12/5/07
Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Eighteen – Out of the Frying Pan
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
When Peter next awoke it was to find, to his horror, that many hours had passed since he'd hidden beneath Hook's bed. The shackles that Wendy had worn on ankle and wrist were sitting in a heap beside the bed, the cabin devoid of occupants. Long shadows moved across the floorboards as the ship wallowed in a swell, the afternoon sun gilding the dust motes dancing in the air like pixie dust. Feeling cramped, squeezed as he was under the bed frame, Peter listened carefully before attempting to wriggle out of his hiding place. Under his breath he berated himself for sleeping at all, of not being awake to hear what was said between Wendy and Hook, or see what happened. Still cursing, he slowly rose to a crouch, keeping his head level with the edge of the bed, tense and ready to wriggle back into his hidey-hole at the first sign of anyone coming into the cabin. He could hear the drum of feet overhead along with the shouted commands from above, the ship making slow headway despite the relatively calm sea. Feeling bolder, Peter edged away from the bed, his sword and knife drawn, until his hip bumped the large table dominating the center of the room. Plates were scattered over the surface along with pewter jugs, one of which he snagged and put to his lips, drinking deeply. After satisfying his thirst he next grabbed a heel of bread and chewed as he surveyed the cabin. There didn't appear to have been a struggle of any sort and he was glad that Wendy had been relieved of the shackles, a scrap of bandage on the floor catching his eye. So Hook had seen to his prisoner's welfare and dressed her wounds, the thought both welcome and unsettling. Hook was not usually so considerate, but then he'd never had a young female prisoner to account for either. Peter cocked his head to listen again before moving towards the windows, one of which was still open, sunlight pouring through and painting everything it touched with gold. A scraping sound made him whirl, his eyes wide as he braced himself, ready to fight whoever was coming through the door, but the sound proved to come from the outside, not the inside. The shout of sailors manning a jolly boat drifted through the window and drew Peter's attention, a quick peek outside confirming that a boat full of pirates was returning to the Jolly Roger, their oars working to bring them alongside. Once the boat passed, Peter sheathed his knife and sword and prepared to leave via the window and hopefully learn where Hook and Wendy were now by listening to the crew talk. Sidling out onto the window ledge, he made his way around the side of the ship, careful to stay on the shadowed side for the most concealment while he clung just below the level of the deck. The scrape of a boot on the deck made him duck, then he heard Hook's voice and his ears pricked up as he listened to the Captain address one of his crew.
"Is everything prepared?" Hook asked his henchman.
"As you ordered Captain. There be no place anyone can 'ide out there. He'll be in plain sight long 'afore he gets close."
"Excellent. And your men a placed?"
"As you suggested. They all 'ave a clear shot, and if'n this sea stays calm, it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel." The man chuckled the thought better off doing so and ended up coughing.
"Very wise, Mister Kegg, it wouldn't pay to be too confident when setting a trap for Peter Pan. He's slippery, like an eel."
"True Captain, but we've never 'ad a bait so tasty before. I reckons it's foolproof."
"Your enthusiasm does you credit, Mister Kegg, but I've known other traps fail in the past and they were much cleverer than this. Nevertheless, as you say, the bait is what will ensure this trap works perfectly. Prime your men, Mister Kegg, I'm sure we won't have to wait long before the prize puts in an appearance."
