This world that now threatened to go out was also his home. And the balance was shaking more than ever. Pirates, Lost Boys and Natives died, and aged and... they lacked the time for new ones to grow up. A life gained value - and when it ended, a star in Neverland's sky went out. It was all the more important that they endured and did not waver... everyone was fighting for their place in this world!
They rowed carefully, deliberately and slowly, so as not to stir up the crocodiles and make themselves attractive as prey. Sand trickled around the leather boots made of dark brown cowhide, which were not new for a long time but still in good shape. Buckles closed over the laces that reached to the middle of his shins, concealing partially scuffed areas. Almost silently, the sand sank in beneath his feet after the sailor jumped into the waist-deep water and pulled the dinghy far enough ashore for the mate to walk ashore without getting his feet wet. He rubbed the tense back of his neck as he watched the dinghy lurching across the waters under the scant light.
Shaking his head, Filou finally averted his eyes from the small barge that was trying to make its way back across the sea to the ship before directing his steps away. More pirates followed him at his heels like silent shadows. Since Smee had decided a few years ago to no longer take part in the bloody slaughter on land and instead look after the ship and therefore moved into the galley as Ship's cook, Filou had taken his place as the first mate at Hook's side. His right hand- and in some ways probably the closest thing he had to a friend. This gave him certain privileges and freedom of action. The pirates under his command did not question where he was going or what he was up to. Not for a long time. Even if they had asked him, he would not have been able to define the strange urge that drew him to wherever his steps took him.
He sometimes quietly followed a feeling that still dwelled in his soul from the forgotten times when he had still been a member of the Pachama and more closely connected to the world. Once you were interwoven with the world in this way, you could never completely unravel the threads. Even when he could no longer feel the heartbeat of the island beneath the bare soles of his feet, or recognise the billowing shape of the wind, an ancient instinct continued to rest within him. A sense of fate's gentle tugging at invisible strings. So far... it had never proved to be wrong.
Accordingly, he put one foot in front of the other, where his boots sank into the soft sand, peppered with shells and small white bodies that the long-time inhabitants of Neverland knew for what they were: the polished bones of the dead, left behind by sea creatures and washed up here by rivers as well as the sea. There they lay in the white sand, giving it, in their inconspicuous way, a macabre beauty of silent reminders that remained unheard and unseen. The waves swallowed up the sounds, even those of the forest, like a bulwark that stood there close together. They rolled thunderously forward, only to retreat gurgling - in a rhythm all their own and quickly underestimated in danger, for the sea in all its beauty could be quite treacherous here.
The dark glowing red of his deer skirt fluttered lightly in a gathering breeze of the wind, waving up the inky black cloth with the embellishments of the noble fabric, like a flag of its own. Red and black, the colours he wore with pride as first mate and faithful Hook, set him apart from the rest of the crew, who typically wore plain leather or linen clothing.
Robbed waistcoats or boots mixed and worn from the rough seas as they sailed around the island, sometimes fighting with, sometimes against the sea. Numerous victims of the strong Jolly Roger had already sunk to the bottom of the sea as soon as they strayed through the mists to this place. A broad belt of arms stretched across his chest above the golden cords that adorned the edge of the frock coat as well as the clasps on his chest. The collar was set up to protect him a little against the wind so that the golden stripes in it adorned him like a secret sign - and truly the harmonious mixture of the red colour of the frock coat with his hair, the black gloves and boots might reveal itself like a painted portrait of an artist. He blended in with the image of the beach with the leaning palms and trees of the forest, the silhouette of the Jolly Roger far away in his back on the sea, cradled by the waves the child of the sea. Fingers of the wind tugged at him before he pushed further out to sea.
YOU ARE READING
A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)
Fantasy** Only one thing can still prevent Neverland's downfall: In the dark times when a star's light perishes, a new one must be found! ** Neverland - a world in which simply everything was possible as long as you could dream it. But behind a shining lig...
