Title: The Care and Feeding of Flying Boys
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Two - Wonders to Explore
Rating: PG13
Authors Note: To clarify for those that have queried this point - this is not a continuation of the movie, or the book. It is an alternative/parallel universe version of the Peter Pan story, where the characters are similar but not the same as the originals, and neither do they experience the same things as the original characters. That said, the island is as it always was or is, including the characters inhabiting that world. Yes, I have used bits of movie dialogue and scenes familiar to the book and movie, because I love them both. Anyway, if you want to think the movie or book are a precursor to this story, that's fine. Really, all I'm saying is, enjoy the story, enjoy the characters and their adventures and forget the rest, forget them all...fly away with me to Neverland.
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Wendy stared around at the dense jungle surrounding them, the tall peaks overshadowing them, and wondered how on earth she could have forgotten visiting such a wondrous place. Her initial fright had been transformed into an excited anticipation, the urge to explore this island paradise making her almost jump up and down like a small child. Peter lay flopped on the warm grass, his limbs splayed and his eyes closed, still breathing heavily from his mad twirling dervish impersonation. Above their heads a squadron of lazy white clouds drifted by, careful not to block the sun from the small hillock occupied by the Pan and his companion. While Wendy watched their curious progress, the clouds reached a snowy peak, their color turning from white to dirty grey before bunching all together and releasing their rain burden on the slopes of the mountain. Wendy blinked in bemusement, having never seen clouds behave quite so strangely, but she accepted it as par for the course with a sun that rose with indecent haste into the sky, then stayed in that same position for hours on end.
"This place really is magical," she breathed, hugging herself and drawing the sweet scented air into her lungs with relish. After the dusty, coal laden soot of London, Neverland air seemed as heady as champagne, her small taste at a relatives party her only comparison. As she breathed deeply she felt herself relax, her limbs deliciously limp, all trace of anxiety leaching out of her muscles.
"Peter?"
"Hmmm?"
"You said that when I came before, I didn't want to fly."
"That's right."
"I think I might have changed my mind...is it really possible for me to fly?"
"U-huh."
"But how?"
"Faith, trust and pixie dust...oh and a happy thought."
"Really? Sounds awfully...simple."
"I guess it does. I don't usually think too hard about it, it just...is."
"Oh...so you don't need," Wendy waved her hands, "all that?"
"Nope...just comes natural, I suppose." He finally opened his eyes and squinted up at Wendy, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "I've always been able to fly, even when I was small."
"Just how long have you been on this island?" Wendy asked, her eyes wide.
"No idea...a long time, certainly. But exactly how long? You'd have to ask the fairies. They brought me here."
"How...different. So you weren't born here," she waited while Peter shook his head, "do you remember your parents?"
"Not really. I sometimes think I remember my mother leaning over my bed, but I couldn't tell you what she looked like, it's all too hazy."
"But how on earth did you go on, without a mother I mean?"
"Go on?"
"Well," Wendy looked perplexed, "I mean...who fed you, changed your..." she flapped her hand vaguely, "down there, who bathed you when you were little?"
"I don't know...not my mother, anyway. Maybe I didn't need one," Peter shrugged, already bored with the conversation.
"Oh you poor boy...you never really had a mother."
"I never really wanted a mother, you mean. Who needs a mother when there's food dropping off the trees, ready and ripe to eat? When there's rivers and streams full of clear, fresh water to drink and fish to be caught and eaten. What has your mother done for you, that you couldn't have done for yourself, if you really tried?" Peter was starting to feel uncomfortable, not at all easy with the idea that he'd missed out on something, or that Wendy somehow pitied him.
Wendy was thinking with all seriousness about his question, her delicate brows pulled together as she pondered an answer. Peter had meanwhile risen to his feet in one lithe move, his hands gravitating to his hips as if he expected a battle, his muscles tense in anticipation.
"I suppose the one thing I've had from my mother, which I couldn't have by myself...is love."
"Pah!," Peter scoffed instantly, flapping his hand dismissively, " the very name offends me!"
Wendy looked a little taken aback with his reaction. "Don't you know what love is, Peter?"
"Love is for fools and sissy's. I don't give a fig for love," he snapped his fingers in her face, "and only idiots prose on about it." Very uncomfortable under Wendy's shocked stare, Peter jumped into the air and hovered above her, extending his hand for her to take. "Let's stop talking about all this stupid stuff. There's so many things to show you...come on!"
"But what about flying?" Wendy asked,deciding not to pursue the argument about feelings for the moment, her hand lifting to take his.
"Oh...right," he huffed, annoyed to have forgotten and already missing the feel of her hand in his when he let it drop while he landed on the soft grass. "Stand over here and think of something that makes you happy." While Wendy thought hard to bring to mind a happy something, Peter opened the pouch at his belt and pulled out a small glass vial with something glittery inside. "Have you thought of something?"
"Yes, thank you."
Peter tilted the small glass bottle and shook out some fairy dust into his palm. Replacing the stopper he put the bottle back in his pouch, then came to hover in front of Wendy, his feet not quite touching the grass. Lifting his hand he held it palm out towards Wendy, the small mound of dust at its center glittering in the sunlight. With a gently pursing of his lips he puffed air over the dust, wafting it in a sparkling cloud into Wendy's face where it settled over her cheeks and hair. Wendy blinked and smiled tentatively, feeling no different from a second before. Peter dusted off his hands and folded them across his chest. Still hovering several inches off the ground he circled around Wendy until he was directly behind her, then he leant over her shoulder.
"Are you thinking that happy thought?"
"Oh yes...but I don't really feel any different. When will I know if I'm flying?"
In answer, Peter circled around to face her, his face split with a wide grin. Flicking his eyes downwards, he cocked an eyebrow, Wendy following his gaze to find herself floating quite free of the ground, several feet in the air. Peter wasn't touching her, his arms still folded across his chest, so that Wendy understood that she was doing it all by her own efforts, with a little help from the pixie dust.
"Oh Peter...oh my..." her face was a picture of wonder and delight, her arms lifting of their own accord away from her body, which tilted her slightly a she continued to rise. "Er...Peter? How do I turn, or go forward, or anything?"
Her instructor laughed and reached for her hand, tugging her around to face in the other direction, inordinately happy that Wendy still needed him after all. "Just hold tight, you'll get the hang of it in time. Watch what I do and you'll catch on."
