Saving Neverland - Ch 8 - What are friends for?

(Josie Sayz: This is a story that I began working on several years ago. I am finally reading through it/editing it. This is a fanfiction piece of what would happen if two of my favourite characters Peter Pan (from J M Barrie’s book) and Jack Frost (from ‘Rise of the Guardians’) met, why and what adventure would they go on. I originally wrote this story as a present for a friend. I have decided to dig it out and plan to release each chapter as I edit it. This is Chapter One: ‘Just Keep Reading’.

Note: I do not own Peter Pan or any of the relating characters or places to the story; these are all owned by J M Barrie and ‘Disney’. I do not own Jack Frost or any of the relating characters or places to the story; these are all owned by William Joyce and ‘DreamWorks’.

Chapter One: ‘Just Keep Reading’ can be found here: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2019/06/saving-neverland-just-keep-reading.html

Chapter Two: ‘Meeting and Greeting’: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2019/08/saving-neverland-meeting-and-greeting.html

Chapter Three: ‘I Still Believe…’:https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2019/08/saving-neverland-i-still-believe.html

Chapter Four: ‘Only In My Dreams’: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2019/08/saving-neverland-only-in-my-dreams.html

Chapter Five: ‘Chasing Rainbows’: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2020/04/saving-neverland-chasing-rainbows.html

Chapter Six: ‘A smile can make a big difference’: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2020/04/saving-neverland-smile-can-make-big.html

Chapter Seven: ‘Feast, Fight, Farewell’: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2020/04/saving-neverland-feast-fight-farewell.html.)

What are friends for?

Leaving Hangman’s Trees Peter, Izz and Jack departed from the group and began their flight to the far-left spike of the island. Waving farewell to their leader, the Lost Boys fumbled off in the opposite direction, led by Peter’s feisty fairy, Tinker Bell.

Their flight to the redskins’ encampment was a silent one. Peter appeared focused on the journey ahead, eyes set upon the small collection of brown, pointed huts far off over the sea in the distance. With the magic of their fairies’ dust now wearing off, Izz found herself toppling too far in one direction. Looking down at the view below her, she swallowed. As Hangman’s Trees were at the farthest northern point of the island’s star shape and the redskins’ encampment was situated towards the peak of the island’s north-west arm, the fastest way to travel between the two was to fly across the sea that lay between. Although she was a fine swimmer, Izz feared the long drop into the ocean below. Also, she did not want to imagine the types of wild, man-eating beasts that she might encounter if she were to find herself submerged in Neverland’s waters. Izz gave a yelp as gravity took hold of her and she plummeted down. Jack gasped and zoomed forward, arms out, to catch her, but was knocked aside by Peter. Izz landed on Peter’s back, as he swept underneath her. “Told ya I’d save you,” he said as he cocked a smile over his shoulder at her. She let out a nervous laugh and forced a smile back. Gripping her arms around his shoulders, she held on tight and Peter picked up speed.

“You okay?” Jack asked Izz, as he flew up alongside them. Turning to him she gave a smile and nodded. He returned the smile, and then the silence continued.

As they neared the redskins’ land, the shapes and colours came into focus. Unlike most of Neverland where its ground was coated with grasses, leaves and meadows of flowers, the area which the redskins called home was caked in clay. Covered with a collection of earthen coloured tipis, these pointed constructions gave home to the early settlers of the island. Guarding the outskirts of their camp, totem poles warded away any unwanted presence. All of different heights, shapes and colours, each creation was unique, using a variety of different animal engravings and constructions.

Swerving back towards the land, Jack pestered Peter about the natives’ tribal initiation process that he had mentioned back in the tree hideout. To begin with Peter refused to respond, but as this only created Jack with the opportunity to ask more questions, Peter told him. “You’ll see.”

“You’ll see?” Jack repeated with agitation, as the thought of being dangled upside down and held over a boiling cauldron, whilst being licked by the locals, popped to the front of his mind. “I don’t want to offend them in any way. How does: ‘you’ll see,’ possibly help?” Peter gave a shrug.

“It changes every time,” Peter told him. Jack looked away from Peter and over to the camp as it came closer into view. Clasping a firm grip with both hands around his staff, more torturous images of being knotted to a pole and have arrows fired at him shot to his mind.

Throughout their heated discussion Izz kept quiet. She was not quite sure herself what to expect. She recalled reading about Peter being initiated into the native people’s tribe, but she could not recall any of the details that surrounded it. ‘In fact,’ Izz realised. ‘I hardly know anything about the island natives at all…’ Peter and the pirates were often the target characters in most of the stories. The only time when the redskins were ever mentioned was when the pirates were trying to avoid being caught by them.

Pointing towards a ring of smoke rising into the air, Peter jerked his head over his shoulder. “We need to land,” Peter warned them. Leaning to his left Peter arched downwards, with Jack at his heels. As they landed Peter told them, “The chief, Flying Eagle, does not approve of flying.”

“But if his name’s Flying Eagle-” Jack began to protest, but as Izz turned towards him with a scowl he closed his mouth.

