After so many centuries, they still called Peter Pan a hero. The only thing the people knew was his first name, so they started calling him Pan. After the god of wild, they decided.
It was said that he would take wild sons into the night, that he would steal misbehaving daughters. That children who were bad would never return. Of course, that didn't change many of the kids' hearts. Instead of warning their children, well-meaning parents only gave the rascals a goal. Who wouldn't want to run rabid in a place where there were no rules?
Which meant that Peter Pan always had children to take.
Every once in a while, a child would return. If they were only gone for under a year, they had fantastical stories about it. Any longer than a year, and the children stayed silent on the matter completely. Some took years until a smile graced them again. Others moved on faster. Some never left that time, sitting vacantly while watching the stars move in the sky.
As expected, many never set foot inside their homes again. They never took another breath of their homeland's air. Their names were forgotten by the children they played with so long ago.
The question that came to many parent's minds, to siblings of those lost, was this: Where did they truly go? Were they stolen, plane and simple, or did the boy who danced in the air seek out their child? The one who walked on breeze could be a very good explanation, rather than any other. A scapegoat that no person could touch.
The oddest thing was, however, when a girl came back after five years, with quite the story to tell. Her name would soon be whispered right along Peter Pan's. She would become something like a legend, a single hope with this magical anomaly.
And her name was Wendy.