Title: To Have & To Hold
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Ten - Keeping Hold.
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Morning brought with it not only the bright sun and shrill trill of birds, but also a cold dose of reality for Wendy.
She awoke cold, stiff and sore, the bed empty of Peter and her body rebelling from its unfamiliar use. Muscles she didn't know she possessed reminded her of the long day she'd had, all the hard work of collecting wood, dragging the bath, hoisting the armfuls of clothes, left her with arms that now felt leaden. Her body, so incandescent the night before, now felt as if she'd been worked over by a kindly pugilist, purple smudged bruises visible on her arms and thighs, her breasts tender to the touch, the nipples sore from Peter's forceful suckling. At her core she felt a throbbing ache, her gentle exploratory touch making her wince as the swollen flesh repelled even the lightest foray. Gingerly she sat up, moving slowly as her muscles protested the rash move, her breath hissing between her teeth as she tentatively stretched.
Dragging over the remains of her dress, Wendy held it to her front, partially to keep herself warm, but also to redress her feelings of exposure. Belatedly she looked back on what she'd done with Peter and wondered if she'd really been the wild wanton of the night before. It had gone against everything she'd ever been taught by her mother and her aunt, her behavior enough to put her beyond the bounds of polite society, almost to the fringe of the demi-rep with her immodesty. Sighing, she tried and failed to justify her acceptance of Peter's lovemaking by telling herself they were in love, that they were destined to be together. It did little to ameliorate the fact that she had lost her prized virginity to a boy she still hardly knew, who professed to love her, possibly only in the hope that his declaration would make her capitulate all the more readily.
In that he'd been all too successful, her aching body testament to how thoroughly he'd claimed her for his own. She wanted to believe he loved her, that he wanted to be with only her for the rest of their lives, but romantic dreams didn't hold up too well in the bright light of the morning, especially when the person who professed to love her so well was not even in the bed beside her.
Feeling depressed and a little resentful that Peter couldn't have stayed until she awoke, Wendy wrapped the remains of her dress about her torso and padded across the floor to find herself something to wear. Finding a faded blue dress that looked a little less worn and dirty than the others, she gave it a thorough shaking to rid it of the ever present dust, before dropping her rags and pulling the replacement over her head. Decently covered once more, she found her shoes and slipped them on, all the time darting glances over to the gaping doorway, hoping that Peter would be walking through it before too long. On a small table she'd dumped a variety of items she rummaged from the dress-up cupboard, including a silver backed brush set which she now employed to tidy her tangled mane.
Cursing herself for sleeping with damp hair, Wendy attacked the knots with unrestrained ferocity, the snagging of the brush bringing tears to her eyes which she welcomed, the pain of her ordeal fueling her anger and burning away the shame of her perceived wanton behavior.
As the day brightened, she worked diligently until every last tangle was fought over and despatched, her hair finally hanging down her back in a glorious cascade, gold glints visible within the honey brown strands, the ends curling up slightly when she finally laid down the brush.
Feeling a lot calmer after performing what was, for her, a daily ritual, Wendy walked over to the door and gazed out over the meadow of weeds and grass, the sun making everything particularly bright and cheery, quite contrary to her mood. As she stood in the sunlight she heard someone whistling, her attention drawn to the gate, Peter appearing through the gap with a net slung over his shoulder and a bunch of flowers clasped in his free hand. The sun glinted off his hair and flashed off his teeth as he walked through the weeds towards her, Wendy's heart lifting despite her internal scolding to not be such a push over next time.
"I wanted to surprise you...have you been awake very long?" His husky voice rolled over her and made her shiver with anticipation, all her uncertainties fading like mist before the sun as he held out the bunch of dewy flowers for her to take delight in.
"Not long...I was surprise to find you gone."
Lowering the net to the ground he waved a hand. "I got breakfast, although the sun says it's almost lunchtime."
As she lifted her face from the fragrant flowers to gauge the time herself, Peter stepped forward and swooped on her mouth, sealing it with his own and making her weak kneed with a devastating kiss. His arms wrapped around her and pressed her close, molding her body against his and making her fully aware of his aroused state. For a few blissful minutes she allowed him to ravage her, as aroused herself despite her earlier misgivings, but when she felt his hand stroke down and cup her bottom she tore her mouth from his and placed her hands on his chest to push him away.
"Peter...stop...not here."