Totem poles towered over them, as they neared the camp’s entrance. Looking around at the blood-coloured eyes glaring back at them, Izz kept close to Peter. Placing a hand on his left shoulder she leaned towards him. “But Peter,” she whispered. “I thought the tribal leader was Great Big Little Panther.”

“He was,” Peter told her, as they ducked underneath the wooden wings of a sculpted bird. “But his brother’s in charge now.”

“What happened to the old chief?” asked Jack, appearing on Peter’s right.

“Pirates killed him,” Peter said, his tone indifferent, as they continued walking. “Flew down from Hook’s ship, perched just above Redskin Camp and jabbed him in the back.” Jack flinched back and stared at Peter, while Izz gasped pressing her hand firmer into Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” Peter told her placing a hand upon hers. “The pirates wouldn’t dare come near while I’m here.”

‘The ego on this guy…’ Jack thought as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘The pirates should kidnap him, then perhaps he won’t be so cocky.’

As the totem poles thinned out, the ground hardened. Beneath them the grass thinned. The ground dried up, leaving behind cracked clay. The thick, dark bushes that surrounded the outer camp vanished where Peter stood in an open gateway. “This is the place,” he told them. With Jack and Izz at his sides, Peter led them through a maze of tipis. To the far right of the native village sat a tipi much larger than all of the others. Mud stained and blood splattered pictures of men, animals and weapons were painted over the hut’s skin. Arriving at the largest tipi, their traversing halted. Bending towards the entrance, Peter tapped on the cloth door. Turning to his new companions Peter muttered, “You’d better wait here. I’ll talk things over with the chief.” The fabric was pulled back and a face peered out, however it was gone too fast for either Izz or Jack to see what the inhabitant looked like. As the face retreated inside, so did Peter.

Standing outside Izz and Jack leant towards the hut to try and listen in on Peter’s conversation with those inside, but to no avail. The material that the tipis were crafted out of appeared to block out all sound communication with those on the outside. ‘It useful so that your enemies don’t overhear your plans,’ Izz thought. ‘But not if they were planning to attack and waiting outside for you.’ As they stood and waited a few of the village residents past by and stared at them. A man and woman of a deep pigment strolled by hand in hand, dressed in patterned and beaded cloth, their faces streaked in war paint. A bow and pot of arrows hung from the man’s shoulder.

“These people take their safety pretty seriously around here, don’t they?” Jack observed, breaking their silence.

“Well you would be too if your chief had been slaughtered by pirates,” Izz told him as she turned from the passing couple to face him.

“True,” he replied, scratching a hand up to the back of his neck. Izz went back to staring off, admiring her new surroundings and they stood on in silence.

Arching a hand over his brow, Jack stared up at the sky. The sun was in front, high up above them. He looked behind him, at his shadow. A small, dark lump sat at his heels. “Must be about midday,” Jack announced, voicing his assumption.

“How can you be sure?” asked Izz, her sight never leaving the smoke signals that wafted up into the air.

“Well the sun’s in the top of the sky,” Jack said gesturing at it. “And our shadows have shrunk.”

“Yes…” Izz replied with a sense of uncertainty, as she turned to face him. “But… Neverland doesn’t really work like time does back home.”

“What d’you mean?”

“It’s complicated,” she told him, raising an eyebrow. Watching a frown increase on his forehead, Izz pulled out her hair bobble and shook her head. “You see,” she told him, as she dug her thumbs into the hemisphere of her hair above her ears. “Neverland has many suns and many moons… and they’re forever changing the pace in which they mount into the sky.” Tying up a section of her hair, Izz let out a sigh, as she turned to Jack. “It’s almost impossible to tell the time of day here… we can guess, but unless you have a watch from the Mainland your guess at the time will be as accurate as my guess at how many times you’ve ever made it snow,” she said with a laugh.

“Now even I don’t know that,” he told her with a grin.

“My point exactly,” she said as she went back to watching the rings of smoke sail into the sky.

Jack tapped his foot as he bit the corner of his bottom lip. His eyes flickered from the floor to Izz and back again. He whistled out a breath. From the corner of his eye, he watched her turned towards him. He stared ahead at the rows of huts. Rolling onto the sides of his feet he rocked back and forth.

“They’ve been in there ages,” said Izz as she turned towards the tipis entrance. “What’s taking them so long?”

“Ages?” Jack said with a laugh. “We’ve barely been here five minutes.”

“And how long does it take to say: ‘hi, my friends and I need to borrow your boat to help stop the pirates from destroying the entire island’?” she said hotly, as she turned to him folding her arms.

“Oh-kay…” Jack sang. “Someone’s a little impatient.” Dropping her arms to the side Izz sighed.

“I’m sorry Jack,” she told him. “It’s just, I know we’ve wasted so much time and I’ve just realised that I’ve got tonnes of homework and revision that I should be doing… and then there’s school and my parents. What am I supposed to tell them when I get back? Oh, it’s okay Mom… I was only out with the fictional Peter Pan and mythical Jack Frost. We were trying to save the dream world of Neverland from being blown up by a seventeenth century pirate and the Boogeyman – it’s no big deal. Yes, because my mother will so believe that.” She rolled her eyes, refolded her arms and turned away from him.