"Aye, aye Captain." The man called Kegg left his Captain still standing by the rail, the unseen listener turning over what he'd heard even as Hook whirled and marched away, his heels clicking on the deck plates like nails driven into timber. Peter floated down to the waterline and kept to the shadow of the ship until he reached the prow. There he flew up to perch on the figure head, the better to stare towards the shore and the trap being set for him. A loud rattle and clank of the anchor chain being released presaged the splash of the huge wooden anchor dropping into the sea almost at his feet. The Jolly Roger was surprisingly close to shore, but that didn't surprise Peter once he realized where they were. They were on the other side of the sand spit in a deep water channel called the Galleon's Graveyard, the mast's of sunken ships jutting above the water to mark their final resting place. Many of the wrecks sat on a sandy ledge, accessible at low tide to anyone brave enough to dive them, the ships providing many of the fine things that Hook used to dress his cabin with. Where the ships had come from nobody knew, or what had happened to the crews, their presence taken for granted as one of the mysteries of Neverland. Over the years repeated plundering of the wrecks had made the pirates wealthy beyond their usual means, but with no way to spend the booty, it had lain largely untouched in the hold of the Jolly Roger, or left scattered over the sandy bottom. Beyond the sandy ledge was the deep channel, some of the wrecks pushed over by past storms to vanish into the depths never to be seen again. Despite that, there never seemed to be a shortage of masts to mark where the ships lay. Now the Jolly Roger was anchored only a few feet from the beach, on the edge of the deep water and among the scattered remains of several ships.
A substantial sand dune, unmarred by anything other than wind sculptured furrows, reared up behind the beach. There were no plants or palm trees, the entire spit a single sand dune that shifted and changed it's appearance with each wind storm that passed over and around it. There was no water, only the sea and the sand and the blue, blue sky above. Shielding his eyes, Peter could see some of the pirates had rowed ashore and were walking up and down the beach. Further up the dune a broken spar had been set into the sand and someone was tied to the stake, the flutter of blue fabric identifying the victim as his Wendy, tied as securely as any Judas goat to tempt a Tiger to its doom. It appeared obvious to Peter that Hook must have sent a message to lure Peter to try a rescue, not realizing that his quarry was already close by. It was a small advantage, but one that Peter hoped he could use to get himself and Wendy out of what was looking like an inescapable trap.
A loud grinding noise made Peter lift his head and peer through the superstructure to watch as Long Tom, Hook's weapon of choice, rose majestically out of the hold, the long muzzle pointing towards the beach, the pirates loading it with one of Hook's patented capture nets. Peter remembered an incident in the Black Castle when Hook had nearly succeeded in capturing him then, only a sharp knife changing the outcome at the time. Even so, it had proved, to all who watched, that Peter Pan was not invulnerable to capture, to being plucked right out of the air. Somehow he was going to have to evade the reach of Long Tom, avoid being shot by the trigger happy pirates stationed in the rigging, and rescue Wendy before any of the pirates on the beach either shot him, or them both, or got close enough to fling a net and end the rescue attempt forthwith.
Once more he considered flying away and fetching help, but his eyes were drawn to the small figure in blue tied to the stake. He could no more leave Wendy alone than cut out his heart and feed it to the fishes. A sound drew his attention and he turned, just barely quick enough to see the serrated tip of a large tail disappear below the water's surface. He waited several minutes and was rewarded for his patience by the huge crocodile, that stalked Hook, surfacing only a few feet from the hull of the Jolly Roger, its approach unnoticed by the crew intent on watching the drama on the shore. In silence the creature glided the length of the pirate ship and under the prow where Peter crouched. A trail of bubbles marked its passage as it circled the ship, a dark shadow unseen by the crew laboring to bring their weapons to bear. Peter grinned to himself and started to hatch a plan that incorporated using the crocodile as a diversion. It would be risky, and he could get caught in the animals jaws himself if he wasn't quick enough, but it was a chance he'd have to take.
Under cover of the noise from the ship, Peter slipped off the figurehead and into the calm sea, his drop barely causing a ripple on the surface. Keeping below the water he kicked strongly to reach a wreck sitting in the sand, its timbers strewn across the sea bed with only the remains of the masts like fingers pointing towards the sky. Holding his breath, Peter tethered himself to one of the fingers and turned back, the water extraordinarily clear. He saw a dark shadow pass below the hull of the Jolly Roger and start to come towards him. As he'd suspected, the crocodile had noted the body dropping into the water and was coming to investigate. Peter waited until his lungs were ready to burst then kicked for the surface, the crocodile now making for him, its jaws wide open. Taking a quick breath, Peter ducked below the surface and started to swim towards the shore, still underwater. The croc followed, sure of the snack so close at hand.
