Chapter 4: I'm Peter, Peter Pan
A sharp tip poking at her waist jerked her awake. She was still too weak to stand, but she rolled herself onto her back and stared up at a boy with a round face and bushy brown hair. He held the spear out to her, as if in defense, but it really was silly. She looked up at him in question, succeeding in looking as innocent and vulnerable as she felt. He just nodded, and ran across the little campsite to a stooped, hooded figure. The figure nodded, and the boy ran off into the forest, looking relieved. The hooded boy sauntered to her and stood over her; she could see his face at this angle. It was the boy with the scar, Felix.
"Well, Princess, how are you this fine morning?" she didn't have much experience talking to people, but she didn't think concern sounded like his tone. And thinking of how he'd treated her before, she didn't think he really cared.
"I…um, I can't stand," she sat up and managed to pull herself to her knees, then stopped, gasping. Just as her head turned to look up at him, he knelt down next to her and gently nudged her back down.
"Come on, don't hurt yourself there," he murmured in a tone much gentler, and kinder, than before. Then she shrieked in shock when his-very long, and rather intimidating compared to her small stature-arm wrapped around her back, with a fluidity and decisiveness quite like a snake's. The other went under her knees and he lifted her up with ease. This was the most physical contact she'd had with a person since she was a child, and every nerve in her body was on fire at the new, long-lost and long-missed feeling. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable than a log, eh, Princess?" she barely registered his suggestion, too caught up in the shock.
Then her logic kicked back in. He'd carried her as if she weighed nothing, not even a grunt when he first picked her up. She wasn't particularly large, actually quite a bit below average according to her calculations, but she was still a whole human. It was a bit unsettling.
And then her rapture at being somewhere other than the tower returned as well when he ducked into a tent. A real tent, in a real forest. She'd barely gotten used to being outside; again, she didn't care that she was surrounded by wild boys, at least one of which was strong enough to carry her without so much as an extra breath, it was still her idea of freedom.
Her back hit a surprisingly soft bed that seemed to literally be stuffed with old dirt and leaves, then piled high with skins. It was incredibly warm, and the fur tickled her cheek as she turned on it. She sat up to look at the tent's inside, barely noting Felix standing in the entrance watching her. The tent itself looked to be made from a mixture of bits of clothing and vines and plates woven together from grass and leaves. She liked it, it kept the inside dim enough if one wanted to rest but still let the light in so one would be sure of the time. So much light. She had actually enjoyed being left in the open, she had the sunlight fully on her; it had been so long since she'd felt the full sun. The tent was held up by thick wooden poles, definitely hand-carved by the boys. The floor, of course, was that of the forest, but cleared of most of the loose leaves and twigs. It was rather impersonal: the bed of skins, a bow and arrow set in the corner along with a large wooden staff, and a wooden chest that she could probably just barely hold. She went to it, but huffed in disappointment at the lock. Felix chuckled and tossed her a dirty metal key, which she only caught in her lap because of his aim.
It was unusual, a sudden allowance into something that clearly wasn't for ordinary eyes. "Why?" she turned to him, eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. He just smirked—but without malice-and shrugged.
"You don't seem the type to go talking, and ruining the secret," he drawled. Then added, "not like you'd know what it is or what to do with it anyway." There was the catch. She was reminded of her very first life important lesson: a sword's blade always has two edges.
Turning back to the chest, she unlocked it and studied the contents intently. Glass bottles, quite a few of them, all different sizes and shapes. Some were round at the bottom and straightened at the top, some completely straight and rectangular, some straight but round. Some held liquids, all different colors, but some were empty. She looked at Felix questioningly, but his smirk widened and he raised an eyebrow. Right, the catch, she wouldn't know and he wouldn't tell her. Sighing, she gave up and locked the box. She stood up shakily, and managed to stay up but didn't try to walk, she felt too dizzy already.
"Thank you," she said lightly, stretching the key out at arm's length to him-she still wasn't used to all the interaction and physical contact.
"Uh, sure?" He raised both eyebrows now, his smirk nearly gone.
"Thank you," she repeated, "for showing me something of yours. For talking to me. You have…no idea how much I appreciate that," she looked down as she finished. He really wouldn't know how happy it made her that he talked to her, even if it was taunting and double-edged gifts, but she knew this statement could be taken as a vulnerability. That probably wasn't what you were supposed to give to a boy who, even when standing still and looking surprised, had the aura of a predator.
Instead, the blonde predator did probably the cutest thing she had ever seen. Granted, she hadn't seen many people do many things, but still. He smiled, genuinely. Or, tried to. It came out small and lopsided and it looked awkward on him, but she had never seen another person really smile-and at her-in so long.
