Peter and Abby came to a stop in the forest. "So, Abby," he started. "How do you like

it?"

Abby had just received a full tour of Neverland. "It's beautiful," she answered, staring up at the treetops. They formed a roof over the ground, keeping it perfectly dry. No plants except these trees could grow, for they stole all of the rain. Selfish trees.

Peter's eyes joined his sister's, searching the plants. "I really love it here." Abby looked as if she had been slapped. Peter realized what he had said. "That's not what I meant."

"Yes it is," she told him. "You know, Peter, you only think of yourself. Do you know how I felt when you left me?" Abby was shouting at her brother. Ten years of suppressed feelings burst out, gasping for breath, fighting their bonds, wanting to be heard. Unwanted tears filled spilled from their glass. "Mother and Father forgot about you. A new boy sleeps in your bed. Your brother sleeps in your bed; a brother you never knew you had." Abby started running. Shakily, she took flight but her good thought was drowned by sadness. Abby fell back to the ground and continued to run.

It was a good amount of time before Abby came to a stop. She was completely lost. She took a few deep breaths, trying to clear her mind. Why ever do I not pay attention to what is happening around me? Abby asked herself. Can't I ever get out of my own head and live in the present? I could have been back by now. She sat down and mentally reviewed her options. An arrow flew by Abby's shoulder and hit the tree she leaned against. She yelped. "Stop!" she pleaded. "Please! Do not shoot me!" She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands. Gentle hands shook her.

"Abby? Is that you?" asked a boy's voice. She looked up. A brown-haired boy stared back at her.

"Oh, Nibs!" Abby sighed, relieved.

"Are you hunting Indians too?" Nibs got on his knees so he was on the same level as her. "I almost caught one. He barely got away."

"I was not hunting Indians," Abby told the Lost Boy indigently. "What a dreadful thing to do."

"It's not dreadful," Nibs protested. "It is lots of fun." He looked at the sad girl. Unlike her, Nibs did not know sadness. "Come with me, Abby. I'll show you." He hopped away from the tree. Abby giggled and rose, following him.

It was only 400 meters until they reached the Indian village. The pair crouched in a bush just outside. "You aren't really going to shoot them, are you, Nibs?"

He held a finger to his lips. "You will see." He pulled an arrow from its holder. He tied a small bag to the tip of the arrow and hit it on the ground. It left a circle of red powder on the ground. Abby grinned, relieved that no one would be hurt. Nibs raised his bow and aimed to a stately looking Indian standing outside a tent. He loosed the arrow. It hit the man's chest, leaving a red stain on his chest. He screamed a war cry. All of the Indians came out of their huts with their weapons.

Nibs loosed another arrow. He stood up and gave his own war cry. All of the Indians immediately aimed for the Lost Boy. "Uh-oh!" Nibs cried. "Run, Abby!" He pulled the girl to her feet and they started to run. A padded arrow hit the boy in the back. The Indians were gaining on them. The man that Nibs had shot caught Abby by the back of her dress and pulled her to the ground. Nibs loaded his bow and shot the man again. He let go but it was too late. The pair was surrounded by the natives. They tied the children's hands behind their back and led them to their camp.

Nibs said something to the Indian chief that Abby could not understand. "Are you speaking Indian?"

The Lost Boy gave her a stern look and kept talking to the chief. Chastised, Abby tried to

just observe how they were talking. The chief looked stubborn and stiff. He was a big man, wearing nothing but a pair of deerskin slacks. On his head was a large head piece that extended down to his waist. Nibs looked puny next to him. He was a boy of only twelve or so. He too was bare-chested, revealing a young, active body. Nibs turned to Abby. "The chief insists that we stay for lunch." Abby gulped as she recalled plays she had seen where too often when a character was invited to lunch, the ended up being lunch. "We're having rabbit stew." Nibs made a disgusted face.

Abby rebuked herself for thinking that the Indians were going to eat her. "That would be lovely, Mr. Chief," the girl told the Indian. He smiled happily. Nibs rolled his eyes.

The chief led him into his hut. It was just as Abby imagined an Indian's hut would look like. There were two beds, a table, and a pot hanging over a fire. The three sat down. A young Indian girl brought them drinks in clay bowls. Abby sipped hers as Nibs did. It was vile. It is too bad Mother taught me to be polite, Abby thought to herself. Nibs and the chief chatted. About what, Abby did not know. The rabbit stew was place before them. The smell was horrible. Just then, a small light was flying around the tent.

"Spring!" Abby exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" The little fairy tugged at the girl's dress. It felt extremely strong for such a small thing. Abby rose and curtsied to the chief. "I'm sorry but I have to go." Nibs said something to the man. He laughed and nodded. Spring flew from the hut. The children ran behind, trying to keep the fairy in sight. She led them back to Peter's hideout. They were both panting.

"What was that about, Spring?" Abby asked her, taking gulps of air in between words. The pixie shrugged and flew off.

Slowly, the pair made their way down the tree. Inside, the other Lost Boys were running about, hitting each other with clubs. Abby glance around. Peter was not there.

She mad her way over to her bed. Only now did she regret the things she said to her brother. "Abby, why won't Peter let you have sweets?" a soft voice asked her.

Abby looked next to her, confused by the question. Slightly sat there, looking at her earnestly. "Excuse me?"

"Toodles cries when Peter won't let him have sweets. You are crying. Why won't Peter let you have them?"

Abby giggled. "I'm not crying because I can't have sweets." A very odd thought came to the girl. Her brother had raised these boys. Peter had raised them from infants. He must have changed diapers, fed them, and made sure they came home at night. "I was crying because I'm upset with someone."

"Oh," Slightly seemed truly interested. "I don't like to be upset with people. It makes uncomfortable."

"Does it now?"

"Yes," the boy said. "One time Curly stole my treasure. I was very mad at him."

"What did you?"

"Well, for the most part, I like Curly. So I forgave him," Slightly rationalized. "Do you like the someone that you are upset with?"

Abby answered immediately. "Very much so."

"Then just forgive him," the Lost Boy suggested. "Everyone makes mistakes."

To Abby it seemed very odd, such wise advice coming from a child younger than herself. He sounded much older. "Thank you, Slightly." The boy nodded and got up to play with the others.