With barely an arms length between his kicking feet and the croc's jaws, Peter surfed in on a wave towards where the pirates stood about, their weapons at the ready. Behind him the huge crocodile did the same, its legs tucked tight against its body to enable it to catch the wave and bring it closer to its prey. Peter could almost feel the fetid breath on his legs when the waves dumped him mere seconds in front of the grey-green giant. He launched himself out of the water in front of the startled pirates, hovering in the air for a second, just long enough to allow the crocodile to find its feet in the shallow water and raise its snout to reach him. A scream from one of the pirates drew the huge creatures attention away from the tidbit floating above him, the crocodile emitting a roar before waddling out of the surf, its tail thrashing in anticipation of the meal to come.
The pirates fled in disarray, one man falling in the soft sand, his gun sent flying without firing a shot. Quick as a flash the crocodile was on him, snatching the man up by one leg, his screaming prey flipped over to better fit down the monsters gullet head first, the man's gurgling cried shut off with a snap when the croc shut its massive jaws. Peter ignored the pandemonium below and shot towards the figure tied to the stake, his knife already out and at the ready. He landed behind Wendy and brought his arm down, slashing through the thick rope binding her to the stake. Wendy could only look on with startled eyes, her cries of relief and warning muffled behind a gag, the blood rushing back to her numb arms and hands making tears of pain spike her lashes. In front of her panic had taken over the pirates, the men firing wildly at the advancing crocodile, its blade like tail knocking men over left and right like skittles, the air full of screams, miss-fired shots and the hissing roar of the beast. Peter sliced through all the ropes and grabbed for Wendy's hand, aware of the short window of opportunity afforded by the rampaging croc.
"We have to go now, come on..." He prepared to fly but had to duck instead from a swinging cutlass aimed at his head. Wendy pulled her gag down and screamed as the pirate, braver than his shipmates, engaged Peter in hand to hand combat, ignoring the battle raging only a little further down the beach. Unable to do much more than watch, Wendy heard a loud boom and swung around to stare out to sea. A big plume of smoke partially obscured the deck of the Jolly Roger, the dark mouth of the cannon, Long Tom, staring back at her.
"Peter," she screamed, pointing out to sea, " they've fired a cannon at us!" Even as she called out her warning, the shot exploded above their heads and a thick net rained down on the beach, missing Peter and the pirate fighting him and landing on the back of the crocodile like a strange blanket.
"Run Wendy, run!"
"Run where?" Wendy screamed back, seeing nothing but a towering sand dune behind her and the crocodile in front of her. "Peter, look out!" Another loud boom almost drowned out her warning, Peter ducking and sidestepping in time to avoid a second pirate's attack on his flank. The shot once more exploded overhead, this time raining down on the three figures fighting below, Peter narrowly avoiding capture by diving to the side as the net engulfed the other two men in its folds, bringing them down. Wriggling out from under one side, Peter scrambled to his feet and ran to where Wendy stood, armed only with a long piece of driftwood.
The crocodile was pursuing the pirates down the beach, several crushed and half chewed bodies left in its wake. Peter grabbed Wendy's hand and ran in the opposite direction, starting up the steep slope of the sand dune at a steady pace, despite the difficult terrain. Sand all around them started to kick up as the crew of the Jolly Roger took pot-shots at the fleeing pair, peppering the ground all around them. Peter stumbled then carried on, Wendy already puffing with the difficulty of running on loose sand, and up a slope.
Gradually the distance started to widen and less of the shots were finding the sand behind their heels, the top of the dune at last within reach. They threw themselves over the lip of the dune, finding an equally steep slope on the other side so that they tumbled head over heels, sand tossed in all directions until they slid to a halt at the bottom, spitting grit and dizzy, coated in sand from head to foot. They could still hear the screams of the pirates on the beach, together with the boom of smaller cannon fired in an attempt to destroy the reptile, but only succeeding in sending the creature back into the sea and out of range.
Wendy shook herself to get some of the sand out of her hair and dress, the blazing sun hot on her scalp. She could already feel the effects of standing out in the sun too long, her face tight with sunburn, her arms quite pink. Peter still lay on the sand, his chest heaving and his eyes closed. Wendy stood up and stumbled over to him, fear of capture still a possibility if they stayed where they were. Hook was sure to send his men after them and the longer they lingered, the more likely they would be captured within minutes.
