"PETER PAN APPROACHIN'!" shouted a lookout pirate from one of the watchtowers.
At those words, every one of the pirates assumed position, gathering weapons, taking cover behind walls and cabins, and waiting for the signal to fire at their upcoming enemy.
A small pirate ran to the Captain's cabin and urgently knocked on the door. "Cap' n, cap' n, Peter Pan is-"
He was suddenly smacked to the wall by the door, unnoticed by Captain Hook. He narrowed his eyes at the almost dark sky.
"Here," he finished the tiny pirate's sentence. He marched up to one of the pirates, grabbed a telescope from that pirate, and looked up at the sky through it.
There, he saw Peter Pan himself, up in the sky, heading straight for them.
Hook glanced over at all of the armed pirates. "On my word, fire everything at that boy!" he commanded to the prepared pirates.
He looked back at the telescope and saw the flying boy coming closer and closer.
"Ready," he hollered. "Aim!" He heard pirates aiming all of their weapons up at Peter Pan.
Just when he was about to order them to fire their weapons, Hook saw the boy waving something, as if trying to grab their attention. Hook took a closer look at what the boy was holding and, there, he saw a white cloth tied to a stick.
A white flag.
"Hold your fire," Hook shouted, pulling the telescope down. Puzzled, the pirates did as he said.
"Why, captain," one of them asked Hook.
Hook pointed at the boy. "Don't you see? He's waving a white flag at us. He's not here to fight; he wants to negotiate."
"But why would he want that?" another pirate asked.
Hook narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Peter Pan. That's what he wanted to know.
"Hook," Peter Pan called out, floating over Fort Buccaneer. "I need to talk to you outside the fort! Leave your weapons behind!"
"Not until you leave yours behind," Hook shouted back.
Peter Pan nodded. "Meet me by the shores in two minutes! Come alone!" With that, he flew off and disappeared.
Hook's eyes remained on the sky where Peter Pan have been, as if expecting the boy to reappear and admit that it was all a joke, and then begin taunting Hook. As always.
But this time, that did not happen.
"Do ye think 't's a trap," a tall and fat pirate asked.
"Ye're not goin' t' actually go meet th' lad, are ye," a toothless pirate asked the captain.
Hook didn't speak for a moment. Then he answered, "The boy has never been this serious before. I must go and see what he wants. But first . . . " he ripped a dagger out of a nearby pirate's mouth and (ignoring the nearby pirate's whimper) tucked the dagger underneath his belt behind his coat. "Safety precaution. In case this turns into a joke."
He walked up to the gate door and stopped. "Mr. Smee, open this door!"
He waited for Mr. Smee to appear and do as he ordered him to, but Smee never showed up.
Hook raised an eyebrow. "SMEE!" he bellowed, looking around for his lousy first mate. He looked among the pirates. "Where's Mr. Smee," he asked them.
"He left earlier t' gather berries an' eggs," a peg-legged pirate answered.
"Who told him to do that?" Hook demanded, furious that Smee would leave when he wasn't suppose to.
"You did," the tiny pirate piped. "You sent Mr. Smee t' collect food supplies, remember?"
Hook paused, remembering the last time he saw Smee . . . leaving to gather food in his order.
He gave the tiny pirate a cool stare, not wanting to admit that he forgot and the tiny pirate was right. So he mumbled, "I'll deal with you later." The tiny pirate gulped in fear. "But right now . . . open this door. NOW!" he shouted at him.
The tiny pirate quickly ran to the door, gripped on the handle, and pulled the door open for the captain to leave. Giving all of the pirates a cold glare, Hook silently walked out of the fort and straight for the shores.
Once he left the fort and came up to the shores, he noticed two things. 1. He could clearly see the sunset right across the ocean from the shores, making the sky and ocean breathtaking altogether, and 2. He spotted Peter Pan standing on the shores, staring out at the sunset. When Hook walked closer, Pan, as if he heard Hook's footsteps on the soft sand, turned his head toward his nemesis.