“Hey,” Jack said as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. He hesitated, but then placed his fingers upon her collarbone. “I took care of the whole school thing for you – snow day, remember?” he said as he removed his hand. “Your parents will probably think you’ve been in your room all day, you won’t have to explain a thing to them… but if you like,” he added, “we’ll come up with something.” He stared at the back of her head, willing her to turn around. “As for Pitch and Hook… we can only try our best. There’s only so much one person can do, but if you stay true to yourself and give it your all, then you should be proud of yourself for trying… even if the outcome isn’t what you hoped,” his voice trailed. His gaze dropped to the ground. She turned around. He lifted his head to face her.

“Thank,” she muttered, forcing herself to smile. “I really mean it, Jack.” He gave a shrug and slid one corner of his mouth up into a smile.

“What are friends for?”

The cloth door of the master tipi wafted. With a flinch, Izz jumped to Jack’s side. Jack jerked an arm to her side to protect her. A red feather poked out of the flap. A green hat and a head of dark auburn hair accompanied it. Emerging from the tipi, Peter smirked at them. “I leave you two alone for five minutes…”

“What?” Jack frowned as he looked from Peter to Izz. Noticing his arm at her side, he let go and clutched both hands to his staff. His cheeks reddened.

“Peter, its nothing,” Izz insisted, shaking her head, as she side-stepped away from Jack. “I, he…”

“I’m only playing,” Peter said with a grin. “Come on in,” he told them jerking his head towards the tipi. “I want you to meet the chief.”

Entering the tipi, Izz gripped her right elbow with her left hand and stiffened her shoulder blades. She lowered her chin and with her sight on the ground she followed Peter inside. Jack followed behind her, keeping a firm grip on his staff. Peter stopped in front of a large man, who was seated in a great, mahogany chair. “Hau,” came the deep voice from the seated man, as he held up a hand of peace to Peter and his friends. Peter bowed, repeating the greeting and Izz and Jack copied him.

Glancing up at the redskins’ chief upon the throne, Izz gazed at his huge feathered headdress, outlining his face like a lion’s mane. The colours of the feathers varied from an array of greys, to browns and reds, with a couple coloured black and white. They held together on his head by a band of brown fur, which Izz thought might have been the skin of a buffalo or a moose. His hair hung in two braids at his sides and were coloured with an assortment of beads and more feathers. Similar to the fabric of his headband, the chief was draped in a loose-hanging brown robe. A band of rope knotted at his waist, binding his clothing to his torso. Like his hair, his clothes also contained the artwork of intricate woven beads, their colours red, teal and brown. Each cluster of beads created a picture. Some were of men, others of creatures with wide wingspans. The sun was present too, and a rainfall of arrows and daggers. Around his wrists and neck hung charms of claws, teeth and tails of his past prey. Returning his hands to a folded position, his lined face creased further as he uttered various deep grunts.

A girl stood at his side. She too had her arms folded, and a serious stare at the island’s new inhabitants. She did not appear to be much older than Izz. Her hair, similar to the man at her side, was parted in two braids, which sat one on either side of her shoulders, with a beige band at the ends. Her dress, in comparison to her companion’s was tight fitting, hooking her frame from her shoulders, around her waist and down her legs. There was a large slit down either side of her dress, stretching from the ankle of her garment to the tops of her thighs. Unlike the man on the throne, this girl wore no beads, war trophies or feathers, but two deep brown, horizontal stripes streaked her cheeks. “My uncle would like to welcome you, friends of Pan, to our village,” she said, after the chief had finished speaking.

“Thank you,” said Jack with a nod, first to the girl and then to the man at upon the throne.

“Yes, thank you,” Izz added, bowing again. Her arms stiffened as she stared at him, watching the trophies around his neck jangle while his throat vibrated. His gruff voice echoed, bouncing off the wooden beams of the room.

“My uncle here is chief,” the girl translated, after him. “He is known by his people as the Flying Eagle. My name is Tigerlily; I am the princess of our tribe.”

“Wow,” Izz heard Jack breath at her side.

Peter stepped forward and gave another bow. “Hau, Chief,” he said with a smile. “These are the friend I was telling you about: Jack and Izz.” As Peter held his hands out towards his friends, Tigerlily turned to her uncle and spoke to him in similar low, rumbling sounds that he had used. Once she had finished, he nodded, and uttered more information for her to translate.

“My uncle wants me to thank you for warning us of the pirates’ new dastardly scheme,” she told them. “We are all very grateful that you are willing to risk your lives to help save us.” At this, Izz swallowed hard. She had focused her mind on helping so much, that she had forgotten that mission would involve coming face-to-face with brutal, bloodthirsty buccaneers. “My uncle is willing to lend you our tribe’s boat for your journey,” she told them with a smile. “But first, he requests that both of you undergo an initiation into our tribe.”

“Initiation?” Jack repeated with a high squeak.

“There is nothing to fear friend of Pan,” she told him.

“Fear – no,” Jack said with a nervous laugh. “I’m not scared.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “My tribe does not allow initiations very often – in fact it is very rare at all. This is a high honour for your commitment and bravery, as well as risking yourselves to save our homeland, which Pan has told us so much about.”

Jack turned to Peter with a frown. “You said that… about us…?”

“Of course,” Peter cheered.

