Chapter One
Which Involves Running, Sneaking, and Thinking Aloud
Peter Pan just had to be evil. Jerk.Wendy mentally recited every horrible imprecation she had ever heard, cranky about running for her life before breakfast. A low-hanging branch had her ducking to follow the sheerie that was supposed to be leading her to safety. The ball of blue-and-white flames was harder to make out in the light of mid-morning.
“Wendy!” The plaintive cry from the boyish voice spurred her legs to move faster.
“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered under her breath.
“Come back! I want to talk to you!”
“Ha!” The harsh laugh came out at full volume, but fortunately for Wendy, her lack of available breath kept it from being too loud.If I stop, you’ll “talk” meright off a cliff.
She cringed when the sheerie swooped into an opening in the jungle floor. Her whole body flinched when she followed it and felt her hand brush against something unpleasantly moist and viscous as she squeezed through the narrow gap. The sound of parrots being disturbed somewhere close above her prevented an immediate retreat. The eternally adolescent Peter could cover more terrain with his flying, but the dense foliage interfered with his ability to track prey across the island. Wendy suspected she would have already been caught if Peter’s shadow wasn’t on a scouting trip to the mainland.
Disa, the sheerie, popped into his humanoid shape to land on her hand. He tipped his head in question, and she nodded to assure him that she was fine. Disa jumped off her hand and resumed his flame form to lead her farther into the dark.
The dank, rocky hole turned into a tunnel that dripped unidentifiable wetness onto her hair and person. Disa had an advantage as he bobbed ahead: He didn’t have to slip and slam into moist, dirty walls like Wendy did. Roots hung from the low ceiling and sent shivers down her spine as they brushed across her face, but she pressed forward. If Peter caught her, there was no hope for her brothers.
Eventually, the tunnel widened into a path that a grown man or two could traverse. Wendy couldn’t see much in the faint glow from her sheerie, but once or twice, she saw a deeper darkness that suggested multiple tunnel offshoots. By the time she was sure her heart would give out from fear and repeated startlesevery time her foot slipped, a hint of daylight created a line that marked a turn in the passageway. That, plus the sound of water lapping against rock, sent a surge of hope-fueled energy.
Almost ignoring Disa, she scurried toward the light and its promise of open space. Turning the corner, she discovered a broad cave that boasted plenty of seawater. The ocean entering the cave must have been decently deep, because a largeish ship floated near a rocky outcropping. The natural harbor bore evidence of human tinkering. The slope had a series of gentle steps chipped into it.
Wendy took a hasty step back to tuck herself against the wall she had rounded. No one was visible on the ship, nor could she hear any voices. A single burning lamp near the gangplank reassured her that it wasn’t abandoned.
“Should I risk it?” she whispered to Disa.
He bobbed up and down rapidly, then became solid. “Escape,” he announced.
Thatwaswhat she had asked him to lead her to. She scrunched her nose and scanned the space with misgiving. “Someone has to be on watch.”
Disa’s incongruously deep voice promised to “fix ’em!”
“Distraction only,” Wendy admonished.
He solemnly nodded, then disappeared from sight entirely.
A sigh leaked out as Wendy eyed the path she needed to take. Her sheeries were brighter than most of their kind (intellectually speaking), but that wasn’t saying a lot. She made it downto the ship in one piece with no mishaps and very little noise. The parts of her pale-blue nightgown that weren’t caked in mud practically glowed in the dark, but there wasn’t much she could do about that beyond hoping the lookout was feeling lazy.
At the gangplank, Wendy both blessed and cursed the lantern that illuminated her path. Being on the opposite side of the cave opening, it would be ridiculously easy to walk off the wooden board and fall into the water without the light. It was also ridiculously easy to see anyone walking up it. With a prayer to either Cosmas or Fortuna—whichever deity felt like listening—Wendy took a deep breath and hurried up the gangplank as fast and silently as she could.
Once she hit the deck, she dove behind the first refuge she saw: a thick canvas loosely covering a crate. Her pounding heartbeat filled her ears. She drew slow, deliberate breaths. About the time her breath settled into a rhythm less frantic than hummingbird wingbeats, voices became audible from farther out. This sent her heart into another tizzy and made it difficult to hear what they were saying.
A few grunts and a muttered curse trickled through her fear-addled thoughts. She shrank deeper into her meager shelter.
“Get them water barrels down below,” a raspy voice ordered in a low tone that didn’t echo as much as the loud thud that hadpreceded the cursing.
Nobody answered verbally, but Wendy heard the sound of multiple bodies moving up the gangplank.
“This is the last of the water, then we need to rearrange some of the crates on deck for the rest of the stuff,” a different, younger speaker said softly.
“Aye,” returned the first.
If they were going to move crates around, Wendy’s sanctuary was in jeopardy.
“Oi, Phillip!” the second voice called quietly. When his words echoed, he whispered with more care. “We don’t need you in the crow’s nest anymore. Come help.”
Apparently Phillip obeyed, because Wendy heard the creaking of ropes, followed by a loud thud as two boots met the deck. She could see the worn edges of what looked like riding boots under the narrow gap where her tarp didn’t quite meet the deck.
