Author's Note: Here we go with chapter three! I'm sorry it took so long to update, I had a bit of writer's block.

Dedicated: For rolletti, who has been waiting very eagerly for this chapter. I hope it is worth the wait.

---

Chapter Three: Turmoil that Deafens

Wendy glanced over her shoulder in time to see Peter disappear from the house. For a moment she gazed at the empty room before turning back to the pot. As she resumed stirring the soup, she bowed her head, blinking back the tears which continued to flow like a steady stream from her eyes.

Drawing a shaky breath, she attempted to regain her composure. A dull ache that had settled itself in the pit of her stomach when Peter cruelly turned away from her now intensified. Wendy remained deeply hurt by his actions. His moods changed so quickly she was left in a daze.

She had thought it best not to find out what was troubling Peter since he would not speak to her, and she guessed he would deny anything was the matter. So she had continued with her cooking, once in a while glancing at the boy who had been floating lazily in the air.

Accidentally she burned herself when her finger brushed against the hot pot. She was quite used to such injuries, but this time she was so surprised – for she had been deep in thought – that a sound of pain escaped her mouth. She had examined the wounded finger, but before she could bring it to her lips to cool it and ease the pain, she was startled to discover her hand in Peter's possession. She had gazed at him in shocked surprise, speechless. She only watched with growing amazement as Peter studied both her hands as he caressed them gently. She was touched by this display of concern, for it was a new side of Peter revealed.

Wendy thought how similar this scene was to when Running Deer did nearly the exact same thing earlier. The realization that two boys had fussed over her today caused her stomach to do several flip-flops, for nothing of such had happened before. As she gazed at Peter's bent head over her hands, a blush ran across her cheeks as she wondered if she and Peter looked like one of those romantic pictures in her fairy-tale book of a knight kissing his lady's hands.

Wendy cannot hold back a shiver as she recalls how unusual Peter's voice had sounded when he asked her if her hands still hurt. It had been so…different. She had been stunned by the look he had turned to her; she had been able to only gaze back at him with breathless anticipation. When he brought his hand up to her cheek, she sensed acceptance and…something else in his gesture. Everything had felt peaceful and right at that moment. And then…she was aware of how much Peter despised her. He had breathed her name, so sweetly, so softly (Wendy could not help but be excited by the sound of it falling from his lips); then almost immediately afterward, his face darkened, his eyes hardened, and he swiftly turned away from her…

In Wendy's recalling that horrible moment, a single tear sneaked down her cheek unchecked. She drew a shaky breath. She knew she must have done something terribly wicked to cause Peter to be so displeased with her. But what had she done? What had she done to him? Wendy could not come up with anything.

Coming out of her trance, Wendy discovered the soup to be boiling over. With a cry of dismay she removed the pot from the fire and set it on the table to let it cool. The room became full of boys who returned from washing for supper and cheerfully helped their dear mother set the table and prepared the last of the meal. When all was done and everyone was seated, Peter's seat at the head of the table across from Wendy was empty. It was not the first time Peter showed up late; yet Wendy could not help but be a little concerned. She and the boys began to eat.

While laughter and cheerful chatter flew back and forth at the table between the boys, Wendy was silent, eating little from her plate, becoming lost in her own thoughts. While she pondered and wondered about Peter's behavior and what deed she must have unknowingly done to trigger such reactions from him, there was one thing she scarcely dared linger on and by which she was truly perplexed.

She could not forget what Peter had done before he suddenly became cold to her once more. With his hand on her cheek, he had tilted his head to one side and – had it been her imagination – or had he leaned in toward her? Just the mere wonder caused Wendy's heart to beat a little faster and her pulse to pound. Had he been about to…? Wendy shook her head slightly, banishing such thoughts, and was about to return her attention to her food when she became aware of how strangely quiet it was.

Raising her head, she glanced around the table to discover all the boys had halted eating, some with food halfway to their mouths, eyes wide with wonder and unease. She followed their gazes to where Peter stood just beyond the entrance of his tree. He was staring at the group with a dark frown. Wendy felt her heart freeze, and she swallowed hard. Never had any of the children seen Peter so upset before, who leveled a hard gaze on each child in turn. None was brave enough to break the silence. They watched him stalk to the table and sit down wordlessly.

The rest of the night passed in mostly frightened silence with the boys tiptoeing around Peter, hoping not to worsen his mood. Even Wendy quietly went about cleaning up the table. Peter simply sat before the fire, sharpening his dagger, when Tinker Bell lighted on his shoulder and delivered a message; he then quickly put away his weapon and flew to his tree. Despite the absence of Peter, the mood was still one of uncertainty in the house under the ground.

Tonight Wendy told the boys their bedtime story in a more quiet voice and shooed them into bed right after its conclusion instead of allowing any late playtime. After tucking them in, she settled herself in her rocker before the fire and bent over her sewing – a pocket for Curly. As she pulled the tread through the worn piece of cloth time and time again, she replayed in her mind all that she had done this past day, attempting to pinpoint where she had failed Peter. It must have been sometime today, for Peter had been very much lighter of heart the day before…

Wendy stared into the dancing flames of the fire for a moment and then jumped when something landed in her lap. She turned her head and watched as Peter marched to his bed and lay down, facing the wall. A light frown on her face, she turned her attention to her lap and scooped up in her hands the item Peter had tossed there: it was a lovely Indian necklace made of bright colored beads and small shells. Wendy simply gaped in astonishment.

---

TBC…