CHAPTER EIGHT: The Winds Of Change
Tinker Bell and the boy had the most glorious adventures in Never Land. Time mattered little in that place so no one kept track of it. Who would bother with such a boring task when there were a lot of interesting things to find out about in that magnificently vast place?
The two of them went deep into the jungles and watched as the Fairy King wooed and won the heart of a particularly lovely little she-fairy. They observed the Indians dancing around their bonfires, and the boy admired the timbre of the dark-skinned people's war-whoops. From a distance they looked on at the affairs of the pirates, as they sang their pirate songs and searched for hidden treasures. The boy had wanted to take a closer look, for he was fascinated by their fearsome countenances, but the fairy was most adamant about keeping their distance, saying her sensibilities were offended by their hygiene, or rather, the lack of it.
And so for a very long time the boy and his fairy had fun in the Never Land, and they flew about with no real worries.
But shadows are truly the most unpredictable and mysterious things. Of course we all know by now that the boy Tinker Bell flew around with was not exactly George, but just a shadow of him. Tinker Bell did not know this fact, but the mermaids did, and they whispered amongst themselves and avoided the boy and his fairy.
The two had such fun in their explorations that they did not notice the changes at first. But one day the boy complained to Tinker Bell that the vines she had tied the leaves to his body with were starting to bite through his flesh.
"Hmp," Tinker Bell frowned in irritation. "I should have known those babloobeebee vines could never be trusted…"
And so Tinker Bell rearranged the boy's leafy raiment, and the two forgot about the matter as they searched for new adventures.
But some time later, the new vines suddenly snapped as the boy laughed at a joke his fairy told him. His clothing fell off his body, and to Tinker Bell's surprise she saw the first blush of embarrassment blaze beneath his golden skin. He quickly jumped behind a tree to hide his nakedness. Tinker Bell was even more surprised at this.
"Why do you hide, Boy?" she asked with her eyes narrowed.
"I – ah… well… I don't know!" As he spoke the words, his voice broke.
His voice broke. And Tinker Bell only then understood.
Her boy was growing up.
-------
"Why, oh, why are my arms growing longer?" The boy agonized some time later. "Am I turning into an Octopus?" Nobody could ignore the fact that his voice was growing deeper and deeper with each day that passed. Tinker Bell no longer fixed his clothes for him; he would not allow it now.
In his sulks he went away by himself deeper into the jungle, and Tinker Bell did not bother anymore to go after him. After all, Never Land was his, for he was the one that best knew it, and it knew him almost as well.
Tinker Bell was at her wit's end trying to understand why it was happening. The boy was mad at her for not keeping her promise to never allow him to grow up. His attitude towards her became colder and colder, and the times he went off by himself became more and more frequent. And so the days of insouciant adventures and plays ended, and lately the Never Land's winds blew with a biting chill.
Tinker Bell approached the mermaids one day hoping they knew what was happening. They did know, for they knew all things dark and mysterious. And indeed it was a dark and mysterious thing to happen in the Never Land. But Tinker Bell never found out the reason, for once they saw her coming to them, they turned their scaly backs against her and slipped quietly into the seemingly unmoving waters of the lagoon.
The fairy gnashed her teeth and cursed the mermaids for the snubbing, poking her little tongue at their absent backs. She thought of what to do next, and then remembered her attempt at conversation with the winds a long time ago. In her desperation, she resolved to have a little talk with them once again, vowing to keep a better rein on her patience this time. If she had pondered a little bit more on the matter, she would have remembered that it was not truly the winds' replies nor her patience that gave her an answer that long time ago.
And so once again she found that dry root atop the cliff and held on to it as the winds blew. She exerted less effort this time at holding on, for it felt as if the winds' cold breath froze her tiny fingers against her handhold. With chattering teeth, she called once again for their attention, but this time, they did not answer her, in much the same way as the mermaids ignored her. It was as if the winds were not even speaking to each other, but muttering in monologues.
She pried off her numb fingers from the old root and left that desolate place in search of a warmer and more welcoming one, but everywhere she looked, she saw only more of the same bleakness. Even the dry leaves inside her cozy little nest seemed to crumple into their individual selves.
Never Land was growing old.
And her boy was growing up, and she could do nothing about it.