Peter scraped the stone across the silver of his blade, sharpening the edge to such a danger that it sliced the skin open on his forefinger when he tested it. Peter frowned, sticking his finger in his mouth and examining the blade before bringing it down harshly upon a guava fruit he'd collected for breakfast.

His two other swords and three daggers lay, gleaming and sharpened at his feet with bits of melons and other fruits scattered on the forest floor beside him.

Peter sighed, and it distinctly showed his blatant boredom. It seemed as though he'd been sharpening his weapons every day and he didn't even have anyone to properly use them on.

He hovered only inches off the ground, and Tinker Bell came to land on his sword, her tiny feet dancing along the blade. She was far too light to be even scratched by it, and examined her glowing reflection in the metal. Tinker Bell looked up at Peter and fluttered her wings as she pointed to the other fairies heading toward their tree, as if they were about to celebrate something.

"Eh, you know I'm going to see Wendy tonight, Tink," Peter said, trying to fight off the grin slowly spreading across his features, "She told me yesterday she's going to tell 'The Princess and the Pea' tonight, and I don't remember that one. Otherwise I'd go with you."

She frowned, only slightly, and it passed so quickly that Peter barely caught it. She still became occasionally jealous of Peter's frequent visits to London, but grew tired of waiting up in her little house underground, sitting on his pillow with nothing to amuse herself but fading memories of pulling Wendy's hair. After all, fairies had both short memories and attention spans, and Tinker Bell decided she could spend her time elsewhere.

She flew up to tug on Peter's earlobe affectionately, as she usually did, and he returned a smile in return as he pushed up from the ground and towards Neverland's ocean, watching as her light faded in the distance.

Peter did twirls and somersaults in the air, as he normally did, for he liked nothing more than the feel of the twilight wind in his hair and on his arms. He scoffed down at the dimly lit Jolly Roger, though he saw no pirates on board.

He had just returned his attention to the brighter-than-normal Neverland stars before he heard a colossal boom just below him, and white cannon smoke floated up to block his vision. A net wrapped around Peter Pan and brought him quickly and painfully onto the scratchy wooden deck of the Jolly Roger, with its crew standing proudly around their capture.