As soon as we reach the island, I land. Keeping a firm grip on Peter's hand, I race across the sandy beach and into the forest. We don't have much time before Hook gathers his men and starts chasing after us. I dart nimbly through the trees, leading the way to safety. Peter stumbles after me, tripping over every single stick and rock on the ground. He is just as clumsy as his brother.
"Why can't we just fly to wherever you're dragging me?" he pants.
"Your brother would be able to see wherever we landed. I don't want him to know our destination. We'll have more cover in the jungle."
Slowing down slightly, I weave through the trees and lead Peter to the opposite side of the island where the trees grow so densely that their branches interlock. I stop underneath a tall wildwood tree.
"What are we doing here?" Peter asks.
"Planning an attack," I reply shortly.
"With what? Sticks? A twig? A pile of leaves?"
Without bothering to answer, I place a hand on the wildwood's purple bark and stroke it firmly. A long rope falls from the branches and lands squarely on Peter's head.
"Ouch!" he exclaims as he rubs his aching crown. "Why didn't you warn me that would happen?"
"Peter, watch out for the rope rapidly descending toward your head," I respond.
The teenager wrinkles his nose at me. "I'm much obliged for your timely warning."
"Well, go on." I shove him towards the rope. "Get on up there."
"What about you?"
"Don't ask so many questions," I order.
Peter rolls his eyes and obediently begins climbing upwards. I go back through the forest about ten meters to cover our tracks. It's difficult with cuffs still on my wrists and a chain dangling between, but I manage. I make a promise to myself that I'm going to wrap this metal chain around Hook's neck when I face him next. I don't know what insane impulse prompted me to save him from Peter's knife. It was probably because I want to kill him myself. That must be it.
When I've erased all signs of our presence, I follow Peter up the rope to my hideout. I've nailed a board over the thickly intertwined branches and draped dark green gauzy fabric around to make an ethereal home. The dense foliage and flowering boughs conceal my refuge from any prying eyes. Once I've pulled up the rope, I feel confident that Hook will never find us here. He'll probably tramp around in circles with his men like a bunch of landlocked buzzards.
"What happened? Did you find out why he's here? Are you okay?"
I hold up my hands to stem his tide of questions. There are more important things to take care of right now than satisfying his insatiable curiosity. I reach into a hollow in the wildwood trunk and pull out a wooden box.
"What's that?"
Opening the bag, I take out some dried fruit, nuts and a flask of water. I hold some out to Peter, but he shakes his head which is fine with me. Food always comes first. Questions can wait.
"Do you just have caches of food hidden everywhere?"
Quickly, I shovel the food into my mouth. I should have eaten when I took Hook to my mountain cave, but I was in a hurry to defeat the northern devil shadow. Tipping the flask back, I drain the last drop of water. After I've finished eating and drinking, I lean back against the wildwood's trunk and sigh contentedly.
YOU ARE READING
Flying
FantasyGrabbing my arm, he forces me to my feet. Roughly, he binds my hands together and leaves a long strand of rope which he attaches to his own wrist. "Now, you're going to tell me how to find my brother," he orders. "And why would I do that, James?" "...
