Curly

He was shaken from his thoughts by the shuffling of footsteps, his head turning slightly to the side, a sniff to the air as though he were anything but mortal. All he could sense was the faint odour of burning wood and week old blood. Turning toward the trees, his feet slid on the sand, arms folding over his chest as he eyed his intruder. Many knew him on this island, and many had suggested he’d died in the battle. But Smee was much too clever for that. “May I be of some assistance?”

At the sound of someone else's voice, Curly swiftly dropped the body to reach for her knife and spinned on her heel to face the stranger. She recognized the guy from seeing around here and there but had never actually cared for him before, let alone talk to him. If she would have, he might have been the one she needed to dig a hole for and conceal with dirt and mud. She lowered her weapon when she noticed he didn't pose an immediate threat and smirked. "Well if you feel like excavating his grave... Be my guest." 

"You’re different to them." his gaze darkening, exploiting temptation, trying to make her realise the danger she was in, the hopelessness of her situation now that Hook knew, his lips trailed up her neck, never making contact. "You’re better." he murmured in her ear, amazed by how much hair she held on her head, the explosive nature of her curls that fell haphazardly around her, she was a force to be reckoned with but only a fraction of what Hook usually had to deal with or so he thought. Hook underestimated other’s hatred for him, he put it down to his own arrogance but also the usual impulsiveness that came with vengeance, he’d survived this long, no reason that he couldn’t go on for longer.

This time his hook ran up the inside of her leg drifting close but never venturing far enough, small, deceptively gentle caresses from the cool steel. He would make her remember this.

"Yes…" he seethingly whispered back to her, denying that Pan would not abandon her was foolish, optimistic but naive. Pan discarded his play toys once they were exhausted and overused, he only toyed with those who offered him any more entertainment than he got. Hook chuckled again, amused, poor girl. 

"For you, sweetheart," he started, hook sliding up from her hip to her chin, tipping her head up till their eyes met in a deadlock, "He will toss you aside as soon as he knows what you are, and you’ll be left to the mercy of the island, alone. Once he knows that you’re a ‘smelly girl’ as he would put it, he won’t even bat an eyelash at you and neither will the other Lost Boy. So tell me, will he always be there for you?" 

Why did she feel so powerless under his touch? Why couldn’t she simply respond and stand up for herself with the wit and sinister sarcasm that she usually would have up her sleeve? Instead she stood frozen as someone took the courage to confront her like that. His touch traveled up her body and goosebumps rose along the way due to the icy metal that matched his tone. No one had ever turned the tables on her before, most of the time she easily got the upperhand and was the one to shove her victims around like this. It infuriated her all the same that she seemed to lack both experience and strength to push the victimized role away from her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to block out the haunting, evocative words. She’d never thought of herself to be different than the others. Neither did they as far as she was concerned. Although she’d love to call herself better, there was no superior meaning hidden in Hook’s use of the word. They almost seemed menacing being so seductively whispered at her, luring her secrets to come forward. She remembered how she’d met Pan. Of course she did. Such a life metamorphic event is something that even the change -that was how she liked to call the twist that made them all evolve to these presageful bunch- was not able to erase from her memory.

How lonely and lost she had felt at the first sight of this new, strange place. She’d never admit it but she’d felt frightened even when she’d stumbled upon the smiling teenager after trying to built some shelter for herself. The look on his face had been one of both disgust and surprise but before she’d even been able to properly introduce herself with more than just her name, he’d lead her on to his camp. She faintly recalled how he’d announced her presence as “Boys this is Curly” and that some had laughed, from there on she’d just been part of the family. Curly had never been acquainted with the Neverland before Pan, she had no idea what it was like. It had been Pan all along, since the very beginning. She felt no need for it to ever change because deep down she was simply afraid of ever feeling so lost again.

