( No Title )
Jane Darling hacked her way through the thicket of rosebushes with her borrowed blade.
Her mother and father had lived here once, before she was born– if you could call what happened in Neverland living.
Jane’s mother spoke of Peter Pan with a mixture of tenderness and bitter bile, her father with cautious, wary awe.
Jane hadn’t been impressed, when she met him.
Now he had gone and declared a game of war between them.
Jane didn’t think he’d expected a girl to like war.
She cut down another swath of rosebushes.
She was thinking about cutting out his heart.
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