"Peter, we have to go...now!"
"I...know..." Peter opened his eyes and blinked up at her. Slowly he sat up and rose to his feet, wincing but saying nothing. Wendy was looking nervously up at the dune they'd just rolled down, expecting to see and hear the pirates hot on their trail. She didn't notice Peter's wince or see the blood seeping from under the leaves covering his hip and thigh. In the roll down the slope Peter had lost his sword, his knife now his only weapon. Cursing under his breath, he bit down on the pain radiating out from his leg and concentrated on the will to fly. Wendy had turned back and was looking at him for guidance, her eyes huge and scared. The last thing he wanted was for them both to be captured by the pirates, his fate and hers likely to be worse than either of them could possibly imagine in Hooks hands.
Drawing in a deep breath, Peter reached for Wendy's hand and lifted them both into the air just as the first pirate broached the top of the dune, his shout galvanizing Peter into action, flying himself and Wendy higher and away from the dune to another that loomed impossibly high for a pile of sand. Behind them they heard the crack of musket shot as other pirates reached the ridge and started to fire at them, a burning piece of lead slicing a searing path across Peter's shoulder making him cry out and drop several feet.
"Peter...Peter...are you shot?" Wendy cried in alarm as Peter dropped lower and lower, the top of the next dune looming closer every second. If they didn't rise soon they'd crash into its side. "Peter we must fly higher!!"
In a haze of pain Peter heard her and called on his fairy magic, lifting them both over the dune and on to safety. Out of sight of the pirates now, he flew to the left along the valley between two dunes, then over another in a twisting path that put more and more distance between themselves and their pursuers. All around them shone a seemingly endless desert of yellow sand, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue overhead. Only in the distance was there any hint that this was only another part of Neverland, the lush green of the jungle beckoning them onwards. Suddenly Peter let out a groan and started to fall, Wendy, still gripping his hand, falling with him.
"Peter...what's happening??" The ground was rushing up towards them, Peter unable to maintain flight through the haze of pain blurring his vision.
"I'm sorry Wendy...I can't...I'm sorry." Peter groaned again, doubling up from agony, all power of flight gone. The sand was a blur as they fell towards earth, the ground an unyielding expanse of white and as hard as ice to Wendy's horrified eyes. Fortunately they fell at such an angle that they glanced off the slope of a dune and started instantly to tumble and slide in a tidal wave of dust and sand. As before they ended up at the bottom, this time half covered by the landslide pouring down on them. Wendy coughed and covered her head with her arms to keep the sand from burying her head. Peter wasn't so lucky, his body half hidden with more sand cascading on him with each passing second. Wading out of her sand drift, Wendy clambered over to where Peter lay, her fingers digging into the sand to uncover him.
"Why aren't you moving? What's happened?" As quickly as possible she dug him free, pulling on one arm to free him from the clinging sand, his body sliding out easily once she freed him, his face white with dust along with the rest of him. She dragged him by the arm until she stood on the flat valley bottom, the sand still falling in tiny rivulets behind her. Here she rolled Peter on to his side and gasped when she saw the blood caked on his back and down his leg.
"Oh no...oh Peter, why didn't you say anything." Suddenly the vividness of her dream from the cave sprung into her mind, the image of Peter's battered and bloody body at her feet, the destruction of Neverland all around her. "NO! I won't let it happen...you won't die!" Dashing away the tears threatening to choke her, Wendy knelt beside Peter and carefully cleaned his face free of sand with the hem of her dress.
"Please wake up Peter...please wake up," Wendy called to him, sitting so that her shadow created some shade for Peter from the burning sun. As if complying with her unspoken wish the sun went behind a cloud, the instant drop in temperature very welcome. Looking up, Wendy shaded her eyes and stared at the sky, a frisson of alarm running down her back when she noticed just how black the clouds looked and how fast they were gathering. "Oh no..."
