Terry Brooks - Hook.pdf

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"How far back can you remember?"

Peter swallowed. "I was cold, alone. . . ."

He stopped, angry now. "I can't remember!

No one knows where I came from! You told

me I was a foundling!"

' I found you," Wendy cut him short. "I

did." She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Peter, you must listen to me now. And

believe. You and I played together as

children. We had wonderful adventures

together. We laughed, we cried." She paused.

"And we flew."

Peter tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

Something unpleasant was stirring inside him,

something beyond the reach of his memory.

Granny Wendy bent close, her face only

inches from his own. "The stories are true. I

swear to you. I swear it by everything I adore.

Peter—don't you realize who you are?"

She released him then and pried open the

book from between his fingers. She paged

through it desperately and stopped. She

tapped the page.

Peter Banning looked down. The book lay

open to an illustration of Peter Pan, legs

spread, hands on hips, head cocked back as he

prepared to crow. . . .