Chapter five - Apples

The lost boys were indeed, lost, as Peter said. They were also very unclean and messy. Their hair was all knotted; some wore hats to cover it some did not. Their skin was brown with dirt smudged over it and their clothes were worn and torn. I sighed heaved a heavy 'Hello' as I looked at the bunch that had been listening to my stories for years. Let me start from smallest to tallest, or youngest to oldest if you fancy.

When I laid eyes on Talky I feel in love with him. The smallest of the bunch he had the same sparkle of adventure in his eyes as Peter did. He had emerald green eyes which danced in the soft light, and short curly black hair which was crammed flat by an old brown felt hat. His skin wasn't as brown as any of the other lost boys, he mustn't have been in Neverland very long, but he was indeed browner than I was. He was wearing an old kaki shirt that was clearly too big for him as were his short that were held in place by a tight piece of rope also holding a small metal dagger. He smiled and waved at me, walking over and shaking my hand – something Peter must have told them – only coming up to my waist. He brandished a pearly white smile, with a few teeth missing but that would be expected from someone so young. I bent down so that our eyes were level and asked him his age, he didn't reply. I looked to Peter but one of the other boys answered.

"Talky doesn't well, talk," said the boy. I found that quite amusing but I wasn't going to show it. Peter stepped forward and put his hands on Talky's shoulders, I stood up so our eyes were almost level.

"We think he is three, but we aren't sure," Peter said as Talky flashed a smile again and took my hand leading me back to the other boys outstretching his hand, pointing to the next boy. The height difference between the two was quite large, even though there was only one year separating them in age. Candy was a boy who could be quite easily mistaken for a girl who was a tomboy. He had beautiful long eyelashes tat I would kill for, that shaded his grey blue eyes. He had a mop of wavy blond hair that covered his eyes and his fringe came down past his eyebrows – almost covering his eyes. His round face was freckled and full of mischief, but bounding with happiness. He had a small build that made him look fragile and bird like. With long brown fingers and toes that were bandaged up in some parts, it was clear to see that he was a rough child. On his bare chest he had strapped securely a quiver and in his hand he clutched the bow. He too had shorts too big for him that were more torn and worn held fast by a rope, but with no shiny dagger. He bowed low to me and his thin mouth curled into a smile spreading from ear to ear, I curtsied making him laugh, causing a chain reaction making the other boys laugh. I frowned and put my hands on my hip's, Candy stopped laughing, the other boys still going but softer.

"I am sorry Miss Wendy, I didn't want to make you cross," he said as he stepped in front of me, Peter was somersaulting around in the air behind Candy, I giggled.

"It is alright, how old are you?" I said smiling; he puffed out his chest and answered proudly;

"Four. And I am proud of it!" Everyone, including him, broke out into laughter. Soon the chorus of happy laughs died out and Talky lead me to the next boys, Peter hovering behind me peering over my shoulder. The next two boys were a set of identical twins. I could see no difference, even down to the last freckle on their small, brown noses. They were not much taller than Candy but looked very different. They had a stocky build, with broad shoulders and large hands and feet. They had bushy black eye brows and wore plain, black felt hats on top of their thick black hair. They both wore similar clothes, torn shirts, mattered shorts and a dagger fastened at their holsters which gleamed and had small red stains on them. They had defined faces, with clear cheekbones and a pointy chin. They smiled from ear to ear and outstretched their hands about to embrace me in a firm hand shake, their hazel eyes dancing with mischief. I knew from the moment I saw them that they would be a handful, their cheeky gaze, and mischievous smile. I went the shake their hands but they pulled them back in a synchronized movement laughing as they went, but there was no chorus to follow them. Peter flew in front of the two with a stern look on his face. I rested my hand on his shoulder and he turned around before saying anything.

"Its ok, they were just joking," I said smiling, he just shrugged.

"This is Nob and Bob, devil tricksters," Peter said turning around pointing to each of them in turn, clapping the one called Bob on the shoulder.

"We are sorry miss!" they chanted, chuckling at the same time, I just smiled in a reassuring way.

The next four were all the same height, and our eyes were level. None of them looked any older than eleven. The one nearest to the twins was a stick-like boy with wispy blond hair and baby blue eyes. He unlike Nob and Bob had small shoulders but had long fingers and toes that matched his large hands and long limbs. He wore a navy shirt that had the sleeves tore off and hung loosely over his thin form. He wore shorts that I suspected were made from some type of fur but were worn thin. He had a leather belt strapped around his waist which held a sheathed sword and a small bag. He too had a quiver of arrows and a bow strapped around his chest exposing his figure. His triangular face was happy and cheerful, and wreaking of mischief. He bowed and held his hand, palm face up and outstretched. I too curtsied only receiving a snigger from the twins placing my hand and his. He drew it up to his moist lips and kissed it lightly – I blushed. They called him Whisper.

