Your little group somberly walked a long time down a thin dirt trail that winded up and down the hills of the dense wild forest. Nibs lead the way with a hatchet ready in his hand and Slightly followed behind him; his emerald eyes searching every which way for any sign of traps. Every now and then one of The Twins would dart back to inform Peter that the path ahead was clear and then they would take off in two dark grey blurs. Peter never let go of your hand, but you could feel the tension that rippled throughout his body. His shoulders were stiff and his face was closed off as his dark eyes swept over the entire forest, both in front and in back of you all. He was in full on leadership mode. The slightest sound of a twig snapping or bird flying away drew his attention. He moved with stealthy grace, like a jungle cat that was ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Though you were all headed to a funeral you could see the trace of blood lust in Peter's warm eyes. You had first seen it when you were on that cloud looking down at the mysterious Captain Hook's ship and now once again you were faced with this new side of Peter. His devil-may-care attitude had shifted into a battle ready general's. In fact all of the Lost Boys kept a tight formation that was so synchronized it was scary. It didn't take a genius to see that these gorgeous boys were born for battle.
After what felt like forever your little group finally made it to a crest of a hill where you walked through treacherous bushes that were taller than you with thick branches that would have cut deep into your skin had Peter and Tootles not held them back for you to pass through. After slowly making your way through the sprawling shrubbery you came to a huge crater sized clearing surrounded by trees. In the crater like hole were dozens and dozens of colorful teepees all set up in a circle. In the middle of said circle was the biggest fire pit you had ever seen. Thick grey smoke rose out of the hellish red and orange flames only to disappear into the dark night air. The trees in the surrounding forest hid the campfire completely from any outside view. No one who was unfamiliar with the encampment would have been able to tell it was there at all, making it the perfect place for the Picanniny Tribe to set up their homes. There was a smell of burning oak and cedar in the air along with the thick cloying smell of burning sage. As you walked closer to the Indian Encampment you could see signs of life from the people themselves. Their skins were beautiful bronze and each one of them seemed to be dressed in their finest animal attire complete with intricate tribal paints that turned their broad faces into individual works of art. Dark headed children ran around joyously chasing each other, too young to understand what the celebration was all about. Strong women of varying ages carried infants in cloth pouches on their backs while their long arms were filled with piles of firewood. The women methodically stacked the branches of wood onto a large stock pile off to the side of the roaring campfire. As you continued to walk closer you could now hear the crackling of the wood as it was engulfed in the rising flames. Old Indian men with stooped shoulders sat on cut down tree stumps in front of the wild fire while passing around a long carved silver pipe. You didn't even want to guess what its contents held. Farther off to the right was a row of younger to middle-aged Indian men sitting all in a row with boldly decorated skin tight drums in front of their bent crossed legs. Their pants were all shades of tans and beiges making you guess they were made from the hides of deer. Their chests were all bare, glistening red in the firelight except for the places where they were painted.
Your group finally made it to the center a few feet away from the massive fire pit. Nibs and Slightly greeted a pair of tall willowy Native American men and as they talked in low murmurs that you couldn't decipher your eyes were drawn to something long and dark in the distance just left of the circle of the campfire. As your gaze sharpened your mind finally made sense of just what it was you were looking at. It was the dead Indian Chief's body lying completely still on a makeshift rack of wood. His big beefy arms had been placed mummy style across the wide girth of his chest. The flickering light from the campfire cast menacing shadows on his long round head that was crowned with an almost identical feather headband like Peter's. His nose took up much of his face that was wizened and wrinkled with age. But even in death there was no disguising the sense of strong authority that seemed to radiate off of his very appearance. You couldn't help but notice that he had been dressed in a high necked long sleeve shirt made from deer skin. It would have been too hot to wear had he been alive, but you realized why they had dressed him in it when you remembered that Captain Hook had slit his throat. Your stomach gave a rebellious heave as you quickly averted your gaze. So far you hadn't seen the full damage that was done to this once great man and you had no wish to. You don't think your stomach would be able to handle such carnage.