Stepping forward, Izz turned from Flying Eagle, to Tigerlily and back again, before saying, “Thank you so much, Your Honour. We truly are very grateful for your kindness.” Bending her knees, she gave a slight curtsey then stepped back in line between Peter and Jack.

After the translation between Tigerlily and the great chief occurred, the princess returned to the three friends as said, “My uncle says, you are most welcome – after all, what are friends for?”

*

Following their talk in the tribal chief’s tipi, he called for all of the villagers to assemble outside a large campfire in the centre of the campsite. Logs were hauled around it to create a large circle, with the fire as its central piece. Flying Eagle stood in front of the fire, with Jack and Izz on either side. As Peter stood and Izz’s side and Tigerlily on Jack’s, the five of them watched on in silence as the tribes people began to gather.

As the crowd gathered, drums began beating off to their left. To their right, men coloured in war paint with only a rag tied at their waists to cover themselves, began hopping from one foot to the other. Leaping up and down, the beads and shards of metal that hung around their ankles jangled and clattered in time with the drumming. Some of the villagers began clapping and the dancers started to chant. Sounds and syllables of the language unknown to Izz and Jack bounced in the air, as the onlookers joined in with the chorus. Bouncing up and down on their toes, the crowds clapping and singing grew louder.

As the song came to an end, the chief slammed down a beaded stick, with a shrunken man’s head on the top, to the ground. Silence. He took a step forwards. His chunky lips opened wide and he appeared to eat the air as he greeted his people. Hundreds of eyes stared at them. Looking into the crowd, Izz was amazed not only with the amount of people, but in the variation of their clothes, beads, trophies, hair and war-paint. Masses of browns, red and teal littered the area surrounding them. As the chief finished speaking, his people thundered with applause.

“He has just told our people of you and your promise to try and save our island,” Tigerlily whispered to Jack through the clapping and cheering. “And that he plans to begin our initiation ceremony.”

“Great,” Jack said back with aforced smile. He ran a finger across his neckline, pulling his hoodie away from his throat. He swallowed, as his wild thoughts from earlier of being dangled over a boiling pot continued. His leg tapped at his side. His chest heaved and his stomach swirled. As the chief took a step forward, Jack squirmed back.

“Please,” Tigerlily hissed. “Try to stay still.”

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ he managed to prevent himself from voicing. ‘You aren’t the one standing here waiting for some strange, terrifying, unthinkable… thing to happen to you.’

After a second round of applause and cheering, the crowd fell silent once more. Four people from the onlookers, upon the chief’s orders, ran towards them: two male and two female. The men wore skin from their prey around their hips, while the women both had fabric tied at one shoulder with the material draping down to above their knees. All four of them were painted in deep brown and red with a sea-blue zigzag stripe running around their arms and legs. Teeth and animal nails hung around their necks, wrists and ankles. With their arms out in front of them, the four gave war-like screams as they ran towards their victims. The tribesmen and women began chanting. Both Jack and Izz stiffened at the chief’s side. Seeing the two women race towards him, Jack pinched his eyes closed and sucked in a breath. His heart bashed about inside him. Their chants thundered inside his head. A pair of hands rubbed across his face. Sweat trickled from his forehead. His nose pulled to the right, his mouth to the left. His ears were tugged, his eyes prodded. His palms dampened. His right sleeve was pulled up. Something cold tightened around it. His hair was ruffled. Something else cold was forced over his head. The cheering loudened. His skin prickled up his arms and spine. The feeling of hands wiping across him stopped. “Open your eyes, Jack,” whispered a soft voice at his side. He let out his breath and squinted. The faces around him were smiling and staring at him. Opening his eyes wider, he looked down at his right wrist and chest. The thumping inside of him slowed. He smirked. On his wrist rested a collection of earthen coloured wooden beads, with a similar collection around his neck. He looked up at the large chief’s face. Flying Eagle’s smile widened, as he patted Jack on the head. Jack leant over the leader’s stomach to catch a glimpse of his friends. With Peter grinning at her side, Izz too wore a collection of beads around her neck and wrist. She turned to him and smiled, her face covered in smears of mud. With a frown, he turned to the tribe’s princess.

 “Is my face covered in mud too?” he asked her.

“Of course,” she said with a laugh. “That is our people’s way of saying welcome, stay safe and warding away all evil.” Seeing her smile, Jack could not help but laugh along too.

“I guess I should play in the mud more often then,” he said back, as the circle around them began closing in.

The local natives gathered around Izz and Jack; all of them wanting to stroke, pet or prod the newest members of their family. Pushing his people back, Flying Eagle barked orders at them and the people soon began to retreat.

Following their initiation into the redskins’ tribe, Flying Eagle led Jack, Izz and Peter to the far left of their camp. Here the trees and bushes began to thicken. As they neared the land’s edge, the sea lashed up against the rocks. The land sloped. Slipping on dampened pebbles scattered across their path, Izz reached out for a tree to her left. Tigerlily behind her rested an arm at Izz’s elbow to help her regain her balance. “Thank you,” Izz said as she turned her head to the native princess.

“You are most welcome,” replied the royal.