Next to Whisper was a boy of very different form. With gleaming brown skin and mischievous eyes that darted from side to side as if he was hatching a plan to wreak havoc, much the same as the twins. He had thick black, or close to black hair that match his sharp eyes. His broad shoulders made him look twice the size of Whisper, when really he wasn't. He wore complete black with on sleeve of his shirt completely torn away. On top of his thick hair he wore a mattered, dusty, black top hat that contrasted completely with his character. He held tight a small spear in his hand which was decorated with vivid coloured feathers, feathers that I had never seen floating around the pavement on the streets of London. There were also strings of beads that hung from the lost boy's waist. All marvelous in their gleam, I made a secret wish that I one day, very soon, I would have beads draped around my neck making me look like a princess. His round face and large lips pursed has he kissed my hand as Whisper had done previously. He drew away with a spark in his eyes as he adjusted the hilt of his sword to make it more comfortable. He would be a true gentleman I thought, I wondered if his speech held in such high esteem as his actions did.

"What's your name," how vulgar of me I thought soon after I had asked my question, what's your name – ridiculous.

"Ma, name is Night," he had the coarsest voice I had ever heard in my short lifetime, even for a young boy. However he didn't seem to mind much that he had such a queer voice. I curtsied slightly and turned to the next boy next to him. He had a bare brown chest and wore a pair of tatty black short hitched up with a rope. He had grazes all over his elbows and knees and adjusted his sword at his right holster. He had a bandana keeping his honey brown hair away from his face that was darned with feathers similar to that of the ones on Nights spear. He also had strapped to his back a quiver of arrows with his bow tuck neatly away too. His hazel eyes were full of excitement and his round child face broke out into a smile showing his teeth and in some places ones that were missing. He had rings around his eyes and green and brown face paint all over his cheeks and in some parts of his upper arm. I could imagine him as a dancer, a performer of old Indian rituals in which he was the main character or dancer. My hand was limp by my side and he gently lifted it to his lips, they weren't moist like the other boys, but chapped and coarse. As he stood up straight his whispered his name; "Iggy," Peter coughed from somewhere behind me, it seemed to be and uncomfortable cough. I whipped around to look at the ageless boy.

"Are you quite alright Peter?" he nodded, floating above the ground.

"Don't mind him Wendy lady," said an unfamiliar voice from behind me. It came from a short boy with broad shoulders and a heavy lisp. He had long brown hair that curled at the tips just behind the ears. He had deep brown eyes and a pointy chin, with small dimples that came up when he smiled. He had a cheeky grin and a bright gleam in his brown eyes. He wore leather bands around his wrists and ankles that would leave a white mark from his tan line. His feet (as were all the other Lost Boys') were black and encrusted with mud, and there was a certain stench that came from him that didn't come from the other boys – obviously he had been the longest without a wash. He leaned against the tall spear that he held in his left hand and casually sheathed the bloody sword in his right. He seemed to have a new scratch and a tear in his mattered brown trousers with a brown smear across his chest. I reluctantly held out my hand for him to kiss, trying not to show my distaste in his hygiene, his teeth were yellow too. His dirty lips left a mark on my porcelain white skin, he smiled uneasily. He would be the first of the boys I would have to tackle. "My name is Lo," he said proudly then turned to his side to the final Lost Boy, "And this is Pyro,"

The name rang in my ears. Pyro. The chatter of all the other Lost Boys seemed to die away leaving Pyro and myself. His creamy brown eyes were locked on mine. They had a twinkle in them that I hadn't seen in any of the other boys, something that drew me in. His face was more mature and defined, not boyish more like a man. His square jaw sat straight in a smirk and his defined cheek bones were smeared with mud. He was a head taller than be and a little taller than Peter. He had curly chocolate brown hair that curled up just under his ears like little wings. He had broad shoulders and beautiful toned muscles in his arms underneath his golden brown skin. He wore a red vest that was tattered and was unbuttoned revealing his bare chest. On the bottom he wore a pair of torn brown shorts held up with a rope. On the right he had a dagger fastened to his 'belt' and on the left a small felt bag hung closed. He bowed low and I curtsied outstretching my hand for him to kiss. He pressed his warm, moist lips lightly on her hand then stood up. He smiled; I felt my ears turn pink. A wave washed over me. I couldn't understand him, like I could Peter. You see, the moment I saw Peter I knew he was a trouble making hoodlum, with mischievous schemes and a wonderful attitude to everything in life. But when I looked at Pyro, everything was blurred.

