Lukes POV

In fact, none of the 'tests of courage' or 'games' that the boys had suggested had really appealed to her yet. Tests of courage... something like that could only occur to boys. In London it had been no different, even there the gangs and boys had to challenge and measure each other again and again. It was neither strange nor new to her, even if it was beyond her understanding. To her, it was the behavior that might have stuck in any man from his youth, no matter how old they ended up being.

Perhaps that was why she had shaken her head in more or less indulgent amusement. So far... most of the dangers of Neverland had not yet crept under her skin. She had attended a crocodile hunt with a pounding heart- but there they stood at the top of the cliffs of a hillside, throwing spears at the behemoth that another poor boy had had to lure into that cul-de-sac. She could not yet remember all the poisonous berries and plants - but this could be avoided by learning and eating only what the others gave her. That the test for admission among the lost would be more difficult did not come as a surprise. She had expected this after some of the boys, for example, proudly told how they had stolen a feather from the chief of the Native American tribe's precious headdress or a flag from Blackbeard's ship. Others had to bring feathers from a nest of Neverbirds. The giant birds, now more like walking skeletons than the magnificent creatures they had once been, nested near the island on Neverland's cliffs. Reaching the nests alone was dangerous.

THIS, however, was something else. Hook beamed into the room like a part of winter incarnate, flooding it with cold so that there was a palpable feeling of wintry frost on their skin. Luke was almost certain that if she turned her gaze now to an open area, she would have been able to see crystals of ice on it. His nearness made her neck and fingertips tingle icily, pushing every muscle into guardedness and putting restless electricity into her limbs. Nervously, the tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her dry lips as she tried to either irritate Hook with her talk or get him to respond... ANYTHING but that stagnant coldness that sat in his features.

She could feel it. The way the air charged and gained heaviness. She had always had a sense of it.... for the vibration that filled the air - long before the storm rolled in and the first foothills of black clouds appeared on the horizon. Then Luke had closed his eyes, enjoying the ever-increasing wind that carried that very special note. Tales of faraway lands, of freedom, that only the wind possessed and which could make the soul grow wings - while the body remained heavy... until the first drops fell and the world sank into a silence that only the storm had to own. Hook was the same way. The black violence that was there at the door in sight, proclaiming the end.... ominous.

That was the moment when she had to act. She felt it like an electric shock that ran through the synapses inside her and made her hand grasp the shell.... cold metal, probably silver, pressed against her hot fingers. But it was the opportunity she needed.

She could almost hear death laughing as the captain's thrust narrowly missed her. Only a second had separated her from death, one hesitation-and she would have been mauled by the crocodiles in the sea. So the rattling sounded.... and she heard Hook's angry roar that sounded to the pounding waves like that of an angry predator. She clung to the damned rope as if to her manifested life, while her ears rushed louder than the roaring waves. Below her, mist floated above the roiling sea like a breath. As if to embellish the scene, death itself exhaled cold breath. As her body was pulled over the railing, landing dully on the wood, she was about to laugh in relief. It pressed in her chest-an offshoot of the overflowing relief of having escaped death-that a short, hoarse laugh leaped from her lips and her comrades.... first confused, then grinning wryly at the newcomer.

Ah, the death-defying plan had worked. Unbelievable. Her lungs were on fire. Her breathing was heavy, pressing against her chest, making it seem uncomfortably tight as the damned bandages that pressed her breasts flat against her body made it even harder for her to breathe. Her arms ached, her muscles burned, and her palms felt like someone was cutting across them and putting salt in them. But then she remembered the danger she had slipped from her fingers just moments before. She sank into the large coat, already having to be careful not to step on the hem-which now had a tear in it from Hook's sting. She grabbed the ends and stuffed them into the belt around her hips- so she was no longer in danger of tripping over the coat. Like the leaves of a large, red flower, the fabric now hung around her legs.

"Awesome. Another hat and you could almost be his brother!" Slightly's amused laugh made her look up. The Lost Boy (who had long since ceased to be a boy) always seemed to have the humor to spare even in this situation. But she was not foolish enough to underestimate him because she had seen him fight before. Slightly managed to smile even when slitting a pirate's throat and was impressively quick with his blades. Sometimes, when he was training with others, she didn't even see the blow coming that knocked another to the ground. That was another reason why the last thing she wanted was to mess with the older of the lost.

"I will NOT go back for the hat now!" she clarified, not quite able to interpret herself whether her voice carried more jest or indignation- perhaps a mixture of both. She wasn't quite sure if that was meant to be praise anyway. After all, Hook was the great enemy of the lost- and after seeing him, she understood why. So to look like a 'brother' of terror was hardly flattering, was it?

Crow laughed throatily and put his hand on her head, puffing on the skipper's cap to wuffle it like a dog in praise. A groan escaped her as she swatted at his hand to make him stop. She couldn't risk that he might still accidentally ruin her cover as a joke. At that moment, Hook appeared at the stairs.

While her shoulders instantly gathered reflexively higher, the other two lost ones turned to Hook. They... barely noticeably shifted their stance as well. Crow's hands slid in a fluid motion like rushing water skipping over rocks to his tomahawk as he took a step to the side.... and then determinedly pushed Luke half behind him with one hand. Slightly's grin did not fall- it lingered, but it froze into solid ice within a few seconds."Oh, what an honor, the infamous Hook himself!" groaned Slightly, "Excuse me! Captain Hook!" and grinningly gave a half bow, disregarding the pistol pointed at him. "My goodness old Crab, you're as red as a tomato with anger!" his voice swung derisively as he raised his bright brows higher.

