10/10/06
Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Three - The Banquet
Rating: PG13
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Peter took Wendy on a different route back to the Hollow, showing her other places of interest, some distant spirals of smoke indicating the location of the Indian village, a destination Peter promised to show her the next day. As soon as they both touched down the tree and surrounding foliage once more erupted with the appearance of the Lost Boys, Crate heading the posse as they surrounded their leader and Wendy.
"Wotcha Peter," called one of the boys, grinning from ear to ear. Peter turned to Wendy and indicated the cheeky boy.
"This is Top Hat."
Wendy stared at the boys' head gear and thought how appropriate his name, even if his hat was showing distinct signs of significant wear to the point of almost losing it's black crown.
"How do you do?" Wendy asked politely, the boy executing a small bow, the grin firmly in place. After that each of the other boys wanted to be introduced and Peter signaled each one forward in his turn.
"This is Stretch," Peter told her, indicating a thin, willowy boy with an elfin face, his bare arms well defined and belying his fragile appearance.
"I looks weak, but I'm tough as old boots...ain't I Peter?" Peter nodded in agreement.
"I'm sure you are," Wendy agreed, thinking privately that the boy looked as if he could do with a good meal once in a while.
"This one if called Rat," Peter indicated one of the smaller boys, the child's pointed face almost twitching like his name-sake. "He's the best at getting into small and difficult places, and sniffing out the best game trails as well as setting traps."
"How do you do Rat," Wendy inclined her head, the boy called Rat giving her a nervous smile before scuttling off to hide behind the others. The next boy appeared to bristle with weaponry, his outfit of skins and feathers looking fierce and intimidating, made all the more by his beefy frame and bright red hair.
"Name's Squid," the boy announced, not waiting for Peter to speak, "I'm the points man and tracker. Best of the bunch for setting an ambush and coshing the enemy."
"I'm sure you are, Squid," Wendy replied, shooting a glance at Peter before giving the boy a smile. Squid didn't smile back but instead cleared his throat noisily before spitting a wad of mucus an impressive distance.
"And I can spit the furthest, so there!" Squid announced before turning his back and swaggering behind his mates.
Crate was the next to push himself forward, his chin thrust upwards belligerently. He stood staring at Wendy as if daring her to make a comment, Peter remaining quiet as the boy and Wendy faced off.
"Hello Crate...that is your name, isn't it?"
"It is. I'm the eldest and been here the longest of the boys. I'm Peter's first mate and best fighter."
"As you showed us all today Crate. Is my being here going to be a problem?" Wendy eyed the scowling boy with some misgivings, his dark eyes searing her. "Do you hate me so much?"
Abruptly Crate's expression cleared and he looked down at his feet. "Don't hate you," he muttered, scuffing his feet, "just, girls are always so bossy and wantin' a bloke to always wash his neck and mind 'is manners."
Wendy manfully controlled the nervous giggles welling up in her throat, the boy in front of her obviously trying hard not to insult his leaders new companion. "If I promise not to mention your neck or your manners?" Wendy asked, exchanging a glance with Peter who had remained silent throughout the conversation.
"Guess that would be alright...seein' as 'ow your wearing the green, does that mean your going to be our mother?"
Wendy gasped and choked a little. "I'm a little young to be anyone's mother Crate..." she felt a small hand tug at the leaves at her hip. Looking down she saw the smallest member of the Lost Boys staring up at her from his grubby face, huge brown eyes pleadingly begging her.
"Please be our mother...I miss mine, an' if the other's wos truthful, they'd tell you they miss theirs, an' all."
"What's your name?" Wendy asked. Peter answered, his lips quirking up at the corners.
"That's Grub...he looks small and innocent but he's the best thief in the gang. He'd lift the hair off your head and you'd never know it was going!"
Wendy stared down at the small boy, his face now lit with a wide, gap-toothed grin, bathing in Peter's approval and approbation. "Just as well I have nothing worth stealing then, isn't it?"
Peter was looking around the glade for the last member of the troop, seeing a tousled head hiding behind the broad trunk of the Hollow tree. "Come on out Harry and meet Wendy...what'cha hiding for, back there?"
Harry appeared in answer to Peter's summons, the slender boy shuffling forward to stand at the front of the group. He was almost as tall as Crate, but much more delicate looking, the shaggy cut black hair brushed forward to almost obscure the fine featured face. Blue eyes peered at Wendy out from under the thick fringe.
"Hello Harry...I hope you weren't hiding from me?"
"No." Harry flicked his shadowed gaze over to Peter then back to Wendy. "Are you going to marry Peter an' have babies and stuff?"
"Good Lord," Wendy blushed furiously, her startled gaze taking in the interested looks of the boys and the amused look painting Peter's face. "Well, as I said before, I think I'm too young to be anyone's mother, let alone my have my own children."
"But you could marry Peter, couldn't you? If you love him, of course?"