I soon snapped back to reality when I felt Talky tug on my skirt. I broke my eye contact with Pyro and looked down at the small child. He was smiling brilliantly at me, I looked back up to where Pyro had stood, but he had turned away. Someone called my name over and over.

"Wendy, Wendy!" It was Peter shaking my shoulder with his cheeky grin, I looked at him question written over my face, "Wendy, the boys want to ask you something," I turned to the eight boys who smiled at me in a group.

"Wendy lady," said Night, I nodded in acknowledgement, "Will you be our mother?" It came as quite a shock to me, a mother? I had never been or had any experience in being a mother before – unless you counted bathing and telling stories to the boys in London. Why I had barley had any influence from a mother, or a substantial motherly figure in my life.

"Well, this is a surprise boys – I wouldn't know how to be a mother," I said looking at them seeing the hope die away from their faces. Nob stood out and spoke:

"Can you clean?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Can you cook?"

"Yes,"

"Can you tuck us in on cold nights?"

"Of course,"

"Can you tell stories?"

"Well naturally yes." I said as the boys rose up a cheer, Peter and Pyro just stood in the corner, side by side, arms crossed, both with smug looks on their faces.

"That is all you need Wendy lady!" Shouted Candy, "You'll be a perfect mother!" They all began to dance around me raising their arms with triumph, Peter and Pyro joining in. I couldn't help but laugh.

Dinner time was an adventure all in its own. To my utter horror I was informed by one of the boys that often times they went without dinner, or they pretended that they had dinner. I had to sit down I was in so much shock, no supper – how dreadful!

"Are you alright Wendy?" said a concerned Peter as he flew above the semi-circle of boys who sat around the front of my chair. He came close to my face and looked into my eyes.

"Yes, a little shocked but alright," I rubbed my eyes then looked around at all the eager faces before me, "Why do you have to pretend to have dinner? Or supper?" In Neverland they referred to supper as dinner and didn't seem to have lunch.

"Well, you see..." Bob started.

"We aren't that lucky in catching our food," Nob finished.

"And we can't buy anything from the pirate port," said Iggy.

"And the Indians aren't that helpful," said Lo. I shook my head, closing my eyes – they needed to eat.

"Why don't you go and catch some fish – or hunt a boar?" I suggested the boys looked around at each other then to the hovering Peter, but Pyro spoke in his cool voice first.

"I think that it sounds like a good idea – we can also pick the other food that hangs from the trees in the forest," I heard a tinkling of bells that seemed to agree with Pyro. Tinker Bell flew to Peter's shoulder and hovered above it speaking to him. I wish that I could understand what she was saying. Finally Peter nodded after much thought on the matter. He flew to the ground and stood with his hands on his hips; the boys stood up and looked at him.

"Lost Boys we are going fishing!" He said grabbing a spear from a rack near by, soon all the boys had one and were starting to head for the exit tunnel when:

"Wait! What about mother? She cannot come with us," said Whisper looking back at me as I followed them. I crossed my arms.

"And why not? I am capable of fishing I am sure," the truth was I had no idea, but it would be my first real adventure in Neverland then.

"Because, where we are going is far too dangerous for a lady," said Peter walking up to me.

"But..."I didn't get to finish, Peter had silenced me.

"No, you can go into the forest and pick food off the trees," said Peter.

"Fruit you mean," I corrected him.

"Well, of course. Pyro can go with you," he said and that was that. I soon found myself walking side-by-side with Pyro through the rough forest of Neverland. Every now and then I saw a flash of light come from behind a tree suspecting it was a fairy. As we ventured deeper into the forest the little lights became more frequent.

"Pyro," I asked softly, he was a step ahead of me. We hadn't had any real conversation since we left the Home Underground. "Pyro," I asked again, this time I got a response.

"Yes Wendy," he didn't call me mother like the other boys, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Where are we – I see fairies everywhere," I stepped up to him so that we were side by side. He looked around as we continued to walk deeper into the forest. I awaited and answer.

"We are coming closer to the fairy domain. The Neverland forest is spilt up almost in to the domains of magical creatures, this one is the fairy domain. See that clearing," he said pointing past me through the trees, "That is their meeting place so too say. There is an old hollow tree where the queen lives," he said. I loved his cool voice.

"Where are we going?" I then asked totally clueless.

"Here," he said as we stopped at the foot of a large tree. It was an old tree I could see by the bark and little fairy lights flew around the tops plucking off little fruits from the tree. It had green skeleton leaves that I had never seen before in my life. There were also assortments of fruits that hung from the branches of the trees that I had never seen before, but some that I had – apples. I reached for one but Pyro grabbed my arm. "Not yet you have to ask the tree to take them first," He lowered my arm and looked to the tree. Now that I saw it I noticed in the old trunk there was a carved face with closed eyes and it seemed to be sleeping. Pyro stepped forward and whispered something in a tongue I did not understand. Suddenly the old face awoke smiling.

