I'm not even going to give you an apology for this one. I'm just going to go straight into the excuse. MY PARENTS BECAME WEREWOLVES! I ONLY LIVED OFF BARK AND THE BLOOD OF MY FRIENDS FOR WEEKS!
Um… *cough*. That was actually more pathetic than an apology, so I think I'll go back to the truth. A full schedule of Honors Classes, with two EOC tests and final exams in each. Also, alluding to this first week of my summer where I have done nothing, I got my wisdom teeth out the first day out of school, and am only just now getting off the medication, which was not mixing well with my stress problems, summer project, and things scheduled by my school clubs. So I'm hoping that after today I can get back in the swing of things. But if I promise, you'll probably x out of this chapter, so I'll just finish by adding that I'm not sure if I'm going to do anything with my Glee and Naruto/Inception fics anytime soon, and I have a My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic OC fic I'm about to put up that I'm making for my friends, plus an Inkheart based MEGA fic that I really want to do to span over everything I know and love. But yeah, I might have to plan that one out, or maybe I'll just start writing it. (Maybe eventually I'll actually find an ORIGINAL idea I can stick to as well).
Disclaimer: I'm still too sleepy for this. But yeah, yeah, any idea that is real and owned in reality of this fic (I.e, Everything Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan) belongs to someone else entirely.
With a determined roar, Alice threw herself against the dagger once more, jabbing its blade into the tree. And yes, she had stolen the dagger again, slipping back into the play area before she couldn't find her way back. It wasn't hurting her conscience very much.
Neverland had just been thrown on her, more abruptly than even her beloved Wonderland- at least she'd more or less walked into that one. Wandering away from her engagement party after a rabit with a pocket watch- she'd practically asked for a major hiccup in the system like an entirely different world, there. But this time, she didn't feel like she deserved it. Nor had she dreamed of this place through her childhood, woken up from nightmares with wild stories about pirates and Indians on her lips- it was simply chance, this time, and she was carving her own fate, making enemies as she went- first James Hook, his already annihilated sidekick Smee, and now a young boy named Peter Pan, whose power rested solely in his name and connections.
She pulled the knife so that it carved the final stroke in a letter E. She smirked, examining her handiwork. She hoped the natives were as superstitious as she was guessing, otherwise Peter would control every inch of the land, never allowing her a moment's rest.
Yes, she'd done a good job of identifying her enemies. She'd most likely alienated most things that breathed on this island by angering Pan, the boy who swam with those deceitful mermaids, whom most Indian tribes accepted as an honorary member, who chatted with fairies like their tinkling was his mother tongue, who kept the pirates at arms length at most all times- in the few days since she'd deserted Pan and his boys, she hadn't been able to curl up under a tree without hearing some indignant little voice hiss his name, as if the boy was hiding in the roots below her head. Alice almost admired it. If she hadn't seen his innocence for herself, she would have expected Peter Pan to be a minor god of these parts, someone as loving and warm as the queen of Wonderland, or perhaps just cunning and manipulative enough to steal the minds and pump the heartbeats of anything that moved. Having met him, however, she would have preferred such guesses to the real thing- a brainless, charming, oversized little boy with no true concept of reality was impossible to work with, much too hard-headed to be pleased.
She got a firm grip on the branches of one of those ridiculous whispering trees and attempted to lift herself high up. She worked hard to pull herself unnecessarily through the leaves and thorns- she had never thought automatic regrooming would be a detriment, but it was proving a difficulty to her plans. Not that she was completely certain the details were necessary, but… It was hours later, in which Alice had to mess up her hair and reapply dirt to her skin twice, that a distant march could be heard through the close-hanging trees.
The tribe that approached her little circle of an opening in the forest was not Tiger Lily's. In fact, Knife Tamer, the tribe's leader, had no children and had refused to take a wife. There was nothing to link the Lost Boys through to this coarse, unimpressionable man, and so Peter and the Boys steered clear of his tribe. Knife Tamer was his real name, of course. Official names were chosen when children turned fifteen and, more often then not, suited the one named perfectly.
Once Knife Tamer and two other high ranking men had entered, Knife Tamer gave a sharp order in a practiced, tearing screech of a voice. He'd apparently yelled for a halt, because the two men on either side of him had frozen. No other foot even hinted at entering the space, not even a curious child's. He started an unimpressed pace around the area, stopping at each tree. Alice wasn't very confident now, even as the man traced his fingers over her markings in the tree. If he couldn't speak English, she doubted he'd be able to read it. Here, right now, he was staring at the one she'd inscribed with the words "LET LIVE THE ALICE". He looked at them each in turn, from "LUCK AWARDED TO CARE" to her final "PAIN FOR PAIN OF THE ALICE". It had been harder than she'd thought, to carve these messages into these trees. She'd simply been worried the tribe to find them wouldn't believe in them; she hadn't considered a language barrier. She still hadn't decided whether or not she should move when the angry looking man finally laid eyes on her. She was hanging upside down from a tree branch, by one foot she'd purposefully caught in between some branches. Her clothes were messed up, though her skin was already attempting to clean itself- her hair was still full of twigs, but not quite as tangled as she meant it to be in this moment. She didn't move. She refused to blink, and breathed as slowly as it was possible to do. She wasn't sure whether it would be best for them to think she was dead, but a near death state would be lovely. She stared back unblinkingly when the chief stared evenly into her eyes.