Chuckling at her protestation, Peter tried to kiss her again only to have the flowers shoved in his face so that he got a mouthful of petals instead of her lips. "I said stop!" Wendy cried out, finding his arms suddenly lax and, taking advantage, stepping away from his all too seductive allure. Belatedly Peter realised that Wendy was not laughing or smiling at him, her expression almost angry as she turned and hurried back into the hut leaving him standing outside.
Puzzled, he picked up the net with its burden of fruit and sauntered into the shadowed room, his eyes blinking rapidly after the brightness of the morning sun. Wendy had gone to stand by the fire, staring down at the cold ashes as if willing them to spring to life again. Peter dumped the net on one of the tables and slowly approached her, her tense shoulders informing him that something was wrong.
"What is it? Why are you cross? Did I do something wrong?"
"Yes...No...I just wanted you to stop what you were doing?"
"Kissing you?"
"Making love to me!"
Peter smiled smugly to himself, stepping forward and placing his hands on her stiff shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. "I thought I was just giving you a good morning kiss...after last night..."
"And that's another thing..." Wendy pulled away from him and whirled around, her eyes sparking. "Peter...about last night..." Wendy pressed her lips together, not at all sure how to continue.
"Did I tell you that you're beautiful when you're angry?"
Taking her silence as an encouragement, Peter leant forward and gently placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her eyes closing as he then pressed a succession of kisses over every inch of her lips finishing with a feather light kiss on her cheek. During his teasing salute, he'd only touched her with his lips, his hands clasped behind his back.
When he pulled away Wendy followed, swaying towards him like a flower seeking the sun. Peter grinned briefly before leaning forward again and gathering her against his chest, his mouth covering hers and drinking deeply, Wendy's arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss took on a life of its own. Swept away on a tide of sensation, Wendy hardly noticed when Peter scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the makeshift bed, lowering them both to the old clothes. It was only when his warm, calloused hand started to lift her shirt and slide up her leg that Wendy started to struggle, tearing her mouth away and pushing at him.
"Stop Peter...stop it!"
Surprised at the vehemence of her voice, Peter reared back in shock.
"Wendy?"
Taking advantage, Wendy shoved him to the side and rolled away, coming to rest on her knees beside the mattress, her hair falling forward like a cloak.
"I'm sorry...but we can't do that anymore." Wendy gasped, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
"Why not?"
Watching him warily, Wendy sat back on her heels and smoothed her skirt, her fingers plucking at the wrinkles.
"We just can't...we shouldn't have done...what we did, last night either."
Peter lay on his side, propped up on an elbow and regarded her with a half smirk and a raised eyebrow. "But we did...and we have and I was hoping we could do it again."
"Well not with me!" Wendy replied heatedly, her face flushing.
This time Peter raised both eyebrows.
"I wasn't aware there was anyone else...what's happened to make you so cross?"
"I just...I think...I don't know where we go from here." Lowering her lashes, Wendy stared miserably down at her hands.
"I don't understand...don't you love me anymore?"
"I-I think I do...but sometimes..." Wendy paused, biting her lip to give her courage. "Sometimes...love isn't enough."
"Enough for what? I love you, you love me...what more is there?"
"I don't know...we haven't considered what might happen."
"Happen?"
"I was a virgin Peter...I could be pregnant from last night!"
Peter stared at her, not understanding.
"Pregnant?"
"Yes Peter...I-I could be having...your..our baby."
So intent on her fingers, Wendy didn't see the range of emotions that crossed Peter's face as he considered the prospect of becoming a father. At first he'd been shocked, not remotely prepared for the conversation Wendy seemed determined to thrash out, then perplexed at her apparent anger, not understanding her fears. Now he considered the possibility that their union the night before could produce another life, a combination of Wendy's beauty and his exuberance. It made his head reel, his body still aching to take her soft body and cover it with his own.
"Why is that so bad?" He finally asked.
Wendy's head shot up and she stared at Peter in surprise.
"You wouldn't mind?"
Peter shrugged, smiling at her worried expression. "Why should I? It would be as beautiful as you and as clever as me."
"But...but...you wouldn't mind being a father?"
"Not if you're going to be the mother."
"Oh."
Feeling her eyes prickling, Wendy buried her face in her hands, too overwrought to stifle the urge to cry. Before the first sob had broken past her lips, Peter had enfolded her in his arms, her head drawn down to his shoulder. "Don't cry Wendy...I don't know what's upset you, but I'll try and put it right."
