A/N: There is some slight gore and animal death. Please proceed with caution.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, heavy with their hunting gear, Peter and the Lost Boys set out for game to trade with the Indians, Kaytee quietly following them in support. Although she was good with a sword, her skills with a bow and arrow were rather embarrassing. She'd long since accepted her role as a Gatherer, and left the rest to the boys without complaint. It was just fine with her, they were running low on fruit and herbs anyway.
They trekked through the jungle on silent feet, straying far from their usual trails. Each time they hunted, they chose a different part of the island so as not to unknowingly train the animals to avoid them. Curly and Tootles would break away every half mile and check the snares they'd set up the night before. Maybe they should've noticed something was off when they kept returning empty handed, their traps untouched and cold. Must just be an off day.
Kaytee tugged Peter to a stand still and let the boys walk ahead before pressing a kiss to his warm lips, "This is my stop. Shoot straight and come back to me whole."
He sighed and pulled her close, brushing his lips along her ear, "Try not to miss me too terribly. I love you."
She giggled as he pressed a kiss to her neck, "And I love you. Go!" she shoved him away before his hands got too distracting and he winked, flying off to catch up with the boys.
The hours passed in a warm, languid way as the day turned from morning to afternoon. Kaytee hummed to herself and thought up new stories to tell the boys, absentmindedly harvesting a patch of toadstools they usually added to their rabbit stew. Her own game bag, though it held no actual game, was full of fruits and veg, a smaller pouch by her hip with herbs. Peter would always double check she hadn't brought home anything poisonous, but since Kaytee diligently memorized(and avoided) the handful of harmful plants in Neverland, it was unnecessary.
She was too lost in her daydreams to notice the silence of the dense jungle around her. The stillness of the brush, the absence of life's giveaways. Despite his teasing, Kaytee did actually miss Peter. She'd grown too used to his presence, the way he would cocoon her in his affection and attention.
She was relieved to finally hear the steady thud of footsteps headed towards her and stood from her resting spot under a shady sapling. Peter burst through the wall of greenery, his face covered in dirt, dripping with sweat. He didn't sweep her into his arms like he always did, nor did his face show much more than relief at seeing her.
"Peter?" Kaytee felt her own smile dip, "What-"
"Have you seen any of the boys?" He interrupted, panting.
She shook her head, "You're the first I've seen since this morning. Why?"
"Damn," he bit his lip and lowered into a crouch, "Get on my back- no, leave your bag. Just get on."
Unnerved by his haste, she wordlessly did as he said, grabbing onto his shoulders and settling onto his back. He hooked his hands behind her knees as she hugged her chest to his shoulder blades, slippery with sweat.
"Peter, what's going on?" She asked, her stomach dropping as he leaped into the air, the trees streaking past them.
"I sent them out on their own to hunt, we weren't coming up on anything as a group. I told them to go back to you if they shot anything." he paused, wind whistling in their ears, " But I was wrong, it wasn't our strategy that was the problem," He shook his head, his grip on her knees tightening.
"Then what? What's wrong?"
"Can't you feel it?" He asked her, his voice grave, "It's empty. The animals are gone."
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It took another half hour to round up the boys, all empty handed and frustrated with their lack of kills. Peter quickly shushed them and cast glances of suspicion and unease into the forest around them.
"Tell me- have you seen anything-" He looked at them fiercely, "and I mean anything resembling signs of wildlife? Rabbits, hogs, deer?"
The boys glanced at each other with wide eyes, shaking their heads.
"Curly, Tootles, were your traps set off at all?"
"Usually we get at least three rabbits, and two sprung, but empty, snares." Curly told them, brow puckered under his damp mop of ringlets, "They were all still loaded, though. Not-a-one touched."
"Not-a-one," Tootles agreed in a soft voice, then peered up into the trees, "It's been awfully quiet too, hasn't it?"
"It's like they're hiding," Nibs stated, leveling his solemn eyes onto Peter's, "like they do before a storm."
"Not even that, mate." Slightly chipped in, wringing his hat in his hands, "Usually I can follow a buck's trail all the way to his herd, but I haven't seen any such thing today. I've only seen me one trail, I have, and it cut off before I could get anywhere."
"Cut off?" Peter raised his brows, "How so?"
