VOLATILE (I) : peter pan ouat

When an Attack Happened

"I see that you finished dinner," A voice asks from behind me.

I hold myself back from gagging. Pan Flute.

"That's very observant of you. Congratulations." I mock, keeping my back to him.

"So you probably are wondering where to sleep then? Now that it's nearly night."

"I wasn't actually." I correct. "I didn't plan on staying here overnight."

"I didn't plan on bringing such a disagreeable person to Neverland," he says. "Yet here we are."

I roll my eyes and turn around, having decided Pan Flute is all bark and no bite. If he had bite he definitely would have had me murdered by now. I'm not scared of him.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"There's a tent back there were all the News will be sleeping in." He says, and points behind him.

I walk past him, refusing to look him in the face, heading over to the row of tents. The one he pointed to is the one at the end, on the edge of the clearing. I walk inside.

Inside the tent, six hammocks are strewn all around, hanging on to seemingly nothing. They are all strung up in the air at awkward angles, slightly diagonal instead of parallel to the ground. They also hang at different heights. While some hammocks are only a few feet close to the ground, others are loom far above my head. There's no order to it.

There are four boys inside the tent already; Max, Lyle and Thomas, as well as another boy, the one with the Scottish accent. His name escapes me. It doesn't seem to matter though, because he struts over and sticks his hand out to greet me.

"I'm Marcus," he grins. Definitely Scottish. "And you are?"

"Charlie," I say, shaking his hand.

"Still in shock then, or excited as I am?" He asks.

"Excited?" I almost choke.

"To be here," he explains. "In Neverland, with Peter Pan. Isn't it exciting?"

"Have you talked to him yet?" I ask, trying to assess the boy's mental health.

"So he isn't like he is in the stories. All the better if you ask me. Much more exciting." He continues to smile.

I shrug as another person enters the tent. Johnny. He walks over to Marcus and myself.

"You're Marcus, right?" Johnny asks. He seems to be distracted, looking off at the Max and his friends.

The boy nods. "Don't wear it out. You were one of the people who got the boars, right?"

"Yep, I did." Johnny answers.

"How was it? Fighting out there in the wild. I bet it was amazing. I can't wait to get out there myself. Of course, we're stuck in training all day tomorrow, so that doesn't seem like it will be happening to soon."

"Training?" I ask.

"All the people who are new have to do it. Bit stupid if you ask me, best training we can get is out in nature, fighting actual things, but never the less, it's worth it." Marcus shrugs.

"What kind of training?" Johnny asks, suddenly interested in Marcus. "Like combat?"

"You bet it's combat. What else would it be?" Marcus smiles.

"Why do we have to learn combat?" I ask.

"To fight of course!" Marcus continues to grin. This kid sure likes fighting.