He flew off with Wendy in tow, the jungle passing below them at a faster and faster rate until Wendy called to him to slow down, her new found confidence eroded by fear. They had passed over a vast tract of heavily forested land, the far side of the forest giving way to open grassland, the plain dotted with herds of animals of many different breeds including deer and antelope, goats and sheep all grazing together in apparent harmony. Peter brought them lower so that they almost skimmed the fluffy fronds of the taller grasses, Wendy laughing when they tickled her toes. The animals, which had been peacefully grazing, took off at a gallop when the strange flying creatures dipped and swooped over their heads.
Palm trees appeared up ahead and Peter didn't slow, Wendy letting out a small shriek as Peter dove into and between the tall, slender trunks, weaving in and out with Wendy still in tow. Fortunately the belt of palm trees was relatively shallow, Peter and Wendy emerging on the other side to find a wide, gleaming stretch of sand gently washed by a clear blue sea, the water so transparent Wendy could see hermit crabs scuttling along the bottom of the shell strewn bay. For a second Peter hovered over the sparkling water then went to fly onwards, but found Wendy's hand had slipped from his, her attention taken by the myriad fish darting below her in the water. Entranced by the silver flashes of fish across the sandy bottom, she lay staring face down at them, her face wreathed in smiles, her hair falling forward to screen her face. She lifted her head to beam at Peter who returned her smile for a second, his expression changing in an instant from a smile to a frown, his mouth opening to shout a warning just as something surged out of the water and reached for Wendy. Peter was faster and managed to grab Wendy's gown and tug her upwards and out of the reach of the enraged mermaid thrashing below. The calm sea was a froth of disturbed water, the creature beating the water with its muscular tail, spray arcing high into the air as Peter and Wendy hovered higher up. Peter could feel Wendy shaking from her close call, staring wide eyed as the mythical mermaid sank below the water and sped away with powerful thrusts of its tail flukes. Flying them both back to the beach, Peter set Wendy down on the pristine white sand and peered anxiously into her face.
"Are you alright?"
"I think so...was that a-a-a mermaid?"
"Nasty creatures, and that's when they behave themselves. Don't ever let one catch you in the water, it'll sweetly drown you before you could cry out or escape."
"How horrid. I always thought they were kind and rescued drowning sailors, or so the stories tell."
"More like they would be drowning the men or carrying them off to Neptune's Lair as slaves."
"Neptune? But surely...he's..." She saw one dark eyebrow start to rise, "...not..." A grin tilted Peter's lips as he waited for her to finish, "...real?"
"I'll take you to meet him sometime. Neptune isn't as bad as he makes out, as long as you don't disturb him or try to steal his horde."
"Oh my," Wendy murmured to herself.
"And then there's the pirates," Peter announced apropos of nothing, a wicked gleam in his eye. Wendy started and turned to stare once more.
"Pirates?" She swallowed, " did I meet them last time I came here?"
"Meet the pirates?" Peter hooted, slapping his knee and doubling up. "You don't want to meet the pirates. They're as bad as the mermaids, but instead of drowning you, they'd as sooner slit your throat or make you walk the plank!"
"Good Lord," Wendy whispered, thoroughly alarmed. "Is there anyone on this island that doesn't what to kill you as soon as look at you?"
As if suddenly realizing that he wasn't painting Neverland as a particularly attractive place, Peter looked nonchalant and tried to brush off her worries. "The pirates tend to sail around the waters of the Black Castle and the Mermaids usually stay near Mermaid Lagoon or further out into the Four Points sea." He leant forward as if imparting a secret. "They like to keep an eye on what the pirates are doing."
"I see." Wendy looked doubtful but smiled gamely. "So apart from yourself, there are pirates, mermaids, fairies...?" She looked expectantly at Peter, who looked blank for a moment then realized she wanted him to tell her who else inhabited Neverland.
"Oh right...well apart from them, there's the Lost Boy's..."
"Lost Boy's?"
"They're sort of my...er...soldiers. I live with them, usually, and we plan battles and strategies against the pirates, as well as the Piccaninies..."
"And they are?" Wendy interrupted, raising her eyebrows this time.
"You met them before...but you wouldn't remember, I guess. They are the Redskins...er...Red Indian's that live beside the Green River. I introduced you to the Chief and Tiger Lily." Peter told her, his brow furrowing for a second, "For some reason I didn't get the feeling you liked the Princess, I don't know why." Unknown to Peter, Wendy had taken an instant, and quite irrational dislike to the Indian Princess, trusting her feelings despite not remembering them.
"Is the Princess beautiful?" Wendy tried to appear unconcerned with the answer, shading her eyes from the sun and peering over the bay to the distant horizon.
"You thought so, when you first saw Lily, but not long afterwards you had this look on your face," he shrugged, "I don't know...for some reason you and she just didn't hit it off."
"I see," said Wendy, seeing far more than Peter on this matter. "So apart from the Lost Boys and the, er Piccaninies, is there anyone else I should know about?"
"Not really, but you never know in Neverland. Unusual people and new animals turn up at the oddest times and in the strangest places."
"Goodness. Don't you know where they come from?"
"Not really. Oh, there is one thing you should be careful of, in fact I'd make a point of keeping well clear of it, if I were you."
"What Peter, what is it?"
"The Crocodile. It's not your ordinary croc, this one is huge," he spread his arms wide, "with the biggest teeth and the wickedest temper. You can usually hear it coming because it ticks, like a clock..."
"It what?" Wendy exclaimed, laughing nervously and half hoping that Peter was only teasing.
"Ticks, like a clock. It swallowed an alarm clock and you can hear it ticking. Sometimes the alarm goes off as well, as an added warning."
"How did a crocodile, even a big one, come to swallow an alarm clock?"
"Because Hook threw the clock at the creature to distract it after it bit off his hand!"
"Good Lord, how dreadful, the poor man!"
Peter looked askance, not expecting his enemy to garner pity. "James Hook is a pirate and not worth your pity!"
"But to have lost his hand..." Wendy reproved, her soft heart imagining some poor sailor with a grievous injury. Peter scowled at her angrily.
"Hook manages quite well for a pirate with only one hand. He quickly replaced it with a wickedly sharp hook which he uses for gutting and slitting throats without turning a hair, so don't feel sorry for him. He wouldn't feel sorry for you!"
"A pirate?"
"My enemy and yours. Captain Hook would not hesitate to put you to the plank, so don't spare any pity for him."
Wendy stared at Peter, noting his high color and tense body, correctly deducing that this Captain Hook was a considerable thorn in Peter's side. "I'll remember what you said Peter, if I'm every captured by the scurvy rat."