Her eyes widened when he offered her her knife back. No matter how weak the gesture portrayed her, she was more than glad to have it and hold it in her palm again. But Hook was still forcing her to stare at his smug smile and she could bring no gratefulness up whatsoever for her captor. “He knows!” Her frustration let the words slip out, tantalized by the prospect of thwarting Hook’s plans. “Pan’s not stupid. He’s known since the beginning and he’s never seen that as a reason to not be there for me before.” Her voice turned to a whine and she realised she needed to calm down or she’d lose all her self control. But maybe now she had her dagger back, a little leashing out would finally do some proper harming. “You really think he’d rather listen to you?” Curly smirked, their proximity suddenly playing in her advantage. “The same you who he’s despised for years and from who he wouldn’t want anything more than to bring you down on your knees and make you crawl.” Her hatred for Hook suffocated her thoughts and turned the reproaches in her head so much more appealing. “Still so sure of your case? Because how I see it is that I’m the Lost Boy and you’re the pirate. I’m the loyalty and you’re the vengeance. I am the player and you’re merely the toy, Hook.”

Her grumbling when it started raining was the only sound that carried her through this lonely journey. The collected wood in her arms moistened quickly and if she hadn't crossed paths with some guy standing in the middle of nowhere she'd be on her way back by now. Curly immediately wanted to reach for her knife despite her arms being occupied. She hadn't taken notice of someone else's presence until it had been too late. But now she looked at him, she made her own company clear to the dazed guy by laughing. The guy seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings, standing there drenched and looking around clueless as if he could pluck understanding from the towering trees everywhere.

"You better not be one of those intruders." She cackled, now she saw the unknown ship in the far distance and toyed around with her knife. A nasty habit that had grown on her when she tried to seem uninterested yet gave you a feeling of being centralized at the same time.

She glanced back at Curly, eyes hard on her for a moment before she decided to allow her to stay, next to the current event on the island, she hardly seemed a threat to her, not even a disturbance. Never a dull moment. “They’ve yet to step foot on the island,” She informed her, arms folding across her chest. She’d had eyes on the ship since its arrival, reports reaching her by the hour. “And they will leave as soon as they show their head and speak to me.” She spoke coolly, quietly. “They are not welcome here. I plan to make that abundantly clear.”

Curly closed the space between them but was sure to keep a safe distance. This new intruder may occupy their thoughts for a while but it didn’t take away that they weren’t exactly bosom friends. In fact, despite their last rendez-vous, both of them were bound to hurt one another sometime. She realised she was glad she’d come alone because this encounter wouldn’t have ended well if the other boys would’ve been reunited with Tink. Curly hadn’t found it necessary to tell them what had happened during her absence, she didn’t feel the need to portray herself as weak or even disloyal for letting the enemy get away with not even as much as an attempt at wounding the fairy.

"I can only hope you plan on getting rid of them thoroughly. I don’t think they deserve a chance to ever intrude here again." Killing them seemed a reasonable solution to Curly. The new pirates seemed greatly outnumbered if they’d get the island’s inhabitants against them. Deep down she hoped this would turn out in a bigger spectacle though than just a stranger’s fleet that soon wouldn’t even be able to flee anymore. They sure landed on the wrong island at the wrong time, although the war had been going on longer than just today.

She so rarely showed her scars, only to Tramp who knew every inch of her as well as he knew himself. Now Hook had seen them, run his fingers along the messy kin so intimately, but she would not allow this girl to press her fingers to the wounds her leader had forced on her. She was still so bitter despite the natural love she felt for the creature stood before her — the betrayer, the traitor. Tinkerbell, with her heart of stone and eyes full of fire simply could not find it in herself to hate this girl like she should.

As she turned, Tinkerbell found something in the eyes of the girl that she had not expected to see in the eyes of the Lost Boy. Something softer than it should have been. She swallowed slowly, eyeing her, suspicious almost when she asked to hear the story of that night, the story that no one knew, for no one dared speak of it. Her sobs still rung clear in her ears, and she still couldn’t decide if she’d cried for the unending pain or the fact that it was Peter who stood above her and ripped a part of her away, a precious, unattainable part of her. It was the latter. She was certain that it was the latter. For she had cared for Peter, she had saved him from the cold and brought him to a place where he would be king. She had loved him, it had been all she had felt in that tiny body of hers. She had loved him, and he had caused her all of this pain.

