nasty letters from your parents on teaching you such horrid words was shouted. A cold wind blew, and the dark aura loomed ever closer. A small cloud, much like that of a very small chimney came towards Peter and Wendy, at an amazing speed.
Peter pushed Wendy down, and she went sprawling onto the ground, as Peter was knocked across the clearing into a thick tree. The resounding thud shook Wendy from her shocked state, as she lifted herself up, her wrist throbbing, the joint hanging limply from her arm. Broken.
She turned to Peter, to see if he was alright, but indeed, he was in worse shape than she. His head lolled to the side, a nasty scrape starting to bleed at his temple. He lay limp at the base of the tree. The hideous cloud loomed over his heart, an evil pouring from it as Wendy had not witnessed.
Tears formed in Wendy's eyes. Her Peter, lying there like that! A fear overtook her like none had before. If he were to die like this - she did not let herself finish the thought. The tears poured from her eyes now, flowing as freely as a river runs. She knew what she had to do. She ignored her pounding wrist, running towards the evil being. Her good hand clutched her broken wrist as she ran.
"I don't believe in fairies!"
He sat up, realizing that he was on the mattress, instead of perched in the corner. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, taking in the scene. Yes, it was the Home Underground, but something was different to him. His eye lingered over every nook and crevice in the hollowed innards of the huge tree, over Wendy (though not by necessity as much as he just liked to), and then settled on Tinkerbell's boudoir.
The small wooden door was nearly ripped from its hinges, swaying silently back and forth. Fairy dust glimmered along the entire area. It is impossible to tell if a particular dust belongs to a particular fairy, but Peter instinctively knew that the dust was Tinkerbell's. She had struggled, he assumed.
He woke Wendy, his demeanor calm. He was not shocked by this occurence - he was merely surprised that they had not killed Wendy and himself in their sleep. He unbuttoned the collared shirt that Wendy had given him, which was no longer a clear-white, laying it aside. The shirt needed a good washing, Wendy noted, picking it up from the floor and folding it neatly.
"Peter, do you think Tinkerbell will be okay?" Wendy asked, fiddling nervously.
"Sure, she can take care of herself." He replied, checking for his dagger. He glanced around, searching out something else.
"What are you looking for?" Wendy asked him curiously.
"The bow and arrows. The Lost Boys left them here..." Peter replied, still flying up and down the room in search of the lost items.
"Bow and arrow? But don't you have your dagger?" Wendy questioned her companion, standing and making the bed.
"Oh, not for me. For you!" Peter exclaimed, as if it were so very obvious.
"Me? I have never even held a bow before! Besides, how are you supposed to shoot a fairy? The arrow is bigger than they are!" Wendy protested, but finally relented and took the bow. "You know I won't hit anything."
"With that kind of talk, of course not. I think that when the time comes, you will know what to do." Peter offered her the bow, smiling confidently.
"So are we just to barge in there, arrows and daggers ready?" Wendy asked, fingering the well-worn bow.
"Of course, what else would you do?" Peter asked her, fastening a leather pouch and sheath to the belt-loops of his trousers, which were now torn and dirty.
"It's just...Don't you think it is a bit dangerous?" Wendy asked, knowing the question sounded utterly naive.
"It wouldn't be an adventure if it weren't!" Peter replied exuberantly, taking Wendy's hand. "We have to go now."
"But Peter, what if something bad is to happen to us? They are fairies! We are just children - we have no magic to fight them with!" Wendy said, grasping his hand but resisting his pull.
"The fairies have good form. And I do believe the only one we have to be concerned about is the one we saw yesterday." Peter told her, pulling her again.
"B-But I killed him!" Wendy gasped, her eyebrows knitting in frustration. "He - or it, lived?"
"Probably. Fairies usually never harbor bad blood between them...Only a dark fairy does that, and we would have heard about it if he had followers." Peter said, still tugging at her.
"I'm scared..." She whimpered, still resisting.
"Don't be. I'll protect you." Peter smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand. "You'll always be safe with me."
Wendy trusted Peter with all of her heart, and his words melted her fear. As the joyous thoughts filled her head, she lifted off the ground, as did Peter, and the two left the Home Underground.
The Grove was obvious from the sky, as it was greener than the rest of the forest. They easily landed in one of the highest trees, carefully making their way down, so that they had a good vantage point. They had to spy on their enemies.
The thrill of the adventurous nature of their actions ran through Wendy. I do believe that she was trying to forget the awful London she had witnessed, and trying to immerse herself in the beauty and danger of Neverland.
Peter was overjoyed at Wendy's new freedom in adventure. If things were exactly as they had been, she would still be adventurous, but still a cautious maternal type. She was free, as was he, and they had great adventures with no limits within their sight. At least, that was how Peter saw it.
The pair watched from the thick bows of a particularly large tree, their eyes straining to focus on the small, shimmering figures that flitted to and fro across the clearing. The joyous tinkling of bells was heard, rising from the ground into the sky, the gay sound sweeping over all. No loud gong-like voices were heard - only the beautiful bells chimed below.