Hook's eyes pointed more at the boy curiously. Pan's face looked just as serious up close as it looked from afar. There was no sparkle in the boy's eyes, no cocky smirk hidden in his lips, nothing Hook was use to seeing.
This made Hook very curious.
"I need to talk to you, Hook," Pan finally spoke, getting down to business. Hook was surprised, but refused to show it.
"And what, may I ask, do you wish to speak to me about," Hook asked, crossing his arms.
"Margaret."
Hook's eyebrows rose. "What?" Then, an evil smirked crawled to his face. "Oh, I see. You're still upset about that, 'Drowning-Miss-Benson-at-Skull-Rock' matter, are you?"
"I want you to stay away from her."
Hook did another take at the boy. "Pardon me?"
"I want you to never go after her, hurt her, or try to kill her, ever again."
Hook raised his eyebrow at Pan, still not sure if the boy was serious or an excellent actor. "And why should I stay away from your little girlfriend?"
Peter Pan flinched. "She's not my girlfriend," he mumbled so low, Hook almost couldn't hear him. And then, raising his voice, he said, "Because I made a promise that I would not let any harm come to Margaret while she's here in Neverland. And I can't keep that promise if you keep hunting her down."
Hook shook his head. "Do you really think that your silly, little promise matters to me?"
Peter stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at Hook, as if to scare him into believing he meant it. "Well, it matters to me. And if you ever go after Margaret, or try to kill her, whether you succeed or not, I will find you and make sure that you'll never see daylight again."
Hook stared at the boy for a long moment, with Peter staring right back at him.
Hook then smirked at him. "What has she done to you?"
Peter was clearly surprised at Hook's question. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Isn't it obvious," Hook replied as he began to circle the boy. "Ever since you brought this Margaret girl, you've changed into a very different person."
"That's not true," Peter instantly snapped. "I haven't changed at all!"
"Oh, really? Why did you leave our little battle to aid this girl?"
"She was hurt! I had to help her!"
"Oh, please. When Tiger Lily was facing the same fate as Miss Benson's, what did you do? You fought me just until you left me for that crocodile, then you became the hero and rescued Tiger Lily in the nick of time. But now, when Miss Benson faced death, you immediately left me just to help your lady friend."
"That's different!"
"And furthermore," Hook continued, ignoring Pan's comment. "When you came to my fort not more than three minutes ago, you didn't begin your little game of pranks on us as usual. Instead, you wave a white flag and requested to speak with me. Peter Pan never seeks me only to speak with me. Only to ridicule me."
"I had to-"
"And you even threatened me to not harm your lady friend, when I only captured her once. What makes you so sure I will attempt it again?"
"I just know you will!"
"And, let's not forget," Hook continued. "That wonderful dance you and your lady friend did up in the sky just last night."
Peter froze. "You spied on us," the boy whispered in horror.
Hook chuckled. "I'm sure I wasn't the only one; you two were just hard to look away. And it sure seems that you two are drawing even more close together. Tell me, Pan. Have you fallen in love with Miss Benson?"
"No," Peter Pan retorted, his fists tightened as if controlling his rising anger.
"Are you sure about that," Hook stepped forward the boy, his evil smile widening. "After all, love is everywhere, you can never run from this, 'adult feeling'."
"Shut up."
"Is this 'love' changing you, boy?"
"I said, shut up!" Peter Pan's voice slightly rose, shaking with fury and terror.
"It's almost like," Hook continued with a wicked smirk on his face. "This 'love' is changing you into something more, perhaps even a grown-up-"
"ENOUGH!" Peter Pan shouted. Hook, surprised by the boy's outburst, silenced.
After a moment of heavy breathing and staring dead straight at Hook, Pan spoke again with a lowered, but dangerous voice. "Look, just swear that you won't hunt Margaret down and hurt or kill her."