As they neared the shore line, Izz caught sight of the redskins’ row boat. Tugging on Jack’s arm she pointed towards it. A wooden-carved structure, the shape of a banana hovered amongst the moss and reeds. Wading through the water, the chief submerged himself up to the knee and approached the craft. Watching him untie the boat from its wooden mooring steak that stopped it from floating away, the actual size of the boat became apparent. “You know,” Jack said as he leant against Peter’s shoulder. “That guy would fill the boat. D’you think the three of us could fit in it without it sinking?”

“Course we can,” replied Peter with heaps of optimism and a big grin. “All you need is faith and trust.”

“And pixie dust to stretch the boat,” Izz added with a snigger, agreeing with Jack’s observation.

The tribal chief returned towards them with rope in hand and passed it to Peter. He spoke slow and deep with a hand to his chest. His niece appeared at his side and told the friends, “My uncle wishes you well on your journey. He understands your difficulties, but knows that you will try your best to save Neverland.” She turned to the tribal leader and nodded. He spoke again, to which the princess said, “Once we return back to our people, my uncle will do the best he can to help prepare our men for war against the pirates. We will send a message to the fairies, telling them that we will join them when we can.” As she finished, Flying Eagle placed both hands upon Peter’s shoulders and pressed his forehead against Peter’s scalp. When the chief stepped away Peter placed a hand to his heart and gave a nod to the chief. “He is protecting you for your troubles ahead,” Tigerlily whispered to Izz and Jack. Flying Eagle stood before Izz, gripped her shoulders and connected their heads, before repeating the procedure with Jack.

“Tell Flying Eagle we’re thankful for the loan of the boat,” Peter told the princess.

“And that we are honoured to have been initiated into your tribe,” Izz added. “I can’t thank you enough.” Tigerlily nodded and relayed the message to her uncle, who in turn thanked them again for bringing him the news of Captain Hook and the pirates’ new plan.

“You should get going,” Tigerlily told them after relaying her last translation. Peter nodded at her and headed for the boat. He turned back and gave one last nod to the princess and the chief. They nodded back. Peter stepped into the boat and held out a hand for Izz to clamber in. The boat swayed and Izz grabbed onto Peter’s arm as she stumbled forwards.

“Have you ever been on a boat before?” Peter asked her as she sat down on the boat’s centre plank.

“I went canoeing once for my cousin’s birthday,” she told him, gathering her hair behind her head. “This is kind of similar, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jack answered, sliding in behind her. Lying his staff down across the boat’s edges, he fumbled around beneath him for the oars. “It’s the same thing really. Here we go,” he said handing her an oar. “And one for you…” he said passing one to Peter. “How about you, Pan? Have you ever sailed one of these things before?”

“Sure have,” he said with a grin. “We’ll paddle,” he said pointing at himself and Izz. “And you steer,” he said jabbing a finger in Jack’s direction. Jack smirked. Whether it was through Peter’s thoughtlessness when it came to boats, or because he did not want the responsibly, Jack did not know, but he was pleased to be given the position of controlling the boat’s direction.

‘So longs as he doesn’t try anything funny, we should be on our way in no time,’ Jack thought with a grin. “All set?” he called. Peter settled himself down at the front of the boat and held his oar out over the right hand side. Izz hooked hers over the boat’s left and Jack pushed them off from behind. As the boat drifted away from the shore, Peter, Izz and Jack waved goodbye to the chief and his niece.

*

Their arms jabbed forwards then dragged behind them, before they heaved them out of the water to repeat the process. Water lashed up at the sides of the boat. It splashed against their faces, soaking their hair and clothes. The mud from Izz and Jack’s tribal initiation soon washed away from their skin. The sky above grew cloudy. Patches of purplish-grey filled into the air. The wind blew. Their clothing wafted. Another wave threw itself over the side of the boat. Izz gave a cough, swallowing a mouthful of salty water. Jack pressed his lips together and blew out a raspberry of spray. The sea lunged at them again. Digging his oar back into the water Peter shivered. Sitting behind him, Izz’s brow rose as they rocked to one side. They crashed against the boats left, before being thrown back to its right.

When they first set out rowing, Izz had taught Peter and Jack a rhyme that she had used when she went canoeing with her cousin. Her cousin had heard it on the television and they found that it helped to keep them in rhythm with each other when they rowed. Izz found that it also allowed herself, Peter and Jack take their minds off the muscles straining in their arms and the fear of what awaited them at the other end. “Dip, pull, then repeat,” Izz had told them. “Plant your feet and keep your seat.” As the rowing went on, the boys thought it was amusing to change the words of the song’s second line.

Between them, the boys sang out a collaboration of: “Dip, pull, then repeat. Pretend your feet are in concrete. Dip, pull, the Indian beat. Clap your hands and stomp your feet. Dip, pull, don’t be a cheat. Row your arms and think: compete. Dip, pull, we must repeat, ‘cause Hook and Pitch we will defeat.” However, as they moved further down the ocean, passing masses of the island’s cliff edges, even their silly song was not enough to lift their spirits.

“Come on,” Jack called, with a grin, after another wave submerged their row boat. “Dip, pull, this storm is neat, ‘cause in its stench you can’t smell your feet.” Izz and Peter both groaned. “Awww,” Jack whined. “C’mon guys… that was my best one.”