"Hello Pyro, no Peter with you?" said the tree in a slow, low voice.

"Not today, just Wendy," he said cheerfully. Taking my hand and leading me closer to the tree.

"A Wendy, we haven't had a Wendy in Neverland for a very long time," he said slowly with a sigh, "Hello, Wendy," I smiled and piped out a feeble 'Hello', I had never talked to a tree before let alone seen a tree talk before.

"We need to pick the fruit that grows plentiful on your branches," said Pyro poetically.

"You know you are always welcome," said the tree smiling and just as he was closing his eyes he jumped awake again before we even pick a single fruit, "My dear boy, terrible things have reached my ears, murmurs of the mermaids. They are restless and tales of an old pirate crew out for revenge,"

"Mermaids?" I said as I picked an apple from a branch placing it in my skirt.

"Yes Wendy, mermaids. They are restless, never go near the lagoon without Peter my sweet or they shall lure you to your grave," a shudder went down my spine as Pyro and I continued to pick the fruit.

"What is this about the pirate crew? Pirates haven't been that much trouble to Neverland of late you see Wendy," Pyro said looking at me.

"I only hear murmurs, no detail in their plans," said the old tree gruffly. And with that he drifted off to sleep.

I am not sure how long I was at the tree with Pyro, but soon the sun faded and all that was left in the sky were the twinkling lights of the moon, stars and fairies. We had talk about a great manner of things. This and that, what Pyro's life was like before Neverland, what my life was like; I found that I got to know the lost boy quite well.

"How is it that there are only lost boys, not girls?" I asked as we left the old tree my skirt full of fruit.

"Well you see, lost boys are orphans who fall from their prams when their nurses look away. When they are not collected or found within seven days they are sent to Neverland, some end up as pirates some not. But mainly Peter finds them and brings them here. However babies are getting smarter and so are nurses so children don't fall out and run away anymore," he said as we began to near the circle of seven trees.

"But that still doesn't answer my question on why there is no lost girls," I said looking at him as we climbed over a log not wanting to drop anything – I had forgotten that I could fly.

"Oh! Girls are far to smart to fall out of their prams," he said happily in his cool voice. I smiled.

"Well I will be a lost girl then," I said triumphantly.

"No you won't, you're a lady and our mother," he said in a matter-of-factly tone.

"I am not a lady or a mother," I said standing still slightly frustrated.

"Well you aren't my mother that's for sure," he said as we pressed on, "But the other boys think you are and imagine how depressed they would be if you said that you weren't their mother," he did have a point. "Anyway, it doesn't matter Wendy I guess, you can be whatever you like," he said as we reached the tunnel. We zoomed down the slide and landed with a thud the fruit spilling - everyone else was already preparing the fish. The little tinkling of bells told me that Tinker Bell was in charge; fluttering around telling the boys how to cook what they had caught. It was a merry sight to see, and sitting on a bare self, playing on his pipes was Peter. He nodded to me and Pyro smiling continuing playing his pipes. I picked up the rest of the fruit and took it over to the table and saw the boys cooking their food over a burning fire. I also noticed that they were singing along to Peter's pipes.

One a, two a, three a four

Come and help us cook five more!

Six a, seven a, eight a nine

Ten and- Eleven!

Cooking our feast not for fun!

But for eating, yum, yum, yum!

Repeating over this same song!

Helping us along!

Mother, Mother! Look here now!

We are cooking aren't you proud?

Come and help us, help us along!

Singing this sweet song!

Pyro, Pyro, Pyro cut some fruit!

Iggy, Iggy you help too!

Nob and Bob will do the plates!

Candy, Candy serves with grace!

Lo, oh Lo you cook too slow!

Whisper, Whisper cuts fish in a row!

Night, ruff Night will get the drinks,

While Talky sits and thinks!

Oh, Mother, Mother! Look here now!

We have cooked oh aren't you proud?

Come and help us eat this food!

Don't forget Peter too!

They finished their merry song and soon were all seated around the table with Peter at the head sitting in the carved chair. I laughed and clapped with joy – the made a wonderful dinner all on their own! Peter had pulled up a chair and I sat opposite him at the end on the table. Before we started to eat Peter said solemnly:

"Everyone say Grace," and so they did literally making me laugh even more. As I took my fare share of food, I have to admit their cooking was far better than anything I had even tasted, even if it didn't come from Cook's kitchen!