Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J. M. Barrie. Running Deer is my own character from A Bit of Salve and Soul Bonding.
Jealousy
Why does she do this to me? It is not very nice!
Stop touching her hair, Tootles! I do not care if her hair is falling in front of her eyes. Let her push it back herself. We have had this discussion already.
Slightly, go back to your chair this instant. Just because you and she have become best friends after that incident with the dragon does not mean I approve. Remember, I saw her first!
"Your right eye is twitching."
I drag my gaze from Wendy helping Tootles with his sums to Boots perched on the tree root by my ear, swaying back and forth with amusement.
"So?"
"You will not get her by just sitting back and brooding and sulking."
"She is right over there," I snap, not bothering to hide my growing annoyance.
"Then it should be simple." The ginger-hired fairy grins widely at me.
I blink. "What should?"
"Telling. Her. How. You. Feel. That you do not want her to be your mother."
"No!" I feel my face burning. "That would ruin everything."
"Maybe, maybe not," Boots holds up his hands and shrugs. "Just thought… You do know there are others who would like to. Tootles and Slightly."
It is my turn to shrug. "Tell me something I do not know." My attention settles once again on the girl across the room and I sigh deeply.
"Jim, the new cabin boy has 'accidentally' run into her several times…"
I grunt. This is all her fault.
"…Nibs has developed a little fancy for her."
"So?" Her fault.
"And did you know Running Deer has returned from his long mysterious journey?" he asks merrily. "Heard him asking after Wendy myself."
Her—
I whirl to glare at the fairy. "You. Did. Not…"
"'Tis true!"
"Silly boys who are not able to follow simple orders," I mutter under my breath. "Darn pirates who can not even stay on their little boat! But blasted Indians from the past poking their noses where they are not wanted, that's going too far!"
Before I realize it, I find myself standing over Wendy seated on the floor, correcting Tootles's sums.
"Wendy," it is supposed to come out a stern order (I am Captain after all), but instead her name escapes my mouth softly, tentatively – part of a strange shyness that has plagued me of late. (Her fault, again.) My sudden fury replaced by uncertainty, I extend a hand to her when she looks up at me curiously. "Wendy, I must speak with you."
And as my hand is accepted and I smile in response to her own while she stands, I can sense Boots smirk from the other side of the room.
THE END