"He never had the right to this. Not to me, not to Hook. One day he’ll lose something precious too, and he’ll never learn how to live without it." She spoke quietly, carefully, slowly. Suddenly, she felt tired, speaking of Peter like he was an abstract, separate thing so often wore her out. She was reminded that he was no longer a part of her, that he wasn’t wrapped up safely inside of her, hugging her heart and keeping it warm. He was so very far away, and he had been for some time now. She shook her head, pulling the heavy silk of her cloak further around her slight shoulders, eyes falling t the bloodied ground. She had allowed this entire island to run red, she had never even seen it happening.

"Of course it was painful," She said quietly. "My wings were a part of me just as my arms and legs are. And he took his time with it." Wiping Curly’s blade clean on her cloak, Tinkerbell decided that now was in no way the time to reveal the details of what had happened to her that night. She could not close her eyes without reliving it, and she highly doubted that she would survive a retelling of its events. She held the dagger out to the girl once more, brushing her thumb lightly over the hilt. "You should go, Curly. He’ll be looking for you."

Curiosity killed the cat, people said. It was exactly what Curly had expected to happen and knowing what would happen, no matter how bad it may seem, had put her mind at ease. Mentally she’d prepared herself but stayed unconvinced of her ability to fight at the moment. All her hope had been set on her survival instincts kicking in at the very last minute and awaking her skills to at least offer her a chance. Instead Tink’s good will amazed her once more. She considered it being a trap but the fairy, who lost her wings and probably relived it at a single mention, seemed as worn out as her.

"Thanks." She muttered as she carefully took the knife back. She twisted it around in her palm and examined it expectantly. As if it had suddenly gained a new significance. It felt foreign in her hand now she’d stood here so long without it. The memory of this encounter hung attached to it with an invisible string, like so many others but shone out now as the most prominent of them all. Curly iddly wondered how long it’d take for the string’s freshness to fade into oblivion.

Tink’s words seeped through in her mind and she realised that now was indeed the time to go. But it’d be to spare own life, not to diminish Pan’s worries. Because, maybe contrary to what Tinkerbell ought to think, Pan was not worrying about her at this moment. If he was already aware of her not being among the other Lost Boys anymore, then he’d either be sitting somewhere at the side and watch his loyal followers with an eagle eye or pep talk them in to winning this war. The only time he cared one of them was gone, was when they turned up dead. Because it’d represent weakness, a lack of good leadership, when a recruit got killed by the enemy. Curly loved to imagine it otherwise but they all knew that after the change, there was only room left for the dark side of the game. “I bet he is.” She said with so much melancholy that one could not help but think she’d meant the exact opposite.

His expression grew colder, jaw tensing, features turning harsher, her flippant jabbing at him affecting him more than he would like to admit, Hook exorcised a certain degree of control over Pan but unfortunately the boy was defiantly disobedient to him, Hook liked to think that he gave Pan a sense of his own freedom, making him unaware of Hook’s puppet strings but even then, Pan’s acts of his own volition never aided Hook. The Captain played along, a slip in demeanour was admitting to losing against this child. 

He let a tight smile stretch across his lips, the threat still ever present in his hand, knife handle rolling in his palm. “Sweetie…” he started chuckling, “I let him do that.” he let a shark grin fall onto his face, knife blade drifting closer to the skin at her neck. Brushing off Pan’s defiance as something Hook idly let him do, a part of him agreed with himself but the other was fuming at having lost good soldiers to supposed ‘ally’.

"That’s not what I’m talking about." his gaze drifted down to hint at what he meant, perhaps even she did not realise that technically she did not qualify to be a ‘Lost Boy’. He pressed on further, taking yet another step forward, closing the space, the intimacy between the two of them evident, his hook lightly brushed her thigh. The girl seemed just about old enough to understand her deepest desires, his plan was to make her realise the danger of him knowing, the knowledge he had was power.