Looking around her she tried to see anything she could use to drag Peter. They were sitting in the valley between two of the largest dunes she'd seen so far, the flat bottom showing signs of a long dried up water course right where she sat. It stood to reason that if it rained on this desert the water had to go somewhere, the only problem being that she and Peter were now sitting right were a flood would shortly be raging, if the black clouds dropped their load over the sand spit. Galvanized into action, Wendy stripped off her long, cotton petticoat from under her skirt and lay it down on the ground. Despite her attempts to rouse him, Peter remained unconscious to Wendy's cries and shakes. Giving up she rolled him on to the voluminous petticoat, his legs hanging off the end. Bending over, she grasped the waistband near his head and started to tug at the material, the sand for once aiding her efforts by making the cloth slide easily over the surface. Even so it was hard work and despite the lack of sun, Wendy was soon sweating heavily, her back aching as she tried to pull Peter to safety. Overhead the sky continued to darken ominously, the blue sky obscured by towering cumulus cloud bulging with rain. The wind was starting to pick up as well, whipping Wendy's skirt about her legs as she continued to pull and tug Peter towards safety and out of the way of the coming flood. Just when her arms seemed to be pulled out of their sockets and her back about to break an eerie sound floated to her on the breeze, the rising howl of the wind unable to mask the distant call of a wolf. Wendy paused in her efforts and listened, the call coming again, this time closer. Thinking of the friendly brown and white wolf she'd met before entering the cave of dreams, Wendy hoped and prayed it was the same animal somehow come to their aid. Turning her back, she continued to pull Peter on the petticoat along the ground. They were nearing the end of the gully when the first fat drops of the approaching storm splattered in the sand. Near despair, Wendy felt like screaming at the sky as more droplets fell, darkening the ground and washing some of the dust off Peter's body leaving streaks behind. Unable to pull anymore, Wendy sat down abruptly as the skies opened and it rained in a continuous sheet, soaking her in seconds.
So absorbed in shock she didn't notice the press of the cold nose against her arm at first. Only when teeth nipped her back into awareness did she realize she was surrounded by a pack of wolves, their coloring all a variation of brown and white, their liquid eyes watching her intently. Having got her attention, the one that had nipped her started to bark and whine, it's coat hardly dampened by the downpour. Wendy stared stupidly at the creature for a second before struggling to her feet, grabbing at the petticoat and preparing to pull it and its burden once more. Before she could lay a finger on it she was pushed away by several eager bodies, the wolves grasping the material in their jaws and taking over the job of pulling Peter along the ground much faster than Wendy could ever hope to manage. Soaked to the skin and shivering, Wendy gratefully followed the animals out of the gully and over a shallow sand dune, the other side revealing the edge of the jungle only a short distance away. Wendy glanced back before they crossed the ridge and saw that the wide gully they'd been in was already under several inches of water, the current flowing fast as it carried the excess rain water away from the desert towards the thirsty jungle and the sea. Turning way she hurried after the wolves, too grateful for their help to wonder how the animals had known Peter was in trouble, or how they'd reached her from so far away, so quickly.
The jungle loomed thick and impenetrable in front of them, the she-wolfs barely pausing as they dragged Peter onwards, swallowed up by the shadows between the trees with Wendy and the rest of the pack following behind. In the sudden gloom of the forest, Wendy was glad the wolves had white fur, their wagging tails acting like torches guiding her through the thick bush along a path that only just warranted the description. The rain had stopped almost as soon as they entered the jungle, something Wendy was very glad of as she tramped across the damp ground, following the pack. The leaders had stopped up ahead and she tried to see why, peering at the thick foliage around her.
"Why have we stopped?" She asked, taking a step forward. One of the wolves snarled and snapped at her, stopping her tentative step in its tracks. "What...why can't I go forward?" She asked, getting no real reply, only another snap and a bark for her pains. The lead dogs were still dragging Peter forward on the now ruined petticoat, the rest remaining to keep Wendy where she was. Every time she moved, one of the she-wolfs would move to block her until she wanted to scream in frustration.
