Wendy was still thinking about the stranger when she reached the tree and found Peter waiting for her, sharpening a knife with a stone.
"Good morning," she said with a smile.
Peter stood when she neared him. "Good morning. Yum, plums!"
As they ate, Wendy mentioned her encounter. "I met someone new today." Peter looked up. "He seemed very friendly. Nick, he said his name was." Peter narrowed his eyes. "Do you know him?"
"The name isn't familiar, but we don't exactly get a lot of strangers. I should go ask the mermaids. Would you like to come?"
"Absolutely," Wendy replied, taking Peter's extended hand.
As they walked they talked of Wendy's travels and of Peter's adventures. Soon the conversation drifted into a discussion of hopes and dreams. "I want to publish my stories and share them with the world. I want to have children and write new stories and have many more adventures to write about," she said, smiling at the thought.
"How can you have adventures if you grow up?" Peter asked, disgusted.
"Well, I'm having one right now, aren't I?"
"I suppose."
"And I'm officially an adult at my age. Plus, traveling is an adventure, and I plan to do a lot of that in the future."
"I guess," Peter said sulkily.
"And I think that writing is an adventure. I get to live my adventures in my head as I am writing them, and then again each time I read or tell them. My life has been full of adventure, and will continue to be, even as I continue to grow up."
"Those aren't real adventures." Wendy gasped. "Not like fighting pirates or saving princesses."
"You can do both of those things if you travel to the right places," Wendy shot back.
"But you wouldn't. Not if you had children." Peter spit the word out like it was poison.
"No, probably not. But that's because I don't exactly relish the idea of putting myself in a life or situation like that. I also don't feel like the possibility of death is necessary for an adventure," Wendy countered.
"You know nothing of true adventures," Peter retorted, then stalked off towards the mermaid lagoon.