“Sorry Jack, but it’s not helping,” Izz told him with a sigh.

“No,” agreed Peter. “This isn’t fun anymore.” He gave a sniff, whipping his cheek against his sodden shirt.

The sky flashed. Thunder crashed. The boat bobbed left. It swung right. They swayed, colliding with the boat’s edges. The wind snarled at them. They sank port side. Water poured over the boat. Their left sides submerged in water, Jack threw himself right. Izz grabbed out for the boat’s right side and pressed her weight into it. Peter rolled back and gripped the boat’s raised edge. The boat splashed, levelling back into the water. “Is everyone okay?” Jack called over the roaring of the waves. Lightning flashed into the sea. Thunder boomed. A cloud burst. Rain lashed down on their faces.

“I-I’m f, f, f-fine,” Peter chattered, snapping his eyes shut as the wind threw more water into the boat. He shook his head. Water flung about, spraying Izz behind him. “It’s not like we c-c-can get any wh-wetter.”

“My knees are covered in bruises,” Izz moaned, as they flung into the side of the boat once more. “And my arms are killing me,” she said with a groan, as her rowing pace slowed from Peter’s. “Can we swap sides again?” she asked. When they first set sail, Peter and Jack began rowing on the right hand side of the boat, while Izz rowed on the port side. However, since then, they had already switched sides and changed back again after their arms had cramped up.

“It’s n-not going t-to help,” Peter warned her, as he shivered. “We’ll still be cold ‘n’ wet. An’ it’ll st, still ‘urt.”

As the rain poured down, the boat rocked more. Their rowing no longer had an effect. The wind and waves threw their boat towards the island’s cliff edge. “Hang on!” Izz yelled, as she clawed her fingers into the boat’s shell. The boat splashed back as they wafted towards the inward corner of Neverland’s star-shaped left vertices inner point.

Through the rain, Jack squinted as he turned back. The redskins’ camp was no more than a misted blur behind them. Ahead, the distance to the island’s next point was just as far away. However in order to enter Cannibal Cove, they needed to steer the boat around Neverland’s lowest point and swerve into the inlet. The island’s prong, in which they were heading, curved inwards, like the legs of a starfish. Therefore, if the current kept swaying them to the left, they would crash into the cliff edge long before they navigated around the island’s curve.

The wind threw another wave at the boat. They tilted further to the island’s cliff edge. Left… right… left… right… to… fro… back… forth. Izz held her mouth and leant over the boat’s edge. Peter pinched his eyes tight and clutched his hands to the boat’s front point, panting. Jack gave a cough as seaweed splattered against his face. He shook his head and shuddered. His knees knocked against his staff. A white spark seeped out. The water dripping down the inside of the boat froze. Jack’s back straightened. He dropped his oar and gripped his hands around his staff. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, as he cocked a smile on the side of his face. “Let’s speed things up a little.”

“What?” Izz cried, her forehead furrowed as she spun around to face him. His eyes widened as he looked at her.

“How?” asked Peter, peering his head over his shoulder, but refusing to ease his grip on the boat.

“It’ll be fun,” Jack said with a cheeky grin. “I promise.” He sprang up from out of his seat. With his staff in his hand Jack flew above Izz, Peter and the front of the boat. “Now just concentrate on paddling and leave the rest to me,” he told them.

Standing upright, Jack hovered above the surface of the sea. Prodding his staff towards the water, Jack asked, “Are you ready?” Peter and Izz turned to each other, both with a frown and a shrug.

“For what?” Peter shouted, as the tide jolted them closer to the cliff side.

“You’ll see!” Jack shouted back. He jabbed his hands forward. His staff stabbed the water’s edge. It hissed. Wisps of white, silver and icy blue spiralled out from his staff. The water crackled. A section of sea ahead of them, as wide as the boat, froze. “Now just keep paddling,” Jack told them, “And we’ll slide out of here in no time.”

Grabbing their oars, Peter and Izz dove them into the sea and dragged them. The boat edged forwards, bumping as it made contact with the ice. “That’s it,” Jack murmured, as the boat edged closer. He glided backwards, dragging his staff through the water all the while. The water crackled, freezing in an instant. “Just push a little more…” he urged, as Peter and Izz heaved their oars into the water once more. With one more stroke, the boat skidded forwards. “Yes!” Jack cheered. “That’s it!” Flying backwards, he dragged his staff across the water. The boat gained speed. It slid down the ice trail. Peter and Izz rowed faster. Jack spun around, facing their location. His staff dragged in the water behind him. The water continued to freeze. A wave hurtled towards them. It too crackled under the power of Jack’s staff. It froze in an arch at their side. Its crest curled over them. Droplets of water turned to ice in mid-air. They crashed to the sheet of ice below. Izz gasped, as she reached over to trail her fingers along it. It zoomed past, as Jack swerved them to the right.

“Wah-hoo!” Peter shouted, throwing his hands in the air, as they swerved around the bend. Jack laughed, as he arched them back to the left.