Slightly shrugged, frowning, jerking a thumb behind his right shoulder. "Was only a day- maybe two days old, not far from here. I can show you."
He led the way for about a mile, circling around twice before squatting down next to a pair of track marks.
"This is where I first found them. A buck and a doe, judging on the size." He stood and they followed him for a few yards, "This is where they end, though."
Sure enough, the tracks disappeared, cut off by overturned dirt and broken leaves.
"This doesn't make any sense," Peter muttered, fingering the hilt of his sword. A bead of sweat made its way down his left temple and he swiped at it with his palm.
"I know I'm not the best huntress," Kaytee offered, holding her hands up, "but it almost seems like something dragged them away. You see how every few yards the soil is fresher in spots? Like someone came back to cover their- oh, jeez, that reeks! What is that?"
A terrible smell shifted towards them as the breeze changed from east to west. It was a mix of rotten eggs and molding fruit, pungent and foul. Though it was faint, it was foreign to Neveland's usually floral and sweet scents. And terribly wrong.
"That's gotta be Tootles." Slightly pinched his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.
"As if your farts smell of honey and daisies," Tootles shot back sarcastically, "I always claim mine, idiot."
"Shut up, both of you." Peter barked and then pushed past them, scrunched nose raised to the wind. "It's this way, come on."
Deeper into the jungle they went, following their noses, the rancid smell steadily growing stronger. The sunlight in the trees slanted at harsher angles as the day grew older. Half an hour passed before Nibs grabbed Peter's shoulder, holding his index finger to his lips. They all froze, ears pricking up, listening.
Buzzing.
"Flies?" Peter whispered incredulously, creeping towards the direction of the sound. The greenery was densest here, and he drew his sword, slashing a way through the thick stalks and vines. As the thrumming of insects grew louder, so did the strength of the odor. Kaytee pressed a handful of her hair to her face and breathed through her mouth. Nibs joined Peter in cutting down a path by his side, both of them drenched in sweat, noses scrunched in effort and disgust. Then they both gasped and stumbled back.
They'd come upon a small clearing in the center of the island. The air was so thick with flies whizzing around, the hour appeared later in the day, the light blocked by the thousands of insects. None landed on Peter, Kaytee, or the Lost Boys, though.
The only thing that held their attention was the dozens upon dozens of rotting, dead animals piled onto each other in the middle of the clearing. Deer, rabbits, even the occasional boar. All of their bodies were slit open from chest to tail, their innards splayed out, gruesome, bloody. The heat of the day intensified the smell a hundred fold, and Curly turned away, losing his breakfast into the bushes.
"My god," Kaytee whispered, though no one could hear over the buzzing of the flies, "What- what could have done this?"
"I think it's more of a who, rather than a what." Nibs grunted, breathing into his elbow as he stalked closer to the dead animals. With the end of an arrow from the sheath on his back, he prodded the gaping stomach of a slaughtered doe. To their horror, underneath showed the half-formed, equally dead body of the baby she had been carrying when she was sliced open. Tears pricked Kaytee's eyes and she stopped Twins from going further in, tucking them under her arms.
"What do you mean?" Peter edged closer, sword raised in his hand, eyes scoping the dense forest surrounding them. His shoulders shook with tension and the hair on his neck stood at attention, sensing danger near.
"This wasn't done by any mere claw or tooth." Nibs clarified and pointed to another prone and bloated carcass, "See the edge of the wounds? It's clean. Like when we field dress, except it's like whoever was doing it stopped halfway through."
"It hasn't been long," Peter nodded in agreement with Nibs, "Maybe a couple days. The smell would be worse if it had been longer."
"Worse?" Slightly hissed, his skin green under a sheen of sweat.
Peter nodded gravely, "Much worse. We need to spread and bury them. It'll take months for them to break down if we leave them like this. We'll worry about the rest later."
He batted the flies away and stuck his pinky fingers into the corners of his mouth, whistling a loud, singular note. They waited a few seconds, then a few minutes. Peter frowned and whistled again. Minutes passed further.
"She must be busy?" Tootles suggested, though no one bought it. Even if Tinker Bell was caught up with whatever fairies did in Pixie Hollow, she'd always drop it at the hint of Peter's call. He was her responsibility, as she was his.