"Oh I don't think...that is...well...this really isn't the time to...oh dear...um..." Wendy trailed off, her face as pink as a strawberry.
"Okay you lot...enough with the questions. Who's on provisions duty tonight?" Peter's voice broke in to the pregnant pause after Harry's unanswerable question. Immediately the boys broke out into a chorus of replies and recriminations, refuting ownership of the chores needed to be done and generally blaming everyone but themselves for no supper on the table. Harry had melted back into the throng while Wendy spun on her heel and walked a way a few steps, fanning herself to bring her hot face under control. Having dispatched the boys with orders to get a meal on the table, Peter casually walked over to where Wendy stood. She was standing with her hands pressed to her cheeks in a vain attempt to leach the wash of color from her skin, giving a startled jump when Peter laid his warm hand on her shoulder.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?"
"Yes...of course. It's just a little warm, don't you think?"
"Certainly warmer than your world," Peter quipped, coming around to face her, his stormy green eyes intent on her face. "Would it be so bad to marry me?"
"Peter, how can you ask that?" Wendy answered breathlessly, her fading blush returning with a vengeance.
"Well?"
"I don't know you...and...and...I'm only supposed to be here for a visit, not forever."
"I know enough, why don't you?"
"Because...well because I don't. Good grief, I've heard of brief courtships, but this is ridiculous. And anyway...you haven't asked me!"
"If I did...would you say yes?"
Totally flustered, Wendy spun away from him, her eyes darting around the glade for some sort of escape. Peter wouldn't give up and darted around to stand in front of her again. Wendy couldn't understand how the conversation had progressed so far out of control and tried to push past him. Peter pushed back and Wendy found herself held in place by his grip on her upper arms.
"You like to kiss me...don't you?" He asked, his eyes locked with hers. Wendy felt her knees start to weaken as she moistened her lips before replying.
"I...yes."
"And you don't mind sleeping next to me?"
"Peter, that's hardly proper..."
"Don't you?"
"No...I don't mind."
"Then you don't mind the idea of being married to me, do you?"
"What?" Wendy asked confusedly. Peter shook her lightly.
"Isn't that what married people do? They kiss and sleep in the same bed and stay together forever?"
"I suppose so...but...but..."
"And now you can fly and Neverland has obviously accepted you..." Peter continued, his face breaking out into the wickedest grin.
"Wait a minute...what do you mean Neverland's accepted me? How do you know?"
Peter's gaze flicked down to take in her new outfit, so similar, but not the same as his. "Why do you think the Lost Boys have to run around in animal skins and feathers? The bushes don't clothe just anyone, in fact, as far as I know, I'm the only one that they do this for...before you."
"Oh," Wendy's lips remained shaped around that simple reply, dumbfounded to have been chosen by an entire world to be worthy. Worthy of what she wasn't about to question too deeply. Taking advantage of her distraction, Peter swooped down and captured her pursed lips with his own, his tongue darting out and touching hers in a delightfully sinful way that made goose bumps break out all over Wendy's body. The kiss lasted for several seconds before a snort of disgust behind them drew them apart, Peter looking over his shoulder to find Grub standing a little way off, his face screwed up into an expression of extreme repugnance.
"Well that looked truly 'orrible. Is that wot married people do? Try an' suck each uvver's faces off?" Grub asked, blowing out his cheeks and making gagging sounds.
"What do you want Grub?" Peter asked, letting his hands drop from Wendy's arms and folding them instead over his chest before frowning down at the smallest member of the Lost Boys.
"The boys said to tell you...an' 'er..."
"Wendy," Peter corrected.
"Wendy...that the blanket is ready for you, if'n you want to come and scoff."
"Thank you Grub...we'll be along directly."
Peter waited for Grub to disappear through one of the trees' many hidden entrances before turning back to Wendy. He leant forward to resume what they'd been doing before Grub interrupted, but Wendy nimbly danced out of his reach.
"Blanket?" Wendy asked, dodging to the side when Peter made to lunge at her, his teeth bared in a teasing grin.
"I think Grub meant banquet," Peter explained, his arms out wide to snag Wendy as she made to dodge past him. Catching her about the waist, he picked her up off the ground and swung her around before dropping her back on to her feet again. Wendy was laughing, the sound abruptly cut off when Peter bent down and hoisted her once more over his shoulder, her legs kicking while she pummeled his back with her fists.
"Let me down you...you...brute!" Wendy gasped between giggles, Peter swatting her leaf covered bottom before upending her on to her feet once more. She staggered a little and Peter held her steady while she pushed her hair out of her face from being upside down moments before.
"That was a dirty trick Peter...you're so much stronger than me!"
"And you're lighter than a feather and so easy to tease," Peter replied, darting away when Wendy made to rabbit-punch him on the arm. "Come on, I'm hungry and I'm sure you are by now."
"I have to admit, although a lady would never say so...but I'm ravenous!"
