VICIOUS (II) : peter pan ouat

How to Speak of War

Chapter 8

I feel the breeze of the cool night air enter the tent. The soft fabric falls down, hitting itself. It's a soft and quiet sound, but I know what it means. Someone is in the tent.

"Did you plan on lying on the cot all night?" Jared asks.

I don't look up to see him. There wasn't really anywhere else I could go and lie down, other than in Pan's bed. That felt way too domestic for my taste, and I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. I'm many things, none of which are clingy or needy.

I shrug my shoulders as best as I can. "Well, I am injured."

"Your hand will be fine in the morning." He leans over, before lifting it up. He shakes his head, lowering the torn, bloody bandages. "That is, it would have been."

I yawn, turning away from him. "Well, we both know that's not how I roll."

"Who was it this time" He asks. "Was it Peter? Is that why you are avoiding him?"

I shake my head. "I'm not avoiding him."

I'm not avoiding Peter. More so, I'm avoiding the idea of him. I'm not supposed to fall in love with him. Or, I should say, I can't. Not if I want to live.

"So that's why you're hiding out in here?"

"Where is Elizabeth?" It's time for a change in topic.

"Lizzie?" He asks. "She's asleep, in the tent that was put up for the girls. The other three never came back."

"Check Johnny's tent for Alison." I mutter, loud enough that I can see Jared's ears perk at my anger, but he doesn't bite.

"You never went looking for the other ones?"

I sit up abruptly. It's been hours since I last caught sight of them, which means they could be anywhere. Hopefully they've dropped dead; I don't want to think about girls for the time being. Not because they are trouble, but because new people are trouble.

"Where do you think they'd have gone?"

He shrugs. "They'll probably be back in the morning. Those girls know how to handle themselves."

As much as I know he's right, I don't want to admit it.

I step out of the tent, peeking around for any clue as to where they might have gone. Peter may be the only person who knows, but I'm honestly bored with their whole deal. I can only hope that once I find them they'll promise to stick around the camp.

Stalking closer to his hideout, I climb up the ladder. When I move in, Peter sits on the floor with his legs crossed. He's staring at a sheet of paper, twiddling his thumbs as he glares at it. I know his face too well; it's not a look of concentration, but a look of content. I can tell because the frown is buried in his eyes.

I sit across from him, and he looks up to smile at me. Snatching the paper form his hands, I spin it around to read it.

There's a picture of a boy on it, sketched like the others in the book. He has short hair that has flopped down over his forehead, and a vacant expression on his face. His head is fairly round in shape, and his nose in the dead center of it. It's a standard drawing, so I can't make out much detail about the boy.

"Who is that?" I ask.

Peter shrugs, looking at me. "Just a boy. He'll be coming soon, I should think."

Soon? Why didn't he tell me someone was coming? I was beginning to think we were a team. I mean, we can't afford to be. I can't afford to have any allies as close as we are.