Nibs watched Mother and Father from his hammock. Dinner had been a tense affair. Hardly anyone spoke, and when they did it was met with a cold glare from Peter. The lost boys had helped Wendy with the cleanup, which was very unusual but they were eager to please. She then finished the story of the "Goose Girl" and added several gory details, much to the satisfaction of her listeners.
Nibs noted with curiosity that her sparkle, that was normally present in her beautiful eyes, wasn't there tonight. And her smile didn't seem quite as sincere. He wondered if it had anything to do with the fight that Wendy and Peter had. But he wasn't allowed to dwell on it as Mother deemed it time for all children to go to bed.
Wendy sat in a chair by the fire mending one of the lost boy's jackets. Peter sat in his throne and played his pipes idly; the melancholy tune weaving through the night air. The haunting music plus the crackling of the fire was enough to send Nibs off to dreamland, and he curled up in a fitful sleep.
Peter put down his pipes after he's sure that all of the boys have fallen asleep. A strange silence settled over the hideout. He gazed up at Wendy, the fire light flickering across her face. Her hair glowed bronze and fell around her face in a soft curtain. Her head was bent as she was focusing on a particularly troublesome stitch. Peter watched Wendy with a mixture of curiosity and confusion as he tried to figure her out.
What was it about this girl that made him...feel? Why was it that when she smiled he could soar over the highest cloud but when they had a cross word he was up in arms? What made her so interesting? Sure she told wonderful stories; she was brave, determined, and witty. But so was Tiger Lilly and her smiles didn't send him over the moon. Why did he get this warmth spreading throughout his chest when she was near? And why, when she was captured by Hook, did he feel a sense of dread and fear? The lost boys had been captured many times yet he hadn't worried about their safety one bit! But when he was fighting Hook he hadn't been able to concentrate until he knew she was out of harm's way. It was strange!
But what was even stranger was what had happened earlier, when he had been tickling Wendy. They had been so close; he could feel her heart beating alongside his. His stomach had done flips, and his mind was fuzzy. All he could focus on was her mouth. It had to be magic, because he felt it pulling at him. Making him wonder what her lips might feel like. He had wanted to touch them, to be nearer them, but they were interrupted.
What was this girl doing to him? He didn't understand it. He didn't understand the feelings and it terrified him. He didn't know if he wanted to understand them. He didn't like unknown things, and feelings were very unknown. They also sounded like grownup things. Peter scowled. He would never grow up. And if Wendy and these feelings persisted...Peter sighed. He didn't know. He just didn't know what to do.
Wendy's sewing fell to the floor, the sound bringing Peter out of his reverie. He looked up and laughed softly. Wendy's head had fallen to her chest, eyes drooped shut. Silly girl, he thought. Carefully he took the needle out of Wendy's hand and placed it on the sewing on the floor. Gently he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bed. Silly, silly, wonderful girl.
The next few days flew by in a frenzy of activity. Wendy and her brothers trained until the sun went down. The Twins taught balance, Nibs worked on their strategy, Cubby worked on strength, Tootles taught stealth with games of hide and go seek, and Slightly was in charge of teaching weapons. Michael and John had picked up parts of the training with ease. John became a master of strategy and quickly learned to be one of the best at hide and go seek, winning more often than not. Wendy struggled with just about everything, but she was determined to prove to Peter, and herself, that she was capable of whatever he threw at her. It wasn't without its price though. She spent many nights nursing bruised shoulders and hips.
After training Wendy would prepare dinner, tell a story and send the boys to bed. The rest of the night was spent by the fire usually mending the boy's old clothes. Or she would be working on a new dress for her, since her nightgown was not conducive to lost girl training. Peter was usually nearby playing his pipes or whittling something. Wendy would often catch him staring at her; she would duck her head to hide her blush.
Some nights she would fall asleep sewing and wake up in her bed the next morning. She never asked, but had an inkling that Peter had often carried her there. Wendy stretched and rolled out of bed. Today Slightly was in charge of training, they were going to learn bow and arrow, tomahawk, and slingshot.
She slowly meandered out to the kitchen area to prepare breakfast. Slightly was the only other one up when she walked out.
"Good morning Mother!" Slightly beamed cheerfully at her. He hefted a large quiver of arrows onto his shoulder. "Ready for an adventure?"
Wendy laughed, "It's always an adventure when I'm with you boys!"
She turned to the kitchen and pulled out a few bananas and coconuts. Slowly the rest of the boys started to come to the table, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. "Good morning boys!" Wendy greeted. Her answer was a series of disgruntled and sleepy "morning's" Wendy looked around the table as she served breakfast.
"Where's Peter?" She asked
"He left early this morning to go explore the island or something like that." Slightly offered, mouth full or banana.