His loving words only increased the flow of tears, Wendy's body shaking with the force of her sobs, her hands clutching at his shirt as he rubbed circles up and down her back, murmuring nonsense to try and calm her. "I really don't mind if you have a baby...and...I suppose if it means we can't do what we did last night because of what we did last night...I won't mind all that much, as long as I can kiss you now and then and hold you...if it won't upset you." Instead of soothing her, his words seemed to make her cry harder still, his expression changing from concern to outright worry when Wendy showed no signs of stopping her weeping. "Please stop crying Wendy, I won't bring you any more silly flowers if you don't want me to...I thought they'd make you smile..and I promise not to peek next time you take a bath...even if I thought you looked lovely, like a mermaid but more so..."
He continued to whisper more promises and vows in a vain hope that she would hear him, but Wendy seemed oblivious, his shirt becoming damp with the tears flowing unceasingly from her eyes. After several long minutes and no sign of a halt, Peter started to become worried for her health. "You'll cry yourself into a decline if you don't stop...please Wendy." Pressing his lips to her hair, Peter rocked them both, Wendy's sobs turning to hiccups as she eased against him, her tears finally ceasing as she regained control of her erratic breathing, her head turned into his shoulder. Feeling her relax against him, Peter loosened his hold and gently put her away, his finger lifting her chin to peer at her tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes.
"Tell me what's wrong...I didn't mean to make you cry."
"You-you-you...didn't exactly...it-it-it was just...you weren't th-ere wh-en I woke up and...and I thought that you-you said you loved me...just so you-you could do wh-at we did la-last night." Her speech done, Wendy blushed brightly and buried her face once more in her hands.
Peter pursed his lips in exasperation, his mouth twitching as he tried to prise Wendy's fingers away from her burning face.
"I said I loved you...because I love you." He stated simply, holding her fingers within his own to keep them still.
Sniffing, Wendy raised her eyes and peered at him uncertainly.
"You do?"
Smiling crookedly, Peter nodded, dipping his head so that his eyes could meet hers, their candid expression allaying many of her fears. Wendy felt her heart start to beat again as she read the truth in his steady gaze.
"I'm sorry I doubted you," she whispered, "I love you to."
"Good." Peter couldn't keep the grin from his mouth any longer. Wendy saw it and couldn't help a frown drawing her brows together.
"Are you laughing at me?"
The grin still in place, Peter shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't dare...you might start crying again, and I couldn't bear it."
"Oh you're teasing me, you wretch." Unable to stop her lips parting in an answering grin, Wendy felt the tension leech from her body, her hands still held in Peter's, his thumbs stroking over her wrists in a soothing motion.
They sat like that for several minutes, Wendy's slightly uneven breathing settling down the calmer she became, until she gave a final shuddering sigh and a loud sniff. "Peter?"
"Yes?"
"I think I'd like some breakfast now."
As if to punctuate her request, her stomach growled making her blush again and Peter to chuckle softly.
"That sounds like a very good idea. Here, take my hand."
Together they rose to their feet and walked over to the table where Peter had dumped the net holding the fruit he'd picked. While he sorted their breakfast, Wendy picked up a small bucket and went to fill it, glad to have the opportunity to wash her face and hands, her eyes feeling gritty and swollen from her crying.
Sniffing she tried to sort out her confused emotions, the release of tension had given her some clarity regarding the welter of feelings between herself and Peter, but she still felt uneasy about what they'd done and the possible, and quite probable outcome if they continued doing it. At nearly nineteen, Wendy fell ill-equipped to face the possibility of having a child, let alone a child to a magical boy who used to fly, on an island paradise with no apparent modern trappings of any sort. But on the other hand, why was she worrying herself needlessly? In the unlikely event that she had conceived from that one episode, couldn't she just return to her family? Of course, that would mean Peter returning with her as well, and were they any safer there than here even then? Considering what had happened with the book and the person Peter called the Keeper, would they not follow them back to London? Combine all that with the riddle from the book and the talk of prophecy, it fair made a girls' head whirl.
Splashing her face again, Wendy decided to face one problem at a time, her stomach reminding her that it had first call on her immediate attention.