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The Hollow was the picture of chaos when Wendy and Peter appeared. The boys were racing around the cavern, a large trestle table now dominating the center of the room. As each passed the table they dropped an empty wooden platter or bowl onto the scarred and scratched surface, the noise of the boys' haphazard table dressing adding to the general cacophony. Peter passed a hand over his face before bunching his fists on his hips and roaring a command for silence. Everyone froze for a second, eyes swiveling to their leader. A second later they resumed their peculiar table setting, this time in relative quiet, even setting down the last of the bowls and plates with a more gentle hand. As Wendy, led by Peter, approached the table the Lost Boys scrambled for their stools then sat watching Peter expectantly. Wendy, bemused and a little bewildered, sat in the chair Peter indicated, the table in front of her almost covered in a strange collection of carved, but quite empty, clean wooden bowls of differing shapes and sizes. Peter took his seat at the head of the table, sending Wendy a warm smile before plopping down in his chair. The boys now looked at their leader in mute appeal, very much like a gang of puppies faced with a mountain of food and waiting for the office to start digging in. To Wendy the bowls and plates all looked empty and she wondered if, belatedly, she was expected to produce the food they waited for. Instead she looked down the table at Peter and tried to catch his eye in silent inquiry. Peter saw her look and just grinned, turning his attention to assessing the boys ranged down either side of the long table.
"Stretch...your turn tonight."
"Really Peter?...Oh bang on!" Stretch exchanged grins with his table mates before rising to his feet and standing with his hands braced on the table edge. The other boys looked expectantly at Stretch, licking their lips as if he was the main course of their intended meal. Wendy watched mystified, Peter dropping her a slow wink and silently telling her to wait. Stretch closed his eyes and she could see his lips moving, a whoop startling her and drew her attention back to the length of the table only to find that the formerly empty bowls were now piled high with food of a staggering variety. The Lost Boys were digging their hands in to mounds of steaming, fragrant meat and vegetables, every bowl and platter full to overflowing with vittles. Wendy gasped and stared round eyed at the banquet laid out before her. One second the table had been empty, now it was groaning under it's laden surface, steam and delicious smells filling the Hollow and making her mouth water.
"Dig in Wendy...help yourself," Peter's voice broke in to her stupor and she stared down the table at him.
"How?" She asked, watching in fascination as Rat stuffed his mouth so that his cheeks bulged like his namesake.
"Magic," Peter stated simply, reaching across and snagging what looked like nearly a whole cooked chicken off the mound in front of him. "It was Stretch's turn to choose and this is what he imagined."
"Imagined?" Wendy squeaked, looking in appalled disappointment at the mountains of food, "then this isn't real?"
"A real as you want it to be...try something!"
Curious but wary, Wendy stared at the bowls of food and tried to select something that hadn't suffered too badly from the boys depredations. As nearly everything was being eaten with their fingers, Wendy was a little put off by the state of the boys hands, no attempt having been made to wash up before the meal. To her surprise a bowl of water seemed to appear at her elbow, the surface steaming a little. Cautiously Wendy touched the water with a fingertip, finding the liquid just right for washing. Dipping her hands fully into the finger bowl she vigorously cleaned her hands, shaking them afterwards and wiping them dry on a tiny hand towel that appeared off to the side. Peter looked on in open amusement while the boys gaped at their guest as she finished her ablutions. Her ritual concluded, the bowl and crumpled towel disappeared when Wendy looked away, her surprise to find them gone a second later making Peter laugh out loud. Nettled by his amusement at her ignorance, Wendy ignored him and lifted a small wooden bowl to scoop out some delicious looking rice and vegetable mixture in a bowl largely untouched by the ravenous horde. Among the scattered receptacles on the table she spotted a delicately carved spoon, proving perfect for her to eat her meal with. Down at his end, Peter had finished his demolition of the chicken, the bones magically vanishing once he set the waste bowl aside, his attention all on Wendy and her quiet way of eating, so different from the way the boys ripped, stuffed and crammed their food as fast as possible into their mouths. Picking up a small bowl for himself, he carefully scooped out a serving of savory smelling stew from a big cauldron in the center of the table which had remained untasted until now. Still watching the way Wendy ate, Peter sat back in his chair and stared down at the stew. On any other day he would have brought the bowl to his mouth and pushed the contents into his mouth with his fingers. Today he decided to try something different. Looking down he saw the end of a spoon half hidden behind a bowl. Picking it up he leant over his bowl of stew, gripped his spoon in his fist and dug in.