"Oh," was all Wendy said as she sat down to eat.
"He does that sometimes. He'll leave for a while, but he'll come back." Nibs pointed out.
"I'm sure he will." They ate the rest of breakfast in silence. "Alright!" Slightly announced, "Who's ready to learn to shoot?"
...
Peter watched as Wendy and the boys walked to a clearing in the forest, just a little ways from the hideout. Peter had decided to observe from afar today, just for curiosities sake. He wanted to see how well Wendy did or didn't do when he wasn't there.
Slightly had painted several targets on trees down at the far end of the clearing. There were three stations, one for bow and arrow, one for sling shot and one for tomahawk.
"Let's start at the tomahawk. Mother you're up first. We'll start with your stance." Slightly instructed. Wendy moved up to a line twelve feet from a target. "Now your feet should be shoulder width apart in a comfortable stance. When you are throwing put most of your weight on your right foot so you can step forward with your left. Now to grip the tomahawk hold it like you would hold a hammer, near the end, with the cutting edge of the blade face down. Got that?"
Wendy gripped the weapon, "I think so."
Slightly looked at her grip and nodded his approval. "Now extend your arm out in front of you. Then slowly raise it above your shoulder, without fully bending your elbow. Now you are ready to throw. When you bring your arm back down, and your arm is horizontal, you are ready to release."
Slightly demonstrated once, the hawk sticking dead center in the target. "Don't try to throw too hard. If it's sharp the hawk will stick by itself. The weight and momentum is usually enough to carry and stick it. Power, speed, and more importantly accuracy will come with time and practice. So...you ready to give it a try?"
Wendy looked wide eyed at the tomahawk. "I guess so."
Facing the target she raised her arm in front of her and then brought it up behind her shoulder. Taking a deep breathe she threw. The tomahawk flew through the air with a wobble and clunked off the tree truck, landing in the grass next to it.
"That's okay! It was your first try! We'll keep at it." Slightly encouraged.
It was John's turn next. Slightly demonstrated again and John watched closely. Grasping the hawk he mumbled something about trajectory and acceleration. His first shot missed, but then he adjusted his arm and the next shot stuck true. "Huzzah!" John shouted, fist pumping in the air.
Wendy rolled her eyes at her brother. Next up was Michael. Wendy was worried at Michael being so young to handle such a weapon, but Slightly reassured her that Tootles was one of their best shots and he was as small as Michael. Michael faired just as well as Wendy had, missing all his shots.
They then moved to slingshot. Wendy and John did alright, but missed more targets then they hit. Michael on the other hand excelled. Wendy looked to her brother.
He grinned sheepishly, "I had practice shooting stray cats out of the garden."
The last rotation was to the bow and arrows. Wendy was excited for this one. She had never shot one, but had dreamed about it when she told the story of Robin Hood. Slightly explained the stance and the proper way to hold the bow. Wendy listened eagerly, wanting to get this one right.
She docked an arrow and gazed down at the target. Raising the bow up, she drew the arrow back to the corner of her mouth, like Slightly had instructed. Taking a deep breath, she focused in. With a whoosh! The arrow sailed through the air and hit the target.
"I did it!" Wendy exclaimed!
The boys cheered! They spent the next little while rotating from station to station until Slightly passed them on each weapon. It was getting late and it was time for dinner, the troop headed back to the hideout each boasting in their different successes.
Peter still wasn't back yet when dinner was over. Wendy tried not to dwell on it too much and instead focus on the rush she felt when she was using the bow and arrows. Wendy felt invincible after her time with the bow, she was a sure shot and loved the feel of it in her hands. Feeling like she could take on the world, she decided to once and for all conquer the rope bridge.
The boys watched as their Mother climbed up the ladder to reach the platform. Each held their breath. Wendy smiled down confidently and reached out for the first bar. She swung and reached out for the second and so on until she only had two more left. The boys down below cheered her on. In her confidence she misjudged the distance between the bars and missed, making her slip and fall. She landed on her ankle with a painful thud. The boys rushed to her aid.
"Are you alright Mother?"
"Are you hurt?"
"Can you walk?"
Wendy shooed away the pestering lot and tried to stand up. Grimacing at the pain, she hobbled to the ladder again. Determination set in, she was going to get across the bridge. Tonight.
Each step was painful, but Wendy was focused on her goal. Swinging from bar to bar, she finally made it to the last one. With a great heave she swung for it and caught it! She lowered herself onto the far platform. She made it! A slow clapping came from the corner of the hideout.
"Well done Little Mother!"
Peter emerged from the shadows a triumphant gleam in his eye. He was proud at how hard Wendy had worked to reach her goal.