Refilling the bucket, she carried it back to the cabin and set it on the table beside the plates Peter had heaped with their food, the bedraggled flowers filling a battered mug in the center.
Peter regarded her with an enquiring look, his eyes tracing over her features as if to reassure himself she was alright. Wendy returned his scrutiny with a shy smile.
"I'm fine Peter...really I am. Now what did you find for us?"
The next half hour was spent sampling the many fruits he's found in the forest, the variety ranging from nuts and berry's to more exotic fruits with strange names and even stranger tastes to Wendy's London palette.
Once replete, Peter drew Wendy outside and cleared a patch of ground to draw a map.
"We're here, roughly speaking," he pointed to a cross surrounded by a circle to represent the fort, "and here is the volcano," he plonked down a cone shaped rock near to the circle. Next he drew a wriggly line, "this is Cannibal Creek and the Indian camp, it's not their main camp, that's over here on the shore, and here is the coastline and the Sisters." He drew all the main features before sitting back on his haunches and staring intently at the map, tipping his head to look at it from different angles and adjusting one or two lines before being satisfied.
"That's as close as I can make it...I don't know this area completely, having only flown over it, but I reckon that we need to go this way to reach the Indian's, then from there we can take a canoe down the creek to the sea to find the Nymph if she's up anchored to search for us."
"Is that likely?" Wendy asked, looking at the distance drawn in the dirt by Peter's stick with misgivings.
"If Hook is breathing down their necks, it's possible."
"But Peter...it looks so far."
"I know...but we can make it. And I might be able to shorten the trip if I can find..."
"A guide? You said something before about that." Wendy remarked.
"Yeah...a guide." Peter tapped the map with the end of his stick, a serious expression on his face.
"What would they do...if you found them?"
"Well...it's only a rumour, but it's always been known that there is a path through the mountain, under the volcano, which brings you out the other side and cuts two days off the trip around on foot, or so I've heard."
"But you don't know for sure?"
"That's why I'd need to find the guide."
"And are they only a rumour too?" Wendy's acerbic remark made Peter give her a lopsided grin.
"Kinda...it's told that an old hermit...actually an old pirate, took to the hills a long time ago and found the tunnel through the mountain while in search of a hidden treasure. If we can find the hermit, we find the tunnel."
"Oh...a hermit. I still think it would be a lot easier if we could just fly out of here." Wendy muttered, receiving a dark look from Peter.
"If I could, I would." He retorted crossly.
"Aren't there any fairies around here?"
"No."
"Oh."
They sat for a moment, pondering the map and the trek to come.
"How do we find this hermit?" Wendy asked finally.
"Well if what I saw this morning it correct...he's already found us."
"He's found us? What did you see?"
"Evidence that there's someone else hunting in the immediate area around the fort."
Wendy stared at him mutely. Using his fingers Peter wiped out the map, dusting his hand off on his breeches before rising up and flinging the stick away.
"So what do you want to do...do we stay here? Or find this Hermit?" Wendy asked, accepting his hand to help her rise.
"I think we should start to prepare to leave, but wait another day and leave tomorrow. By then, whoever is out there will either make themselves known before we leave, or we'll meet them on the trail."
"Which would you prefer?" Wendy asked, rubbing her arms from a sudden chill that chased over her skin.
"Doesn't matter...it'll be up to them to decided."
For the rest of the day they worked together to fashion ways and means of carrying necessary supplies with them for the trek back to Cannibal Creek. Peter was going to carry their food supply, a net lined with a voluminous cambric petticoat and tied with rope making a secure back pack while he used a leather belt to hold a variety of weapons and tools across his chest and around his hips. None of the swords in the armory were fit to use, being rusted beyond help, but he had found a number of knifes stored within oil soaked wrappings that had remained sharp with blades bright as new. Wendy had managed to salvage a variety of clothing to give both Peter and herself a change of clothes, as well as footwear for the journey. She also managed to find several lengths of not-too-badly moth-eaten blanketing fabric at the back of the cupboard which would serve as bedding for them. These lengths were rolled or folded as small as possible and packed into another makeshift pack that Wendy would carry, along with a couple of buckets to heat food over a fire or carry water with. When it was all hoisted onto her shoulders to adjust the ropes and padding needed to stop them chafing, the hanging buckets made such a noise she suggested she take up a career as a one-man-band, needing only a drum at her side and cymbals on her knees.