He began to tear-screech his orders again, and she did her best not to flinch.
"I say we should let her be ripped to shreds," Peter repeated, pretending to look in each tree he flew by, barely focusing his gaze. Wendy was walking below him, and he had his voice just at a volume he expected she could hear. "She's already been out here for days, she more than likely already is."
"Peter!" Wendy snapped, gripping Michael's shoulders when the boy's eyes went wide. "Don't say such things!"
"Well, it's true. Only Indians or fully certified Lost Boys can travel through this forest long without being killed. Girls get eaten within hours, they're favorites of the predators out here- especially ones who smell like flowers, they hate when their good meat smells like veggies, so they get angry."
Tootles's lower lip trembled, but he was the youngest of the boys who'd opted to come on with this search party, and every other child present attempted to look as if this information was just rolling off their backs. They didn't look up, or where they were going, and should one of them run into a tree, he would glare at it, as if daring it to accuse him of smelling like flowers.
Wendy wished she had something to throw at him, so he could come down and see the damage his was doing to his charges. But she had nothing, so she just put her hands over Tootles's ears, until he shook her off, the youngest present but still not keen on being babied. Sometimes she wondered if the island truly stopped aging at all.
Tinker Bell was giving Peter a fairly concentrated look, as if trying to solve a puzzle.
"And what are you thinking so hard about?" Wendy asked irritably, nearly swatting it from the boiling warm air beside her. Tinker Bell had apparently found the new arrival a more pressing matter (or more easily dealt with matter) than the fairly settled Mother Wendy. Rather then pull her hair and stick her tongue out at Wendy for speaking to her in the first place, Tink winked almost conspiratorially at her and floated up silkily to Peter, mischief on her face. The blonde girl on the ground frowned as the fairy tinkled in his ear. She really must remember to have Peter teach her fairy talk sometime. She simply could never get the knack of it by ear, as presumably Peter had.
The boy didn't appear to be listening, as he was lounging midair with the sun on his face, but that didn't mean much. And then his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at the light in his eyes, as if the concept of such a thing as sunlight was beginning to escape him. Then he was suddenly upright, and he said-
"You know what- you gotta point, Tink. Who are we looking for again, Wendy? You're the only lady who's ever been around here."
Wendy scolded herself sharply at the relaxing, bouncy feeling that filled her stomach. Darn it, a good person wouldn't have been so happy, stupidly cheerful and even admittedly smug to find Peter was forgetting this Alice girl as easily as a passing fairy. They needed him to remember, to keep him on the search, and heavens, he certainly didn't need encouragement to forget more than he already did!
"Why if I'm not a clapping bunny basket's whisker doo-hicker," a smooth, soft voice came from the trees. The procession froze instantly, and Pan was on the ground, on high alert.
The warm air was disconcerting, almost more difficult to deal with than cold as the group stayed still, listening. No other noise was made. Nothing moved. Peter focused as completely as he could on the trees around them, looking as hard as he'd looked for anything in his life. He was the father, he would protect them, and nobody would ever slander his name. Michael tried to ask Wendy something, but she put a hand over his mouth, signaling to everyone else with a single finger to stay silent. Peter wasn't sure his own heart was still making noise.
"Why are we being so quiet?" the smooth voice whispered, curious, into Peter's ear.
The group dispersed so fast the Mad Hatter was left completely and utterly bewildered, staring at the places in the trees they'd attempted to disappear that he knew they still hid at. His pale, painted face was bemused as he focused on one area that moved, one that one of the smallest children had vanished to. The traveling hat on his head was purple, his favorite, and sized so that though it looked about three times too big for his head, it actually fit him perfectly. His suit was very nice and neat, nothing from his travels showed to mess with his appearance. He sucked in grandly, then spit a full puddle right into the ground at his feet, waiting for the ripples to settle so he could see himself properly. No, his eyes were still bright and somewhat glowing, his hair still its magnificent orange. Why were they hiding from him?
"Hello," the Hatter called, stepping over his puddle towards the tree.
Wendy grabbed Tootles's arm and tore off, screaming "Run!" back to the others. Peter appeared in the clearing again, though the Hatter had really never lost track of him, and knocked him flat on his back, sitting on his chest. He fingered his belt with a triumphant expression.
When he realized his weapon was missing again, the loud string of curses he gave was nearly a whine. Suddenly, he remembered exactly who they'd come out here after. And until he had his weapon back, he was determined not to forget it again.
Hmm… I'm not sure how I did with the Hatter. Ah, well, I've been desperate to do this next chapter for ages. And yeah, Knife Tamer… I made him up. Does the name sound awkward? I'm not sure. Please review, and so sorry again for leaving you guys hanging for what- half a year? More? I don't even remember anymore. I'm sure everyone gave up on this, so…. (curls up in corner and tries to think of more stories). Yeah.