Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,110
who chose to fight pirates.”
“Oh, you’re not a child anymore, lassie.” Zane chuckled. “And you’d be no help to either side in a fight, eitherways.”
He gave her a sparkling gold-doubloon grin and then went running back to the battle.
Wendy fumed. It would be so easy to sit there and watch the battle. No one would blame her: she was tied up. And Zane was right. She didn’t really know how to fight—not humans, anyway.
“No help to either side,” she muttered. “I’ll—I’ll show them!”
Struggling, she stood up. She twisted and turned wildly, trying to loosen the stiff old ropes he had tied her with. They wouldn’t give an inch. Zane was, of course, an expert at knots. She had no idea where to start looking for her pretty dagger in the forest, and as far as she could tell, no one on the beach had conveniently dropped one for her to use. It seemed rather unreasonable to push herself into a fight and demand to be set free: Mind loaning me your sword for a moment? And you, pirate, would you mind holding off attacking for that moment?
She looked at her shadow, who was also tied up and struggling. Apparently sticking to her host had some distinct disadvantages—like sharing her fate while they were attached.
Wendy screamed in frustration. For once, she was here, in Never Land, not just narrating the story. And she still couldn’t do anything! And Peter and Hook…
Wait. There was one thing she could do, she realized. She could still fly. Maybe there would be something on the ship she could use. It was full of pointy and jabby things. And then she could set about rescuing Peter’s shadow, or snooping around the ship for a hint of Hook’s plans.
Wendy grinned and took off into the air—
And immediately began rolling and flailing, her head grinding into the sand while her legs whirled around above her like a pinwheel. Somehow flying required more balance and use of her arms and legs than she had thought.
Stretching, curling up, and then keeping herself very still, Wendy finally managed to move forward. Very awkwardly. Like a caterpillar with all of its little legs bound together, inching along in an undignified fashion. Sometimes as little as a foot above the sand and in constant danger of plowing into it face-first. But she took it slowly and did her best to sneak around the fight, to not draw too much attention to herself.
(Though a twin saw her and nearly lost his ear as he stared, transfixed.)
When she made it to the edge of the water Wendy came in a bit too low. A wave crashed into her face, temporarily blinding her. It took her a bit to reorient herself and then swayingly cross the rest of the way to the ship. Finally, like a bobbing harbor seal, she popped up over the side of the Jolly Roger to surveil the scene.
There was the sword fight, of course. Blades flashing in the sun, the scrape of steel on steel.
“I’ll get you yet, Peter Pan!” Hook cried, grinning.
“Just try it, you ridiculous codfish!” Peter taunted. He danced on top of the ship’s wheel, causing it to spin.
Tinker Bell, hovering nearby, caught sight of Wendy.
“No—shh,” Wendy mouthed. She jerked her head toward the prow of the ship, where the golden cage was. “Meet me there!”
Tinker Bell nodded and flew off.
Wendy followed, throwing herself over the railing and skidding to a painful halt on her knees, elbows, and chin.
The fairy immediately began to work on her ropes.
“They’re very tight,” Wendy whispered. “I don’t think you have the strength. Maybe you can find a knife or a—”
But the bonds fell away.
Tinker Bell gave a smug little smile.
“Well! That’s rather useful,” Wendy said, bending over to release her shadow.
The shadow jumped and stretched in her newfound freedom and then slid into the cage, to Peter’s shadow.
“Do what you can—see if you can release him,” Wendy said. “Meanwhile, Tink and I will—”
But a pirate stepped out from behind the chart room and loomed menacingly over her.
“You didn’t think Hook would have left this unguarded, did you?” he growled. His skin was pale and torn; his breath reeked of rot.
It was Valentine.
“But…you’re dead!” Wendy breathed in horror.
“Oh, the dead don’t always stay dead in Never Land,” he sneered, his mouth full of rotting black and golden teeth. “Not when they’re pirates. Not when Davy Jones’s locker is full.”