Hook stayed silent, looking over the boy as Peter Pan try to calm himself down.
"Very well," Hook finally said. He then placed his hook hand on his chest and raised his right hand. "I swear upon my left hook that I will not hunt down Margaret Benson and attempt to harm or kill her myself."
Peter Pan didn't say a word, watching Hook as if to see if he can spot a lie in both Hook's words and appearance.
Hook raised his eyebrow. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
The boy paused, then nodded. "Yeah. But if you break that promise, then-"
"I know, I know, you'll make sure that I'll never see daylight again. I got that part." He held out his right hand to shake in agreement. "Deal?"
Grinning for the first time since he arrived, Peter Pan smirked, spit a large portion of saliva at his hand and used the said hand to shake Hook's hand (much to the captain's major disgust).
"Deal," was all Peter Pan said and, with one last glance at Hook, he jumped up into the sky and vanished.
Hook looked intently at the sky, an evil and conniving sneer slowly stretched across his long face, all the while rubbing his gross hand against his coat.
*PPIII*
"Now, let the celebration begin," the Indian Chief announced. Everyone in the Indian Village cheered, including the Lost Boys, Little, and Margaret.
They had all finished the Indian's feast, which the food was very delicious. Now, the entertainment of the festival has commenced.
The whole Indian Village was decorated for the event. Colorful cloths and beads covered over each tepees, the way ornaments are hung on a Christmas tree. There were hundreds of torches and candles surrounding the place, glowing up the village as if the night was invaded by the light of the sun.
All the Indians were ecstatic and completely enjoying themselves during the festival. They wore their best clothes and accessories they own, especially beads and feathers. Also, their faces were covered in traditional painting marks, a sign of their heritage. On some faces, they wore less painting, while the others covered their whole faces with their paintings. Not to mention there are some Indians that covered their entire body with their paintings. Few of them, mostly the men, wore animal skin as wonderful capes.
Four of the men that wore animal skinned capes were the performers, who danced around at the center of the village, providing the Indian villagers, who sat around the dancers in a very large circle, a grand show. Each of the dancers wore masks on their faces and held a spear as they chanted in their native tongue. Everyone watching the performance sat around the dancers and watched them in excitement.
There were drummers sitting on every corner of the village, beating there drums in a rhythmic music. They had started at the beginning of the festival and had not stopped since then (except for the feast, where they paused and ate). They played their drums for the performers as they danced to the beat of the drums.
The Indian Chief sat on a bright red blanket that lay on the ground, his arms and legs crossed. He observed the festival before him with a blank face, but there was a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes. He wore a large, horned warbonnets
on his head, the end of his headdress trailed behind him. His clothes were large and made of the finest animal skin in the whole village.
Tiger Lily sat on the Chief's right side. She wore a beautiful white, sleeveless dress. Three large eagle feathers resided behind her head, tucked in her silver blue headband. Like her father, she sat with her legs crossed, but she laid her hands on top of her legs as she watched the show with great interest and excitement as her fellow people.
On the left side of the Chief sat Margaret, Little, and the Lost Boys. Each of them (even Little) wore feather headbands on their heads and almost all of them had their faces painted in a ceremonial and traditional Indian mark, just like all of the villagers. Though the Lost Boys' faces were completely covered with paintings; it was hard to see their expressions through the thick marks. Margaret's face was not fully covered with paintings; there was only a pair of single straight marks on her cheeks. Little was the only one with no make-up; she could never stand still long enough for the Indians to paint her face.
When the dancing Indians finished their performance, everyone applauded, ululation filled the air. The drummers paused as the cheering continued and the Indian players disappeared among the audience.
The Chief clapped his large hands twice and, instantly, three Indians appeared, carrying a small, but very wide drum to the center of the village.
Margaret and Little glanced at each other in puzzlement. Why was there a drum there? Could this be part of the show?
Just then, Tiger Lily stood up and walked to the centered drum and all of the Indians howled, cheering for their princess.
