The Never War

Gazing at her reflection Harrow applied the last line of paint to her cheekbone. The mirror was cracked giving her multiple eyes to look at, her stare vicious.

“Are you ready?” Peter appeared behind her with his trademark smirk and raised brow.

“As I’ll ever be.” Grabbing the hilt of the sword Will had given her moments earlier she turned to face the younger boy. “Let’s do this.”

The journey on any other day may have been brutal with the hot sun blazing down on her bare neck. She had ripped her shirt to allow herself more room to move, to swing a sword, and in the end had cut her pants as well. Her brown hair was pulled up behind her head messily with leaves and sticks.

For the first time in a long time she felt like she belonged where she was.

The terrain started to shift and the Lost Boys began to grow feverish with excitement. Will stayed only two steps behind Peter and would glance over his shoulder now and then to catch a glimpse at the older sister.

The first sign that they were getting close was the smell of fire. Harrow could feel the blood in her body course through her veins a little quicker than normal. Her senses started to buzz with adrenaline and she knew she was ready for a fight.

“We’re not leaving til we get the girl!” Peter shouted to the boys. His pace quickened when they shouted in unison and Harrow felt something rising in her chest. She could see the break in the tree line up ahead.

Peter let out a crow that echoed in the trees. Harrow raised the sword into the air and tilted her head back to release a cry of anger. Her voice carried toward the treetops and she felt the energy the woods gave back to her.

Like a wave crashing the shore, the Lost Boys overtook the few Indians that were scouting the area. Using blunt objects to knock the enemy off their feet Peter, Will, and Harrow surged forward. Peter darted around the teepees almost as if he were dancing, his toes barely touching the dirt. In a fit of rage Harrow cut through one of the teepees with the sword relishing the noise it made in protest.

Reaching the circle where Holland was held captive, Harrow brought her sword around in a wide arch only to be blocked by a wooden staff. The blade caught in the wood giving the Indian the opportunity to twist it, forcing the sword out of her hands and onto the ground. Peter and Will took four Indians together while the Lost Boys rampaged into the camp to outnumber the tribe. Grunts and yells filtered through the otherwise silent area with Holland in the middle of it all.

The Red Chief watched with curious eyes. Harrow blocked a club that was being swung at her head and punched the Indian boy in the jaw. The momentum from the hit caused him to flail backward where she brought her foot down on his stomach.

“Peter watch out!” Holland cried from her spot only to be kicked in the side. The boy whipped around to narrowly miss a knife to the back, green eyes glittering as he took his own blade to the attacker.

Grabbing a bow and a quiver of arrows off the body of an injured Indian Harrow notched her weapon and fired away. Hitting her first target in the leg to keep him from landing a strike on Will she turned to hit an Indian girl in the shoulder.

“That’s enough!”

Harrow faced the Red Chief with the last arrow aimed at her heart. She stopped, hissing at the older woman who currently held Holland against her with a knife to her throat.

“Put down your weapons or I make her bleed.”

“Let her go,” Harrow demanded. Holland struggled against the woman only to let out a whimper when the blade pressed harder to her neck. “I said let her go!”

“And I said put down your weapons!” The Red Chief pointed the knife at Harrow with an expression so menacing the older sister nearly lost her nerve. Returning the small weapon to Holland’s throat she bared her teeth. “Now!”

“I’d suggest doing what she says,” Peter stated slowly. His hands were up in surrender. “We don’t need any more blood spilled today.”

“Not until she takes her filthy fingers off my sister.”

“Right now my hands are cleaner than yours,” the Red Chief snarled.

“Harrow put the bow down,” Will whispered.

Harrow didn’t want to listen. She wanted to pierce the Red Chief in the heart for laying a hand on her little sister. Holland was pleading with her eyes to make it all stop. For Harrow to drop her weapon so nobody else would get hurt.

“If I put this down you’ll let her go?” Her heart was pounding.

“I’ll consider removing this knife,” the Red Chief taunted.

“Come on Harrow.” Holland felt sweat beading on her forehead. “Listen to them, alright? I’m fine. I’m not hurt. But we all will be if you don’t stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to save me.”

Harrow felt the wind get knocked out of her lungs. With an incredulous look at her sibling she slowly lowered the bow and let the line slack to keep the arrow at bay. At a loss for words she watched the Red Chief lower her knife as well.

“You have created havoc among my tribe,” the Red Chief began, “and you have spilled too much of my people’s blood to go unscathed. This fight was unnecessary.”

“On the contrary,” Peter spoke up. “I believe you provoked us.”

“My plan was never to harm, only educate.” The Red Chief let go of Holland and shoved her toward Harrow. “Which one of you will fight me to retain the balance of blood lost?”

“Pardon?” Will choked on his breath.

“One of you must stand up to fight in order for all of you to leave.” Turning in a slow circle she outstretched her arms. “And do not think you are not being watched.”

“I’ll do it.” Dropping the bow to the ground Harrow stepped forward.

“Harrow,” Peter and Will scolded in unison. Holland reached for her sister’s arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I can never just stop,” Harrow growled, jerking her arm free.

“Being reckless?” Holland spat with an equal amount of venom.

“Protecting my family.” Stepping forward Harrow shed the sheath of her sword and stood with only her two hands as weapons. The Red Chief gave her a once over before nodding.

“I accept your offer.” Raising her knife she smiled cynically. “This will hurt.”

Harrow held her own for the first few strikes of the fight. The Red Chief attacked with the speed of a jungle cat, always on her toes, whirling her arms in an attempt to harm. Harrow blocked the arm swung at her with the knife pointed at her chest and brought her fist upward to connect with the Red Chief’s jaw. Watching the older woman wheel backward, Harrow pressed forward in an effort to raise her leg for a kick.

Catching her footing the Red Chief caught Harrow’s leg and shoved her to the ground with ease. Letting out a cry of pain Harrow used her forearms to shield her face. The Red Chief slammed her foot into Harrow’s side with a force the instantly blinded the younger girl. Trying to roll on her side she let out a muffled whimper when the Red Chief straddled her waist and forced her to look in her eyes. Her large hand was wrapped tightly around Harrow’s throat as she leaned forward, noses almost brushing.

“I will let you live today, Harrow,” the woman began pressing the tip of the knife into Harrow’s chest, “but I will leave you with a reminder that I will not be so kind next time.” Screaming in pain as the knife cut into her skin Harrow was barely able to fight the tears long enough. A gash six inches long bled through what was left of her shirt.

The Red Chief ran her fingers along the cut to gather blood on her fingers before standing to her full height. “And this is my reminder to you!” She smeared the blood on both of her cheeks with a sickening grin. “War against you, Peter Pan. You and your Lost Boys. It is coming, and it will be glorious!”

Shouts and hollers erupted all around the retreating clan. Holland offered her hand to Harrow only to be rejected with a menacing glare. Pressing her hand to her chest, Harrow walked in step next to Will.

“She’ll be alright,” Peter reassured Holland with a soft grin. “We all will.”

“What do you mean?” Holland asked crossing her arms.

“You’ll see.”