Peter Pan.
So be it, he thought, his blue gaze hardening into ice. He knew where they would go. The only truly safe harbor in a storm.
And he would meet them there.
*****
“Tiger Lily, look!” Great Big Little Panther stood and pointed to the two figures moving away from the pirate ship out on the storm-wrought cove. “It’s Peter! He’s carrying someone!”
Tiger Lily frowned and shook her head. The wind blew sheets of rain into her eyes and she wiped them away, thanking her luck that she’d braided her hair before heading out earlier, or it would be whipping into her eyes as well.
“No!” She shook her head. “That’s not Peter!” The boy they watched was too big. And he wasn’t dressed as Peter dressed.
But he was flying. And only Peter and the Lost Boys flew. She narrowed her gaze and tried harder to make them out.
“They’re headed toward Never Bird Mountain!” she yelled, as the flying figures shrank until they were swallowed by the dark, looming form of blue and black that marked the spire-like mountain that shadowed what the Lost Boys called Skull Rock and the ancient bones of the Never Bird that rested upon it.
“It’s safe ground!” Panther shouted, trying to be heard over a sudden gust of wind that whipped rain water into his face and mouth. He gave up on saying anything further and, instead, used hand signals to speak to his princess.
Tiger Lily read the signals and signaled back with her own hands.
Panther nodded. They would head to Skull Rock. But, first, they would make a stop in Pixie Forest. It never hurt to have fairies backing you up from behind.
Chapter Eighteen
When Peter finally let her go, it was to set her down, none too gently, on a rocky outcropping within the dark cavernous ruins inside of Skull Rock. She caught her balance on the slippery surface and then straightened and took the opportunity to catch her breath. She looked around the haunting cavern as Peter landed, graceful as ever, on a rock a few yards away.
She watched him cross his arms over his chest as he waited for her to become accustomed to her surroundings. He, on the other hand, seemed to fit right in here, in this place as pitch as night. It was as if he had never left. Except that now, he was not the sprightly youth he once was, wrapped in clothes of leaves and vines, his hair mussed with salt spray, his face tan from playing in the sun.
Now, his handsome face was pale as cold stone. It seemed drawn in the coming storm and the wake of his emotions, making him appear nearly ethereal in this otherworldly darkness.
She tore her eyes from his and looked around, if for no other reason than to break herself free from his powerful gaze.
She remembered this cave quite well. It was forever lit by torches that lined the walls and never seemed to burn out – even if doused. Their fire light reflected on the black water below, casting an eerie, dream-like pall over everything in the cavern.
Peter and Hook had fought here five years ago. Hook had lost – after a battle of what seemed like epic proportions – and had fallen into the bottomless waters at the cavern’s center. While most sailors never bothered to learn to swim because they felt it would only prolong a death at sea, the captain of the Jolly Roger, by way of the exception that made the rule, was an excellent swimmer.
He’d survived and they’d all met on the deck of the Jolly Roger for yet another battle the very next day.
And now. . . . Now the cave seemed a hollow ghost of the battleground it once was. The fires still burned. But, even so, the vast stone cavern seemed constructed of echoes, the way memories are – and shadows of things that once were.
Peter stood still on the stone opposite her and peered at her through flashing, piercing green eyes. “So what was it, then?” he asked her, his voice echoing in the cave exactly the way she remembered that it did.
Wendy cocked her head to one side and glared at him through narrowed eyes. “What was what?” she asked him. She wished that he was closer so that she could use some of the martial arts training she had learned over the last five years and deck him for taking her on an unwilling flying trip once more.
“What was it Hook offered in exchange for your promise not to leave the Jolly Roger?” He smiled a wry, mean smile and shook his head. “I suppose he made you an honorary pirate?” There was a hard edge to his tone, which was one of frank disgust.
“As a matter of fact, that was the promise he made to my brothers. That,” she clarified, with a sharp lifting of her chin, “and sanctuary. He gave us food and drink and shelter and promised that no harm would come to any of us.”
At that, Peter threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed harshly off of the walls, ricocheting through the shadows like the laugh of a demon.