The drummers started playing again, only in different rhythm, on which began Tiger Lily's performance.
Margaret didn't really wanted to see Tiger Lily dancing; she still immensely disliked Tiger Lily ever since her moment with Peter. But Margaret couldn't turn away from the way the Indian princess danced. She watched in fascination as Tiger Lily jumped on the centered drum and danced, stomping her feet to make music underneath her feet, twirling around in every directions, moving her arms along with her body, and etc. Each movement followed along the beat of the drums. It was like watching a ballerina, except it was more rough and upbeat. She later jumped off and skipped around the centered drum, every once in a while stepping back on it and stepping off. She soon jumped back on the drum and continued dancing.
Margaret realized why she continued to watch. The way Tiger Lily danced was like nothing the earlier performers had done before. Tiger Lily didn't just dance because it was tradition, so she would be use to it. Margaret could see how much Tiger Lily was showing through her dancing: her spirit, her freedom, her love for her culture. She was basically expressing herself through her dancing. And Margaret was sure she has never seen anything like this back home, wherever that is.
Everyone's eyes were, of course, on Tiger Lily, but Margaret's eyes were so fixed on her every move, it was as if she was memorizing them for her future. And the Chief was the only one who noticed her eyes.
At last, Tiger Lily's performance had ended, as well as the drummers, and the entire population of the village cheered and howled, including the Lost Boys, Little, and, amazingly, Margaret. Tiger Lily bowed to her people and returned to her seat.
The Chief raised his hand and, soon, all of the villagers silenced.
The Lost Boys were shocked at the immediate hush among the Indians just from a raise hand.
"Cool," Slightly muttered. He raised his hand as well, wondering if his hand held the same power as the Chief's hand. He glanced at Cubby, who was gnawing on a turkey leg loudly. Slightly raised his hand at him and Cubby paused, staring at him. However, Cubby banged his turkey leg on Slightly's head and continued eating his food.
Ignoring the Lost Boys' interaction, Margaret looked over at all of the Villagers, their eyes intently on their Chief, as if he was about to give out an all-important speech. So, Margaret turned to their leader as he lowered his hand and began to speak.
"It has brought me great joy to watch my people and my daughter," he looked at Tiger Lily with a gentle look, on which she respectfully nodded at him, but Margaret caught a hidden, warm smile beneath her proud face. "Present our sacred and traditional dance to our guests tonight, especially a visitor from the outside world. And now, perhaps, for this occasion, we should now allow that visitor to perform her dance to us."
The Chief's beaded eyes were pointed at Margaret, who was shocked at realizing he meant her.
"Me," Margaret asked. The Chief nodded. "But I can't dance. Not as well as your dancers."
"Nonsense," the Chief replied. "Anyone can dance." He clapped three times. Right then, two Indians came out of nowhere, making their way toward Margaret. They then pulled her up, and pushed her to the centered drum. Margaret tried to resist them, attempting to return to her seat, but they just pushed her back to the centered drum. Soon, they left her and disappeared into the crowd.
Margaret froze on the spot. Thousands of eyes were on her. Her mind was blank. What was she suppose to do? She couldn't dance like them? She would make a fool of herself if she tried.
She was interrupted by a howl that came from her puppy. Margaret slowly turned to Little and saw a big, encouraging grin on her small face. Tootles, who was sitting close to Little, held out two thumbs up. The other Lost Boys followed his lead and did the same thing.
Margaret smiled, feeling a little better. But it wasn't until she glanced at another face that pushed her to the edge.
Tiger Lily was wearing a smug look that clearly said, "I knew it; you're too chicken! You can never be as good as me! Just try and do better than me!"
Margaret's blood boiled like a raging volcano. Oh yes you spoiled cow, I will try!
Without another thought, she stepped on the centered drum and nodded for the drummers to begin.
However, even when the drummers started drumming, Margaret still had no idea what to do. She had danced before, but that was with Peter. Now, she was on her own, being watched closely by the whole village. One wrong move and a wave of harsh laughter would hit her.