Wendy turned to look at him, a huge smile on her face. "I crossed the bridge Peter!" she cried victoriously.
Peter smiled back at her and sat in his throne. "I think that since Mother made it across the bridge she should get to choose what story to tell tonight."
The boys cheered in agreement. Wendy hobbled her way down the ladder and limped over to the fire. The excitement of crossing the bridge dulling the pain in her ankle. But Peter noticed with a crease in his brow that her ankle was swelling, and turning black and blue. Nibs pulled out Wendy's chair and sat it in front of the boys. Wendy sat down gracefully and smoothed her skirt.
"I get to choose tonight?" She smiled. "Well then, how about one of my favorites, Sleeping Beauty."
"Ew that sounds like a girly story!" Cubby protested.
"Quiet fool! It's mother's turn to choose." Slightly said clapping Cubby on the back of the head.
"It has a dragon in it!" Wendy hinted. That seemed to pacify the complaints. They all liked stories with dragons in them.
Wendy launched into her story of a baby girl who was cursed by an evil fairy. To die when she turned sixteen and pricked her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. She went on to describe how three good fairies had changed the curse to only fall into a hundred years sleep, instead of dying.
She told of handsome princes, cursed thorns, and the evil fairy that turned herself into a dragon to stop the prince from reaching the princess. Wendy had reached the end of her tail, her listeners hanging on her every word. "And then the prince awakened the sleeping beauty with true loves ki...I mean true loves thimble. Now there are different kinds of thimbles, but only true loves thimble had the magic to break the spell and wake the princess. Once the spell was broken they were married and they lived happily ever after the end!"
They boys applauded! "That was a good story Mother!"
"I think I like that one best!"
"I really liked the dragon."
Peter stood up and stretched. "Alright boys, time to tell Mother good night."
They all fell in line to tell Wendy good night and receive their good night thimble. Wendy kissed them on the forehead and sent them off to bed.
Peter went into his room to retrieve his pipes. When he returned he watched Wendy as she finally inspected her ankle. It was swollen, and black and blue. She hissed when she prodded it with her finger. Peter's mouth turned down into a frown. He didn't like seeing Wendy in pain. He walked to the kitchen, rummaged around a bit and came out with a jar of Tiger Lilly's healing salve. He looked around in Wendy's sewing basket for a strip of cloth he could use as a wrap.
Wendy was startled when Peter knelt down in front of her and put her ankle on his knee.
"It's really not that bad," Wendy tried to rationalize.
Peter gave her a doubtful look. He gingerly applied the healing ointment onto her bruised flesh. Careful not to put too much pressure on it. Wendy winced as his worked.
Trying to get her mind off the pain, Peter quietly asked a question that was on his mind. "Tell me about thimbles Wendy. You said there are different types, what does that mean."
Wendy was completely caught off guard by the question.
"Well there are different types. There are mother thimbles- ones she give to her children, on top of heads and cheeks. There are gentleman thimbles- They place them on ladies hands as a greeting." Wendy looked into Peter's eyes. "Then there are magic thimbles, the most special kind of thimble. The ones in the stories. The ones princes give to princesses." Wendy swallowed nervously. "You only give it to someone you care deeply for- someone who means the world to you, someone who makes your heart flutter and your head spin..."
She got quieter. "Someone you love."
Peter cocked his head at the word. "Love?" he was done wrapping the bandage around her ankle and stared up at her, heart beating fast.
"Yes Peter, love. It's a feeling."
Feeling. There was that word again. Peter hated that word. It brought so much confusion. He looked at Wendy defiantly. "I have never heard of it."
Wendy looked down at Peter with pity, " I daresay you have. And you have felt if for something..." she glanced at him with hope. "...Or someone."
Peter leaned in close, "Never." He whispered. "Even the very word offends me."
Wendy's heart crashed in that moment. "But Peter..."
"NO!" He shouted standing up. His heart was pounding. "Why? Why must you bring feelings into everything? Don't we have fun? Didn't I teach you how to fly, how to fight? Why must you keep bringing them up? What more do you want?!" Peter demanded.
"I don't know Peter. I think you learn about them as you grow up."
Peter's eyes hardened. "I will never grow up."
Wendy looked confused and heartbroken. "Peter I L..."
Panicked Peter covered her mouth with his hand. "No Wendy."
"But Peter..." Wendy cried muffled by his hand.
"No! If it is a grown up thing I will not have it in Neverland! If you speak of it again I will banish you like Tinkerbell!"
Now furious, tears starting to form Wendy fought back tearing his hand from her mouth.
"I will not be banished!"
"Then never speak of feelings again." Peter said darkly. He turned and went into his room, leaving a tear streaked Wendy behind.
...
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