Looking up from her own meal, Wendy was surprised to see Peter emulating her at his end of the table. Unlike the boys, he was spooning his food into his mouth, his blond head bent over his bowl in obvious concentration as he carefully ate. As if feeling her gaze, Peter lifted his head and met her eyes down the length of the table. They stayed staring at each other for a long minute, spoons poised before lips, each a mirror image of the other. Then one of the boys burped loudly, and the moment was broken, Wendy ducking her head and Peter slowly resuming his first attempt at polite eating. The meal was noisy but blessedly short, the younger boys quickly stuffing themselves to the full before reeling away from the table one after another to collapse groaning on their sleeping ledges, leaving Peter and Wendy alone at the table. The table itself was like a battle field with tipped over bowls and food splattered all over the surface. Only down Wendy's end was there any semblance of order or a cleared space. Having eaten her fill, Wendy sipped at a wooden beaker, the fruit juice inside cool and sweet as it slipped down her throat.
Peter sat back in his own chair and rubbed his stomach, his hand reaching for a mug and emptying the contents into his mouth. Setting the mug back on the table he reached up to wipe the back of his hand across his lips as he usually did, but just as he was about to, Wendy caught his eye and shook her head. It was the tiniest of movements but enough to forestall Peter, his hand dropping from his face. Looking for something else to use, he saw a piece of cloth poking out from under one of the discarded plates at his elbow. Pulling it out, he swiped it over his mouth, Wendy indicating her approval with an incline of her head. All around the room she could hear the groans and soft moans of over stuffed boys, the seemingly everlasting lamps flickering around the wall starting to automatically reduce their flames, imbuing the Hollow with shadows in preparation for the Lost Boy's sleeping. Both Wendy and Peter, having slept earlier on, were not remotely tired, Peter already thinking on the places he would take Wendy once the boys were truly asleep. Thinking along similar lines, Wendy rose from her chair and came to sit on a vacated stool beside Peter.
"Do you think the boys would like to hear a bedtime story?" She asked, ignoring the heaped mountain of washing up spread over the table. Peter rested his elbows on the table and leant forward towards her.
"Do you know a bedtime story? If you did, it would surely send them off to sleep. Then I can take you out to see Neverland after dark." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Wendy giggled.
"I know many stories. I used to tell them to my brothers when they were little..." she tailed off, mention of her brothers making her remember the family left behind in London. Her throat suddenly felt tight and her eyes burned as she fought the urge to cry, reminding herself that she was only here for a visit, not forever. Lifting her head, she smiled brightly at Peter, ignoring the crease of inquiry begging a question in his expression. "I know stories about kings and queens and princes and princesses, ogres and giants, pirates and mermaids".
"Am I in any of those stories?" Peter asked, grinning back.
"Not those stories...but you could be?" Wendy replied, lowering her eyes. "I could tell new stories, with you as the hero, if you wanted."
"I'd like that." He smiled warmly at her, reaching out a finger to smooth against her cheek as she stared back at him expectantly. "But for the time being, I think a story would be an excellent idea. I used to know a girl," his brow creased as he tried to remember, " a long time ago, who used to tell stories...but they never were about me." Getting to his feet, Peter addressed the room and it's occupants. "Wendy has offered to tell a story, what do ya say boys?"
At once the moaning and groaning ceased and the boys sent up a chorus of excited replies, Wendy finding herself pulled and propelled to sit on the mossy carpet, a semi circle of eager faces surrounding her. All trace of lethargy had gone and all of them focused their bright, intent gazes on the girl at their center. Wendy, flattered by their obvious eagerness, folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, mentally sorting through her varied collection of stories, picking one that would hold their interest. While the small audience settled down, Peter sat himself on his barbarous throne, his gaze intent on Wendy so that when she opened her eyes, his were the first she met.
"Once upon a time there was a young man who lived in the mystical far East and his name was Ali Baba..."
Wendy's choice of story might have seemed strange, dealing as it did with thieves and cutthroats and a fair degree of violence, but she'd had plenty of experience with what small boys really wanted to hear about, and from the excited glow on the faces ranged in front of her, her choice had been the right one. There would be plenty of nights when a less bloodthirsty story would be more suitable, but for now she had her audience hooked. The boys were not passive as the story unfolded, they added their own comments and opinions on the characters and their actions, snorting in disgust if they disagreed, whooping if they applauded the heroes' actions. In all it was a rowdy and boisterous story-time, the ending greeted with a volley of requests for another story until Peter had to intervene and order his Lost Boys to bed; but only a promise of another story the next night finally sent the tired children off to their alcoves and couches. Grub was the last to leave, approaching Wendy where she sat, his piquant, grubby face lit up with a happy smile as he leant down the short distance to whisper in her ear.
"I liked that one...no yucky stuff!"
Wendy looked back a little startled, having embellished the story with enough gore and yucky stuff to satisfy a classroom of small boys. "Yucky stuff?"
Grub pulled a face, "you know...kissing!"
"Oh...you don't like stories with happy endings?"
Grub seemed to think for a moment. "Well...maybe once in a while would be alright."