"I'll teach you to fight with a sword so you can defend yourself," Peter offered, drawing his blade from over his shoulder and pretending to fight a fierce battle with an imaginary foe, the steel blade cutting and slicing the air with quite vicious precision. Wendy watched admiringly, her eyes bright, clapping when Peter finally finished his demonstration of swordsmanship by tossing the blade end over end before catching it in his hand and sheathing the sword once more. Peter looked pleased with himself and gave her a small bow to acknowledge her applause. Wendy found herself having to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn as the long hours without sleep caught up with her.
"Oh please excuse me, it's just I haven't been sleeping well and I'm just a bit tired," she explained, ignoring the quick frown of annoyance that crossed her companions face. "Maybe you should show me where you live?"
"I suppose so. Maybe you'll remember it, you've been there twice already." Taking her hand he took a step and leapt into the air. This time Wendy was ready and leapt with him so that they lifted effortlessly into the sky and above the tree tops. Leaving the bay behind them, Peter flew speedily towards the heart of the forest, the trees densely packed like a carpet beneath them. Without warning, Peter dove straight down towards the topmost branches, Wendy drawing in a breath of alarm before finding herself plunged into the canopy and surrounded by leaves on all sides. Miraculously they avoided being speared or snagged by any of the branches, Peter leading them through the filtered green sunlight as if following a well trodden path. Wendy barely had time to take in the fluttering green leaves and dense jungle before Peter pulled her through what appeared to be a thick hedge, the leaves parting before him like a wave and closing behind her just as mysteriously. On the other side was a clearing carpeted with a variety of flowers and low growing plants forming a circle around the base of a tree. Peter set them down, Wendy's feet cushioned by the flowers and sinking in ankle deep. Dropping her hand, Peter raised his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle, the sudden sound making Wendy clap her hands over her ears in protest. Before she could remonstrate with him the tree seemed to sprout a multitude of openings, camouflaged hatches swinging open and disgorging several small bodies as if catapulted from the inside. Wendy took a step back as the furred and feathered bundles unwound themselves to reveal a motley collection of young boys, all of them heavily armed with a variety of cudgels, knives and bows. Peter stood where he'd landed, his feet braced apart and his arms folded across his chest. Wendy edged to stand behind him as the assorted weapons carried by the boys seemed all to be pointed at her. In the silence that followed Wendy could hear the soft swish of the leaves above their heads as the wind rustled the branches while birds chirruped and squawked overhead. In a blink the tableau disintegrated, the Lost Boys lowering their weapons and relaxing their martial stance on recognizing their Captain and his companion.
"Oh, its just that girl again," one particularly grubby individual commented disparagingly. Lowering his tomahawk, he tucked it in to his belt and rolled his eyes at Peter. "Couldn't you get rid of her this time Peter?"
"Shut up Crate," Peter growled, scowling at his henchman. The other's took their cue and kept their comments to themselves, staring round eyed and warily at Wendy, who still stood half behind Peter and peered back at them with equal caution. "Line up men!" Peter ordered, his troops hastily sorting themselves into a ragged line according to height. Peter unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back before marching down the line to inspect the boys ranged before him. Wendy thought the whole scene very comical and had to swallow hard to stifle the giggles welling up in her chest. His inspection finished, Peter turned and held out his hand for Wendy. "This is my Wendy, as you know, she's here to stay this time."
"Oh no, Peter really, it was just for a visit..." Wendy protested faintly, but her voice was drowned out by a the outraged and angry arguing of the Lost Boys. Peter clapped his hands over his ears as the boys gathered around him, the one called Crate shouting the loudest between shooting scowling looks at Wendy.
"QUIET!" Peter bellowed, cutting short the many and colorful arguments being debated on all sides. "I'm Captain here and what I say goes. Now cut line and get out of my sight!" He punctuated his order with a sweep of his arm, the boys scattering and darting away into the jungle, the clearing miraculously clear of noise and bodies within seconds. Wendy stood a little aback, wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip as Peter hung his head and breathed heavily, fighting to control his temper.
"Peter?"
"Forget them, forget them all. What I say goes, and I say you're here to stay."
"But Peter...don't I have a say in the matter?"
For a second Peter maintained his ferocious scowl, then just as quickly it was gone and his expression cleared. Grinning, he flung out his arms and made Wendy a handsome bow, his eyes alight with laughter. "Of course you don't Wendy, this is Neverland and I am it's King. Now you are it's Queen, and a Queen always does what the King wants."
"What if the Queen decides to abdicate?" Wendy muttered, unable to entirely repress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at his engaging grin.
"Then the King would just have to persuade the Queen that she really wants to stay and keep him company. You will stay, won't you Wendy?"
"For a little while," Wendy agreed, dipping into a curtsy, her eyes lowered as her nightdress swept the ground. On rising she found Peter had moved so that they almost bumped noses, his lips covering hers in an intense but brief kiss before he moved away and drew her after him.
"Come on, I want to show you the Hollow, it's where we live, at least for this week."
"This week? Don't you live here all the time?"
"Nah! We have half a dozen hidden hideouts scattered all over Neverland. If we stayed all the time in just one, the Pirates would have us dead to rights. So instead we move between them, a different one each week. It keeps the Pirates confused and incapable of finding us."
"I suppose that's a good reason, but hardly comfortable, I'd have thought."
Peter was standing beside the broad trunk of the enormous tree, leaning against the rough bark with a smug grin on his face. When he had Wendy's attention, he poked a finger into a knot-hole, the action precipitating a large area of the trunk to swing outwards and reveal a doorway into the tree. Wendy gasped and bent forward to peer into the darkness.
"How clever, I never would have thought to look there."
"Follow me, and keep close or the booby-traps will get you."
"Booby-traps?" Wendy asked in some trepidation, clutching Peter's hand as he led her reluctantly forward into the dark maw.
"Trust me Wendy, I won't let them get you," Peter whispered, his voice sounding strange within the confines of the tree trunk, Wendy clutching at his fingers as they started down a spiral staircase cut into the living heart of the tree. Wendy couldn't see a thing in the darkness, her senses reaching out as they slowly made their way down below ground level. She could smell the damp sweet smell of freshly dug earth as well as the aroma of fresh cut timber. Her free hand braced her against the wall of the hideout, her fingers brushing over the fibrous walls that felt almost spongy under her fingertips.
"Nearly there," Peter voice floated to her out of the darkness, her feet stumbling a little on the uneven stairs as they continued down into the roots of the tree. Down below Wendy could see light starting to highlight the stairwell from a archway at the bottom, the golden glow a welcome sight after the suffocating darkness. Wendy crowded past Peter to enter the large room that opened out from the stairwell. She felt relieved to be free of the confining entrance and looked about the room with interest. Peter had left her and sauntered over to what looked like a large, barbaric throne, the high back made of smoothly polished wood hung all about with animal skins, shells and feathers. Supremely at his ease, Peter undid the vine holding his sword harness, dropping it to the floor before sitting down and looping one long brown leg up and over the armrest, his foot swinging as he watched Wendy explore the hideout. Brushing off her skirts she stepped forward and tilted her head to look up at the ceiling several feet above her head. Spidery roots hung down through the earth while bigger roots twisted and writhed around the walls. Several niches had been carved out of the soil to form what Wendy supposed were sleeping bays for the boys, the alcoves lined with more animal furs or soft grasses for bedding. The floor had been lined with soft moss to fill in the hollows in the dirt and provide a soft carpet underfoot. Around the walls blazed small lamps made out of large sea shells, their flames kept well away from the dry roots while providing a steady and bright light. In all it was warm, dry and very cozy
"What do you think?" Peter asked, appearing quite nonchalant while he picked at his nails with a sharp knife, but Wendy could tell that he was actually keenly awaiting her verdict.
"Very...homely. Although I have never lived in a burrow underground, I would say that this is a very snug and comfortable home Peter. Are your other hideouts as comfortable as this one?"
"Some are, some aren't," Peter replied enigmatically, thumping the tip of the knife into the wooden arm of the chair and launching himself off the throne. "You said you were tired, so you can sleep here if you want to." He indicated an animal skin hanging on the wall, sweeping it back with his arm to reveal a much larger alcove dug into the wall of the room, the roof and walls covered in small roots that twisted and wove around each other to form a bower. Each root was smooth as if polished, holding the earth back and making a secure cradle for the bed. A multitude of animal skins of many different hues and sizes lay scattered over the surface of the bed, some heaped up to form a pillow at the head and all looking soft and inviting. Wendy smiled tentatively at Peter before hitching up her skirt and climbing up onto the bed, her fingers digging into the soft furs as she turned to kneel in the center of the soft mattress and turned to face Peter. He had secured the animal skin curtain back so that she could see out into the room and now stood waiting for her to speak. Suddenly shy, Wendy blushed and concentrated on stroking the different types of furs.
"This is your bed, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"It's very nice Peter. Did you...er...kill all these animals yourself?"
"No," Peter laughed, "I traded with the Indians for them. They make the best and softest furs."
"What did you use for trade?" Wendy asked, curious. She was well aware that animal fur in her world was highly prized, her mother owning only a few pieces herself while her Aunt Millicent owned a fine collection of muffs and silky fur collars, all of them costly. Peter shrugged.
"Pearls mostly, sometimes coral. They use them to decorate their dresses and headbands. The mermaids find them for me."
Thinking of her mother's highly prized but small, single strand pearl necklace, Wendy nodded her head. "Pearls would be a fine trade for these lovely furs. And of course, you can always eat the oysters."
A brief expression of disgust crossed Peter's face before he hopped up on the side of the bed himself and swung his legs. "Oh we don't eat them. They can't keep producing pearls if we keep eating them. No, they give up the pearls to the Mermaids who give them to me in tribute after they've picked out what they want for themselves."
"So the pearls are like money on Neverland...I see."
"I suppose so. Do you like my bed?"
"It's very comfortable. It seems much bigger than the other beds..." Wendy halted her observations, realizing the implications of what she'd just said. "I mean...I suppose because you're the biggest...er the tallest...oh dear." She blushed bright red and ducked her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. Peter appeared not to notice anything amiss with her statement and blithely linked his hands behind his head and lay back on the furs.
"Well of course. I'm the King, and Kings always have the biggest bed, don't they?"
"Of course, I had forgot. So as Queen, do I get a big bed too?"
"Yeah, you get this one, if you want it?"
"Oh I don't think that would be entirely proper Peter. The other's would, well...I don't think the Lost Boy's would like me to be sleeping in your bed."
"Why not? Kings and Queens sleep together, don't they?"
"Well actually, from what I've read about royalty, I don't think they even sleep in the same palace, let alone the same bed!"
"Then how do they have princes and princesses?" Peter asked, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. Wendy didn't know what to do with herself, the alcove seemingly full of Peter and the air suddenly very thin.
"Um...I'm not sure we should be having this conversation."
Peter frowned. "Don't you know where children come from?" He asked, looking at her pityingly.
"Don't be stupid, of course I know where children come from, I'm fifteen for heaven's sake...do you?"
"I'm not stupid, I've seen where babies come from at the Indian village...and anyway, how did we get on to this talk about babies." Suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed, Peter flung himself onto his back again and stared frowningly up at the roof of the alcove. "Girls always have to talk about blasted babies," he muttered, rolling onto his other side and presenting his golden brown back to Wendy.
"Well it's not my fault," Wendy replied heatedly, "you started talking about Kings and Queens and princes and whatnot."
"I thought you were tired," Peter growled from the end of the bed.
"I am, and if you'll remove yourself from the bed I'll have a little lie down and close my eyes." Wendy nudged him with her toe before scooting back up to the head of the bed. With an aggrieved sigh, Peter sat up and slid off the bed before marching back over to the throne and throwing himself into it. Wendy watched him for a second or two before carefully stretching out on the luxurious furs and laying on her side.
"Peter?"
"Yes."
"I know you said something about days here being only hours back home, but is that true?"
"Yes."
"Oh. But you do realize I can't stay here forever, even if it is longer than I stayed before?"
"Maybe."
"Peter?"
"Go to sleep Wendy. The Lost Boys won't be back for a while, but I'll stay and keep watch."
"I just need a little nap," she yawned, her eyes already feeling heavy as she snuggled into the soft furs. Once more her eyelids rose, as if to check that Peter was still sitting in his ornately decorated chair, before slowly closing as Wendy gave in to the lull of the soft furs and fell asleep, her cheek pillowed on her palm. Peter swung his foot back and forth over the arm of his throne, watching the girl on his bed slip into dreamland, a smile curving her sweet lips. Somewhere inside him a feeling started to grow, a warmth that was only a spark now, but just as a spark can grow into a blazing fire, so this spark inside him felt as if it could grow to encompass the world. Being supremely confident, he didn't attribute the sensation to nerves or insecurity, but instead decided it was just the way that Wendy made him feel, like the jolt he felt every time she turned her smile on him, her eyes lighting up when they met his, the glow inside making his heart thump and his muscles twitch until he wanted to explode in all directions. Then there was the feeling he got when his lips had touched hers that first time. It was as if an ember had jumped between them, a crackle of energy that acted like magnetism and drew him back again, and again. Even in the glade above, he felt the overwhelming urge to see if the ember was still there, his curiosity urging him to kiss her again, the sensation as alive and vibrant as the first time. He wanted to ask her if she felt it too, but his tongue tied itself up in knots and the question remained unasked. He had to find a way to make sure that she never left Neverland, never left him. The two previous times he'd brought her to his island she been in an all fire hurry to return home, despite apparently enjoying her time with him and the fun they'd had together. This time he wasn't prepared to let her return home, sure in his own mind that if he did let her go, he'd never entice her back again or worse, she not ever want to see him again. So she was here to stay, forever and ever, she was his choice from all the others, she was the one, there would be no others. A yawn suddenly interrupted his musings and he opened his mouth wide, his jaw cracking as he sucked air into his lungs. A moment before he'd felt wide awake, but now he felt the pull of sleep on his eyelids, his chin sinking to his chest as weariness stole over him. Slumped on his throne, he dozed fitfully, his head jerking up every few minutes as he shifted to find a more comfortable spot. At last he gave up the unequal battle and got up, making his way over to the couch where Wendy slumbered peacefully. Divesting himself of his remaining weapons, pouch, pan pipes and other paraphernalia, he crawled onto the bed and up behind Wendy, the bed wide enough to hold them both in comfort. Wendy was still on her side, her back to him, so he lay as she did, staring for a moment as the cascade of hair flowing over the pillow and her shoulders to half way down her back. Careful not to touch her, he lifted a length of her hair and let it fall through his fingers, his mouth opening on another enormous yawn as he settled down to sleep, his eyes drifting shut as Wendy's steady breathing lulled him into a doze. Just before he dropped off, he jerked upright and flicked the animal skin curtain he'd pulled back before, the skin falling forward to seal the alcove off from the room beyond, light leaking in around the edges so that they lay in a faint gloom, safe and secure in a world of their own.
Wendy awoke several hours later to the sound of voices on the other side of the hide curtain. They were hushed and muted and she could only make out one word in ten, but curiosity kept her still, her body warm and relaxed against the furs as she listened intently.
"I say it don't mean anything good for us if she's here," one of the voices announced loudly, only to be shushed by others.
"Keep ya voice down Crate, we knows how you feels,"
"We managed to get her to leave the last two times, what's so different about this time?"
"He's never brought a mort more than once to Neverland. This one's been here three times now. You don't think that's significant?"
"What's significant mean?"
"Important."
"Oh...ta."
"Stow it Squid. I say this time she's here for good. So how are we going to get rid of her?"
"Why do we need to get rid of her?"
"Stupid twit. This one is different. There's only one reason he's brought the mort here to Neverland to stay."
"Why Crate, why?"
"Cos' he's gonna marry her!"
A muted chorus of awed voices chittered for a second or two before being shushed.
"Hush the lot of ya, you'll wake them up!"
"How do ya know that what he wants with her?"
"Lawd Grub, it's obvious?"
"What's obvious mean?"
"Easy to see,"
"Oh...ta."
"He could just want her to cook and clean for us...like a maid or something?"
"A gentry mort like that ain't a maid."
"She could be here to be our mother?"
"I don't need no stinkin' mother, neither does Peter...no, she's here for another reason and it can only bode ill for us."
"I thought she was pretty."
"Hah! You aint no judge Rat. You think flowers are pretty and rainbows and butterflies!"
"Well, they are..."
"One day your daydreaming will get you caught by the pirates for sure."
"No it won't...I'm always the one that warns the rest of you."
"That's true. Rat has the best hearing..."
"We're not talking about Rat, we're talking about her and how to get rid of her!"
"Well Peter might have something to say about that Crate."
"Shut up Harry and keep your hoity toity views to yourself."
"I've got as much right as you to speak Crate, you're not the leader here."
"Maybe not now, but that could change."
"Crate, what are you saying?"
"Nuffin...this is stupid talk. All I want to know is how to get rid of the mort."
"Well I suggest we talk to Peter, find out why she's here...maybe she won't want to stay."
A murmur of voices in agreement drowned out the next comment, and then it was silent for a while. Wendy lay listening intently, her senses stretching out to the room beyond. Her heart was thumping unevenly, her fingers pleating the bodice of her night gown as she waited to hear what fate the Lost Boys had in mind for her. She had never understood the old adage about eavesdroppers hearing no good about themselves, but now she realized how true the old saying was. Despite knowing that the voices belonged to children not much older or younger than her brothers, their intent sent a chill down her spine, their obvious dislike of her making her want to cry. She must have made a sound because the next thing she knew, a warm hand had captured hers and Peter spoke softly in the darkness.
"I won't let them hurt you Wendy. I'm the captain here and what I say is the law. Don't be afraid."
Taking care to make as little sound as possible, Wendy turned over so that she faced Peter, his face barely discernible in the gloom.
"You are making a habit of being in my bed, Peter Pan!" Wendy whispered, both angry and immeasurably pleased that he was by her side.
"Well it was my bed first," Peter argued, also whispering.
"They don't want me here Peter," Wendy whispered back, "they don't like me."
"They don't know you Wendy. I want you here and that's all thats important."
"Am I to be your servant, your maid?"
"No."
"Then..." Wendy swallowed. "Did you bring me here to marry me?"
"NO!" Peter hissed, only just stopping himself from shouting the word out loud.
"Then why did you bring me here? If you don't know, how do you expect them to understand?"
"They don't need to understand, they just have to obey orders."
"Well that won't work...maybe I should just go home."
"No. Wendy...please. I want you to stay...to stay with me. You've seen them, they're children, not like you. I need you...I..."
"Alright Peter...I'll stay, at least for a little while. But what are you going to do about them?"
"Leave them to me Wendy." Peter's whispered affirmation went a long way in dispelling some of Wendy's trepidation. They lay facing each other, an inch apart, wrapped in the cocoon of the bed, lost in the moment. Leaning forward, Peter pressed his lips to hers, the darkness making the experience more exciting as Wendy responded and tilted her head to give him greater access. Where it would all have led was never to be found out as a loud noise beyond the alcove jerked them apart and Peter swept back the animal skin curtain before leaping off the bed to face his band of boys.
The Lost Boys sat on the floor of the Hollow in a ragged circle. As one they rose to their feet and faced their leader. The tallest stepped forward and pointed a grubby finger at Wendy who sat on the side of the bed watching.
"What's with her Peter? Is she staying for good?"
"What's it to you Crate if she is?"
The younger boy bristled and drew himself up to increase his height. Even so, he was a good inch shorter than Peter who remained relaxed but alert, his arms folded over his chest as he waited for Crate to speak.
"Is she to be our skivvy or your..." Crate didn't finish, just looked over at Wendy and leered horribly.
Peter remained unperturbed, shifting his weight from one hip to the other as if uncaring of the answer. Wendy sat tensely and watched with wide eyes.
"If Wendy wants to help out with the chores that's up to her to decide. As for the other...that's none of your damn business Crate. I'm Captain and what I say goes...unless you want to issue a challenge?"
"Oh no Peter, Crate didn't mean..." one of the other boys spoke up only to be silenced by a look from the taller boy.
"I don't need you speakin' on my behalf Grub...I can speak for myself."
"Yes...I noticed." Peter dropped his relaxed stance and stood with his arms at his sides, his muscles tense. "Choose your weapons Crate and lets get this over with."
For a second the group of boys stared wide eyed at Peter, then suddenly they started to whoop and holla, jumping up and down and rushing around the Hollow in what seemed to Wendy to be a chaotic scramble. Peter and Crate stood still among the chaos while the others leapt and gamboled about them. Totally confused, Wendy slid off the bed and stood clutching at the skin curtain for support.
"What's happening?" She asked, Peter half turning his head to acknowledge her question.
"Crate has issued a challenge, and I must answer it. It won't take long."
"A challenge...you mean a duel?"
"Stupid mort...we're going to fight of course!" Crate snarled, his dark eyes never leaving Peter's face. "I choose daggers and rope."
"I agree." Peter's answer was almost drowned out by the howling boys, the noise like wolves as they scattered about the room, disappearing up a series of concealed tunnels towards the outside. Crate was the last to leave, sauntering over to his bed and collecting his knife. Tossing it casually into the air, Crate left the Hollow via a concealed tunnel leaving Peter and Wendy alone. With Crate's departure, Peter turned to face Wendy, his body losing it's tense stance as he approached the bed. Wendy stared at him wide eyed, not at all sure of what she'd just witnessed.
"Peter, are you really going to fight that boy?"
"It's the law Wendy. He challenged, I accepted."
"But...but..."
"Don't you think I can win?" Peter asked, pulling a rueful expression.
"Of course you'll win. You're taller, stronger and you can fly."
"Yes, I suppose those could all be advantages, but then you've never seen Crate fight."
"Is he good?"
"The best there ever was in hand to hand combat."
"Oh Peter...you don't really mean to hurt each other, do you?"
"You'll just have to watch and find out."
Rummaging among the furs, Peter produced a leather scabbard which he attached to his vine belt before holding out his hand for Wendy to take. "Come on, they'll be waiting for us." Once more he led her up the spiral staircase carved within the heart of the tree, the journey seeming to be much shorter this time. Wendy had to shade her eyes when they stepped through the bark doorway, the sun still high in the sky despite the passage of time since she'd arrived. Peter dropped her hand and led the way towards a path that disappeared into the jungle. Wendy followed, all the while looking around and wondering where the Lost Boys were hiding. After a short walk they arrived as what looked like an earthen amphitheater. The bowl like depression had gently sloping grass covered sides and a large circular beaten earth floor. The Lost Boys were seated around the grassy edge while Crate stood in the center of the circle of flattened dirt, tossing his knife repeatedly into the air and catching it. Each toss made the blade catch the sun, flashing wickedly sharp before being caught deftly by its owner again.
"Stay up here Wendy...this shouldn't take long."
"Be careful Peter..." Wendy whispered, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Peter grinned and turned to leave, jumping down the broad grassy steps to reach the bottom of the amphitheater while the other Lost Boy's scattered to seat themselves at vantage points around the terraces. Wendy seated herself on the grass and tucked her skirts around her, her hands shaking a little at the prospect of the fight to come. Peter looked relaxed and confident as he stood while one of the Lost Boys bound his left wrist to the other boys' forearm, their difference in height now not so apparent. Peter had drawn his knife and held it in his right hand. The remaining Lost boys seemed to have split themselves into two groups, one to cheer on Crate, the others to cheer their Captain, Peter. Wendy sat in splendid isolation and watched the proceeding with interest and a little fear. The boy that had bound Peter and Crates wrists now stood back and raised his arms to silence the watchers.
"The first to draw blood is the winner," the boy announced, waiting for the combatants to nod their agreement before continuing. "If Captain Pan wins, then she stays, unharmed and unmolested. If Crate wins, she's out of here!" His speech finished, the boy scrambled out of the arena and seated himself with his friends. Almost at once the boys started up chants to encourage and support their side of the fight, the air filled with shrill voices and loud shouting. Wendy watched in horrid fascination as the two young men, bound together, started to circle around each other, their bound arms held out at full length to give them room to move. The shorter boy gave his arm a sharp tug, pulling Peter closer while at the same time snaking out his right arm to aim his blade at Peter's mid-drift. Wendy pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself screaming as the sun caught the wicked blade as it sliced in an arc aimed at Peter's ribs. Pan danced out of reach, the dirt at his feet puffing up in clouds as both fighters pulled and shifted to bring the other closer to the exposed blades. This shuffling dance went on for several seconds while they tested their balance and strength, both staring intently at the other, the jeering crowd watching all but forgotten as they concentrated on the other's blade. Knife blades flashed towards each other at the same time, the clash of metal on metal ringing out as the two boys circled and parried, the dust rising up to obscure Wendy's view of the fight as the combatants jerked and circled each other in a fierce struggle for supremacy. To Wendy it seemed the barbaric dance would never end, but even as she thought it Peter somehow managed to twist his arm and throw Crate off balance, the shorter boy landing on his back from a clever leg tackle by his opponent, Peter ending up straddling Crates chest, his knife pressed to the boys throat. All around the arena both groups of Lost Boys cheered and whooped, saluting both the victor and the vanquished, Wendy only able to stand there and clap her delight in Peter winning the fight.
"Do you surrender?" Peter asked, his chest heaving from the wrestle to lay Crate down.
"Never!" Crate hissed, the press of Peter's knife against his throat not restraining him one whit.
"Then first blood it is," Peter announced, pressing home his blade and drawing a thin line across the boys neck. Blood instantly welled from the cut and another cheer rose from the onlookers. Peter then cut the rope binding their wrists and climbed up off his adversary, holding out his hand for Crate to take to help him up. Hesitating only a second, Crate took Peter's hand and leapt nimbly to his feet. Both boys were liberally coated in dust and sweat, the trickle of blood very bright against Crates pale skin.
"You win Peter...the gentry mort stays."
"Unmolested and unharmed?"
"As you say," Crate agreed, taking Peter's hand and clasping it briefly before turning away to face his supporters. Peter wiped his blade on his trousers before sheathing it at his belt. Looking up he saw Wendy still standing where he left her, her hands clasped together and held in front of her mouth. Jumping into the air he flew up to where she stood, landing gently beside her, his face split with a triumphant grin.
"I won!"
"I saw." Wendy was still staring down at the group of Lost Boy's milling around Crate. "I've never seen a fight before..."
"Oh that was nothing. You should have seen the fight I had when Jack wanted to be the Pan. That was much worse."
"Which one is Jack?" Wendy asked, scanning the collection of boys below them.
"Jack's no longer one of the Lost Boys," Peter stated, staring pensively down at the younger boys milling about the arena.
"He's dead?" Wendy asked, shocked at the thought that Peter might have killed another boy.
"No, worse. He joined Hook's crew and became a pirate."
"A pirate?"
"Black Jack they call him now," Peter looked up at the sky above their heads, his mood unreadable. "It'll be dark soon, and I need to wash off this dirt. Come with me?"
"Alright." Wendy slipped her hand into his and they lifted off into the air, the arena and Lost Boys left far behind as they flew over the tops of the trees. Peter flew them to a clearing which held a pool at its heart, the edge fringed with reeds and bull-rushes. On one side was a shallow gravel beach leading down into the water. On the opposite side was a heaped cairn of rounded boulders that reached up over the pool for nearly twenty feet. It looked strange in the middle of the clearing but Wendy didn't worry about the geological oddity as she touched down on the short turf, Peter letting go of her hand straight away.
"Last one in is a rotten egg!" Peter crowed, galloping away to clamber up the rocky pile only to leap off into space and plunge into the pool, Wendy's cry of alarm unheard above the tremendous splash of water. Peter's head appeared on the surface and he quickly dived out of sight again, his body slicing through the clear water like a golden carp. Wendy approached the pool from the shallow beach, her toes digging into the gravel and she extended her foot to test the temperature of the water. Peter appeared in the shallows and started to splash water at her, making her laugh and scream.
"Stop it Peter, I don't want to get wet!"
"Why not...the water's warm and clear and your feet are dirty." He scooped up a handful of water and doused her, making Wendy dodge back out of range.
"No really Peter...I don't want a bath...please!"
"Aw...come on Wendy. You can swim, can't you?"
"Well actually...no, I can't."
For a moment Peter looked taken aback by her answer, his eyebrows knotting as he pondered what to do next. Wendy stood shaking out her nightdress to dry it from the few water droplets scattered about the hem, not paying attention to what Peter was doing. Her inattention was her downfall when she found herself scooped up and flung over Peter's shoulder so that her head hung down his back.
"Put me down!" Wendy shrieked as Peter started to wade back into the water, unhindered by Wendy's kicking legs.
"As you wish m'lady," Peter answered, flipping Wendy off his shoulder and on to her back in the shallow water. Flailing, Wendy found herself half submerged and thoroughly soaked, her hair blinding her as she cried out at her sudden wetting.
"Oh you beast...I'm soaked now, and only this nighty to my name. What am I supposed to wear while this dries, I'd like to know?"
Peter lay in the shallows on his stomach beside her, his head gleaming wetly in the sunlight. Unrepentant he grinned up at her, his eyes dancing.
"You could wear something like what I wear," Peter suggested, idly twirling his finger in the water as a small raft of green leaves floated past him. Wendy also noted the leaves floating on the surface of the water and glanced down at Peter's legs, noting that more of his skin appeared to be showing than normal.
"Er...Peter...are your leaves supposed to be coming off like that?" She pointed to the increasing number of leaves floating on the surface of the water. Peter glanced at them and shrugged.
"Oh yes...they do that if they get wet. I just get myself another suit of leaves when I need them."
"But...er...do you wear anything other than leaves?" Wendy asked, Peter looking at her blankly for a moment. "I mean, do you were...underclothes, under the leaves?"
"What?" Peter asked, staring down at himself then over his shoulder as more leaves floated past. "Oh no...nothing at all usually."
"Oh dear...oh dear..." Wendy started to mutter, scrambling to her feet and hastily retreating from the pool, her nighty clinging wetly to her body. "Oh dear..." she continued to murmur as she plucked at the wet material to stop it clinging so closely to her outline. "I think I'd better leave you to your bath Peter...I'll wait for you...er...over there." She indicated a large clump of shrubby plants near to the edge of the clearing, averting her eyes from the golden youth still lounging in the shallows, surrounded by a growing flotilla of green leaves.
"Wendy?"
"I'll be over here..." Wendy hurried over to the bushes and turned her back on the pool, her face scarlet as she contemplated just how many leaves Peter must be wearing, or not wearing by now.
Back at the pool, Peter shrugged again before turning around and plunging into the deeper part of the pool, the last of his leaves giving up the unequal struggle of remaining on his body and instead sluicing off with his dive underwater. Peter emerged with only the vines remaining about his body, his leaf trousers completely missing as he trod water and shook his head to free his hair of water. Looking over his shoulder he could see Wendy still standing with her back to the pool apparently absorbed in looking at the leaves of the bushes beside her. Wendy's hurried departure from the pool had only afforded him a brief flash of wet legs and damp dress as she'd run out of the water, her nighty clinging to her limbs and body in places and exciting his curiosity, outlining as it did the dips and hollows of her body in strange ways. Peter was not unaware that girls were put together quite differently than boys, his insatiable curiosity piqued to find out how different Wendy looked under her voluminous dress, the water affording him only a confused and frustrating glimpse. He knew from his association with the Indians that females came in a variety of shapes and sizes and his close handling of Wendy had told his hands that she had many interesting curves that didn't correspond to what he knew of his own body. It was all bound up in these new feelings that seemed to be taking over his mind and heart, all of them conspiring to make him mad with wanting to know everything there was to know about Wendy and how she made him feel. It had been true when he'd told her that love was something he knew little about, or even wanted to know about, but that it offended him was not entirely true. Were all these jumbled feeling and sensations love? He didn't know, but he was willing to find out.
Standing up in the pool he found the water waist deep, his skin now free of sweat and dust, his hair curling damply on his forehead and against his neck. Wading out of the water he quickly lifted into the air and floated quietly over the grass before silently rising up then lowering himself into the embrace of bushes that Wendy seemed to be so interested in.
Wendy had heard the sound of splashing and hoped fervently that Peter hadn't lost all his coverings when she peeped over her shoulder at the pool. Peter was just rising out of the pool and Wendy gasped before shutting her eyes tight and facing forward again, her back to the glade. She could feel her whole body blush as she stood rigidly to attention, her dress drying about her as she waited for the sound of splashing to cease. A breeze blew past her and she heard the rustle of leaves beside her. Opening her eyes she saw Peter standing within the grove of shrubs, his arms held out from his body as he waded amongst the greenery, his head bent as he looked down towards the ground. Wendy tried to shut out from her imagination the image of Peter flying through the air without a stitch on, but it was hard, she had brothers after all and was not unaware of the male anatomy. Now he was walking through the bushes towards her and she didn't know what to do for the best.
"Don't come any closer!" She finally blurted out, holding up her hands to ward him off. Peter looked up in surprise, as if not realizing how close she was to where he stood.
"It's alright, I'll be done in a minute," he glanced down at himself and grinned, then strode out of the bushes just as Wendy clapped her hands over her eyes and gritted her teeth. She heard Peter laugh then his fingers prising hers from her face. "Look."
Wendy blinked at him, noting his laughing eyes, then her own drifted down and widened as she noted his new coating of leaves decently covering him in a thick layer from his navel to his knees once more.
"Goodness...how clever! I thought the leaves of this bush looked familiar. This is where you get your outfits?"
"Yes. They could make you a new outfit too, if you wanted one...like this." He looked down at himself then up at her.
"Oh no...I'd need more than a pair of trousers...I mean...well, it wouldn't cover enough!" Wendy protested, blushing anew.
"Silly...they know what you need without you telling them...they're magic bushes." Peter rolled his eyes and laughed.
"Well of course they are. I've never known bushes in the park do anything like that before. They usually lose their leaves, not stick them to anyone." Wendy retorted, nettled by his laughter. Still, the idea of wearing a leaf costume did rather appeal. "I suppose if you promise to turn your back and not peek, I could just try. If it doesn't work I could always put my nightdress back on."
"Go on Wendy...try it," Peter encouraged, stepping back and holding out his hand to indicate for her to enter the bushes.
"All right, I will...but you have to promise not to look and turn your back."
"Cross my heart," Peter inscribed an invisible cross on his chest with his finger, grinning all the while. "I'll go back to the pool and wait for you there."
She watched as he swaggered off, whistling loudly to underline his apparent nonchalance and disinterest in the whole affair. She waited for him to reach the bull-rushes before cautiously entering the thicket of shoulder high bushes. They rustles and parted around her, the leaves seeming to stroke against her legs and arms as she entered their sheltering center. Unbuttoning her nightgown she cautiously drew the thick fabric off over her head, the leaves reaching well up to her armpits and clothing her modestly. Even so she ducked down so that only her head was visible, the bushes around her seemingly closing in and surrounding her as if to hide her from prying eyes. It was very odd and most peculiar to be standing in a clump of bushes with no clothes on, her skin prickling as she stood not knowing what was about to happen next. The bushes seemed to shiver and shimmy, the leaves pressing so close to her body that she felt every vein in the surface of the leaves, every tickle and stroke as if the bushes were alive. Thoroughly unnerved she decided to push her way out of the bushes and away from the unsettling sensations. As she emerged she found that the leaves were coming with her, her body clothed from shoulder to knee with a thick layer of shimmering leaves, one shoulder and arm left bare while the other had leaves down to the elbow. The green swathe of living cloth covered her chest down to just below her breasts, leaving her mid-drift bare to her navel, then they extended from her waist down over her hips, tightly molded to her thighs and legs down to her knees like a pair of breeches. Against her skin it all felt like the softest velvet, moving when she moved and stretching when she stretched. On the outside she looked much like Peter in his leaf-green, with the addition of a thick layer of leaves covering her chest. It was warm and very comfortable and after her initial misgivings that the whole ensemble would fall of at the slightest tug, a quick experiment set her mind at rest and she stepped out fully, twirling to show off her new outfit.
"Peter...you can look now," she called, holding her arms out and turning, twisting her neck to see over her own shoulder to her shockingly bare back, the leaves stopping at her sides and starting again just above the base of her spine. Her hair hung down that far and covered the bare skin of her back quite adequately. Peter walked slowly over from the pool, his eyes ranging over her new clothes in obvious admiration. As she turned around for his approval he slowly circled her, his gaze drinking in her pale, slender arms and legs, her golden brown hair swirling like a cape about her shoulders.
"You look beautiful," he finally stated, standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed her from top to toe.
"It is all very strange. Ladies don't ordinarily wear knee breeches, you know. Although I will admit I did try on John's trousers one day, just to see what it was like. It was very shocking."
"And how do you feel now?" He asked, his hand coming out to stroke over the leaves at her hip. They were of a lighter shade than his own, and felt much softer to his touch, almost like the feel of the softest leather.
"Very comfortable, much more so than John's breeches," Wendy laughed, twirling again before stopping to smooth the layer of leaves over her waist and hips, preening under Peter's approving gaze.
"Then if you're done, we'll go back to the tree and see about something to eat," Peter announced, jumping into the air and preparing to take off. Wendy hurriedly gathered up her nightgown and folded it into a neat bundle before tucking it under her arm. Remembering to think of a happy something, she felt herself lift off the turf and into the air, following Peter as he slowly rose until he hung suspended above the trees. Wendy followed more slowly, her confidence building as she rose higher and higher, her parcel held secure against her body.
With her clothing taken care of for the immediate future, Wendy concentrated on watching Peter and learning how to control her ability to fly, while wondering what her mother would say if she could see her daughter flying in the air clothed in nothing but leaves and a silly smile.
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tbc...