Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,78

enough.

Tinker Bell clapped and jingled her approval.

The boat seemed to sense their need and nosed its way through the back current over to their bank.

“Shall we?” Wendy asked, trying not to sound too pleased with herself. “After you.”

Tinker Bell gave a little bow in the air, and Wendy returned it with a curtsy and a flourish. Then the fairy flew delicately to the fore bench and sat. On the bench next to her was a carelessly left, beautiful gem-encrusted dagger that hung on a useful necklace. Tinker Bell gave her friend a look.

“Oh yes. She also left her necklace behind, the one her mother gave her for protection,” Wendy said, reaching in and putting it on. “All right, it’s not really part of the story—but it seems like a weapon would be useful for me to have, don’t you agree?”

She carefully held the side of the boat as it tipped a little with her weight, then settled herself in the back with the pole. She had done some punting on a visit to see her mother’s cousin up in Oxford but wasn’t entirely sure what use that skill would be in a river that was the topological opposite of a sleepy English canal.

A strange tick tick tock noise could be heard just above the sound of the rushing water, growing as it came closer.

Tinker Bell looked left and right, trying to find the source of it as Wendy experimentally maneuvered the pole. When the fairy finally figured out what the noise was, she squeaked, jingled desperately, and flew back to desperately squeeze her friend’s arm.

But Wendy already knew what it was.

It was a beautiful gold-and-steel crocodile. Four yards long from tip to tail. It skimmed the water, its black nose and glass eyes just sticking out of the surface, its sparkling, mechanical tail swishing back and forth rhythmically. It smiled at the girls with clear crystal teeth.

“Oh yes, that’s the clockwork crocodile. Now free from its previous task, the toy beast sought its way downstream to find other people in need of help. And, I daresay, we might have use of a clockwork crocodile somewhere along the way—against pirates, maybe? One particular crocodile-fearing pirate?”

Tinker Bell stared at her friend in newly discovered admiration—and the teensiest bit of horror.

You’ve changed, girl.

Wendy smiled as she pushed the boat away from the bank.

There was more to her than just manners and wishing, as her little fairy friend had pointed out. A whole world of Never Land was inside Wendy…with beasts as well as fairies.

The beautiful little boat began its journey slowly, bumping along the bank until Wendy managed to push them away from shore. The steering pole had a well-hewn and polished handle that fit in her hands perfectly. She couldn’t have imagined a better designed piece of equipment. Which was intellectually amusing since some part of her mind must have actually imagined or designed it. Of course, she hadn’t really visualized every detail of the entire boat; she had just said boat, royal boat, and figured there would be gold and blue and fancy things on it and comfy seats. And regal-looking equipment, like this pole. But not specifically the pole she was holding. Which inevitably led to the question: Who or what did provide the details? When she invented the story, who filled in the missing bits? Was that just how the magic of Never Land worked?

But this was a deep thought for another time. She had to work the pole around and around with all her strength before finally getting out to the middle of the newly reinvigorated river. The little boat bobbed in place for a moment as if discussing matters with the waters around it, spinning a little as it found a good place to join, and then—it took off.

Wendy squealed with delight as they rushed along with the waves. Tinker Bell also squealed, but with terror, and held on to the seat for dear life. Then she looked over at Wendy and saw her laughing, and the fairy reassessed the dangers. Very slowly she began to smile.

“Yeehaw!” Wendy shouted as they rose up with a swell and then crashed down with a belly-flopping smash, spraying water into the sky with bright rainbows. The droplets were small and cool and very refreshing. Her parched skin soaked them up gratefully. She licked her lips: cold, clear, and lightly mineral.

Fish leapt in arcs before the bow of the boat, their scales glittering in the sunlight. The canyon walls raced by.