"Please...where are they taking him? Why can't I be with him?" She asked the animals, her hands outspread to show she didn't mean them any harm. The wolves ignored her pleas until a series of barks make them step back and allow Wendy passage forward once more. Glancing warily at the animals, Wendy walked the short distance to where she'd seen them take Peter, the bush quite thick so that she had to push through. On the other side she saw a small glade with a pool at the center, steam rising from the surface in a thick cloud indicating it was a hot spring. At the edge the wolves had dragged Peter to a flat rock-like ramp and were busy nudging his body over on to his side. When Wendy pushed through the hedge of vegetation she only had time to see Peter rolled into the pool, his body disappearing under the water with a faint splash.
"Peter!!" Rushing forward, Wendy looked down in horror at Peter's body floating face down in the steaming water. Without hesitating she plunged in and, despite her painfully tired arms, wrapped them around Peter and hauled him upright, his head coming clear of the water, while the rest of him lay under the surface, his leaves already starting to slough off, his blood turning the water pink around her. Wendy stared helplessly at the wolves now gathered at the edge of the spring, their expressive brown eyes watching her as she struggled to hold Peter's head above water.
"Why did you do this?" She stared at the blood coloring the water. "How can I help him, what can I do?" she begged, the warmth of the water sapping her limited strength and making her feel drowsy. Peter now floated, his body free of its leafy covering, only his weapons belt still around his waist. Ignoring the embarrassment of holding a very naked young man in her arms, Wendy fumbled with the belt and pulled it off, using one hand to toss it on to the bank, where one of the wolves collected it and carried it away. Slowly she maneuvered Peter closer to the edge so that she could sit down in the shallows, his body floating slack in her arms as if asleep. She turned her head to regard the wolf nearest to her, the animal staring back at her, its mouth open as if smiling approval of her actions. To weary to argue, Wendy nodded to the wolf and shifted to a more comfortable position, the water washing away some of the grime and sand coating her from head to toe.
Once more, with the hem of her soaked dress, she washed Peter's face, combing her fingers through his hair to release the sand clinging to his scalp. The rest of his body was now completely bare of leaves, weapons or anything, the water no longer tinged pink. She didn't know how or where he was injured, only that for some reason the wolves have brought him here, possibly because the spring was somehow magic and able to help him recover from his wounds. She fervently hoped she was right, her knowledge of medical matters sketchy at best. She felt her head droop from exhaustion and the heat, the air all around her moist and scented.
On the bank the wolves were laying down, heads on paws waiting for what, Wendy didn't know, she was just grateful for their company. Peter remained half floating in the water, his head resting heavily on her tired arm, his eyes still firmly closed. With her free hand Wendy tugged the cloth gag loose from around her neck, using the fabric to wash her own face and sluice water over her sand caked hair. She felt uncomfortable in her dress, gritty dust making it chafe and rub her skin raw. As Peter seemed to be floating freely, she slowly withdrew her arm, keeping an eye on him in case he started to sink. Instead, he just remained buoyed up, the steam lending a ghostly haze across the surface of the pond. Satisfied that he wasn't about to drown, Wendy reached behind herself to unbutton the dress, her eyes never leaving Peter's face for a moment, ready to reach for him if he awoke or started to roll. After a few seconds nothing happened and she continued to disrobe, shucking the bodice down to her waist, the thin shift underneath almost transparent in its soaked state. Standing up in the shallows Wendy pushed the skirt over her hips and off, carefully swishing it in the water to wash out the sand and grit which had turned its former blue to almost grey. With her dress washed she tossed the wet bundle on to the grass and ducked once more under the water, only her head and shoulders visible above the steamy surface. Peter had stayed where she'd left him, his hair slicked back from his face, his features looking impossibly young in repose. Still keeping half an eye on him, Wendy proceeded to dunk her head under the water to rinse her sadly neglected hair. The rain had washed a lot of the sand out but her scalp felt itchy, the water of the pool getting the last of the dust and grime out and leaving her hair squeaky clean once more.