Izz gasped for breath. Jack whizzed them around another bend, dodging a wave. Their arms flung forwards, then back, forwards and back. Izz’s heart pounded against her ribs, fighting for its freedom. Her arms shook. They paddled faster. Their strokes eased, but quickened in pace, as they sped down their frozen slide. Kicking up some water with his feet, Jack froze it up in a curve. The boat soared up it. Sailing through the air, Peter waved his arms above his head. Izz squeezed her oar tight and let out a scream as the boat’s nose sloped into a decent. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Jack told them, as he splashed up more water. As the water curl froze, the boat zipped down it and accelerated. They flew past the cliff edges of Neverland, covering far more distance in a few seconds than they had in almost an hour. Jack zoomed ahead, freezing more skid trail for the runaway boat.

The edge of Neverland took a sharp curve left, turning towards the terrifying Cannibal Cove. Digging his heals into the water’s surface, Jack slowed their pace and steered their path around, following the curve of the island. “See,” Jack said as he turned towards them. “Didn’t I tell you this’d be fun?”

“Yeah,” they both agreed through gasps. The rain eased. The water stilled. Jack continued scraping his stick across the water, leading the boat around the island’s bend.

“Frost,” Peter called, jabbing his oar against a rock, pushing them forwards. “Why is it that you can fly even when you’re wet?” Jack spun around to face them.

“I dunno,” he replied with a shrug. “Why, can’t you?” Peter lowered his eyes to the front of the boat and shook his head.

“Jack, look out!” Izz screamed, as an orange tentacle emerged out of the water and flung towards him. He gasped and dived to the side. The wiggling arm curled after him.

“The cannibals!” Peter shouted. “Quick, get in!” Jack flew to the boat. Diving into his seat, he grabbed his oar and dug it into the sea.

Waves threw them into the cliff side. Crashing against the rocked edge, the boat’s wooden frame scratched. Another tentacle plummeted up towards them. It curled its suction cups over them. “Row!” Peter yelled. “Row!” Something bashed the boat from underneath. It toppled. Jack clasped his staff and jabbed it at the wriggling limb. A blue spark shot out of it. The beast’s arm recoiled. “Row!” Peter urged. Water splashed up at their sides, as they ploughed their paddles into the sea. Thunder rumbled. Izz shuddered. They rowed faster. Each stroke yanked at their muscles and strained their shoulders.

Pushing away from the cliff edge, they arched the boat around the corner. Water slopped up the inner side of the cove’s cliff face. It tore into the walls, drilling into gaps, cracks and openings. Rain lashed down. A force from underneath dragged the boat out into the centre of the cove. Their screams and shouts lost in the roar of the waves. “The Jolly Roger,” Izz gasped, as she pointed up at the towering ship, as they flung past it. Alone, in the centre of the cove, it swayed against the violence of the storm.

A spike pierced up in the centre of the boat between Izz’s legs. She leapt back, screaming. Peter spun his head around, his brow creased with worry. The spike descended. “A shark,” Jack told them.

“The boat!” Izz cried.

“The staff,” Peter shouted pointing at Jack. With a nod Jack swiped his staff and jabbed it at the water spurting up from the hole. A silvery wisp seeped out. It spiralled around the hole, freezing the water in the gap. With a howl, a wave washed over them. The boat flooded.

“Faster,” Jack shouted, as they scooped the water out with their hands.

The boat rocked from side to side. Water piled in. They felt the boat sink deeper. As they splashed about, the water swished around them. Waves flew into them from all sides. Something collided into the boat again; this time dragging them back towards the island. “Listen,” Jack shouted, cupping a hand to his ear. Scratching came from the side of the boat, accompanied by a distinct tick-tock-tick-tock. His pulse panged at his temples. ‘A bomb!’ sprang to the front of his mind. ‘We’re too late.’

Peter turned to them and gasped. “It’s the crocodile.”

“Crocodile?” Jack yelled back. With a growl, the crocodile leapt up at them and snapped its jaw. Izz jabbed her oar in its face. It lodged in the beast’s mouth. With its claws jarred into the boat’s shell, it squirmed his head around, whimpering. Jack kicked a foot out at its claws. Diving its head to the side it cried out again. Another wave poured over them from the right. As they pinched their eyes tight, they felt themselves being dragged into it.

The wave crashed. Opening their eyes, their view blurred as they hurtled back into the heart of the cove. A large, orange tentacle wrapped around the body of the boat at Izz’s knees. She screamed, wriggling back onto Jack’s lap. He grabbed her, pulling an arm around her waist to drag her close. Peter twisted around, staring at the monster’s limb. With a warrior cry, he kicked his feet forwards. Pressing his feet into the slimy suction, Peter bounced back. Another wave covered them, this time from the left. As the water poured over them, they were flung back towards the cliff’s edge. Izz leant over the port side of the boat, her hands at her mouth.

Another spike stabbed up through the bottom of the boat, between Peter’s feet. It submerged, before charging at the boat again. Izz gasped, as she turned back to Jack. The crocodile, still clung at the side of the boat snapped his jaw. The oar shattered to splinters. Leaning over, the crocodile snarled in Izz’s face. “We’re done for!” she cried.