She had to come up with a plan. And quickly, so to save herself from further embarrassment.
In that instant, pictures of Tiger Lily's dance flashed in her mind. Maybe she could mimic them a little, and add flavors of her own into it. And by flavors, really it means improve like her life depended on it.
It was worth a shot.
Following each beat of the drums, she moved her arms from side to side, twirled around, then jumped. She stomped her feet on the drum below her as she turned around.
She wished she had pixie dust; she would have like to do some stunts she had used back at Skull Rock. It had made her feel light as a feather; immune to gravity.
She immediately thought of flying. That gave her an idea.
Closing her eyes, and imagining herself flying in the sky, she spread her arms out and moved around the edge of the drum as if she was gliding above the drum. She twirled around a few times and swung her leg.
Soon, Margaret got so caught up in her dancing and moved every part of her body in any way it wanted. She felt the independence and happiness flowing through her veins, causing her to smile widely. Margaret was so into her dance; she had never felt so free since she flew high in the sky. In fact, it did feel like she was actually flying.
Her heart and body was consumed with joy and freedom; this must have been what Tiger Lily was feeling while dancing.
She could hear all the villagers cheering for her, not even waiting for her to end. Actually, their cheering was louder and more enjoyable than when they cheered for Tiger Lily. Margaret's dancing must have really been that amazing to have the entire village rooting for you that much.
It was now obvious who was their favorite dancer and it definitely wasn't their princess.
Margaret turned to the direction of Tiger Lily so that she could rub it in on her face; a perfect revenge for the snobby princess rubbing her nose against Peter's nose right in front of Margaret.
But, when she saw Tiger Lily, she saw the Indian princess looking at her people with a heartbreaking look. Her eyes glazed with water, one tear escaping down her brown skin. Quickly, so no one would see her like that, she raised her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them, and buried her face on her knees.
Margaret stopped dancing, her heart heavy with guilt. She didn't mean to hurt her. She just wanted to get back at her. She didn't mean to steal her audience. Why would Tiger Lily be depressed because of that?
That was when Margaret realized that Tiger Lily wasn't all that bad. She loved her people and enjoy dancing for them; making them happy was a quality a princess loves to do. And, when they start cheering for another dancer, someone who wasn't even an Indian, Tiger Lily felt betrayed, like how a child would feel when the parent abandons their child for another.
Margaret took her revenge too far. She was now the villain at that moment, not Tiger Lily. And Margaret didn't like it. Not one bit.
The drumming slowly faded, unsure if they should continue. The audience fell into complete silence, watching what would happen next.
Then, Margaret had a brilliant idea. She motioned for the drummers to keep going. As they did so, Margaret jumped off of the centered drum and ran toward Tiger Lily.
Margaret grabbed one of Tiger Lily's hands and, before Tiger Lily could understand what was going on, Margaret pulled her to the centered drum and pushed her on top of it.
Margaret backed up and clapped her hands for the surprised princess, giving her a moment to shine.
However, instead of taking advantage of this moment to dance, Tiger Lily just stood frozen on the centered drum. Her eyes gazed over her people, who were now cheering for her. She looked back at Margaret and stared at her for a while, unable to believe on what this peasant girl did for her.
Then, a warm and grateful smile slowly made its way to the Indian princess' face.
Silently, she reached out her hand to Margaret. Margaret, although confused, took her offered hand anyway. Tiger Lily pulled her up on the centered drum with her. They paused, looking at each other. And then, they shook hands, coming to an understanding and forming a new friendship.
Together, they danced to the rhythm of the drums, performing their styles of dancing with each other as the people all around cheered for them even more. The Indian Chief, who's face was blank the whole time, slipped a little lopsided grin on his red face.
The Lost Boys were jumping and hollering. Little did the same thing, until she ran to the centered drum to join the girls in dancing. The girls, spotting Little, laughed and danced around the hopping puppy.
