The wound was deeper than he had thought, and it was becoming increasingly obvious as he continued to dart through the night sky. The air was cold and crisp, usually refreshing, but right now it made him feel sick. He was losing too much blood too quickly. The stars zoomed by so fast that they seemed more like streaks instead of individual lights…each one mourned for him as he pushed himself to go faster. His dark hair was matted against his skin; sticky from sweat and the makeup of his clothing was starting to break away. Skeleton leaves…he didn't use them anymore; with his constant trips back and forth to the mainland, he hadn't been able to control his aging as well as he usually was able to, and now he appeared to be sixteen instead of twelve. How had he let himself slip this far?

Things were so much easier before…with her, his mother, but she was gone now…dead and forgotten by most, but not by him, never by him. His dagger was fastened tightly at his belt loop as his toe glided along a rooftop; the shingles scraped into his skin and pumped his adrenaline faster. I need to stay awake… How much longer would he last? He needed help, over the years more children had imagined natives, but they were young and different: children's minds were so different now. Maybe that had something to do with his change in attire: they all viewed him so differently now.

The stinging in his side increased and he clasped his hand over it, feeling blood immediately spill between his fingers. His beautiful face was pale now, the color in his lips was fading and the sweat on his brow was increasing. Finally he saw what he was looking for and he pushed on faster, riding the wind's back as he dipped in his flight towards the ground. Flying was usually so natural for him, but not when he was this close to death. He crashed headfirst through the window, getting caught in the screen that the boy's parents had put there to keep out insects and the like.

The boy had been asleep in his bed, but now he was upright in his covers, looking down at the bloody figure on the floor. What happened to him?! How had he gotten that wound?! And what was he doing so far from the little island? His voice was low but urgent as he moved from the bed to his side,

"Peter!"