The Captive (First Book in the Neverland Bound Series)

Chapter 11 (Catherine)

I wake up the next morning with a start. I scan the area of the tent wildly in search of the source of the voice that I could have sworn just whispered my name. When I see no one, I start to settle down. I take deep breaths to calm myself while knocking it off as nothing more than a dream, and turn to look at Ethan. He's still fast asleep. I'm not that surprised. The end of the world could commence and I seriously doubt that boy would even so much as stir. I can't help but smile at the thought.

I quietly sneak out of our tent, hoping to give him a little more time to sleep before Pan wakes everyone. The whole camp is silent, all the boys still asleep in their tents. Even Pan isn't up and about as I expected he would be since he always wakes with the dawn. They must have stayed up later than I thought. I decide to go out and find something to cook for breakfast, so I take up my bow and quiver of arrows and silently leave camp.

The forest is quiet with only the sounds of small animals scurrying about and the occasional call of a lark. I take a deep breath and sigh as I feel the energy of the jungle humming around me. Through the quiet, the loud snap of a twig can be heard and I jump. I scan my surroundings and listen hard for any sign of what had made the noise. I wait patiently for a while with an arrow cocked at the ready, but nothing seems out of the ordinary so I continue my hunt.

I hear similar sounds throughout my excursion, but nothing ever presents itself. I shoot three squirrels and four rabbits before I feel I have enough to for everyone to eat. During my walk back to camp, I begin to hear footsteps following behind me. I halt in my tracks, but the steps continue to sound. I quickly turn around to face whoever is following me, arrow once again cocked at the ready.

I look around and call out, "If this is some kind of joke Peter, it's not very funny."

"Oh, I'm not Peter, dear," a voice proclaims from behind me and causes my blood to run cold.

"Lance," I whisper, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Good. So you remember me. Makes my job that much easier," he says materializing in front of me.

"But I thought..." I whisper, still having a hard time comprehending what's going on.

"Everyone did, dearie," he says smirking. He takes another step towards me, but I stand my ground.

"Brave little devil, aren't we? Nothing like the little brat who always ran to Pan whenever something scared her or didn't go her way," he chuckles taking another step forward.

I still refuse to budge and respond, "No, I'm not."

"Heard you left shortly after I did. What happened with that?"

"What's it to you?"

"Oh nothing. Just curious," he answers, shrugging.

"What do you want, Lance?" I ask, sneering at him.

"It's not really what I want. It's more like what Hook wants. He would like to have an audience with you, dearie," he explains.

"What makes him think I'll come willingly?" I ask.

"Well you see dearie, that's what I'm here for," he says.

Before I can react, he pulls out a rather large club and swings it in my direction. The last thing I remember is him saying, "Night, love."

And then everything goes black.

-----------

I wake up and wince at the pain I feel in my head. Opening my eyes, I have a hard time focusing on anything and after a short moment I am forced to re-close them due to the bile building in the back of my throat. After finally getting control of my stomach, I reopen my eyes and focus on the ceiling above me. I then reach up and feel the beginnings of a lump forming where Lance had struck me with his club. I also feel something sticky and warm. I pull my hand back only to see that my fingers are now covered in my own blood. I try to sit up, but a wave dizziness overcomes me and I have to lie back down. After the nausea fades away again, I begin to take in my surroundings.