Hi, my dear readers,
THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews. I knew you would love the first really romantical scene between our love-birds, and I'm happy that it was so well received.
Sorry for the delay, but I'm still fighting with my cold, and when coming from work I'm falling like a stone into bed (sigh). But here comes now the new chapter, and there will be sweet, funny and interesting scenes, so 'brace yourself, lads'.
Have fun
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 16 – Dragon-Valley
As Peter and his friends returned to the hideout, they found Wendy preparing dinner. A lot of dinner, as if she expected the boys to be close to starving (in truth she was distracting herself by cooking … everything). She was oddly animated, chattering and laughing even more, yet even to Peter's ears it sounded … unnatural. Taking Bumblyn aside, he asked the visitor if something happened during that afternoon as Wendy was acting so strangely.
The little Hobgoblin pursed his lips and rubbed his big nose. He knew exactly what had happened to his friend. After she had returned from the ship (or from the captain, to be precise), she had been lost in thought, only to blush frequently, for no apparent reason, and to sigh a lot. "We… we danced and then… he kissed me," she had whispered, when Bumblyn finally asked her what troubled her. Looking at her red face, the glow in her eyes and the way she clasped her trembling hands, he had seen she wasn't angry about it and that the obvious embarrassment she felt was rooted in the fact that, well, she liked it! The tiny bogey might be an overeager troublemaker and scatterbrain, but, possessing the fine senses of the Good People, he understood her predicament: the woman in her had awoken from of the captain's kiss – the kiss of a man. The same man who burned for her like fresh enlightened torch. But Bumblyn knew that he couldn't explain that to the eternal boy.
"Sewing and cooking she was, that's all," he chirped innocently.
At that moment, John's voice rose from the crowded table that stood in the middle of Peter's underground home. "You flew to the Jolly Roger?"
Peter frowned and glanced over his shoulder at John, then at a blushing Wendy and finally back at Bumblyn. "Only sewing and cooking?" he prompted.
"Bumblyn slept til after midday. By waking up time, she must have returned," the Hobgoblin shrugged.
"You gave him the books?" That was Michael.
"Of course. Why not?" Wendy replied defensively.
"Doesn't he have…" "… enough books in his library?" the Twins wondered.
"He's read them all a dozen times and more. He was quite grateful for the new ones," she stated primly.
"But you wanted to read them to us!" Runner pouted.
"I scanned all the passages I wasn't sure of. Now I can tell you the stories, and you know that I retell the stories even better than they are written." The girl smiled brightly at them, and most of them agreed with her. It was true: Wendy was the best storyteller of all.
Still, Peter watched his friend closely. Something was not … quite right. Yes, she had flown to the Jolly Roger on her own before, on her last visit, talking with Hook about 'literature,' was how she put it. Maybe she did just give him the books – books, he, Peter, had carried all the way from the Mainland to Neverland, by the way! – to give him new ideas she could discuss with the pirate. That wasn't everything. The eternal boy might be completely innocent, but he had learned a few lessons concerning feelings, and one of those 'feelings' lurked at the edge of his mind, niggling. And as he and John exchanged a glance, he saw that the other boy frowned, too.
No, something wasn't right here. If only he could put a finger on it!
*** PP ***
"Ostras, Amigo, when I suggested you should use your free time to win the senorita, I didn't mean that you overwhelm the poor girl!" Esteban stood before the chaise and looked around the quarters. It had been put into order again by a wheezing Smee and an uncharacteristically cheerful Hook shortly after Wendy left. Now, as the evening had approached, the Klabautermann couldn't help but "put in his penny's worth."
The captain was in far too good of a mood to let the pest irritate him. "Everything new is overwhelming," he replied and puffed on his double cigar holder. Relaxing on the chaise, Hook was completely at ease. Well, almost. The aftermath of the kiss – kisses! – was still bouncing around inside of him, and made him feel as if he was getting a fever, but in a good way.
"Huh, at least the music was … acceptable," the sprite grumbled, and eyed the ship's commander carefully. "What now, Blue-Eyes? You're hot enough for her to set the ship afire."
Hook chuckled. "What now? Easy, I give her some time to grow accustomed to her feelings, her new understanding, and then I take the next step." He sighed deeply, clearly hoping that the time for the 'next step' would come soon.
Esteban grimaced. 'There are no bigger fools than men in love,' he thought, then he pointed at the satchel. "You can fill in the time until then with those books she brought you."
Hook lifted his head and glared down at the Klabautermann. "Were you eavesdropping?" he asked sharply.
Lifting both hands, the sprite shook his head. "I would not dare, but one of those books is peaking out of the top of this bag, and because I never saw this bag before - presto, it had to be the girl's luggage. Simple observation, Amigo!"
A snort escaped the captain. "You're to observant for your own good, Esteban."
"A Klabautermann can never be too observant, Capitano, or your ship would be doomed." He cocked his head. "Will you read them?"
Lifting both black brows, Hook frowned slightly. "Why are you so … curious about them?" he asked slowly. "Usually you don't give a snap for what I do when it has nothing to do with ship."
"Oh, I just wanted to borrow one or two afterwards," the Klabautermann shrugged. "It can be boring for one like me, you know – bound to a ship that anchors for … so long at one and the same island."
"A fate I did not choose," Hook sneered, then his expression brightened. "On the other hand, I'm exactly here where I want to be."
"Si, near the senorita," Esteban deadpanned. As he caught the menacing eye of the captain, he began to snicker and vanished quickly with the well-known 'pop'. Sighing, James leaned back again. Yes, a new book would be distracting, but right this moment he was not in the mood for it. He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to linger over every moment of the afternoon.
