EXACTLY ONE MONTH LATER
The moon, entirely full, let the stars blaze brighter than Peter had ever seen them before. He could see further than he had ever seen; beyond his world. He looks to his right and is met with a smile so big and so pure that it nearly cracks his heart in two...but Peter Pan is more resilient than that.
He dances in wild patterns with strange but choreographed movements. He never lets go of her hand. Lifting his head back again his lips stretch into a grin, his eyes close against the heat of the massive bonfire in front of him; the bonfire they're orbiting in dance as a joyous celebration. He feels the music the indians play and sing. He feels pride and radiance surge through his being, rising from the pit of his chest.
They'd passed the pipe earlier around the small beginnings of their now raging fire. The sun set slowly against the horizon, a bright orange glow illuminating the sky until disappearing slowly over the black silhouette of trees. 'What is this substance the chief and his people smoke?' Peter wonders to himself.
"Here," Slightly hands Peter his flute with a nod. For the first time in a long time he feels as though he doesn't need to think about the answer to this question, he simply knows.
Twirling up into the air, he begins to let his emotions flow through the instrument. The indian folk cheer alongside their long awaited God. They raise their hands up to him in awe.
No one had ever heard anything quite like Peter's flute. Even as a child when he would torment and harass the indian folk with his lost boys, they would all fall silent whenever the sound of his presence approached their campsite in the woods. They would tolerate and appreciate this boy only when he would take long walks along the most remote paths of the island. When he stayed upon his feet and for once never rushed, never seemed to have any destination or hurry. He simply was a boy and his music. Sometimes a particularly mischievous tune would warn them up an upcoming prank on their people. Peter never understood why they were sometimes completely prepared for his attacks.
Not all times the music was joyful and charming. Peter would sometimes take walks while he felt as his lowest. When he returned to Neverland last his gut wrenching pain could be felt in the soul of every life on the island. It was the sound of a broken heart; the heart of the truest believer. A boy, who could live forever, who had forgotten his faith.
"Come down to me now Peter," he hears her soft voice above all others. He's by her side in seconds, his lips on hers and arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
"Hello," he whispers as they pull apart for air.
"Hello," she whispers back. He meant to kiss her quickly, simply. But it feels as if their bodies have molded together. Neither one of them can find the strength to let go. They feel so right, kissing each other. People begin dancing around them, and it continues on like this, pulling desperately close to each other in search of release. He remembers a time similar to this, the morning after he'd come back for her. She'd pushed him away when Michael made his presence clear, but this time he's satisfied to see that she isn't so concerned with manners.
Unfortunately Slightly pushes them roughly out of the circle and they stumble to catch themselves. No matter Peter's status, whether he be an eternal child or a God, Slightly doesn't hesitate to treat him the exact same. Peter likes that.
"You're in the way of our dancing!" he scolds and he hops by. Wendy can't help but laugh, but she expects Peter to be more upset. He doesn't like to be interrupted kissing his darling. Sigh, 'he doesn't like to be interrupted doing anything.'
But when she turns to look at him he has his flute in his hands, already walking off into the jungle as he starts on another tune. Dazed and entranced, she follows him.