Peter approached and shooed Grub away, the smallest of the troop clambering into a hammock suspended from two thick roots that seemed to have grown expressly for the purpose of providing hooks for the sling to hang from. Holding out his hand, Peter drew Wendy to her feet before casting a look around the room. The lights were very low now, barely flickering as he led her out of the Hollow and up into the world above. It was night time, the sky still bearing the traces of a glorious sunset, streaks of pink and purple coloring the grey clouds that made their slow progress across the sky. Behind them stars were starting to appear, bright dots that twinkled like diamonds, not all of them white so that when the sun had completely left the sky, it was like a necklace of rubies and opals strung up among the heavens. Peter drew Wendy along behind him, her hand firmly clasped in his as they walked through the jungle beyond the Hollow. The path was narrow and crowded on either side with thick vegetation, forcing them to follow one behind the other, but not very far along the path widened and Peter drew Wendy to walk beside him. Despite the sun being set for the day, light still suffused the forest, a cool light, like that from a full moon, despite there being nothing but stars in the sky. Wendy pondered on this but quickly gave up worrying about it as the jungle at night took all her attention, the sounds so different from the daytime with the birds all settled for the night. Instead she could hear the rustle of the wind through the branches overhead above the soft pad of their bare feet on the ground. The scent of night flowering blossoms invaded her senses, surrounding them with varying clouds of perfumed air as they walked, Wendy sniffing appreciatively but never able to pinpoint the shrub or tree that provided the source. Their promenade ended when they reached a cleared rocky outcrop, a ledge that ended like a giant step above a slope clothed in trees. On either side the jungle pressed right up to the edge of the drop-off, leaving only the apron of rock they stood on clear of the undergrowth, the ledge giving its visitors a wonderful view across Neverland to the sea. Wendy stood a little way back from the edge, having no wish to see just how high up they were. She was surprised at herself to feel the fear of heights given that she'd flown over the island at some distance above it, but somehow, having her feet on the solid ground had changed her perspective. Peter had no such qualms and quite calmly sat on the edge of the precipice, his legs swinging in space as he leant back on his hands, twisting his head to look up at her.
"What do you think?"
"It's a wonderful view Peter, even at night. It would be spectacular in daylight."
"Nah...its better at night. It's called the Moonlight Ledge, and it's not just the view that makes it special."
"Oh?"
"Watch."
Wendy found herself a convenient place to sit, just behind and to the left of Peter. Wrapping her arms around her knees she stared up at the brilliant sky overhead, the air and rocks around her still warm from the sun. Peter had drawn one leg up to rest on the edge of the rocky ledge, his elbow resting on the upraised knee, his head turned away from her as he stared out over the vista below.
"Look Wendy!" His sibilant whisper jerked her attention back to the view before her, the dark trees below disgorging tiny pin pricks of golden light. At first there were only a half dozen, so far away to be almost invisible, dancing on the edge of their vision among the tree tops. Then, where there were a few, there were suddenly a cloud, a nimbus of golden specks rising up from the trees below, a throng of dancing lights covering a huge area of the forest.
"Oh Peter...what are they? Fireflies?"
"Fairies."
"Fairies? Oh how wonderful...and so many!"
The increasing cloud of golden lights were starting to coalesce, rising up from the forest canopy in a single swirling mass made up of hundreds, possibly thousands of the tiny creatures. Wendy watched entranced as the glowing mass rose slowly up into the sky, stray individuals breaking off from the central group to dance around the perimeter before being absorbed back into the twirling center. It was like looking at a galaxy in miniature, the center a bright ball of light with the arms of the spiral trailing as fairies tired and then caught up, the whole colony rising ever higher so that they were level with the stone ledge holding their audience of two. As if sensing their silent watchers the golden mass started to break up, groups of fairies detaching themselves from the central spiral and darting off a little way. There they shifted and danced, forming complex shapes in the warm air, pictures forming like spangled Christmas decorations of flowers and butterflies, birds in flight and dragonflies.
"Oh Peter, they're beautiful...oh look, what is that?" She pointed to a strange creature being created by one of the splinter groups, the shape looking halfway between a dragon and a horse.
"That's a Neverbeen."
"A Neverbeen? What a strange name!"
"A Neverbeen is a creature that only lives in dreams," Peter explained, smiling at Wendy's soft exclamation as the dragon-horse changed into another creature of fantastic design. "See, another Neverbeen."
"I understand. So these strange creatures have never actually been alive, just the product of the fairies imagination."
"Sort of. Fairies are such tiny creatures they really don't have much room for an imagination, so they borrow from others to give them the images you see here."
"Borrow? You mean, they go into a person's head and borrow what they find there?"
"Something like that. Anything you can imagine, they can create when they swarm, like tonight."
"Does this happen every night?"
"No. Only on special occasions or if I ask them to."
Wendy turned her head to look at Peter's profile, his face bathed in the golden glow of the fairies. "Did you ask them to do this Peter...for me?"