*** PP ***
As night fell, all of Neverland was asleep except for the owls. And the glowworms. Also a few wolves. Along with feline predators. Of course, four Indian watchmen. And as before, a certain girl and a particular man.
Wendy lay on the comfortable bed Peter had made for her before he took her back to Neverland the second time. Furs and woolen blankets from the Indians, including a cushion (which had to come from the Jolly Roger) gave her something to snuggle, and kept her warm. The air inside the Nevertree was earthy and rich with a mossy aroma, communicating safety and a feeling of home. From the other side of a blanket/room divider, she heard occasional sighs, soft noises of someone shifting in sleep. Otherwise it was quiet. Even Bumblyn, who slept just outside in the curved bow of a root, wasn't snoring tonight.
Yet Wendy couldn't find sleep – again. And the reason also lay awake in the captain's cabin. Every time she closed her eyes she was back in his quarters, whirling with him around to the music of the 'Blue Danube'. And when she forced herself to relax, she could feel his arms around her and the taste of his lips on hers – and the sweet, stabbing sensation in her belly was back, as well as the heat on her skin. It was impossible to fall asleep.
'He's burning for you and I fear that this fire will catch you both.' John's voice from the day prior echoed in her mind. Now she knew what her brother meant about the fire – and it was still flaring deep inside of her.
That KISS…
That glorious, incredible, life-changing kiss!
She had read about 'adult-kisses' in books – books her schoolmates read in secret in the half darkness of their dorms, and giggled. She had tried to read a few of those books, but she found nothing in them she liked. They were corny, sappy, and didn't show even the beginnings of the truth – a truth that had finally caught up with her the moment his mouth had touched hers, and set her on the path away from her childhood forever.
Those strange feelings he had inspired in her – the tightening in her abdomen, the increasing warmth in body, the thundering of her pulse and heart – these all told her that she had already left a larger part of her childhood behind her. She didn't know what lay ahead, what would make her a woman, but it would be final. But whatever this last step was, she instinctively wanted it to be him who walked this path with her.
Wendy had realized for some time now that sooner or later she would have to let go off her childhood, to grow up, yet she always had feared this moment. She couldn't imagine a man at her side with whom she would face an unknown future. It had frightened her. But the moment James Hook kissed her – really kissed her – that particular hesitation departed, reassuring her that becoming a woman wasn't that bad – not when it was because of him.
Of course only he could tempt her like this – the man who had fascinated her from the beginning. Even in her childish innocence years ago, she was drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet. Not only out of valour, or bold curiosity, but in a romantic way, too. Even if her girlish affection for Peter had blinded her, she could not ignore it. John had been right: she had a crush on James Hook, and this crush, newly admitted, was quickly becoming more. It consumed her, excited and also calmed her, which confused her even more, because it felt… just fine.
And another thing now revealed to her: despite his obvious desire for her (she had read about that, too) he had released her! He hadn't used her ignorance and inexperience to take advantage of her, unlike what other men would have done. He was allowing her something that usually had no meaning in Neverland, but showed that he truly cared: time. He had given her time to come to terms with this new, strange situation she found herself in. And for that she was grateful. He, the dreaded and feared pirate-captain, had stood back and allowed her to sort out her thoughts and emotions. This was … extraordinary.
'He has feelings for you, feelings he still has under control,' her brother's voice repeated in her memory. 'But for how long?'
'He will have them under control as long as needed,' Wendy thought. 'He's a man, John, not an impatient boy!' A boy, just like Peter, even if her childhood-sweetheart knew even less about romance than her brother.
Peter … She almost felt guilty, thinking of him as 'just a boy,' while James Hook's kiss still tingled on her lips and blew a new wind through her heart and soul. But this was something Peter would never understand; she had learned this during her first stay in Neverland. 'We have fun, don't we? I taught you to fight and to fly.' Peter's outburst after their dance in the treetops had suddenly gone so wrong, echoed in her. 'What more could there be?'
She saw his almost desperate face in front of her – desperate to learn something he wouldn't grasp, feared to know. To take a step that would change him forever. 'There is so much more,' she heard herself answering, surely more confused than he was in that moment when her girlish heart had beaten so quickly for the first time.
'What else is there?' Peter had demanded.
'I don't know. I think it becomes clearer when you grow up.'
And it was clearer now! Not only because of what happened this afternoon, but also because the veil of childish blindness had gradually drawn aside during the last couple of days until she was able to see so much more now. Her parents and her aunt had hoped that she would develop feelings for a young man, that she would stop struggling against the thought of finally maturing. They took her to balls, operas and other seasonal and social events to establish her in their society as an adult. But their attempts had been for naught, until now. What no civilized young gentleman, no well-meant heart-to-heart with her mother, no demands from her aunt had managed - all had been leapt over within days by James Hook. He had awoken something in her that demanded a deeper exploration, to learn and to live, and this all because of a kiss.
A kiss…
Sleeping Beauty had been wakened from her deep slumber because of a kiss.
Beauty … He already had called her that on their first encounter, and it was one of the names he used for her since then. Certainly a more complimentary name than others. But now, suddenly, she heard its other meaning. She was no enchanted princess, cursed to sleep for a hundred years, and he was no a prince (far from it) fighting his way through a thorn hedge, yet the story fit. He had fought a tidal wave, harpies and even faced a dragon to keep her safe. And she had been a callow child, unaware of the 'so much more' of what grownups called 'life.'
