"We have to split up-"
"No!" the girl cried.
"It's the only way." The boy put his hand against the girl's cheek. His chest rose and fell as he gulped in the air around them. They had been running for hours, almost from the moment they landed in Neverland.
"You know I'm right. If we split up, they have to split up. It's our best chance. It's your best chance. The Lost Boys don't want you – they want me." His blue eyes pleaded with her.
"How am I going to survive out there, I don't have anything, I don't – "
"Take this." The boy handed the girl a large knife. In the distance, they heard rustling and voices calling out. "Take this and run!"
The boy turned and bolted off into the woods. All the girl could do was watch as he disappeared into the shadows. She may have stood there forever, knife in one hand, satchel in the other, wondering how it had all gone so wrong so quickly. But then she heard more voices and remembered – Lost Boys. She tossed the satchel over her shoulder, tucked the knife into her belt and ran, alone, in the unknown.
Hours had passed - hours of roaming through the dark woods, listening for every creaking sound, every breaking branch. The girl had hoped she might see her boy again, or find some kind of civilization, some kind of help. Neverland couldn't just be filled with Lost Boys, could it? But the woods seemed dark and endless. The only help it offered were dark shadows looming all around, like panthers ready to pounce. And now that the sun had set, the forest was even darker - just one, long, never-ending shadow. The only bright side the girl could see was that there had been no sign of any Lost Boys for quite some time.
"I guess you were right," she muttered. "They were after you."
The Neverland woods were hard enough to navigate during the day but traversing them at night seemed almost impossible. If it weren't for the almost full moon overhead, there would be no light at all. The girl needed a place to rest. She hadn't eaten since coming to the island and if things were going to go on like this, she needed a plan. She hadn't allowed herself to think it before, but the night has a way of drawing out darker truths and this was hers: she wasn't getting home without a fight. And if she lost that fight, she may never get home.
And almost as if she had wished it, just up the path, she saw a cave, perfectly framed by the moonlight. The girl drew her knife and headed inside, pushing aside a cascade of vines obscuring the entrance.
Only the faintest bit of moonlight filtered into the cave. The girl squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but she was almost certain - yes. This was an empty cave. For the first time, the girl allowed her exhaustion to overcome her and she collapsed on the ground. As the adrenaline flowed out of her system, she began to feel things almost normally again – the grainy dirt of the cavern floor, the grumble of her stomach, the chill of the night air. But she had nothing to sleep on, nothing to eat, nothing to keep her warm. The girl thought of her mother. When she was little and living in her family's small hut, the winter would turn bitter and cold, especially at night. During the coldest nights, her mother would wrap her in buffalo skins and hold her close. She would tell the girl to imagine a great big, beautiful fire reaching into the night sky. Her mother used to say that sometimes, if the girl believed as hard as she could, she might be able to catch a little bit of warmth from an imaginary fire.
So the girl closed her eyes and imagined a warm fire in the middle of the cave, like the fires she would imagine on those cold nights long ago. She imagined the flames, bright orange and yellow, casting shadows on the walls of the cave. She imagined smelling the faint smoke of burning wood and the soft crackling of the flames. And then - mmm, chicken! Roast chicken, like the kind the settlers would make! The smell of smoke and roast chicken began to tingle her nose. As she lay on the floor of the cave, imagining fire and chicken, the warmth and the smell became so thick that she could swear –
The girl opened her eyes and her mouth dropped. There, in the center of the cave was a magnificent fire, dancing, flickering – real. And beside it was a plate of roast chicken. "What – what kind of place is this?" the girl whispered. Her stomach gave a long, low growl. Right now, the girl thought, is not the time for answers. She crawled over to the fire and chicken and began to eat.
Just outside the cave, a boy leaned against a tree. He wasn't her boy – oh no. This boy was part of the island. He could feel the girl's belief, her imagination pulsating in tune with Neverland's magic. Most of his Boys couldn't even manage to believe a spark into existence even after years in Neverland, much less a fire and a meal. He smiled to himself. She would do – she would do quite well.
But the game was only beginning.