Curly still thought Hook was so called stupid for believing one word of what he said himself. And if having Pan was actually some part of this bigger whole, of some gloriously worked out yet complicated strategy, then her opinion wouldn’t change a fraction. Why make it difficult when everything could be so simple?

If Hook would leave, he’d save himself and his men and everything would be just fine. She recalled the rage she always felt when she was all worn out by the war and pinpointed Hook as the responsible one of this mess. It was always bottled up somewhere inside her, just waiting to explode because Curly didn’t know better than to blame others. It was such an easy act to perform, dropping all your worries and problems onto other people’s shoulders. 

When he pushed against her and let the metal of his hook skim across her skin, a weird tingle spread around her body. It wasn’t quite the usual shiver of fear or intimidation, it felt different and she didn’t like it one bit. Her annoyance for Hook only grew, especially when she finally got the hint. Curly wasn’t stupid, she knew she was a girl even though she was part of the Lost Boys. Biologically she was build different, so what? No one saw her like that, in fact she could be considered more boy than some of the actual guys in their group.

The way Hook seemed to make a big deal out of it, holding such fact against her, worried her though. And she knew there was more reason to it than just one of the captain’s twisted mindgames. If anyone, especially an enemy like Hook, would rub this in Pan’s face… Just the right words might provoke Pan enough to heartlessly abandon her. “No.” She whispered and shook her head in disbelief. A sudden emotional pain overwhelmed her at the thought of actually losing her family, something she cared much more about than she’d like to admit. “I side with him because who wouldn’t want to be on the winning side? He has offered me more than I ever could’ve dreamed of. And despite this war he has always been there for us and he always will be.” Her voice slightly trembled in the end, doubts clouding her own thoughts while she spoke.

Walking to a higher top of the island so she'd have a nice view on the commotion, she got puzzled with "what if?"s. What if... the new guy posed an actual threat? What if... he or she had a great deal to offer? What if... Ugh none of it could really peak her interest, instead the more she thought about the intruder, the more she started seeing him as a problem she wanted to quickly get rid off. The arrival had just complicated the war even more and she realised it'd be in everyone's best interest if he just left again, as soon as possible. When she reached the top of the hill, she recognized the statuesque woman already on spot immediately. No trouble, she'd promised herself but something inside her pushed her forward anyway. Doing a little poking around about the noob and set people up against him so the idea of a deal would sound less appealing, might actually advance his departure.

"I've heard there's a new one in town. Now when will he leave?"

And now the thing she had lost stood in front of her, truly ignorant, brainwashed by the boy she both loved and despised with such raw fervour. “I’m… wrong?” She echoed into the stillness of the Neverwood, always lurking with predators, with people just as lost as they were. “Wrong? You stupid, little girl. If I lose this war, he will see you dead. All of you. Pan too, and don’t think for a second that you can beat Hook. He’s stronger than you’ll ever be.” She shook her head, unamused with Curly’s theatrics. “Do not speak to me of things you know nothing about! Loyalty… what do you know about loyalty? You’re nothing but a pack of cowardly traitors. Do not preach to me of loyalty whilst I fight this war in his name!” By the time her voice had risen, she had already cooled down, a deep exhalation as she curled and uncurled her fists. She had an incredible grip on her emotions, on the anger that coursed through her so unrelentingly.

Tinkerbell pulled her cloak further around her shoulders, dark eyebrows coming together in the form of a frown. The words loyalty, traitor, thrown around so much by a child with little knowledge of the true meaning behind all that she said. It infuriated her everytime a Lost Boy or even Pan himself spoke to her as some lower thing, as if they hadn’t abandoned her when she’d needed them most. They’d let her light go out, Tink had truly died that day, and they had allowed it to happen. “You speak of treachery as if you’ve ever been wrong, Curly. You do not know suffering, you do not know true betrayal and don’t dare to tell me that you do. You don’t know loneliness, and I pray that you never feel what I did.” She spoke her words quietly, carefully, and turned her back on the girl before dropping her cloak. Pulling the long strands of her silver hair across her shoulders, Tinkerbell turned her head to eye Curly now that she was granted full view of the jagged scars she kept so well hidden. The cool air hit them like a knife, and for a moment she heard Peter’s shrieks as he ripped the wings from her back as easily as paper. “Look at me. Know that that is betrayal.”

But Curly was no longer grinning or felt even a small bit delighted at the sight. She wouldn't dare call it empathy either because she just felt the simplicity of absolutely nothing. Did she get herself stuck in the oddness of the situation again? How was she supposed to brush it off and just act normal when nothing about this situation was considered even something close to that?! She strode forward, her movements apprehensive to those of the woman whose bubbling rage inside had forced her to open up.

There was only one moment Curly couldn't stop thinking about, making her stomach turn at the link it had with the current reality. That time Peter had introduced the incredibly stupid idea of a test. A test that he'd -oopsy daisy- forgot to tell the boys about. She shivered when she thought back of the neatly planned trap where all of them fell for easily. Flashes of Peter going insane, seeming to have gone crazy, behaving almost possessed and inhuman when he'd turned against her. Just like he had done to every other boy but no one had ever had the guts to warn each other. Besides the test had been a different experience to everyone anyway. For Curly it might have been the first time she'd started doubting and even fearing her own brother, and start believing and understanding his victims' stories. 

The dilemma was simple: what comes first, loyalty or self-defense, in a life threatening situation? Peter told her she'd passed the test by trying to kill him and stop his attacks at last but she couldn't help but think how pathetically defenseless she had acted during the ordeal. Up to the point he actually drove her insane herself. She hadn't figured out her choice, not even today yet, as to how far she'd go for her family. And also not why. Because seeing Tink hurt for trying to leave, Curly worried she might have the wrong reasons to stay. Warily she was stepping forward, reaching out to the wounds but stopping mid-air, just in time to pull her hand away from the scarred skin. 

"If I didn't know what loyalty was, I wouldn't think Pan still had the right to do this." Curly was as surprised of the small trail of wetness on her cheek as she was of her soft tone. It was as if her past version was trying to fight its way back in and she was too tired to combat it right now. "It looks painful. Was it? What happened back then Tink?" Curly's voice wavered at the familiarity of the pet name. She wondered out loud the questions she'd been dying to ask. She knew she was playing with fire and that finding out would lead to nothing good but she promised herself mentally that she'd block it all out again if she ever returned home. Just like how she hid herself under a sadistic appearance.

Curly looked the girl up and down. She surely didn’t look like a pirate so that was out of the question and she knew the Rebels all too well to know they’d be proud to announce whose side they’re on. Besides pirates and rebels recognize a Lost Boy with a different type of look in their eyes, more fear and less idleness that gave away she was occupied with thoughts. A Native it is then, Curly grinned. She knew she couldn’t really hurt them because of their alliance. But she wasn’t really sure if that bond was still standing and a little fun would never do much harm. “Ah so what’s a Native doing so far from the tribe?”

It had been centuries since Kai had last visited the town, and she had heard that it was riddled with pirates since Hook’s takeover.  It seemed unlikely that the rebels frequented the area, and if they did, Kai was sure they would do their best to blend in.  Sighing, Kai knelt down next to a large tree, her knees digging into a moist bed of moss.  Cannibal Cove, then?  It seemed unlikely to her that the mermaids would know of the rebels’ location, and even more unlikely that they would tell her if they did.  Kai frowned in frustration.  She had wasted enough time on Neverpeak, attempting to make a difference as a part of Tiger Lily’s group of rebels.  She refused to waste even more just time trying to find the group of people she knew shared her determination to end the destruction of the island and its inhabitants.  But what could she do?  She knew how to track animals, but finding a group of humans and the like who were actively avoiding being found… That was a whole different thing.

It'd only been a few hours ago since her mood had changed to this happy state though. Back at home, Curly had felt bored. They all had felt a bit down really. It seemed uncommon but not impossible that going around the island and picking out victims, that being stuck in this daily routine and joining in playing war sometimes didn't appeal. Something else needed to happen, just a small thing so they could break through the everyday dread. That's when she'd poked the boy next to her and had gotten away as soon as she'd yelled: "Tip, you're it!" In joy, all of them had moved quickly and played along, yelling in delight at the little distraction. By now their little game of tag had stretched itself out over a huge part of the island already. The other Lost Boys were just like her, scattered around in the woods somewhere, running away from their chaser or his bow and arrow. Because you see, there still needed to be a bit of fun involved.

Running out of breath, Curly slowed down and took a careful look around. She sighed and pushed branches out of her way to clear her path. She needed a break from the all the adrenaline being pumped around in her body. Besides she hadn't seen one of them in a while anymore and she didn't recall anyone following her direction. Although you could never be completely sure with her brothers, she was convinced she'd shaken them off for now.

As the others danced about gleefully from their self-entitled victory in battle, the traitor had all but withered beneath the bonds that Pan and the others had contained him in. The lad was already a bloody mess, but it was not over yet. Like a cat and mouse, Pan enjoyed toying with his victims. His wicked smiled beamed maliciously between steady melodies that escaped his instrument. It held two very different meanings depending on who listened. For those loyal, the pan pipe invigorated them, the music dancing through them like the blood in their veins. Meanwhile, Pan sat before the rat forced against a spear, using the very same melody as an insult to the other’s intellect.

He shook his head, a clear sign of disappointment mingling with his dark intentions. Pan turned about to face his clan, raising his voice to draw attention.

"It appears victory isn’t enough for some, boys!" he announced, pointing his flute toward the whimpering child on display. "We have a rat before us tonight, someone who doesn’t belong." Eyes surveyed the crowd before him, the leader eager to see everyone’s reactions. Tonight made him wonder a great amount of things, most of all who else decided to question their devotions. "I believe we need to set an example. Would anyone like to do the honor?"

At his feet there was a boy planted, looking terrible and scared while his eyes were glued on the person speaking. She’d seen him sit there during celebrating but it hadn’t sunk really in. Like she’d acknowledged the guy but hadn’t wondered about him nor his bad shape. She’d been too consumed in dancing to realise what was going on around her. Pan’s words hung in the air as he finished. The fresh statement’s meaning finally getting through in all minds. The guy had act upon treachery, and now he’d have to act upon the price.

She’d always loved seeing those who fail, pay but she felt queasy inside. As soon as Pan made his verdict about someone, loyalty would force them into following up the judgement clouded over that person. Whether he turned out to be her brother or not. She knew how close she was to switching places with this boy. Abruptly she shook the ridiculous thought away and stepped forward. She’d never betray Pan and rob herself from this place called home. She ran her hands through her hair as everyone’s eyes fixed on her, including the suffering piece of vulnerability, and decided that she’d proof herself. Whatever it’d take. "I’ll help."

"I noticed," he remarked. His words were harsh and his eyes challenged her. Tramp made note of the way she was taunting him, rubbing in the fact that two of his own had been murdered by her and the others. But never did the stoic, stone-cold look on his face falter. He wouldn’t allow her to see him break, not in a million lifetimes. Instead, he would make her pay for what she did. Tramp was not planning on letting her walk away unharmed, nor was he planning to kill her. He needed to send her back wounded, but alive. She would be a message to the Lost Boys that they cannot simply kill a rebel and get away with it. 

Tramp threw her weapon towards her so that it landed in front of her feet. “Lucky for you, I fight fair. I don’t need to you to be unarmed for me to win. I think I can manage,” he cocked his head to the side and took a few steps towards her, stepping over the dead soldiers. The rebel reached for his own sword and pulled it out of its sheath. The metal was stained red with the blood of pirates and Lost Boys alike. Tramp held the weapon in front of him, tip pointed toward her, and waited for her to retrieve her knife. “Come on now, I don’t have all day,” he said impatiently.

"And to think that for a moment I wanted to compliment you for being smart." She picked up her knife with ease. Gladly her fingers slid along her makeshift weapon, embracing its familiarity. The rebel seemed so full of himself, she wouldn’t mind torturing him a bit before killing him off. Wiping that nice smile off his face with a stab or two. It’s just that she’d spent enough time out here already and she felt as if taking more risks and chances would never get her to sleep. "Not that I mind a little fun though." Her index finger played with the sharp point of her knife, meanwhile eyeing him up and down.

How stupid did he have to be, to give away his only leverage in this situation? So yes, she may not know who he was or how he fought but he’d clearly underestimated her if he willingly pushed a weapon in her hands. “I’ve always wanted to be one to fulfill wishes, and I don’t mind it being a deathwish at all.” She smirked. Her knife was visibly shorter so she’d have to get him distracted or closer to him, drawing small circles around him. She grew tired of waiting so quickly though and reached forward in a flash, ducking when his reflexes shot to live nearly immediately. Concurrently she tried jabbing the knife somewhere in his leg, without trying to lose it again though. She couldn’t see how deep it’d went through his clothing but felt adrenaline rushing back when she scrambled back up. Everything went so fast. Everything could be ruined so fast. She absolutely adored it.

The foolish girl surely thought that Tinkerbell had quite willingly left them all behind. Didn’t they see that it was them who had left her utterly alone? They’d let Pan take away the last beautiful part of her, they’d let him leave her for dead and went on with their lives. They hadn’t cared. And the worst part was — they hadn’t been brainwashed. Hook never tortured them and forced their minds into a place of absolute blackness as he had done with Peter. No. The deal had been forged the moment they’d gone in search of the boy leader — they were always going to leave her. Just as he had.

She was no traitor. These patronising cowards, these pitiful things with their hair in tangles and their bare feet cut up from the brambles. These were the ones to blame, and if she could only push aside the urge to brush the girl’s mess of hair, to feed her a real meal and give her something warm to wear, then maybe she might cut her throat and see another memory of her past live fall to the ground, obsolete.

"He thinks he has the power," She mused, her voice deep, quiet, careful. "He’s always thought that. But Hook’s got him right under his thumb, Curly. He’s not even a player in all of this — none of you are. Hook is dangling you right over my head like shark bait. We’re fighting over you like squabbling children. And your clan’s sense of self importance astounds me.” Tinkerbell shook her head, silver strands of unending hair shuddering like water over her shoulders. She watched Curly, so loyal, so wild. What an animal she’d become; like the rest of them. “Pan is a demon in a boy’s body. You’re foolish to follow him. He’s playing at war, child. And he’s going to see you all dead in the crossfire.”

Tink’s beauty had gone lost though. Standing here well-nigh normal,without wings and only slightly smaller than Curly herself, she was basically a human being. Just as weak and limited both physically as emotionally. Based on her knowledge of the woman opposite of her, it seemed too normal. It’s not that she had become ugly by any means but the enchantment that once radiated of her seemed entrapped in it, being restrained from fully glowing and adorning her. It was a shame but Curly couldn’t focus on it too much. She needed to stop dwelling over the past and concentrate on getting away. Deep inside she actually knew she couldn’t hurt Tinkerbell now, and not just due to the circumstances having turned against her. But because something inside of her had weakened. She’d need time to pick up the pieces of rage scattered around in her and rebuild the hatred Pan had once assigned them with.

"You’re wrong." The flashes of despair they’d felt when Pan had gone missing and Tinkerbell had been on the verge of death, slid inside her mind. Days they’d went out looking for their leader without finding anything. Weeks even. And when he finally showed up out of the blue, he was different. His smile was playful in the wrong way, his actions spoke louder than his words and it seemed that his bloodthirst had risen at the same rate his compassion had dropped. But he was still their leader without a doubt, took them in with open arms as if nothing had ever happened. They’d needed a home again and that’s exactly what he’d offered. Swiftly they’d taken over his manners and ways and became the Lost Boys they are today. The same close group of boys that play around the island. “We’re nothing but loyal to only each other. Besides we’ve killed so many pirates before that nobody could keep a count of it.”

Curly knew Pan had been the reason for the missing wings. He had been the one stripping Tink from her beauty, her magic, her… Well from so much that she couldn’t even keep track to be honest. She was sure though that Pan had his reasons because as every Lost Boy knew: ’those who can act upon treachery, can act upon its price.’ A lesson some had to learn the hard way. “I’d rather be foolish than a traitor.” She pointed out ultimately, not caring much for the hypocrisy laced within the argue.

"Stupid people forget." he snapped back another attempt to get a rise out of her. 

Lips once pressed in an even straight line slowly turned into a subtle, simmering rage of a snarl. Gaze solely focused on her. The Lost Boy’s life was in danger, real danger, and all he could do was… 

Hook then realised what it was he found so glaringly obvious but so well blended in, he barely even noticed. Gaze dropping down to her chest just confirm his suspicions he almost laughed out loud at Pan’s blind stupidity. “Captain, eh?” he stalled absently, noting the fact that she was calling him ‘captain’, there was some thin layer of respect for him here. His eyes searched her’s, this time he was sure that the Lost Boy stood in front of him right now wasn’t all ‘he’ seemed, it explained the hair at least, the infinite, long spirals of curls that fell from her head. Tipping her chin up slightly, he looked her over as if he were examining her. The words would have to come from her mouth before he would be completely sure, but for now, he had a hunch. 

With her stinging words he took a step forward, forcing her to take one back, starting to trap her, confining her between him and a span of bushes, giving her full view of the two bodies rolled haphazardly underneath the bushes. 

Following her gaze he looked at the fallen soldiers again. Disposable, mindless, hardly of any value to him but still a waste, either Pan was trying to get his attention with his actions or he was bored, there was no disobedience. Turning back to her again, gaze softening, he flipped the knife in his palm, lifting it up to the base of her neck, he traced round the shape of her face and up to the top of her scalp, lifting, inspecting her wild curls of hair falling from her head. A faint smile on his face when he let out a single breathy laugh, “That’s exactly what I want him to believe.” letting the hair slide from her blade, he held the weapon mere inches away from her face, impressed with her bravery. “No matter what you think, sweetie, he’s not acting of his own free will.” 

She wondered why she was still alive really. Surely if Hook had wanted her dead, she'd be so by now? If it were one of her brothers lying dead in a corner, she'd leash out in an instant. It wouldn't have mattered what opponent she'd have to strike or how well the circumstances were in her favour. She'd beat the foe until she'd spilled his last drop of blood. Realising all too well how much she dwelled on the other Lost Boys, she knew they represented her biggest weakness. Sure, they often hurt themselves and each other but it was different. She'd let no one take her family, or break what she secretly loved to call home.

The pirates mustn't have mattered to Hook that much. Although his army was almost alarmingly bigger in comparison to the boys'. There obviously was no way he could know them all, let alone be close to him. He didn't even eye as the guy to get attached to and close with really. She figured that, unless he mastered masking strong emotions with ease, the captain was rather cold hearted and ruthless.

A shiver ran down her spine as he traced her face. No longer from the sudden difference in temperature between her knife and her skin but because intimidation crashed in waves all over her again. She recognized the look in his eyes, the one that could actually let fear settle into her bones. He was playing a game. One that she could only play along with.

"Think what you want about Pan but you don't know what's going on in his mind." A sour expression adorned her face. She didn't like how he was easily provoking her by playing out cards she couldn't ruff. Not even with her big mouth. "Besides if you're insinuating that you controlled him to kill your own, then who's stupid now?" All she could do was smirk, making it seem as if she was unfaced by the whole thing. Soon enough, she might even start believing it herself.

She noticed Pan sitting in the center of their circled multitude, overlooking things like she'd done. His lips moved but she couldn't make out what he said so she tried moving closer to him. Though by the time she just neared, his mouth moved to blow air in to his pan pipe and music filled the air. A smile crossed her features and the surge came back to her. It seemed to numb her first intentions, soothing her thoughts. Forgetting she'd wanted to talk to Pan, she moved back in line and danced. Completely giving in to the feeling of how she once was lost, but now was found.