Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie. Running Deer and the plot is mine.
Author's Note: Nothing much to say except that I wrote this while working at camp. I don't see this as being a very story…but we'll see what happens. As always, feedback is welcomed!
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A Bit of Salve and Soul Bonding
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Chapter 1: An Unexpected Meeting
The sun was slowly following its course across the clear sky. It had been a terribly hot day where the air was so heavy – pressing down relentlessly on all animals and humans – that even if one stayed oh-so-still and took shelter in the shade of a tree or put their feet in water, they would find no relief and would sweated greatly, feeling dried up on the inside. There were no clouds, allowing the sun to beat its rays down on the Neverland.
Wendy struggled with her burden. She was returning from the stream where she had filled up her two buckets with water; she hoped to wash the house this evening, for all the boys were away, and she was allowed to work in peace. Setting down the buckets for a moment, Wendy wiped her forehead with the back of her hand; the weight of them and the sweltering heat were causing her to become very exhausted. But onward she struggled.
She would allow herself a rest once she reached the house under the ground. Perhaps she would get a cool drink, simply sit quietly, and put her small, blistered hands on the cool dirt walls to get a little comfort…
Wendy was so attentive on her journey and about what she would do once she reached her destination that she was very surprised when she glanced up to find an Indian boy standing before her on the path, watching her curiously. He appeared to be several years older than she, was very tall – more so than Peter, who towered above her – with long black hair that tumbled down his bare shoulders and back. Wendy yelped, and the buckets fell from her tired hands, spilling the water over the ground.
"Oh!" Wendy cried in dismay and bent down to retrieve the buckets. Now she would have to make another trip back to the stream.
"I am sorry, squaw."
Wendy jerked her head up and found herself gazing into a pair of black eyes as the Indian boy looked down on her worriedly. She could only stutter.
"Can I help?" he asked.
Wendy found her voice. "I-I need to fill these," she replied and raised slightly the buckets she held. She was stunned when both were taken from her hands. She simply blinked up at the boy.
"Shall I follow?" he asked a little uncertainly after a long silence had passed between the two and neither had moved but had only gazed at each other.
She rose to her feet and mentally shook herself. Where were her manners? Gathering her wits and composure, Wendy nodded. "Yes, thank you…warrior," she said as she turned and retraced her steps.
"I am called Running Deer," the boy introduced himself.
Wendy glanced over her shoulder at him. "Thank you for your help," she said politely and quickly turned her face forward again, blushing slightly.
"It is my pleasure, squaw," he replied.
She donned a face of dissatisfaction and requested, "Please, you may call me Wendy."
They passed on in silence. The leaves and twigs snapped and crunched under her bare feet while Running Deer treaded over them with not a sound. Wendy felt she should say something but was at a loss; she had never spent such a long period of time with an Indian before. Those with whom she had had brief contact hardly paid her any kindly respects and instead focused all their attention on Peter – the Great White Feather, they called him. And she could feel Running Deer staring at her, which made her very uncomfortable. She was relieved when they arrived at the stream. She halted by the bank. The water rushed past her and wound its way around part of the island before pouring out into the Mermaids' Lagoon over a waterfall.
Running Deer was silent, permitting Wendy to take the buckets and fill them with the cold water. He studied her closely as she did her task; she was different from any other girl he had ever seen before. His inspection was interrupted when he noticed the slight flash of pain in her eyes and she glanced down at her hands. He waited until she set both refilled buckets on the ground, then stepped forward and carefully took her hands into his own, and bent his head, examining her palms. Wendy's cheeks flooded with color, and she trembled a little at this unexpected contact; then she became quiet and still. She bit on her lip when Running Deer's thumbs moved over her tender skin and gently applied pressure. A few moments later, he raised his head and slowly released her hands.
"If you could wait…I will find some herbs for your hands…"
Wendy weakly smiled, but it was enough of an answer, and Running Deer quickly disappeared from her sight. She sat herself down and watched the bubbling water bound down the slight incline, tripping over the stones in its bed. How soothing the sound was; it made the girl relax and close her eyes in contentment. She did not know how many minutes passed before Running Deer gently touched her shoulder, arousing her from her half-slumber. Shaking her head and coming fully awake, she realized he had already been at work. He held a bit of bark in his hand on which he had placed a strange green paste. Wendy's gaze lingered on it for a moment before turning to Running Deer. He settled himself before her and requested one of her hands, which she gave. He gently rubbed some of the paste over her palm and fingers. She was amazed when it seemed to disappear after his fingers had run over it several times. Soon the pain in her hand began to subside. Wendy smiled thankfully at Running Deer, who gave her a brief look before performing the same treatment on her other hand. She could only smile as the pain left both her hands; and her spirits lifted.
With new energy she rose to her feet. Before she could say or do anything, the buckets were lifted off the ground, and Running Deer motioned with his head for her to lead the way. Wendy smiled and skipped lightly ahead, unaware of the pretty picture she made to the Indian boy who gracefully hurried after her; yes, she was not like the other girls who lived at the village.
As the two went along, the journey was much more pleasant and less awkward; they talked about nothing and everything. Both were a little startled at how soon they came to the house under the ground. Running Deer helped Wendy lower the buckets down through a tree stump and then took his leave. She felt a bit sad as she bid the boy good day. He once again watched her for a moment and touched her cheek so quickly and lightly that she was not sure if they had really touched, before going off and vanishing into the jungle. Wendy went to her tree and entered the house.
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Wendy had completed her cleaning, and supper was cooking when Peter and the boys returned from their adventuring. She greeted them and sent them off to wash up. But she became puzzled when she turned her attentions to Peter who had been strangely silent since coming in with the others and kept his eyes toward the ground. She attempted to make conversation, but he scarcely said a word in reply; and when he finally gazed upon her, his hazel eyes shone with many emotions: anger, hurt, confusion, and accusation. Poor Wendy did not understand, nor could guess why he was so cold towards her, for he had never been upset with her. Helplessly, she could only return to tending the cooking.
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TBC…