"Maybe. If I say yes, do I get a reward?" He turned his face towards her, his eyes alight with mischief and something else. Wendy saw the fleeting expression and thought it was longing. The fairies were still cavorting and dancing in front of the ledge, bathing the whole area in a warm, golden light, the leaves and trees all around them gilded with gold and sprinkled with a shower of fairy dust, the fine rain falling over everything. For the most part, the whole experience had been conducted in silence, only the soft rustle of a night breeze disturbing the hushed expectancy of the moment. Now, as the huge, constantly moving mass of fairy bodies passed overhead and ever higher, Wendy could hear a cacophony of fairy voices, like the chime of a million tiny bells tinkling musically from a long way away. It almost reminded Wendy of the laughter of young children as the golden cloud passed up and over the tree tops, taking with it the golden light and strange creatures shaped in the air by the fairies themselves. Once more alone on the ledge, Wendy gave vent to a happy sigh, her lips turned up as she stared out over the now darkened landscape. Having shown her what he wanted her to see, Peter clambered to his feet and held out his hand.
"Come on, the night is not over yet."
"But...I thought you wanted a reward?" She stared at him, torn between embarrassment and anticipation, knowing in her heart what he'd ask for and more than willing to bestow his reward with alacrity.
"I do, but first I want to take you somewhere and show you something," Peter told her mysteriously. Taking her by the hand he led her back into the jungle, leaving the ledge and vista behind them. Still feeling bemused and wondrous from watching the fairy display, Wendy went willingly, her hand once more held in his much large palm, his fingers curling around hers in a firm, but unbreakable grip. Against her soft skin she could feel the rough callouses ridging his fingers and palm, evidence of his proficiency with a sword, reminding her that not everything on Neverland was as peaceful and non-threatening as the fairies she'd just watched. Peter was leading her down a different path from the one they'd used before, veering off the track and plunging them both into the deep gloom of the dense forest. The light that had seemed so bright before, now struggled to find a way to the ground, the path almost invisible to Wendy's eyes as Peter led her onwards.
"Is it far?" Wendy asked, stumbling a little over the uneven ground.
"Not far," Peter replied, not turning his head or relaxing his grip on her hand. The path seemed endless, but just when Wendy was about to suggest they fly to their destination, rather than walk, the jungle started to thin, the dark trees growing further apart and letting in more light. Peter started to jog, forcing Wendy to follow, his eagerness to get where he was going transmitting itself through his grip on her hand, laughter bubbling up and making her breathless as they dodged and weaved among the trees. As suddenly as a flame igniting, the trees ended and they were once more bathed in the unearthly pale light of the night, the stars seemingly brighter and closer than a few minutes before, the sky a twinkling expanse of silvery velvet above their heads. In front of them the ground sloped down in an easy gradient, flattening out into a small coastal plain before butting up to a narrow strip of sand where the land met the sea. The coastline along this side of the island wove out and in, creating a frilled effect as well as a series of bays and lagoons of varying sizes and depths. In one of these harbors sat a dark ship, its sails furled black against it's inky spars, a flag flapping lazily from the fighting-top, the insignia indistinct in the pale light. In solitary splendor the ship rode at anchor, no lights visible from the watchers above.
"What ship is that Peter?" Wendy asked in a hushed voice, despite being so far away that no sound could have possibly reached the shore below. Just looking at the darkened ship made a flurry of goose bumps break out on her arms and the back of her neck. Unable to justify why it should she turned to her companion and waited with bated breath for his reply.
"That's the Jolly Roger, the pirate ship that stalks this island," Peter replied, all trace of levity gone from his voice. "If the ship is here, then Hook won't be far behind. There's no lights fore or aft which means he's already ashore and on the hunt."
"Pirates?" Wendy felt a shudder ripple down her back, a thrill of fear and of excitement. "What do they hunt so late at night?"
"Me." Peter stated baldly, his body tense and ready for action. "I was going to show you the Glass Cove, but it will have to wait now. If Hook is about, then no-one is safe. We'll need to go back to the Hollow and warn the Lost Boys to be ready for battle."
"Really Peter...is it as bad as that? Even pirates have to sleep." Wendy tried to laugh off her fears but a searing glance from her suddenly serious partner chased all laughter from her face.
"There's no sleep for anyone when Hook is hunting. Where he goes, the crocodile won't be far behind and he's not adverse to snacking on anyone that gets in his way!"
Disappointed that her evening was to be spoilt by the advent of pirates, Wendy turned away only to find herself face to face with quite possibly the most fearsome visage she'd ever encountered in her young life. As if held in a vice, her throat refused to release the scream she could feel building in her chest, the man leering horrible as he advanced towards her, a gleaming cutlass in his hand. Wendy finally screamed when the pirate lunged at her, the blade almost reaching her only to be thrust upwards with the force of Peter's blocking parry, his free hand shoving Wendy to the side where she fell, cushioned by a clump of bracken.