She had locked herself up the ivory tower of her imagination, allowing her very own thorn hedge to grow so that no one would ever reach her heart and end her childhood. But Hook had torn down the 'thorns,' just as he'd done five years ago, as the wind ghosts had projected the illusion of thorn bushes on their way to the Black Castle. Then as now he had torn down the pricky shrubs and now he had entered her 'ivory tower' to release her. The pirate's kiss – James' kiss! – had opened her eyes and inspired a hunger in her that no one else, especially not Peter, could ever fulfil.
And while Wendy tossed from one side to the other, sleepless, the same torment afflicted the man with whom her thoughts were so occupied. Lying on his bed, throwing aside the far too warm blankets in a far too warm room after having very hot dreams, James Hook tried to ignore the lingering desire his body was brimming with, and wished for the morning to come and the many duties that would hopefully distract him.
*** PP *** PP ***
While the night brought quiet for most of Neverland's inhabitants, it was morning on the Mainland, and it began with a flurry of telephone calls, two telegrams and the arrival of one of the additional hired hunters. Edgar Russell had come with the night train from Liverpool via London, taken one of the two existing taxicabs in Guildford and then travelled to his principal's estate. "His Lordship will pay the bill," he had said, manning the motorcar, while the driver had his hands full with stowing the many packages, including two rifles. "His Lordship is organizing a hunt," was all Russell said to the sidelong glance of the driver when the man saw the weapons. Arriving at Ashford Manor, Howard gave the driver the fare, and escorted the 'hunter' to his guestroom. Two more 'outdoorsmen' were picked up at Guildford Station early midday; both looking like they'd just came out of the wilds, wearing safari gear and toting weapons cases.
If the servants were puzzled by the extensive and unusual preparations for one of the viscount's 'safaris,' they didn't show it. At least, not openly. Behind closed doors one could pick out a lot of circulating rumours. And those rumours certainly would have risen to a fevered pitch if they had access to Brynna's 'chamber' down in the cellars, next to the passageway that led to the old dungeons. A few of them might possibly have fled, others would have called the housekeeper crazy, or just what she was: Witch!
Dalton visited her chamber in the early afternoon to ask her to show the new arrivals where the 'hunt' would take place. Entering the secret room, he looked around and paused. There, ten feet away was the new addition stolen from the church of Frensham, well, obviously last night, when the woman and the Fulsom boy had been away.
"What in blazes is the meaning of this?" he demanded, pointing at the old copper cauldron, balanced on an equally old grungy tripod.
"The cauldron is necessary for brewing the medicine after I get the blood of a dragon," Lunette answered casually as if explaining to a child. She stood at one at the smaller tables between the shelves and was busy again with dried plants.
"Brewing the medicine? This is … Mother Ludham's cauldron, right?" Crossing his arms, Dalton glared. Of course he recognized the cauldron instantly. He had seen it at the church of Frensham and he was familiar with Surrey's folklore.
"Yes, it is." Her eyes and the curve of her mouth rebuked his impertinence. "This cauldron is a special one – and its magic has improved and expanded since being in Mother Ludham's possession."
He took a deep breath. "Brynna, don't tell me that you and the Fulsom boy broke into a church last night and stole a heathen cauldron made centuries ago by some Saxons or Celts -"
She held up a hand. "Indeed, the church folk would never lend me such a useless thing. I speak of Mother Ludlam's cauldron, boy, made by fairy hands and which served the white witch who lived in a cave with a spring that you and your father are drinking from for years now-"
"Brynna, Ludlam's cauldron is… was placed in St. Mary's at Frensham!" the young man interrupted her, scandalized. "You not only broke into one of the Lord's holy places, you stole something from there!"
"I only borrowed it," she corrected him. "But the potion has to be brewed in a vessel connected with strong magic." She smiled soothingly at him. "I'll return it as soon as everything is over – promise!"
Dalton groaned. "Brynna…"
"And, by the way, a heathen object in a Christian church – it's a contradiction."
"Especially after you use it for magic again," Ashford grumbled. "I don't want to have anything to do with it!" he said, making a face.
"My dear boy," the old woman said, lifting both brows, "you're already deep in 'it.' You stole blood from a young woman you might want to take for your wife. You hired a stable of hunters and a man who has bent his life's purpose on proving the legends of dragons; a man who has now 'tasted the blood in the water' and will not be dissuaded.. And you promised your future wife's parents you would bring her back from the Faery realm she so foolishly traveled to for the third time. Think of everything that is already set into motion – and last but certainly not least, because of the girl, who is in danger because of the dragons, the very same beasts whose blood will cure your father, you and all your male descendants. You cannot turn back now – not because of a little thieving that will do no harm."
"Breaking into a church is harm - against the Lord!" Dalton rejoined, his conscience tweaking him.
"I had no idea you were so devout! But to calm your tender nerves, consider this: a witch's cauldron inside a church is certainly a sacrilege. And, like I told you, I will return it afterward." She turned away from him and busied herself again with the dried plants – partly bound together, partly woven into garlands.
Dalton rubbed the ache between his eyebrows. "Then please tell me that the theft went unseen? We don't need a police inspector dropping by with all of our unusual guests!"
"And who could recognize the boy or me in that little backwater of Frensham?" She ignored his accusing glance at the disparaging moniker. "Be assured that no one saw us – besides an owl." He only snorted and lowered his head, but lifted it again as she asked, "Was there a special reason why you came here?"
