A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)

Chapter 1.7 - Luke

Lukes POV

Shadows danced on the walls. The lanterns that were lit and the many candles at least illuminated the captain's cabin enough to prevent her from tripping over some obstacle on the floor and falling on her nose. Looking at this - just a few moments she had to do so - she understood why the lost always chose Hook's gang as their target: In terms of splendor and value, this cabin alone probably far surpassed many 'treasures' in the camp of the lost. On the other hand, it was never really more than a game to the Lost. They weren't in it to accumulate real value or steal the most valuable thing Hook owned. 

She had seen stacks of gold coins and treasure being driven around without anyone paying attention. In many corners of the tree, gold, silver, and copper coins of different centuries lay next to shimmering gems. Rubies, dull or like caught fire, diamonds, amethysts, strings of pearls, or whole jewels. In the Hangman's Tree, there were many niches, hollows between roots or hollows that had been dug into the earth's walls, on which bric-a-brac was piled up, sometimes it just looked like it had been thrown in. Many things had been obtained by the lost as booty at some point.
Stolen from pirates, Indians, or the sea town, captured in a raid, taken from a defeated pirate, or even found in Neverland. For the lost, sometimes the smallest, most inconspicuous trinket was a treasure, while the pirates' oh-so-coveted gold lay scattered haphazardly in the tree as if it were worth no more than a pebble. In the main chamber, behind Peter's 'throne' made from a painstakingly decorated tree stump, numerous mounds of gold, necklaces, boxes, clothes, and weapons were piled up as if for a fairy prince. Especially beautiful things that they had mostly stolen from Hook. Sometimes the smaller boys would run around fighting with it and then carelessly throw it aside again. Value... well, everyone measured it differently. A treasure was not always a treasure.

In the forests and in the life they led there, gold and such 'trinkets' were worth nothing to the lost - except for the adventure of attacking the pirates or natives themselves. At least to most of them. It was simply about the stealing, the adventure itself. Taking something from the pirates that they had previously robbed from someone else or simply meant something to them personally.

Like Captain Hook's red coat, huh?

Her gaze fluttered restlessly around. Always away from the tall figure in front of her, looking for a way out, then quickly back again. She could not afford to miss a move that could mean her death. Outside, the sounds of battle seemed to ebb and flow, then rise again like waves rolling back - only to crash into the surf again with a running start. She heard a wooden rumbling- probably one of the boys had cut loose the stacked and netted barrels on deck that the scouts had reported. Briefly, the gunshots died away, outside there was laughter- and then angry, roars. Damn and blast- when would her cursed brother finally realize that she was taking far too long?! She could hardly call for help. She didn't have to be able to count past three to know that even after she started to shout, her throat would be awash with blood. Her jaw tightened a little as her lips formed into a thinner line and she bit the inside of her cheek lightly.

Hook was silent for too long and didn't seem to respond to her words. What had she expected? Humor from the pirate whose name all the lost only spoke in disgust, hatred, or fear? That she could simply lead him up the garden path with such a simple tactic as stalling for time? In London, it was a piece of cake. Most of the rat kings were so arrogant towards weaker people, especially the street urchins, that they were always happy to deign to demonstrate their oh-so-superior status. And that arrogance made it easier. Conversations could be directed, provoked, read from facial expressions and the sounds of words, and one could measure one's opponent. People preferred to contradict rather than simply divulge information and were quick to blurt things out in anger. Hook, however... possessed an icy, firm aura that pricked one's fingers as soon as one stretched it out curiously. She couldn't size this man up. And that made her even more nervous on top of her already stumbling heartbeat.