When he saw this, Tootles scurried over to join them and, seeing this, the rest of the Lost Boys rushed over to them, dancing along with them.
Soon, the entire village ended up dancing together (except the Chief, who just sat there and watched).
While everyone was dancing, a few Indians moved the centered drum away and created a huge, flaming campfire in its place. And, now, everyone was dancing around the campfire. They hopped and twirled and skipped and hollered. They all had the time of their lives as the festival continued on.
All of a sudden, Margaret stopped and spotted something, only to be bumped from the dancing Indians behind her. So, she quickly moved away and looked back at what caught her attention.
There was a small, yellow glow that was coming from the edge of the village, far from the party that was taking place. Margaret knew very well who that glow belonged to: Tinker Bell.
Margaret made her way toward the ball of light, avoiding dancers in her way, which no one paying attention to her.
As she followed the light, Margaret realized that Tinker Bell had never participated at the festival with her, Little, and the Lost Boys and wondered why she chose not to join in the fun. Then, she thought of Tinker Bell's hatred toward her. It would make sense that the fairy would not want to be part of a festival that Margaret was participating in. It would've made perfect sense for the fairy to stay far away from the girl as possible.
Just not too far away; Tinker Bell still had to stay and watch over Margaret in order to keep her promise to Peter.
Finally, Margaret escaped the party goers and reached to the far edge of the village, where the light was dimmer, save for Tinker Bell's glow.
Tinker Bell was sitting on top of a pile of wooden logs that rested against a tepee. Her head was raised up as her sad and worried eyes laid on the starry sky.
At first, Margaret wanted to leave her alone, so that she would give her some space and not anger her any more. Then, Margaret noticed how lonely Tinker Bell was. So, trying not to make a sound, she sat down next to the pile of logs; next to the fairy.
Unfortunately, Tinker Bell saw her from the corner of her eyes and anger quickly made its way to her face, turning around so that her bare back was facing Margaret in, order to ignore her.
"Oh Tinker Bell, don't do that," Margaret begged. Tinker Bell only crossed her arms.
Margaret sighed. "Look, I know you hate me and you hate being here, guarding me. But can't we just get along until Peter gets back?"
Tinker Bell didn't respond.
Margaret thought for a moment before she spoke again. "Well, at least let me do something that will make your stay . . . bearable." Her eyes then scanned the ground around her. She looked behind herself and spotted something shiny on top of a mound of clothes. Reaching for it, Margaret pulled it out and, bringing it in front of her face, she saw that the shiny object was a long, silver needle.
Margaret moved the needle in front of Tinker Bell. "Take it," she said.
Tinker Bell looked at the needle and glanced at Margaret, confused.
"Go on, take it."
Slowly, still sending Margaret a perplexed look, Tinker Bell gripped both her hands on the needle.
"Is it sharp," Margaret asked her. Tinker Bell shot her a questionable look. After Margaret nodded for her to check, Tinker Bell gently prick the sharp end of the needle with her tiny finger. The sound of yelping bells came out of her mouth as she quickly pulled her finger away, trying to get rid of the pain by shaking it and sticking it inside her mouth.
"I'll take that as a yes," Margaret said. Letting out a deep sigh, she slowly pulled her night robe sleeve back, exposing her unclothed forearm. She then moved her exposed arm in front of Tinker Bell. The fairy looked down on Margaret's arm and looked up at her, repeating her questionable appearance.
Margaret's head faced forward, her eyes closed, as she said to the fairy with a grim tone, "Stab the needle into my arm."
Tinker Bell's eyes shot wide open in shock.
"Go on and stab my arm. It's what you want, isn't it? To see me in pain? If you can't kill me, you would at least want to hurt me, right? Well then, I'm making your wish come true. Go ahead and stab me as many times as you like. I won't complain, I won't cry, I won't even move a muscle. Just go and get it over with, so you can be happy." She looked at the frozen fairy. "And I promise, I won't tell Peter about this; this will be our little secret." She turned away and shut her eyes tight, clenching both her fists in an attempt to calm itself for the coming pain.