"Yes, Einar's right hand, Edgar Russel, has arrived this morning and the other hunters arrived an hour ago. They will never believe us when we tell them that this 'hunt' will take place on an exotic island in another world. They'll need to see Neverland."
"You're lucky that I still have hairs from the girl's brush, otherwise those men would simply have to believe you." She walked to the table where the basin with the crystal ball stood. "I can remove the haze of space and time only three more times, then I will need new hairs from Miss Darling." She glanced down at the ball. "The last time I watched the island, the ship had moved to an anchorage on the other side of the island – and remains there."
"Perhaps the captain will have some businesses there, perhaps trading with the Indians. His crew needs food, after all." He shrugged. "I bring them down, if you think you're ready."
"I am," she nodded, before she returned to the table with the plants. "And now excuse me, I've to prepare these weapons against the fae."
Dalton knew better than asking questions. He simply left; hoping that the stealing of the cauldron wouldn't lead to any consequences.
*** PP *** PP ***
As the sun rose out of the Neversea, Hook was grateful for it. He had passed one of the most restless nights of his life – at least as far as he could remember. It was the wee hours before he finally fell asleep, still hearing the waltz in his ears and feeling Wendy's lips beneath his. His dreams had been most vivid, and left him flushed and aroused to a degree that walking became painful. Dammit! Yes, it had been a while since he had last satisfied his male demands, but – honestly – that wasn't the problem. He wouldn't have reacted this way if any other woman were involved, but this was Wendy Darling, the girl he had yearned to grow up so that he would be able to hold and to kiss her as he had just done. And he knew that no one else could feed his hunger or soothe this thirst like his Miss Crabby. It was she he needed, simple as that.
At least that little nuisance Esteban hadn't shown up again, Thank the Lord for small miracles. He couldn't deal with the sprite's crude jokes just now. Relieving himself in the water closet, he realized that his problem hadn't gone away. The fire in his veins throbbed in his loins, and he tried to use a few mental tricks, like imagining Smee in a dress, Cookson with a pink apron, Mason in a cassock – nothing helped.
There was another method he could try cool his body down before his hand was forced – literally. This was going to be a battle – a battle with himself! "You are NOT my captain!" he growled at his uncooperative, insistent, rebellious flesh. Yanking on a pair of trews and fixing his metal claw, he left his quarters. Because it was so early, only the night watch was on deck and greeted him with a brief salute. In trews and his infamous hook, eyes fixed in a scowl, hair wild and an unshaved chin, his appearance was alarming.
"Be ready to pull me back aboard again when I shout," he ordered, dropping the rope ladder over the side. He opened the gate in the deck rail on the starboard side, took a deep breath and dove in. The sea, cool from the night, closed over him. Breaking the surface, he sighed in relief as the fever that seemed to consume him leached into the water. The water caressed him, soothing his hot skin and alleviating a his 'problem.' Swimming alongside the ship, he finally turned on his back, drifting, saltwater carrying him in a soft embrace. Above, the pinkish glow was growing blue. A few clouds passed and the first seagulls were gliding on the wind's back. It was such a peaceful moment, he drank in it like a dry sponge soaks water, his mind finally quiet.
Moments later, there was movement beneath him, and suddenly he was on alert. Shifting from horizontal to vertical, he tread water and raised his metal claw. This was why he went swimming with the dreadful thing attached to his arm. The sea was not only home to colorful fish and dolphins, but also sharks and creatures which were beautiful but deadly.
Something stroked him – an odd, yet strangely familiar feeling as if invisible fingers were touching him from the inside. Dolphins inspired those feelings, but it felt nothing like when the dolphins were near. No. It was … darker. And James Hook knew why.
He wasn't surprised when a female head broke through the surface. Complete black almond eyes looked at him from a silvery face, long red hair swayed about her shoulders in the water; the fluke of a silver air-breather tail moved under him. The mermaid looked at him, and he didn't know if she came with peaceful intent or not. You could never be sure what they wanted. Yet James Hook was always polite when encountering females.
"Good morning, lady," he said carefully. "Out for a swim or for breakfast?" If the latter, he wouldn't hesitate to use his hook to defend himself. Lifting both webbed hands, she showed them turned upwards – a gesture everyone with a working mind understood. "So, swimming it is," he concluded.
She shook her head and an urgent expression appeared on her usually inexpressive face, while she began to click excitedly. Wait, he understood a few of those ridiculous noises after all this time, but Pan spoke their language better than he. "Slow down, my dear, or I'll understand only half of it," he said, guessing why she'd come: she was a messenger. The mermaids had learned something and wanted to warn him, perhaps all the inhabitants of Neverland.
She huffed and began afresh; her clicks were slower now – and Hook frowned. "You're sure?" he wanted to know. She made an almost human nod with her head, before she pointed up to the skies, where the clouds had formed … eyes! There they were! The eyes in the clouds seemed to surround the island!
Hook cursed beneath his breath. This was disturbing, to say the least. His disquiet grew. Whatever … no, whoever now watched Neverland was certainly those with the grasping claws, stretching out toward them. And probably more than one – so many eyes! The captain was now sure that something was coming … sooner rather than later.
The mermaid was still clicking, and she wore an expectant expression. Hook sighed, looking disgusted. He hated those stupid language barriers. True, it was no wonder that this was Greek to him, because – really – who spoke with clicks? Pan, of course. The boy spent lifetimes here. He and … "Great Big Little Panther," he murmured slowly. "You can speak with him, yes?" As the mermaid nodded slowly, he grimaced. "Then we have to go to him – or rather, I have to go to him." He nodded farewell to the mermaid and swam towards the Jacob's ladder, grumbling about being 'demoted to messenger boy,' but he knew that his pride had no place in the threatening emergency. Shouting for the crew, he clung to the ladder as they pulled him up. The mermaid watched him, and as he climbed aboard and looked back, he saw her going back and forth in the water, waiting for him to head ashore.