“I could fly us to-” Jack began, as thunder crashed. Another of the octopus’ limbs sprang from the water. Looping itself around the boat, it gave a squeeze. Throwing them into the cliff side, wood cracked. Splintering into separation, the boat snapped to pieces. Plunging into the sea, the three of them flailed, splashing their arms and legs. The tide tossed more waves towards them.

Holding her breath, Izz submerged herself under water. Flicking her eyes open, it only took seconds for her vision to clear. Her arms wavered around her as she tried to grab out for her tribal beaded necklace and bracelet, as the drifted away. Spinning her head around, Izz saw two sharks circling Peter and Jack’s feet. The octopus’ body was huge: larger than her father’s car four times over. Its limbs wafted around in the water, splashing the current in her direction. She spun her head around to the cliff side behind her. ‘This has to be the place,’ Izz thought, recognising the location that they were in as being similar to the place Mr. Smee mentioned in his book. Her eyes scanned the cliff face. Her voice box made a squeak, as she noticed water gushing towards part of the cliff. ‘There must be an opening,’ she realised, as the water continued tunnelling through. Kicking her feet, she spurt her head above the water. Gasping for air on the water’s surface, Izz looked around for Peter and Jack. Waving an arm over to them she yelled, “Quick… grab my hand!” as she held an arm out towards them. Peter clawed onto Jack’s staff, as Jack stretched his arm out towards him. Once Peter had grabbed on, Jack kicked out his legs. Nearing Izz, he strained his arm out towards hers, extending his fingers as far as they would stretch. Peter flinched, as something swept past his leg.

“Argh!” he screamed. “Quick!” Izz splashed towards them, forcing her arm to reach out for Jack’s. Their fingers touched. A wave crashed over them. Izz flung her hand out again. They missed.

“One… more…” she strained, holding her breath. Jack swung his arm out again. The tips of their fingers curled. Izz tightened her grip. “I’ve got you,” she shouted. “Now follow me.” Submerging her head under the water again, Izz led the way.

Sliding between the crack in the cliff side, Izz towed the boys along with her. The tide flung them inside, as thunder crashed. Her fingers slipped. Jack’s grip slithered from her own. Throwing her arms over her head and kicking out her legs, Izz swam up to the water’s surface. Her head peering out of the blue, she wheezed, blinking the water from her eyes. Inside the cave, the force of the current dropped. The water stilled around her. Arching her head around, she spotted a collection of row boats beside a low, rock ledge. ‘The pirates,’ she thought. Taking a deep breath, she plunged an arm over her head and swam towards it.

Throwing his head above the water, Jack coughed. Shaking his head, droplets of water flung around him. Spotting Izz clambering up onto a ledge nearby, Jack threw his arms over his shoulders, propelling himself towards the land. Heaving himself out of the sea, his clothes clung to his frame. Jabbing his staff to the ground he crouched forward, gasping for breath. “You okay?” he asked, between breaths.

“Fine,” she panted, with her hands on her knees. “You?”

“Yeah,” he breathed with a nod.

Splashing echoed to the left of the entrance. A small head poked up from the water, arms flapping wildly at his sides. “Help!” he yelled, as his head dropped below the water. “Huh-heelp!”

Throwing his staff to the ground, Jack clapped his hands in front of him and dove back into the water. Flinging his arms forwards and kicking his legs out behind him, Jack raced towards Peter. Hauling an arm out towards their flailing friend, Jack looped an arm under Peter’s and hooked it over his chest. Coughing water from this throat, Peter gripped Jack’s arm tight, as Jack dragged him towards land.

As the two boys reached the rocks, Peter nodded to Jack, before heaving himself up. Sat on the ledge, they panted. “Thanks,” Peter murmured, glaring at the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Jack puffed, as he clambered to his knees. Pushing himself up, Jack held a hand out to Peter. Rolling his tongue to the side of his cheek, Peter’s eyebrows narrowed as he fixed a stare upon Jack. He clenched his fists as he bounced to his feet. Swiping his staff from the ground, Jack narrowed his eyes, scowling at Peter’s ungratefulness.

Unaware of the boys squabble, Izz stared ahead. Hearing footsteps behind her, she knew that they must be near. “Guys…” she muttered. Her eyes grew wide. Her mouth lay open. Her feet rooted to the spot. Pointing at the towering structure before her she mumbled, “I’ve found it…”

“Found what?” growled Jack as he turned towards her. He gasped, gazing up at it.

“The Black Castle,” she whispered.

Hearing her words, Peter turned from the water towards them. Pushing himself between them, his eyes widened. Carved into the rock face, two large, rounded, stone structures lined the edges of a giant, wooden doorframe. Looking up, the two structures towered up to the tops of the cave. Ahead, rocks buried the castle’s ground. The rocks had been piled up in front of the twin turrets, forming a pathway towards the door, outlined with a wave of ridges. The castle walls were coated in a thick, black oil. The glimmer from the sea shimmered across the castle’s surface. Arched windows peered out from the stone, each covered with a pane of glass. Peter’s eyes narrowed, as something passed by one of the windows. “Before we go on,” he told them. “You must remember one rule.”

“What?” asked Izz as he turned around to face them.

With his brow creased, his eyes slits and his nose wrinkled, he snarled, “Leave Hook to me.”

- Josie -