Luke shifted her weight uncomfortably to the side, causing blue eyes to flash out from behind the other two. On the one hand, she didn't really feel comfortable hiding behind the other two like that. However, she was also aware that she had even less of a chance of surviving against Hook than perhaps the other two would have. Granted, it might sound ridiculous, but having the protection of the two of them, or at least having two more allies standing by her side now, washed a little relief and more security into her limbs. It was that feeling that one always possessed when under the protection of a group that was stronger together against a predator. Even if that meant the older ones had to protect a pip. Luke gasped as Hook pointed the pistol at Slightly. However, the two seemed less impressed.

"Come on Hook. You're going to shoot either way..." Crow's voice was more serious than Slightly's and didn't carry the same amused tone as he grabbed Luke's arm, pulling him closer to him. Protectively, as if to make sure he could push, tug, or shove Luke away should it become necessary. "...And miss. How many times have you tried that? You're still aiming like a cross-eyed stockfish!" Crow then blurted out and threw the gun he had been holding until just now at Hook without warning.

Slightly, on the other hand, suddenly dropped, cut a rope with the knife, and another small pile of barrels became the victim of the loss as Slightly grabbed the wooden edge and rolled it with momentum in Hook's direction- making him fall or at least dodge and give up his attack position.

Accompanied as if on command by the dark rumble of the barrel on the planks of the Jolly Roger, Crow dragged Luke along with him and shoved him into cover behind the nearest barrels. Luke nearly stumbled, half fell to her knees and felt the dull pain fade behind the loud banging. Immediately her hands went over her ears, which ached in a terrible ringing and roaring as if her eardrums were about to burst. With a distorted expression, she pressed herself behind the barrel. Shots cracked, wood splintered, and Luke squinted, expecting the pain at any moment when the bullets did penetrate the wood and bore into her flesh.... but it didn't happen. The bullets had smashed into the barrel or the crates, tearing open the wood that now curved outward like the cracked ribs of a torso as the dark red contents gurgled and poured to the bottom.

Once again, her heartbeat raced as if in a sprint. A loud whistle in a melodic sound of short and longer sequences of notes slipped into the night as Crow signaled to the other lost. As if the wind had suddenly shifted, something on the ship changed. The lost behaved much like leaves, invisibly carried by the wind. At first glance, a wild confusion, as they danced around and over each other, fighting as if neither knew what the other was doing to his right. But with the signal, it changed as quickly as someone with an eye for the true nature of the wind could suddenly see the shape behind it.

A new form of chaos erupted on the ship: The Lost used the slingshots that had already been prepared, and popping bullets ignited plumes of colored smoke and dust that made the ship unmanageable within seconds. The crowing of the Lost Boys mingled as a signal in the confusion of curses of the pirates. Battles ended quickly, no doubt regretful for some, and yet everyone knew: whoever remained behind now stood alone. Shadows scurried crouched or nimble as foxes through the multicolored mists, barely discerning who might be a pirate and who might be lost. Hissing wild blows of blind and angry pirates flew around, looking more like the flailing of children from stories. The three lost ones who had found themselves facing Hook also took their chances.

Slightly scampered like the wind incarnate to the other side of the wide stairs that led from the main deck to the right and left of the upper deck, swung onto the railing, and half-slid down and around it. Crow, meanwhile, grabbed Luke, pulled him right forward to the wooden arches, and before she knew it she was making a startling sound because he bent down, reached under her, and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a small sack of flour. He also threw her over the obstacle in almost the same way, and Luke felt her stomach clench before she landed safely in Slightly's arms with a jerk. Dimples dug into his cheeks as the prodigal just grinned wryly and set her back on her feet, tilting her upper body at an angle. At that moment, Crow landed light-footed next to them and immediately propelled himself forward like a wildcat in its territory. Slightly grabbed Luke's arm - or rather into the red fabric of the coat that lay diagonally across her body and pulled her the first few steps until he was sure she was moving as well.

The wood groaned as dozens of lost men lowered themselves down the ropes and scuffed boots on the walkways. Luke, too, came to rest on the damp wood, feeling the thick planks of the gangplank groaning under the weight of many bodies, the drumming of all the lost until it faded into the rustling of sand and their sounds were swallowed. She glanced over her shoulder toward the ship, where the air was slowly clearing. They made much slower progress on the beach, but between the huts and tents that had been erected there, they melted into the confusing shadows of the night, and only a short time later leaped into the shelter of the green thicket.

"Move it Luke!" heard Luke the roar of the others as they made their way between the rows of trees into the protective darkness. Staggering across the sand, she risked glancing back. On the waves of the dark sea that seemed black as ink in the night, the pale moonlight refracted on the hint of mist that pushed from the distance like tentacles over the sea and rolled with the waves towards the isle. On the waves swayed the mighty Jolly Roger, the dark monster whose sails had been cut loose and were now blowing in the wind, shadows of pirates flitting over the ship... it seemed eerie, ghostly as if it were a ghost ship, rising from the bottom and with a crew of demons. She shuddered as she watched the pirates set off from the ship in pursuit.... a very particular pair of eyes of violets and dark sea fixed on her- she gladly complied with the summons under the cold shiver that spurred her to take to her feet as quickly as possible!