He shook his head and grimaced. Early morning and no breakfast now. But experience told him that it was better to listen to his instincts – and those were screaming at him!
*** PP ***
Great Big Little Panther and a rather irritated James Hook stood listening closely to the message of the mermaid while, unaware of what was going on at the beach near the Indian village, Peter decided that today they would visit the dragons. Tinker Bell had learned from another fairy that an additional hatchling had emerged, and the children were hellbent on seeing the two dragonets.
Wendy was yawning after a mostly sleepless night, but the prospect of seeing all the dragons and their young energized her. She was additionally grateful for anything that distracted her from the memory of deep blue eyes, of a warm mouth on hers.
Having a quick piece of fruit for breakfast, Peter and his friends were off to Dragon Valley even before Hook reached the Indian shaman, and as the two men and a few warriors reached the beach where the mermaid sat in a shallow pool, the children flew over the Ancient Wood, heading to the mountains.
Neverland's landscape is dominated by its highest mountain on the northern half of the island, the Mount-of-No-Return-No-More (as dubbed by Peter after he and Hook did return from it.) Its spurs became cliffs and descended into smaller, rugged mountains and wooded hills, descending to the tropical area with its beaches and reefs. The second highest point in Neverland is the Hollow Mountain, so named because its flank towards the southwest had collapsed and sank eons ago; storms, rain and snow had smoothed its edges. At its northwestern flank, Dragon Valley ran near the volcano's considerable snowfield and stretched towards the southwest where it ends near Pirate Coves.
Peter guided them near the entrance to the valley. As careless and lighthearted as he was most times, he knew exactly when caution was necessary. Startling dragons who had just become parents or those brooding over their eggs was a very bad idea. One could quickly end up as a 'crispy critter.'
Wendy looked around cautiously. It was her first time to Dragon Valley. During her second stay she had been on the western flank of the Mount-of-no-Return(No-More), but never at the foot of the mountains. The valley was barely beneath the tree line, and so the plant life consisted of evergreens, mountain pine and sparse undergrowth. The lush tropical growth could not grow here. One could hear the rush of a waterfall, but nothing else. The birds thought it better to 'hold their beaks' since the dragons had arrived.
"Come on," Peter whispered to his friends, took Wendy's hand and began to walk toward the opening between the two flanks that permitted access to Dragon Valley. Tink sat on his shoulder, ignoring that her Peter and Wendy were holding hands. One glance at the two and Tink could see that Wendy was no longer any competition. The eternal boy may turn a blind eye, but Wendy was now an inch taller than he. And in those clothes you could easily tell that, at least in body, she had grown up. (If Tinker Bell listened to her magical senses, then she knew that this girl had developed a new hunger in her body. It took very little contemplation to figure out why and how this had happened. The reason … well, he had eyes like the summer sky and wore a prosthesis in the place of his right hand …)
It was warm, even up here in the mountains, and Wendy was glad that Bumblyn had remained in the hideout. This was no place for a noisy little Hobgoblin. After a brief trek, the waterfall appeared – a tall ribbon of water in two parts that fell hundreds of feet, providing the dragons with water. The air smelled of earth, firs and … something Wendy couldn't place. "What is this scent in the air?" she asked Peter quietly.
He grinned. "When dragon-mothers leave their cave to stretch the wings or to find food, they heat the stones around the eggs with their fiery breath so that the eggs remain warm until they return. What you smell are the hot stones." He took in her clothes at a glance. "I think I'll introduce you to Master Ayden again. I don't think that he'll recognize you."
She giggled. "Peter, dragons sense not only with their eyes, but also with their noses," and at this, Tink nodded, knowing that dragonscould discern others in a way humans would never grasp.
But the boy's comment was understandable, because even her parents would have had trouble recognizing their daughter at first sight. Knowing that this trip would be an excursion to the middle of the wilderness, Wendy changed into her more functional clothes. She wore the Elven leggings and the doublet she had gotten from Nihal, a smaller Elven warrior, and the second shirt Hook had given after her clothes had been shredded in battle. Her feet were booted with the laced boots Gentle Deer had provided her at the first snow. Additionally, she had gathered her hair into a tail with leather straps and the feather of her Indian name 'Brave Feather'. A belt held the dagger that Giliath, the Elven healer and warrior, had given her.
At first glance, you might mistake her as a member of the 'Beautiful People' – the Elves. But a closer look revealed her rounded ears and her skin tone: the girl was human. Yet, as simple and functional as the clothes were, they couldn't hide her femininity. Quite the opposite. The leggings outlined the soft curves of her slender legs and the belt hugged her small waist, emphasizing her rounded hips and the gentle arches of her breasts. The boys were oblivious to it, a man (like Hook) would have gawked.
Moments later, they were close enough to hear the dragons – low growls, soft hisses, humming tones. Moving deeper into the valley, the walls of rock grew closer, but the distance between them was still wide enough to allow the dragons room for their immense wings and large bodies.
Pressing a finger to his lips, Peter signaled quiet, then he waved for them to follow him to a few bushes between the widely spaced trees, and crept along, bush to bush, deeper into the valley. Tink had left his shoulder and flew into the shadows of the pines, knowing that it was only a question of time before the dragons became aware of them. Peter and his lost boys had been here when they visited the dragons the first time, but for Wendy and her brothers (and cousin) this was entirely new. Their excitement grew, making the enforced silence a challenge.