"What is going on." Peter muttered in frustration, kicking at a rock, "I guess it's just us to do it then. I'll fly home and grab the shovels. Won't take me long, but I want you to wait for me low in the brush over there, weapons ready."
He looked at Kaytee, and then to Nibs, mouth set in a grim line, "Whatever- whoever- did this," He jerked his head towards the pile of decomposing flesh, "they haven't gone far."
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It took them three hours to dig a pit deep enough and wide enough for the slaughtered bodies. It was the most depressing mixture of deer, boar, rabbit, and the occasional songbird, all butchered with gruesome, cold precision. A layer of dirt just thick enough to keep the flies away was thrown on top, followed by green leaves Kaytee had Twins cut from the edge of the clearing while they had dug. Mercifully, after the first hour of shoveling passed, everyone had grown used to the smell.
The sun threw dark shadows around them as they finished up the last of their depressing work. Their stomachs grumbled for food, but none of them had an appetite. They were sweaty, exhausted. After Peter flew the shovels home and returned with a couple bars of soap, they wordlessly shuffled to a nearby watering hole and washed the animal blood and by-product from their hands and arms.
Kaytee gently wiped a smear of bloody dirt from Peter's cheek and pressed her forehead to his, unable to speak, unable to feel. A massacre leaves one feeling completely unwilling to process, or else they'd realize the true horror of what they had seen.
"Let's get home." She whispered, pulling Peter up by his hand and the boys followed silently, aching feet shuffling. Nibs knocked an arrow on his bow and took up the rear, tired eyes ever scanning the darkening greenery around them. They were farther from home than they wished, wanting nothing but to crawl into their beds and forget the day. They would worry about what- who -was to blame tomorrow. They couldn't handle anything more.
"We'll stay in the Home tonight," Kaytee whispered to Peter and she saw him nod in understanding. She wasn't about to leave the boys alone after what they saw today. Not with the looming threat still out there, doing who knows what, for who knows why.
"I'm going to see the mermaids first thing in the morning," he told her in a soft voice, "I've got this feeling-" He cut off, glancing back at the boys.
Kaytee squeezed his hand and whispered, "What? What feeling?"
He shook his head, gnawing the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit Kaytee never noticed on him until then. It put a deep sense of foreboding into her stomach. After a moment, he continued.
"I know it's impossible, but I think it's-" he cut off, stopping in his tracks, eyes wide. "Do you smell that?"
Dreading another hit of horrible, rotting flesh, Kaytee tentatively sniffed the air.
"Smoke?" She whispered, turning to the boys who, after hearing their exchange, tipped their noses to the sky. Indeed, the forest was clouding with a thick purple smoke, blocking the last remnants of light form the setting sun and rising moons.
"Smoke alright," Slightly agreed and then shook his head, "Awfully sweet though, isn't it?"
"Yeah, like a candy shop's on fire." Tootles commented, frowning.
"Burnt marshmallows and candy canes." Kaytee nodded, turning to Peter, and then stepped back in shock at his terrified gaze just past her shoulder, towards the east.
"My god," he choked, "Run. Run!"
Aching feet forgotten, tired limbs and bodies surging with adrenaline, they followed Peter, sprinting blindly through the trees and dark jungle. They coughed through the plumes of purples smoke, savoring the occasional breeze that would bring them fresh air. In the dim light, Peter barely found a path without trees, sometimes clipping his shoulder on the occasional trunk, guided only by his internal compass.
It couldn't be, he thought desperately, berating himself for not checking on Tinker Bell when she hadn't come to his call, it couldn't be!
But it was.
Even from a mile out, they could see the glow. As they burst through the final thick feet of bracken and brush, flames of a deeply burning inferno towered above them. Climbing up the boughs of trees and crawling over the ground in search of more to burn. Loud, deafening, like waves crashing onto sand, relentless, pouring. Trees thousands of years old cracked in half and toppled over, shooting clumps of sparks into the air with tremendous crashes. And yet, it wasn't near loud enough to drown out the tortured screams of the dying fairies that were housed within its walls. The source of the putrid, sickly sweet smoke that caked their lungs was the thousands of little bodies burning alive.
Pixie Hollow was on fire.