Peter had drifted with the waves created by her impromptu bath, so Wendy waded deeper into the pool, the steam curling around her like cool fingers, the bank becoming obscured from view the further in she advanced. Reaching Peter, she reached out to gather him close but somehow he was once more out of her reach, forcing her deeper so that when she looked over her shoulder she couldn't see the bank or the wolves at all. A little alarmed, she reached out and caught Peter's arm, drawing him back to her, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as she stood almost up to her chin in the water.
"Please wake up Peter...please," she whispered, her lips against his ear while she wished with all her might that whatever power the waters possessed would help him get better. Her toes sank into the soft silt coating the bottom of the mysterious pool, the water remaining at the same depth as she slowly pushed her way through warm liquid, steam obscuring everything beyond the reach of her arm. The world seemed encased in a moving white cloud, all sound muffled apart from the drip of water and the ripples created as she moved. Even her own breathing seemed loud in the strange light, Peter a heavy weight against her shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest her only comfort.
Everything had been so hectic she'd hardly had time to think of anything, certainly not what might have happened when Peter awoke to find her gone and the cabin empty. Certainly she had been in fear of her life when Hook had returned to find her still asleep, his rough shaking jolting her from a pleasant dream of Peter and kisses and fairies dancing on the air. In their place she found herself staring up at Captain James Hook, his saturnine features glaring at her in anger.
"Give you an inch and your take a yard-arm, ungrateful wench!" Yanking at the chain, Hook catapulted Wendy off his bed and back onto the floorboards, her yelp as the chain pulled on her sore wrist and ankle making him acutely aware of the unnecessary discomfort he'd put her too. "Sit still baggage, so I can take off these manacles...there's no-one to rescue you and no where to run, so don't even think of it...savvy?"
"Er...yes...I mean savvy." Wendy answered, physically restraining herself from staring at the underneath of Hook's bed as she held out her foot and hand for Hook to unlock the metal cuffs. Freed of the cold, hard restraints, she found herself hauled roughly to her feet and almost dragged over to the table, only to be dumped on one of the chairs and told to be still. More than happy to comply, Wendy kept her eyes firmly to the front, not once glancing back at the bed. Hook brought over a small chest and placed it in front of her, flipping back the lid and negligently indicating the bottles and other medical paraphernalia inside.
"Make use of the ointment and bind up your wrist. It'll have to do until I can get you some healing water. Don't want that pretty skin marked unnecessarily," Hook leered over her, watching for a moment while she sorted through the small chest and took out the glass bottle he indicated. Only after she had bound her wrist with a strip of clean linen did he snap the lid shut and carry the chest back to wherever he found it. At that moment the cabin door opened and Smee appeared with a laden tray which he set down and proceeded to lay about the table in a haphazard manner before being chivvied away by Hook. "Breakfast m'dear. Eat up."
Having little appetite and acutely conscious that Peter was only a foot or two away, Wendy ate sparingly, nibbling at the bread rolls and sipping the fruit juice provided. Hook watched her every move, like a sparrow hawk eyeing its prey, making Wendy very nervous and disinclined to eat more.
"Ya couldn't keep a bilge rat alive on what you eat," Hook scoffed, pushing his own plate away and wiping his mouth on an embroidered napkin.
"I'm not very hungry," Wendy explained, keeping her eyes downcast, her hands in her lap, the picture of innocent modesty.
"Decided to play the wilting violet today? Well, damn your eyes, I've a mind to see if those lips still taste as sweet as the flower you pretend to be!"
Wendy immediately tensed, her eyes opening wide as Hook rose towering over her. "Don't touch me."
"I'll touch what I damn well please," Hook retorted, his eyes taking on a reddish gleam. "No milk and water miss tells James Hook what he can and can't do!" He reached for Wendy, but she scooted back out of reach, snatching up a butter knife and waving it in front of her in defense. Her antagonist just laughed, his former anger turning to mirth at her feeble attempt to fend him off. Instead of advancing, he left her standing as she was, her arm extended, the silver knife wavering as she held him at bay.
"A brave offensive, but doomed, m'dear. Now drop the knife and come with me. Smee'll be back shortly to clear this mess up." Hook held out his hand, palm up, and waited for her to comply.