There they were! – more than a dozen of them. A few lay stretched out on the ground, wings folded on their backs, snouts resting peacefully on their claws or on the mossy ground. Two lay curled like oversized cats, facing each other and made quiet noises, obviously talking. There were larger and smaller ones, sandy, gold-green and red-gold, but the largest of all was Master Ayden, now sitting at the edge of the gathering, his fire red scales reflecting in the sun like fresh blood. And even as he listened to the conversations around him, it was obvious that most of his senses were directed on their surroundings, always watching.
Wendy, already too warm beneath the furred doublet, recognized Belena and Enjo among the others, but there was another dragon even smaller than the two younglings. Then she blinked and began to grin. There were a few caves from which the ends of tails were peeking out, the triangle pointed ends jerking or moving slowly like the tip of a cat's tail. Obviously the caves were too short to offer the full-grown dragons lounging room. It looked rather funny, and the girl wasn't the only one who had to swallow a giggle. Then it happened. Enjo rose and toddled away, but stepped on one of the tails that fell on the outside of a cave.
The result was a snarling yelp, followed by a roar when the tail was yanked away, which made Enjo stumble. In a cloud of dust and moss, the young dragon tumbled to the ground, wings spread, disturbing another resting dragon, who only growled. Then an enraged scaly head appeared in the cave's entrance. Snarling, the (dragoness?) angrily lectured the youngster, smoke escaping her nostrils. From another cave the big head of another she-dragon appeared – greenish like Enjo – and growled something toward the other female that sounded very much like a rebuke. Enjo began to grin, but then ducked as the second dragoness hissed something at him, too.
" 'Can't you watch where you're going?' – 'Sorry!' – 'Leave my boy alone, you shrew! And you, boy, don't look so smug!' " Slightly's 'translation' of the activity reduced the other children to snickers, and Wendy giggled along with Tinker Bell.
Instantly Ayden rose and his head turned toward them. Peter sighed. "Oh yes, we approached him much the same way just days ago." He left the bushes and moved onto the path, waving joyfully at the dragon leader. "A wonderful good morning to you and your family, Master Ayden!" he called cheerfully.
While all the other dragons paused in their activities, staring at the human child clad in leaves, the tension left their leader. "Peterrrr," he greeted the boy, waiting for the playful lad to tell what he'd come for. He didn't have long to wait.
Taking to the air, Peter flew toward him, bowed politely and smiled, "We came to see the new ones – with your permission, of course."
"'We'?!" Ayden echoed and glanced towards the perimeter, were he sensed others. His mouth curled in a toothy grin, as he saw a small crowd of children cautiously moving nearer, then he stopped short, taken aback. "An Elf?" he asked perplexed. Others heard him and drew nearer. Looking the child in question, he realized his mistake. "The young lady with the fiery spirit," he said with rising amusement. "I almost didn't recognize you."
Peter turned and smirked, "Told you so."
Wendy only waved his comment away, then curtsied politely towards the dragon leader. "Master Ayden, this is a pleasure to meet thee again. That also goes for thee, milords," she addressed the other magical creatures.
The dragons stared at her and one bent to see her better. "A young human female," he stated roughly.
"Yes," Wendy nodded and grinning at Peter as he landed beside her. Hook's words about an 'old legend' rose in his memory, so he remained at Wendy's side – just in case.
"But … your false scales … They smell of Elves – not all, but the most of them." The golden-brown dragon was clearly confused.
False scales? Then she realized, "Ah, I see what you mean. We call them c-l-o-t-h-e-s." She pronounced the word slowly, including all of the consonants. The dragon repeated it – quite a sight to watch the teeth and tongue wrap themselves around the human word. She smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Giliath, an Elf we knew, gave them to me after my own clothes were destroyed. They are better for walking in the forest. Much easier in leggings and boots than a gown," she explained.
A few dragons looked inquisitively at Ayden, and he replied slowly, "Elves are … a proud people, but they have helped mortals on occasion. But sharing clothes with a human and even a weapon" – he looked pointedly at her waist where the dagger hung – "is quite rare." He smirked a dragonish smirk, toothy and not a little alarming. "You must be very special for an Elf to break his people's customs, and for a man to defy his own deepest fears to keep you safe." He tilted his large, scaled head and added, "And who also shares his clothes with you." (And not only that. Ayden looked closer at the girl and sensed the recent changes in her; knowing what happened: she had come close to the man, and the woman in her had awoken. Interesting!)
Wendy felt heat rising into her cheeks. Wherever she went, Hook was never far away! "Well… I needed a shirt, and the captain was kind enough to share one." She tugged at the sleeve. "How do you know it is from him, Sir?"
Ayden lifted his dragonish version of eyebrows. "His scent lingers."
"Ah," she acknowledged, and promptly blushed even more, remembering how she clung to this shirt while weeping copiously at home, the captain's scent comforting her. John grimaced and shook his head, while Slightly and Nibs nudged each other yet again, for the girl's reaction spoke volumes! The question was, what really happened yesterday afternoon that only the mention of the man was enough to make Wendy blush like that?
"Oh, look!" Jumper squeaked suddenly and pointed to the left, where a dragoness glanced out of her cave. A little dragon, no larger than a sheepdog, peeked out from between her paws. Wendy cried in delight. "Oh, how sweet!"