"Fly Wendy, fly!" Peter shouted at her as he parried another savage downswing of the pirates sword, the air full of the sounds of violence as he fought off their attacker. Wendy lay where he'd pushed her, breathless with fear as she watched the seemingly unequal contest between the brawny, heavily armed pirate and the young man facing him. Peter's teeth gleamed in the strange Neverland night light, his body twisting and turning like an otter to avoid the wicked slashes and thrusts of his opponent while keeping the man well away from where Wendy lay frozen. She heard Peter's order to fly, but couldn't for the life of her think of a single happy thought while the desperate battle played out before her eyes. In all her short life she'd never really seen anything violent or brutal, only in the books she'd read telling of such bloody conflicts, but they were only words on a page, not flesh and blood men fighting for their very lives with her as the only witness. Suddenly it was all over, the pirate finding Peter's knife buried to the hilt in his chest, a look of surprise briefly lighting his dark eyes before slumping to the ground, blood staining his shirt front. Wendy remained transfixed at the sight of Peter standing over his enemy, his chest heaving, blood covering his right hand which clutched the hilt of his dagger with white knuckles. Baring his teeth in gruesome satisfaction, Peter leant down and wiped his blade on the dead man's clothes before turning his back and approaching where Wendy lay. Taking his hand she stared up at him with shocked eyes, noting absently that Peter appeared to crackle with energy, the fight imbuing him with an aura of excitement and anticipation, evident in his bright eyes and tense muscles rippling on his arms and body. Thankfully, for Wendy's peace of mind, Peter extended his left hand to help her to her feet, his grip almost painfully tight as he pulled her away from the corpse and back into the dark forest.
"We need to get back to the Hollow, can you fly?" Peter's voice was almost harsh, firing the question at Wendy in a tone she'd not heard before.
"I can try...were you hurt?"
"No. But it worries me that he found us, and why only one man? It's possible he was just an advance scout sent by Hook and it was an unlucky chance that he stumbled over us, but I'm not taking any chances. Come on..." Pulling Wendy behind him, he jogged a few steps then leapt into the air, Wendy towed behind him, his magic lifting them both. She was still in a state of shock, her body cold and her stomach queasy as they flew low over the forest canopy as silent as a breeze. Within a short time they were back at the old tree in the secluded glade, the night quiet around them as they approached. Peter had dropped Wendy's hand as soon as they touched down, his sense on the alert for any sign that more pirates were waiting in ambush, his bloody hand gripping the hilt of his dagger with tense expectation. All remained quiet as he searched the shadows, Wendy standing to one side, her arms wrapped around her middle as she fought to quell the tremors still wracking her slender frame. Satisfied that the area was free of danger, Peter pressed the knothole to open the door, waving Wendy forward in silence and ushering her into the darkness of the interior, the door shutting behind them securely. Still in silence they felt their way down the stairwell and into the Hollow, the night-lights around the wall brightening as they emerged , the sound of sleeping boys heavy in the warm air of the safe-house. Wendy stumbled to a stool and sat down heavily, not able to raise the slightest surprise to find the trestle table gone along with its burden of empty dishes and spilled food. Peter went over to his first lieutenant, Crate, and shook the boy roughly by the shoulder. Crate woke instantly and sat up, a knife in his hand ready to defend himself.
"Hook's on the hunt," Peter told him, his grim expression enough to tell Crate all he needed to know.
"What's the plan Captain?" Crate asked, swinging his legs off the bed and rubbing his eyes.
"Wake the boys and we'll have a counsel of war."
"Aye, aye," Crate sketched a salute before jumping off his sleeping ledge and going to the next bed to wake it's snoring occupant. Peter, meanwhile, was washing off his knife and hands in a bucket of water tucked away in a corner before approaching Wendy who still sat numbly on a stool.
"Come on, you need to rest," Peter told her, his hands pulling her to her feet, Wendy's eyes darting to his right hand expecting to see blood, and indescribably relieved to see only strong fingers and golden brown skin dusted with fine hairs.
He steered her towards his alcove, his arm about her back to steady her as she leant against him, suddenly weary and a little tearful. As if sensing this, Peter scooped her up in his arms as they approached the bed, laying her down gently against the furs as a shudder rippled through her body making her gasp. Wendy lay on the bed gazing up at him as he bent over her, her mind noting that despite his surprising gentleness with her, his arms, when she lay her hand on one, were as hard as steel, his eyes alight with the prospect of the battle to come. It both alarmed and thrilled her, her lips registering his brief kiss before he turned away, the Lost Boys all gathered and awake, awaiting his orders. Laying on her side, she listened as Peter outlined his battle plan, the boys adding their suggestions for counter attacks and ambushes, the first order of battle to find out where the enemy was lurking and try to anticipate their next move. Hearing the excited chatter and seeing the looks of eager anticipation on every face, Wendy realized they thought it all a grand game, an entertainment laid on for their benefit. None of them seemed to think it a life or death struggle, such as she'd witnessed not so long ago, the boys apparently used to being awoken in the night by their leader and expected to participate in a barbaric ritual of cat and mouse with whatever enemy was threatening them that particular night. Scared and suddenly exhausted, Wendy lay dozing against the soft bed covers until a pair of warm lips woke her, her blue eyes blinking open to find Peter nose to nose with her.