A familiar figure fluttered among them, moving slower than the rest. Peter recognized her at once, and began to whistle an unfamiliar tune. The tune was a code between Peter and Wendy, that Peter had developed at a very young age. He tried in vain to get her attention, but she kept at her slow flutter. A pained expression replaced his look of fascination. Wendy felt his muscles tense through the branch, and she touched the crook of his elbow, getting him to look at her. She shook her head, for she knew he wanted to sweep into the middle of the world below.
Needless to say, even a warning from a beautiful girl cannot stop Peter Pan. He took her hand flew into the air, pulling Wendy behind him. She wanted to cry out, but knew that doing so would risk revealing them even more than that moment. Peter stood lightly on another branch, about twelve or so feet below the last one. He held Wendy's hand tightly, before grasping her waist and holding on the branch next to him. Wendy was quite flustered from the quick flight, but his hands on her waist made her even more so!
Peter motioned to stay quiet. He pointed down, and made a few quick motions with his hands. Wendy knew he was trying to tell her something, like the game of charades, but she had no earthly idea what he was trying to communicate.
"Peter, I can't --"
Now, Peter had to think very quickly. If he were to hush her, which he knew he had to do, he should use his hands, but they were holding her on the branch, for even with his support, Wendy teetered to the left and right. Peter did what came to his mind first, which might give you an insight to where his mind was when he was with Wendy.
He kissed her.
His lips met hers, the hidden kiss finding its way to its rightful owner. Wendy's eyes widened in surprise, but she did not shriek, nor did she push him away or slap at him, despite that it was a mmost ungentlemen-ly thing to do. Once Peter was sure that she understood the rule of no speech, he pulled away, a very deep red blush rising in his face.
Wendy smiled at him and squeezed his hand, which were both still laced around her waist. This only made him blush deeper, and he nearly lost his balance himself!
No more motions were attempted, as it was obviously not the best way for them to communicate. Peter instead found it best to mouth the words that he would like to say to her, and hope beyond hope that she understood what in the world he was talking about. Well, not talking, mouthing.
He mouthed to her that they were to fly lower, onto a particularly low hanging branch, only seven feet or so about the highest flying fairy. She nodded, still pink in the cheeks from the unexpected kiss. The two glided down, as if walking on air, to the next branch. It would have been a perfect landing if it were not for the loud groan the branch gave as the two children's weight settled on it.
As Peter heard its beginnings, he quickly leapt off of the branch, lifting Wendy with him, but it was too late. The noise had already been heard.
Hundreds of tiny, beautiful eyes turned and stared at the two children. Silence reigned as the children stood frozen, staying still in the air.
That was when the pandemonium broke out.
Fairies flew this way and that, their dainty voices shrieking into bells being swung too fast for their ropes, right before the rope snaps and the bells fall the ground, shattering into thousands of pieces. Wendy shrieked as fairies flew all around her, pulling on her hair and school dress, trying to escape themselves, not to harass her at all.
Peter pulled Wendy close to him, the two children holding eachother tightly as fairies flew by the hundred past them, sometimes scratching, biting, clawing, and generally crashing into, them.
"Peter! We have to get out of here!" Wendy screamed, trying to be loud enough for him to hear her over the din.
He could not hear, although he could see the look of fear in her eyes. He tried to direct them to the ground, as did Wendy, both trying with all of their might to stay together but get to the ground also. It was not nearly as easy as they had thought afterall.
When they finally reached the ground, nearly all of the fairies had retreated to their homes. All but two. The only fairy left near them was the familiar figure they had seen before - Tinkerbell. A weakened fairy, she lay on the ground, the cool earth soothing her damaged body. She needed at least three days of rest in order to rehabilitate, but she was too weak to move herself to a place of rest. The others fairies had no care but for themselves when it came to their lives. The children were no longer surrounded on all sides by frantic fairies, but by the cool silence of the forest. It was as if they had experienced a hurricane, and had reached the eye of the storm - a peaceful reprieve from the things to come. The two loosened their grip, simply standing, hands interlocked in case of the need of another quick get-away. They stood, glancing around for signs of danger.
They should not have stood still.
A horrible aura pushed its way into the peace of the forest, its dark, dank, rotten smell permeating through the air, becoming immediately apparent to any who cared to breathe through his or her nose.
A vulgar cry that I dare not write for fear of recieving nasty letters from your parents on teaching you such horrid words was shouted. A cold wind blew, and the dark aura loomed ever closer. A small cloud, much like that of a very small chimney came towards Peter and Wendy, at an amazing speed.
Peter pushed Wendy down, and she went sprawling onto the ground, as Peter was knocked across the clearing into a thick tree. The resounding thud shook Wendy from her shocked state, as she lifted herself up, her wrist throbbing, the joint hanging limply from her arm. Broken.
She turned to Peter, to see if he was alright, but indeed, he was in worse shape than she. His head lolled to the side, a nasty scrape starting to bleed at his temple. He lay limp at the base of the tree. The hideous cloud loomed over his heart, an evil pouring from it as Wendy had not witnessed.
Tears formed in Wendy's eyes. Her Peter, lying there like that! A fear overtook her like none had before. If he were to die like this - she did not let herself finish the thought. The tears poured from her eyes now, flowing as freely as a river runs. She knew what she had to do. She ignored her pounding wrist, running towards the evil being. Her good hand clutched her broken wrist as she ran.
"I don't believe in fairies!"