The dragons began to make noises you might take for chuckles and Ayden hissed something towards the young mother, she answered with soft grumbling. Stepping aside, the leader growled kindly, "You may visit the two, but be careful. The young one hatched only the day before yesterday and is still very unsteady on its legs."
"Of course, and thank you, Sir!" Wendy answered and turned toward the boys. "You heard him: behave, be careful and be quiet! Babies need rest and quiet, especially during the first days."
"Well, quiet is a loose concept here, Wendy, considering the noise of the dragons themselves," Bonbon deadpanned, bringing smiles to children and dragons. Yet the beasts watched the boys (and the young woman) vigilantly as they neared the cave to get a closer look at the hatchling.
It's always interesting to observe children of different types interacting with each other. You couldn't tell who was more curious – the newly-hatched flying reptile or the boys. Even Peter became suddenly gentle, kneeling down and offering the mini-dragon his hand like others would do with a dog. Sniffing at it, then looking at the 'naked' wingless thing in front of him, the male dragonling sneezed (happily without any flames or sparks) and nudged the strange fingers. Laughing quietly, Peter stroked the little's head. The grey-sandy scales were almost soft, bulges on the skull revealed where later the horns would grow, and as he scratched the dragonlings flank, the little one began to laugh – at least the noises it made could be taken as such.
Wendy knelt, too, and carefully pet the baby's back where small wings were already peeking out between the scales along the backbone. Cooing softly and tenderly, the girl smiled ear to ear when the dragonling suddenly lay down and put its head on her lap. Yet the little dragon also edged its body towards Peter, who fondled it behind the small horn-plates at the edge of its skull.
The other boys crouched down, too, and Tinker Bell flitted above them, clearly enchanted. For a long time, they were surprisingly quiet. They only laughed and talked in hushed voices as the newborn turned on its back and presented them its belly, begging to be scratched there. All this time, the proud mother hovered above them and her golden-red eyes were bright with affection, while her mate sat at the cave's entrance and watched the whole scene carefully, but also with amusement.
"They are so sweet and tiny. And soft. Amazing how much they will grow later and how hard their scales will become by then," Wendy mused after she invited the others to pet the happy little one.
"Yes, our younglings are quite small in the beginning. They leave their eggs with scales, New-born scales, which will later be replaced with the hard ones in the colour they will have for the rest of their lives," the proud mother explained. They were there over an hour. The infant had become tired and had rolled himself into a scaly ball by his mother's flank. That was the signal for Peter and the others to leave and allow him to rest.
A large shadow fell upon them as Ayden came alongside the father. Even on a face of scales, you could tell that the dragon leader harboured kind feelings for the human children. Peter thanked Ayden for his permission to visit the young one, but before the red dragon could answer, another appeared from a cave near the valley entrance and hissed something. Peter instantly bowed. "Good morning, ma'am!" he called, and the sandy-gold dragon looked at him with emerald-gold.
"Hello, little prrrrince," came the answer with a full, low alto voice.
Ayden hissed toward her and grumbled. "I am to release my mate from the brooding and keep an eye on our egg. She wants to go to the waterfall."
"So, you are a father, too?" Wendy asked him happily.
"Yes!" Ayden sounded very proud. "I will get another male – the third."
"You already have two sons?" John asked.
A toothy dragon-grin and an added, "And a female. It's not often we are blessed with offspring, but I think this is because of our life span. After all, we live for many centuries."
Wendy nodded slowly. "I understand," she murmured. "If you had many offspring, the world would be full of dragons. You would need more room and many sources of food. So nature took care that there are not too many dragons to become rivals."
Ayden gave her a dragonish nod. "For someone so young, you see much," he said slowly. 'No wonder that the one-handed man harbours such heat for you, much like ours.' Then he looked again at his mate Anala. "She grows impatient." He threw a glance at the children and whispered almost conspiratorially, "Brooding females have such variant moods!" With those words he strolled towards his mate – head held high, stance proud, wings half folded. Reaching her, he rubbed his head over hers which made her close her eyes and purr softly.
Wendy watched the gestures of affection. Dragons had gentle feelings! Well, why not? Love could change the most terrible being into someone soft and loveable. And out of nowhere Hook's face popped up in her mind…
*** PP ***
Peter and his friends flew back to their hideout during the afternoon. The day had been exciting, and they were all talking about the dragon baby and what they learned from the full grown creatures. As they neared the Nevertree, Peter suddenly signalled a halt and peered beneath them, hand on his knife. Then he relaxed, as he recognized the figure that moved out of the shadows.
"Great Big Little Panther!" he called and dropped down to the wise man, the others followed to land beside him. Peter knew something happened. "What's the matter?" he asked, while the others clustered around him.
"Iron-Hand came to our camp this morning telling that a mermaid wanted to speak with us. The eyes were back in the skies, more than before. This time he saw them himself. And the leader of the sea-women … She said cold would rise from the depths of the sea and the waves were becoming darker. She spoke of a dream she had, a dream of white men with weapons – firesticks, firehands and an air in a bottle that sends you to sleep. She also spoke of the dragons, that their fury would be aroused. And she spoke of our tribe and a great suffering lay ahead."
Peter looked at him, shocked. "Is this all Anahita told you?" he asked.
"Anahita?" The man nodded. "Now her name is known." He took a deep breath. "But that is not all. Dark Owl had a vision this past night. He came to the beach after Iron-Hand and I talked with the sea woman. He told me about the pictures the Great Spirit sent him."
John stepped forward. "Dark Owl?" he wanted to know about his new brother.