Their traveling supplies wrapped, packed and sorted, Peter and Wendy spread out several jackets and coats on top of the long weeds and created a cleared area to have a later afternoon picnic. The sun poured into the compound despite the towering trees surrounding the fort, warming the ground and making everything drowsy with heat. Wendy lay back on the mat of clothes and stared up at the clouds scudding overhead, an apple in her hand which she nibbled lazily. Peter lay on his side beside her, his head resting on his hand as he chewed a thick stem of grass, the fat seed head waggling up and down as he worked it between his teeth.
"If this hermit doesn't decide to make an appearance, how long will it take to go around the volcano?"
"Four days...possibly five."
"And if you didn't have me to slow you down?"
"You won't slow us down."
"You didn't answer my question...how long would it take if I wasn't here."
"I don't know." Peter replied evasively.
"I think you do."
"Well, even if I did, it's a stupid question because I'm not leaving you behind."
"It would mean you'd reach the Nymph more quickly and then you could send back a rescue party to collect me."
"No...No...and No!" Peter almost shouted at her, scowling furiously.
"It was only a suggestion." Wendy murmured, secretly pleased that he didn't resent having her along. Feeling tired, Wendy closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun carry off into a light sleep, the sound of the insects chirruping, and the bees buzzing soothing her. Peter gazed down at her as she slept and wondered if his plan to get them back to the safety of the Nymph was going to succeed. Keeping his misgivings about their journey was becoming harder and harder for him to conceal, his worries about Wendy's ability to cope with the arduous trek ahead of them almost causing him to abandon the idea and wait out a rescue by the crew of the Nymph at the fort. But he also knew that Hook was out there, and if he knew his enemy's tactics, the wily pirate was already stalking the Nymph, both at sea and on land, awaiting his chance to ambush and take either Wendy or the Oracle or both if given half a chance. With what he knew about the Keeper, on top of everything else, he didn't think that entity was going to sit back tamely and let Peter throw away the opportunity to become Ruler of Neverland, not if the creature could manipulate the current vulnerability at all to its ultimate goal. Having Peter and Wendy cut off from their loyal crew and the shelter of the Nymph placed them in a serious situation if Hook got wind of it, so Peter was prepared to give up their present, relatively comfortably bolt hole in exchange for keeping one step ahead of their enemy, be they mortal or immortal.
Yawning widely, Peter let his eyes droop shut, the sun and drone of insects lulling him into a light doze, the soft brush of the breeze bringing the scent of flowers as he slipped into sleep.
From his perch up high in the fork of a tree, the hermit looked down on the week choked compound and watched the young couple laid down among the weeds. He'd smelt the smoke of their fire the night before, the allure of human company too rare to pass up. He had watched the young man hunt in the forest the evening before and envied the fresh meat cooked over the open flame. Still ensconced in his arboreal roost, he'd watched the same young man return with a net full of fruit and an incongruous bunch of flowers, the young couples reunion obviously not going as expected until they disappeared indoors, removing them from the hermit's sight. Later he watched as the girl approached the half-hidden well and filled her bucket, splashing her face and staring down into the water, lost in thought. As the day progressed he shifted his cramp limbs at regular intervals, entertained by the comings and goings below and now watched as the young people appeared to sleep on a collection of old clothes. Gathering his tattered cloak about his shoulders, he carefully descended the tree, his gnarled hands finding the familiar knots and branches as easily as he'd once climbed the rigging of the ships he'd crewed. Landing lightly on the leafy ground, he approached the vine covered walls of the old fort and ran his fingers over the wood, keeping contact with the wall as he walked carefully around the perimeter, approaching the sagging gate.
An alarm call from a bird made his freeze against the log wall, his cloak blending in with the shadows thrown by the trees, his eyes darting left and right in preparation for flight if need be. After long minutes the bird ceased its loud chirping and flew away, the hermit once more edging towards the opening to the fort. Treading lightly, he eased his way through the narrow gap and slunk against the interior palisade, the rank weeds hiding the young people from his immediate view. Slowly he made his way around the perimeter, drawing ever closer, his bare feet silent against the dusty ground, his cloak whispering against the weeds like a breeze. He was close enough to see the dusky blue of the girls dress, her hair spread out like spun gold around her head, catching glints from the sun. Closer still he crept, parting the stalks of the grass with his fingers like an animal stalking its prey, his eyes fixed on the girl slumbering unaware only a few feet in front of him. Once he was close enough to see clearly, he paused, his teeth bared as he slowed his breathing, his eyes watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept, his lips pulling into a grin of anticipation as he prepared to leap.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
As the voice froze his body, a blade pressed against his neck beneath the course hair, sliding over his skin like a deadly caress until it came to rest against his jugular, pricking the flesh to convey its intent.