A long moment had passed and nothing had happened. Margaret peeked at Tinker Bell and saw that the fairy, standing up on the log, had raise the needle above Margaret's arm. But she didn't stab her. Not yet, at least. The fairy's arms were shaking and her face looked as if her conscience was battling roughly inside her head. Margaret could see little beads of sweat falling from Tinker Bell's face as she stared intensely at the arm, waiting for her to provide great pain. But she didn't bring down her weapon on her target; she just held it up in the air, visibly struggling on whether to do the right thing or not.
Margaret stared at the fairy, confused. Didn't she want to do this?
"Come on, Tinker Bell," Margaret said, trying to stay strong, but couldn't help but fear for the upcoming pain on her arm. "Do it. Do it now!"
Tinker Bell didn't respond, only lifting the needle higher. Her small body was now shaking, battling over what she wanted and what was right. The intensity on choosing an action was overwhelming her, as if her decision could end the world in an instant.
Finally, to Margaret's shock, Tinker Bell let out a loud, bell-like scream and threw the needle far away from them. She sat back down, gathered up her legs, and cried.
Margaret was stunned, unable to understand what just happened and why. As she pulled her unharmed arm back, Margaret tried thinking of reasons why Tinker Bell didn't do it, when she had the opportune moment.
Does that mean Tinker Bell actually likes me? Margaret immediately crossed that out, knowing that that sure couldn't be true. Did Tinker Bell not trust her when she said she wouldn't tell Peter? Even if that was true, Tinker Bell would still do it if she was very angry. Does Tinker Bell not want to hurt her, but kill her? No, that couldn't be it; she would very much want to bring pain to Margaret so that she will be exceptionally happy.
Then why didn't Tinker Bell stab her?
Margaret glanced at the weeping fairy. "It's because fairies can't bring harm to children, no matter how much they hate them. Is that right?"
Tinker Bell nodded, letting out a twinkling wail.
"But why would you be willing to harm me before-" Margaret stopped. "Oh, right, your 'anger issues'. You were too mad to think."
Again, Tinker Bell nodded, still sobbing.
Feeling sorry for the fairy, Margaret grabbed a small cloth from the mound of clothes behind her and gave it to Tinker Bell, who took it and buried her face into it.
"I've always dreamed about you, Tinker Bell," Margaret said softly, not sure why she was telling her this, but it came pouring out of her mouth. "You were always happy in those dreams. Flying across the sky, so carefree and happy. Whenever you were with me in my dreams, it was as if I was Peter Pan and we would have adventures together, just enjoying each other's company." She paused, then looked over at Tinker Bell, who had slowly raised her head and stared at the girl. "But that's just it. It was all a dream. A silly, unrealistic dream. A dream that cannot come true, no matter how hard I try to make it. You hate me and will never be my friend. I know that now and I have accepted that truth." Her gloomy face turned to the ocean, where its reflection of the moon glittered upon the surface. "I just wish it didn't have to hurt so much," she whispered.
Tinker Bell looked down on her handkerchief cloth in deep though, looking very guilty and miserable.
Margaret soon looked up at the night sky, staring at the two brightest stars. "I've always loved those stars," she commented. "Especially the first one on the left." She paused for a moment. "I'm not sure I know why, though."
Margaret stayed with Tinker Bell for a long while, keeping the quiet fairy company, even though she herself hadn't made a sound since her little speech. Eventually, the Indian Festival has ended behind them and everyone headed to bed. The Chief had sent Tiger Lily to escort Margaret to her tent, where they will be sharing for the night. Margaret was about to follow Tiger Lily, but stopped when she saw Tinker Bell still staring at the sky, her eyes slightly dropping in drowsiness.