"I have to go Wendy, but you'll be safe here, as long as you stay in the Hollow. The pirates can't get in, even if they do find it, which they won't."
"What are you going to do Peter?"
"Me and the boys are going to find out where the ol' Codfish is hiding..." he saw a flare of alarm darken her eyes and hastened to reassure her. "We're not going to fight, not tonight. He's already one man down and will know it was my doing. He won't want to fight in the darkness any more than I do, there's too much chance of mistakes among the shadows."
"You will be careful, won't you?" Reaching out a hand, Wendy rested it against Peter's cheek, feeling the flex of a muscle along his jawline before she let her hand drop back to the coverlet.
"Of course I will. There's nothing to worry about Wendy, just stay here and we'll be back in the morning." Behind him, the Lost Boys were eagerly donning their armor and weapons, short bursts of laughter punctuated with the metallic rattle of blades sliding in sheaths as they prepared to go out into the night. Peter leant forward to press a quick, farewell kiss to Wendy's lips, the quick peck on her mouth repeated a second later with another, then another, this one not a peck but a searching exploration that temporarily banished her fears under a torrent of fluttering sensations. A sudden bout of coughing and muttering from the Lost Boys separated them, leaving them both staring at each other for an intense moment before Peter rose to his feet and turned his back on her.
"Time to find some pirates lads!" Peter shouted, his arm raised and holding a sword which he swung in circles about his head as he led the Lost Boys out of the tree without a backward glance. Wendy sat up on the bed, her finger tips pressed to her lips and her mind in turmoil. For several seconds she listened to the departure of Peter and his troop, their voices becoming more and more distant as she strained to hear them, eventually fading into silence and leaving her wondering how long it was until morning. Left alone, she lay back down on the soft furs and contemplated all that had happened.
Life had certainly become terribly exciting all of a sudden. So exciting she almost wished she was back in the nursery and snuggled into her old bed with the covers pulled up about her ears. She lay there, thinking about her mother, about her brothers, about her father and the house, about Nana, their enormous St. Bernard dog who liked to think that she was mother to them all. The placid tenor of her life to date had never so much as raised the tiniest ripple of anxiety for her, her future largely mapped out, as was any young woman's of her station in life. That she would one day meet a suitable young man who would court her and share stolen kisses with her, was an expected pleasure to look forward to, the courtship inevitably ending in a proposal, which if accepted meant marriage and leaving the family home to start a new life. Wendy was quite sensible of the possibility that her new life, once the novelty of marriage and having her own home wore off, would settle happily into the same placid and untroubled routine as her life before, the inevitable advent of children the only aspect to imbue fear or excitement into her domestic life. Her future husband would most likely be someone in the mold of her father, employed in some sterling establishment with good prospects and the promise of a pension when he retired. He would be kind, and sensible, prudent with their money and good with the children. Their life would be one of unruffled peace and contentment until they dwindled into old age and companionable domestic harmony, their grandchildren playing about their feet. As fantasies went, it was safe and secure and untroubled by woe or fear, the future a smooth path of unending repetition and bland sameness. Wendy frowned to herself as her thoughts took a turn away from what she'd always contemplated, in her naivety, as the ideal future for herself and instead reminded her of teasing eyes with impossibly thick lashes set above a mouth that promised wicked pleasures and a future filled with wonder and excitement. What imp of perversity had made her take his hand in the first place? What impulse had blinded her enough to even contemplate giving herself into the hands of a complete stranger? What hidden desire convinced her to be carried away to a place where danger and magic danced side by side, each an alluring temptation, each with it's own attractions and terrors? If she was truly honest with herself, she would acknowledge that since coming to Neverland, she had never felt so alive, or so out of her depth. New feelings were bubbling to the surface, demanding to be satisfied, fulfilled and experienced. None of them had anything to do with safety, or peace or dull domesticity, but all of them had everything to do with the young man that stole from her lips and made unstoppable inroads into her heart and peace of mind. It was like she was caught up in a whirlwind, her body and mind no longer her own but swept along, plundered of it's treasures but at the same time given a glimpse of immeasurable riches to be had if she would only throw caution to the wind and take the first step. It was all quite exhausting. Unable to prevent them, her eyes slid closed and sleep stole over her, setting her mind and body at rest, the night-lights lowering their flames so that only soft light played against her closed lids, all sound from outside muffled by the thick trunk of the tree and deep depths of the sheltering earth.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
tbc...