Knowing the futility of her gesture, Wendy dropped the knife back on the table and folded her arms over her chest, her shoulders hunched. Hook's lips thinned and he lowered his hand. "As you wish. If we're done with the amateur dramatics, I'll thank you to go precede me out of the cabin and up on deck." He waved her forward, his expression mocking.
Without a word, Wendy did as he asked, not once glancing at the bed and its hidden occupant, her lips moving in a silent prayer of thanks that Peter hadn't rushed to her defense in some futile act of gallantry. Not that she doubted that Peter could give a good account of himself, but she didn't want him to be hurt on her behalf, sure that Hook would wreak a terrible retribution if the rescue attempt failed, as Wendy suspected it would. She left the cabin ahead of the pirate Captain and made her way up the stairs, glad that Peter remained safe and undetected under the bed. She suspected that her erstwhile rescuer had in fact fallen asleep after his long night searching for her. She even took a moment to congratulate herself in not causing more of a scene and awakening Peter, his sleep-groggy state sure to mean that he'd be captured at once. Happy that his safety was now assured, Wendy went out onto the deck of the Jolly Roger with a much lighter step than one would expect from a captive unaware of the fate awaiting her.
The crew of the ship swarmed all over the rigging and deck, ignoring the girl in the blue dress with a marked absorption in their duties. Beyond the ship loomed a bay, the water broken in several places by dark spires like broken spears jutting out of the sea. Around the edge of the bay was a seemingly endless landscape of sculptured sand, towering dunes dominating the horizon, the surface shimmering with the heat of the sun. The sailors were lowering a boat over the side and Hook steered her towards the railing. Wendy watched for a moment, her thoughts all on Peter, and little on her own fate.
"Swing over the bosun's chair," came a shouted order, the simple contraption of rope and a short plant swinging into view, another sailor bringing it to hang close to where Wendy stood.
"Climb aboard your chariot, m'dear. You fate awaits yonder." Hook indicated the beach and Wendy now saw that more pirates were already ashore, the distant sound of hammering drawing her attention to the stake being driven into the sand a little way from the waters edge. Even as she opened her mouth to ask what was happening, a length of cloth was tied around her face, gagging her efficiently, her hands for the moment left free. Rough fingers hoisted her aboard the bosun's swing, her fingers clutching at the ropes just as the sailors hauled away and the swing shot up into the air, carrying Wendy with it. Her muffled screams of surprise and fear were ignored as they lowered her to the boat waiting below, the pirate's binding her hands as soon as she was deposited amidships. Without further ado, she was rowed the short distance to shore and carried out of the boat over to the stake. Bewildered by the speed of events, Wendy could do nothing to stop the men tying her to the stake like a sacrificial lamb, the sun already making her feel hot and uncomfortable, the men working around her looking sticky and cross and impervious to pity. Secured, she could only watch and wait, the men speaking little as they prepared their weapons in readiness for the ambush they seemed confident would snare them their prey, one Peter Pan. Little did they realize that their quarry was already at hand and hidden aboard their own ship. This one fact gave Wendy hope as the sun beat down on her unprotected head, the sand hot beneath her bare feet. She had no idea how much time passed before a commotion at the waters edge drew her head up, her eyes widening when she saw Peter hovering just above the wavelets, the pirates rushing forward only to fall back when a huge crocodile lurched out of the water and advanced up the beach. Her joy at seeing Peter was tempered by knowing that he was entering a trap, his lack of greeting after cutting her bonds understandable given the chaos being wreaked by the crocodile running amuck amongst the pirates. It was a nightmare scene she hoped she would be able to forget before too long, not wanting to revisit her rescue and the horror of facing the monstrous beast devastating the pirates, ever again.
Now she stood up to her neck in warm water, steam curling about her head and Peter a dead weight on her shoulder. The shore was nowhere in sight now, the silt squishing up between her toes as she shuffled forward, only the ripple of the water around her to break the silence. It was as if she'd entered a world far beyond reality.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
tbc...