"Now you wouldn't be wanting to harm me, young master, I be only a helpless old man come to see who trespasses in places long forgotten by Neverland."
"Old man maybe...helpless, I beg to differ. On your feet."
Responding to the press of the blade, the hermit rose unsteadily to his feet, his hands held up in surrender as the owner of the blade drew it around the old man's neck as he turned to face his attacker.
Peter held his blade to the man's throat while he assessed whether it was safe to release him. The hermit, for what was who Peter suspected him to be, was a scrawny specimen under his enveloping cloak of rags, the old man's hair quite as grey as the long beard covering his lower face. Only the eyes belied the frail posture, their boot black glitter keeping Peter on his guard as he surveyed their supposed guide.
"Peter?" Wendy's questioning voice behind him didn't draw his attention from his prisoner, Peter keeping the blade under the man's chin.
"Our guide has decided to join us at last Wendy."
A rustle behind him warned him she was coming up beside him. "Don't come too close, I don't know yet if he's friend or foe."
"But he's only an old man Peter...surely.."
Swallowing, the hermit lifted his lips in a grisly parody of a smile, his toothless mouth. "Listen to the young lady, master, she has the right of it...I is only an old man..."
"...Once a pirate aboard the Jolly Roger, and just as treacherous as any of his breed." Peter finished, never taking his attention off from the Hermit.
"What is your name?" Wendy asked, darting a glance at Peter's profile before sending an encouraging smile the old man's way.
"Why I used to be called Black Hearted Bart, in my younger days you understand...but now I just call's meself Bart."
"Well Bart...don't be fooled by this young lady's gentle demeanor, I am Captain Pan of the Nymph, and..."
"Captain Pan? Not Peter Pan?" Bart's body quivered and dropped him to his knees, his head bowing down at Peter's feet in abject obeyance. "Oh have pity on an old pirate, Master Pan...have pity!"
Peter looked taken aback at the man's groveling, his head turning to meet Wendy's gaze, her hand coming up to rest on his arm.
"We don't want to harm you Bart...quite the opposite," said Wendy, gesturing over the old man's head for Peter to put away his weapon.
Peter rolled his eyes and did as she silently asked before folding his arms over his chest and glaring down at the prostrate man on the ground.
Peter cleared his throat. "We need you to show us the way through the volcano...do you know it?"
"Oh yes Master...I knows it well, I can take you right through the heart and out the other side...just have pity on these old bones..."
Exasperated, Peter put a hand under the hermit's arm and yanked him back onto his feet. "Get up...I won't harm you."
"The sun's starting to go down Peter...should we make a start now, or wait until morning?" Wendy asked, glancing up at the sky.
"If we leave now, we'll have to camp in the forest." Peter explained, biting his lip.
"I can show Master Pan the best places to sleep...places Hook won't be able to find us in, that's for bloomin' sure."
"Hook! What do you know of Hook?"
"I knows that yours wasn't the only fire to draw old Bart to see who was invading his home."
"Hook's here?" Wendy gasped, her hand going to her throat.
"Near as within spittin' distance." Bart answered, his eyes assessing the glance exchanged between the two before resuming his obsequious stance.
"If he's close, we can't afford to spend another night here, I can't defend us if Hook corners us within these walls."
"Then let's go...right now." Wendy immediately turned away to hurry towards the cabin, her skirts held clear of the weeds. Peter turned back and gave the hermit a close look before fully sheathing his dagger and holding out his hand to the old man.
"Will you guide us to the hidden passage under the mountain?"
"That I will young master...you and your young lady, for sure I will." Spitting noisily, the hermit anointed his hand before holding it out for Peter to take. Peter did the same and the two shook hands, sealing the bargain.
"We weren't able to pack up all the food I'd gathered, do you want to add to your own supplies from our surplus?"
Receiving an eager nod in reply, Peter turned to lead the old man towards the cabin, the sun casting long shadows over the sun warmed weeds and hinting at the night to soon follow.
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TBC...