"Yes, your blood brother had a vision. He saw an old woman and a young man with fire hair, carrying something like a large pot and a larger ring with three legs from a building. The building was a long stone house with coloured pictures in its sidew alongside a narrower, taller one attached to it. The woman and the young man crept in the middle of the night over a field where stones stood upright, put the stolen pot and the three-legged ring in an odd box on four wheels and rolled away with it."
"A long house with pictures with a smaller, higher one attached. Sounds like a church," John mused.
"And the upright standing stones – a graveyard," Curly murmured.
"Iron-Hand used the same words," Great Big Little Panther nodded. "Dark Owl spoke also of a strange force the old woman possessed. It hurled him away. Later he was at a small river and saw himself reflected as an owl." He lowered his head. "He also said that he felt the green sprites' anger at the thieves."
"Green sprites?" Wendy asked.
"Pixies," Peter and Runner said in unison.
"So the two stole something that belongs to the pixies," Slightly thought aloud.
"From a church?" Michael blinked. "Since when are the Little People's things in a church?"
"There are often heathen symbols and figures of magical creatures in and around churches. Think of the gargoyles," John pointed out. "And think of the Easter Bunny or the bonfires of Samhain. This are all heathen traditions. So, why not an old pot in a church?"
"But what do those two visions have to do with those eyes?" Peter asked, thinking hard.
"Visions are hints of what was, what is or what will be," Great Big Little Panther answered slowly. "To discover their meaning is not always easy. But what the sea-woman Anahita saw is clear: strange men will come to Neverland and they will have weapons with them. This is enough to make us all cautious."
"Hm, maybe those eyes in the skies are their eyes – the men, I mean," Nibs mused. "They watch Neverland from the outside to learn more about it, or they're waiting for the right time to come here."
"But how will they come here?" Peter asked; his crystal blue eyes were flashing. "There are not that many ways to reach Neverland."
"Maybe these men will use one of those portals, or gates, like Gilliath did – or S'Hadh," Slightly suggested.
Tinker Bell jingled her contribution, and Peter nodded. "Tink says that portals between realms are not easily opened. It requires knowledge and skills people don't usually have."
"What about wizards or witches?" Jump-Jump threw in for consideration. "They're ordinary men or women, but use magic. They maybe could open a 'portal'."
Again the star-fairy said something, and this time Slightly translated, "She says there are a few left in the Mainland, but there are not many people left who recognize or even believe in them. They work in secret."
"Hm, this old woman Dark Owl saw in his dream," John thought aloud. "Maybe she is a witch."
"You think so?" Twin One, Oliver, asked.
The young man nodded. "Great Big Little Panther just said that Dark Owl was pushed away by an invisible force the old woman possessed – probably magic. And the big pot and the ring with three legs? Maybe a big cauldron and a tripod. Witches use them to brew potions."
"Maybe a potion to open a gate to Neverland," Slightly said gloomily. "And then she and her 'watchers' can come when they like."
"If this woman is a magic weaver, she and those men can observe Neverland, and can also open the way to our island," Panther said slowly, pulling on his chin. "There are a few places which breathe in magic." He straightened. "Tomorrow I will send our warriors to keep watch over those places."
Peter nodded slowly. "Good plan." He glanced at his fairy. "Tink, maybe you can speak with Niam. Ask her to send a few of her guards with the Indian warriors so that any news can be spread quicker." Tinker Bell nodded.
"If we are getting uninvited guests, we should prepare," Nibs said, once again the strategist.
"Right. Let's powwow," Peter decided, before he glanced at Panther. "What will your people do?"
"We will prepare for defenses," Great Big Little Panther said calmly. "If evil comes, we will send our women and children to the Ancient Forest and the Green Masters. They will be safer there. Iron-Hand said he and his men will make his big canoe ready for a fight."
The boy nodded. "Yes, good. If those grownups show up and make trouble, they will learn not to mess with us!" With a crow of war, he stretched his fist into the air, the other boys did the same…
Only Wendy stood silently aside. Visions – again. First Hook had two about her, now the leader of the mermaids and Dark Owl, too. She had the feeling that this was connected. She knew she should tell Peter and Great Big Little Panther about the visions Hook had on her behalf, but she didn't dare – not with John listening so closely and knowing Peter's jealousy when he thought that she and the pirate were too comfortable with each other. Yet it was clear that sooner or later she would have to reveal it – and to expose what she knew about the Ashfords, and that she'd found an old painting of Hook in the manor's library.
She couldn't know that this moment was approaching rather quickly…
TBC…
Yes, I know, the baby-dragons are rather sweeeeet (well, just wait when they grow, 'snicker'). And as sweet as they are, their parents won't be in the near future – at latest when Dalton comes to Neverland. He really will use a mean trick, but more of it later. For now the inhabitants of Neverland are more or less warned, but it's like sitting in a boat without paddle and helm. You only can wait in which direction the water will take you without having the chance to take any influence…
Well, the Mainland and Neverland really are drifting close, and how close they are already is something Hook will find out in the next chapter. He gets another vision, a clear warning and, above all, learns what year is in the Mainland. Believe me, it will be a shock for the poor man. And parallel Dalton Ashford becomes aware of the resemblance of a certain portrait in his library with Wendy's drawings of 'her' pirate-captain, what leads to more.
In other words, everything remains suspense-packed.
Like always I hope to get some reviews and say already thank-you to everyone who takes some time to type a comment.
Have a nice rest of Sunday (the next chapter will come sooner, promised),
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight