pretty as a picture: a small army of boys (and one girl) dressed like animals, wielding archaic weapons, their faces in masks or painted with ancient Celtic stripes, making for gaily dressed pirates in eye patches and bright bandannas and golden rings. Wendy knew that image would remain emblazoned on her mind for the rest of her days.
Peter had flown up and over everyone’s heads, making straight for the pirate ship and the few who remained aboard. Well, really, for one who remained aboard: Hook.
Peter seemed entirely recovered, but Wendy knew that as long as his shadow was still in captivity his current vigor was only temporary. And it was very suspicious that Hook stayed back when his men were going to fight his most hated enemy—he didn’t even have his flintlocks out. He also wasn’t overseeing the cannon fire. And he couldn’t possibly shout orders from the deck loudly enough for anyone on shore to hear. So what was he doing?
Tinker Bell had, of course, zipped after Peter, knocking a pirate’s hat off as she went. The enraged man (the Duke, Wendy was pretty sure) turned and shot wildly into the air after her, singeing the hair and possibly the ear of the pirate next to him. That pirate—Major Thomas—responded by laughing and then backhanding the Duke.
Thorn swooped right up to the first pirate he encountered and sank his blade deep into the flesh behind the man’s right knee. Screaming Byron did exactly what one would expect him to do: he let out a high-pitched wail that hardly seemed possible from such a large, sturdy-looking fellow. Then he immediately collapsed onto the sand, unable to stand on that leg any longer.
The fairy immediately wiped his blade and moved to the next pirate without pause.
Wendy watched in disbelief and admiration. He, of course, looked like a little warrior. But in her rather prejudiced, giant human-sized head, she had assumed he could do no real damage.
“That will teach me to judge a book by its cover,” she murmured.
And maybe that meant she could help, too.
Wendy took a deep breath, grasped her dagger, and marched out onto the beach.
But where to go? What to do? The scene was utter chaos. The twins had surrounded T. Jerome Newton and were taking turns smashing him in the stomach and back with their batons. Skipper had planted herself a little farther up the beach and was taking careful aim with her bow at the pirates on the periphery, the ones who hadn’t quite made the beachhead yet. Wendy saw one go down with an arrow through his right shoulder. He fell out of the water and back into the boat. Slightly was in the middle of a rather amazing duel with Djareth, sword and scimitar flashing in the sun, Luna biting at the pirate’s feet. Cubby was roaring and swinging his claymore at several pirates who were closing in on him.
“That’s where I am needed! Cubby, I am coming!” Wendy cried and ran forward to help. She tried not to think about whether she would actually cut or slice one of the pirates; she figured instinct would take over at the last minute and she would do whatever was necessary for the sake of her friend.
“AAAAAAAAAI!” she yelled—more for herself than with any real intention of putting terror into her enemy’s heart—and aimed at a pirate whose name she couldn’t remember, the one with the blue bandanna. She raised her dagger, thinking to get him in the neck maybe—
Wait, could she really do that? Could she slice into the artery of someone—even if it was someone who had held her captive—from the back, like a coward? What if he bled on her? What if…
Sheathing her dagger, she flipped into the air, and—with the help of fairy dust—spiraled down feetfirst, planting both as hard as she could into the small of his back.
“Take that, dread villain!”
With a distinct oof, the pirate fell facedown into the sand.
Because fairy dust was merely magical and didn’t completely negate the laws of physics, Wendy kept falling, her beautiful attack almost ruined by a sprawling somersault over the pirate’s head. She landed, straddle-legged and a little confused, sand now in every fold of her clothes.
“That was brilliant, Wendy!” Slightly called, saluting her from across the beach before spinning to riposte an attack by a new pirate he was fighting.
“You saved me,” Cubby said, smiling dreamily as he used the flat of his giant claymore to knock his remaining attacker into the