Margaret smiled softly. "Tinker Bell? Why don't you sleep with us? You could use some rest."
Tinker Bell turned to her, looking unsure.
"If you sleep now, it will make Peter's arrival much quicker," Margaret added.
That got it.
Hesitantly, Tinker Bell flapped her wings, flying up in the air, and followed the girls to their tepee.
Once they were inside, Margaret was greeted by a very sleepy Little, who walked up to her owner and rubbed her head against Margaret's leg. Margaret picked her puppy up and hugged her as Tiger Lily introduced their beds, which was actually a long mass of hay covered with a blanket and a quilt to cover the sleeper. Tiger Lily's bed was on one side of the tepee, while Margaret's was in the other side. There was another blanket that lay next to Margaret's bed, which belonged to Little.
As Margaret saw Tiger Lily and Little lay on their beds and fall asleep, she turned around to see Tinker Bell just floating inside the tent. Looking around, Margaret spotted extra blankets next to the entrance of the tepee. She picked them up, carried it across the round room, and settled it against the wall.
She turned to Tinker Bell, who was trying to stay high above the sky; trying to keep awake. "Here, Tinker Bell. You can sleep here."
Too tired to argue or respond, Tinker Bell flew to the blanket and lay down. Smiling, Margaret gently took the end of the blanket and pulled it up over the fairy.
Margaret scrunched her eyebrows. Something was missing.
Realizing what it was, she quietly pulled out her Peter Pan doll from her night robe pocket and lay it next to Tinker Bell. When she first saw the doll, who looked very much like Peter, Tinker Bell's eyes popped out in surprise.
"This is my doll," Margaret whispered to the fairy, so that she doesn't wake up Little and Tiger Lily. "I sleep with him every night. He always seem to comfort me whenever I sleep." She paused, wondering if this is what she needs to do. "I'd like you to have it for the night. Maybe he can give you some comfort."
Tinker Bell just stared at the doll, completely speechless.
Sighing, Margaret went straight to her bed and, as she lay there, she was feeling very strange at the thought of sleeping without her doll tonight. Sure she did it before, but she didn't know at the time, because she had lost it. Maybe this was a mistake.
She turned her head to Tinker Bell's direction and a huge grin made her way to her face.
Tinker Bell was already fast asleep, but her arms was wrapped around the doll. Her head was pressed against the doll's chest and she had a lovely smile on her sleeping face.
Feeling very happy at the only time of seeing Tinker Bell genuinely peaceful, Margaret closed her eyes and fell asleep.
*PPIII*
The night was peaceful in Pixie Hollow, as all of the fairies fell into a deep sleep, oblivious to what is to come.
Mother Dove snuggled close to her Egg, softly sleeping. She was aware that there was suppose to be an Animal Fairy watching over her that night. However, Mother Dove was sure that there was no need to be watched over tonight.
Suddenly, Mother Dove's eyes popped open at the sound of a crunch. She looked around the darkness, but saw nothing suspicious.
Perhaps it was only one of the nocturnal animals, Mother Dove thought to herself. Like a badger or a wolf. An abrupt thought came to her. Oh dear, I hope neither of those animals come near Pixie Hollow and all of my fairy friends!
The sound crunch appeared again, only now it was occurring every few seconds. Mother Dove could identify the sound as the ground leaves crunched below.
That sound was made by someone's footprints. And that someone was very close by.
The noise was getting closer and closer, much to Mother Dove's anxiety. She was so close to calling her fairy friends for help, but convinced herself that it will pass by.
The noise stopped and the magical dove sighed in relief, sensitively clutching her precious Egg close to her. The danger has passed.
All of a sudden, a large branch closest to her was pushed aside, revealing a silhouette of a face, leaning over to the frightened dove.
Mother Dove screamed, calling out for help, as she tried to flap her wings at the intruder to keep it away from her and her Egg.
The next thing Mother Dove knew, she was caught into total darkness, crying out for her now unprotected Egg.