Then it disappeared, he picked her up and strode out of the tent. Setting her back down against the log, he straightened and told her he was going to go play with the boys. She thought playing seemed a bit too innocent of a term for them, they had just wildness, but then realized it was probably playing to them and only darker to her. She lay back, enjoying the morning sun on her skin and how it slowly heated the black cotton of her dress and made the inside of her eyelids dark red. She would never stop loving the sunlight, or the fresh air, thick with the smells of bark and dirt and the subtle, musky scents of both boys and animals. It was so quiet, she could hear small rustlings animals of all sizes made-after an hour, she even caught sight of a squirrel-and she thought she could even hear a boy's yell faintly, but they must have been far away. Felix had said this was an island, and they were camped closer to the middle than the edge of it, so the distance that could be between her and them was limited.
Again, in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she was surprisingly comfortable being on an island she didn't know, with a group of savage boys who had nearly starved her, and had many ideas but no experience surviving on her own. She decided it was alright, that, although she couldn't even force herself to think it possible, if the boys did kill her, at least she would have been free for a time before and would die somewhere outside her tower.
For a week, she just stayed in the camp, slowly getting her strength back. The boys left her alone, some with occasional sheepish glances, except Felix. He left her side only a few times after that first day, although he didn't talk to her very much. And when he did speak, it revealed nothing about himself or even much about the land. He told her it was called Neverland, and that any who stayed would remain young as long as they stayed. The boys, who were called the Lost Boys, grudgingly shared the island with fairies, but the fairies stayed in the tree tops most of the time and rarely got in their way. The way he said it, the boys owned the island, and made sure it stayed so. There were mermaids too, but they lived in the ocean and didn't interact with the island often. That was it.
The boy who fed her the day they realized she was dying came to her a few times a day to ask her how she was feeling, but that was all. Like Felix, he didn't give anything away. He managed to even make such a gesture as the repetitive asking to seem cold and disconnected. Yet, she found herself enthralled by them both either way. They were people, real people, who spoke to her and acknowledged her and listened when she spoke. And their guards just made her more eager to talk to them, to learn another person. She had learned a tiny bit about the land, but nothing about either of them. Not even one's name!
At the end of the week, she was feeling almost completely normal again, and he spoke.
"Where exactly are you from?" she was used to his voice by now. At first, it made her shiver, as she had never heard a grown male voice-well, as grown as he was. He wasn't a child, but not a man, about her age. His voice was always low and gravelly, predatory as he was.
"Just a little village, I didn't really know it," she tried to keep her tone offhanded. She never wanted to even remember it.
"You didn't like it, Princess?" he smirked, mocking her.
"I wasn't really a princess." She cut him off before he could reply. "And it doesn't matter what I was or wasn't there because I'm here now," and with the newfound courage, she stepped as close to him as her sense dared, about arm's length away. "And I'm never going back there."
He smirked, but it seemed prouder. Then his expression darkened and he stood from his slouch to his full height. She grimaced internally; he was a head taller than her when he slouched, now, about a foot. "If Pan lets you."
"Who's Pan?" she asked, confused. She had heard the name thrown around the boys, and there were many little stories in many religions about a sprite or nymph or elf named Pan, but they were so scattered and different throughout each that she had never drawn a single being.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself," a voice she recognized came from behind her. She whipped around, tripping on her hair. As usual. It wasn't her fault, she wasn't used to quick movements with it. Two thin but deceptively strong arms shot out, hands splayed on her shoulders to stop her fall. And bring her very, very close. She still knew little about interaction, but she was gaining a bit of experience talking with Felix and had read many novels. This wasn't a romantic closeness, like she'd read in stories. It was meant to be intimidating, and, since he was a full head taller than her and his grip far too strong for her to even think about getting out of, it was working. She could feel the power, both physical and magical, around him like a silent storm. Her voice died in her throat and her body went still. She tilted her head back to look at him, but was too terrified to meet his eyes.
"I'm Peter, Peter Pan," his face wore a dark smirk, laughing at something she was clearly missing, but the brown eyes burned into her with that same curiosity they'd had since she arrived.
"Oh, well," she took a breath, but the air didn't seem to fill her lungs. Not sure how to react to being so close to another person, even Felix had kept a distance of at least an arm's length, she was still with fear. The sensory overload was too much, it felt incredible. He was so warm and his palms on her shoulders were an odd combination of rough and smooth. He smelled like the forest and a scent she couldn't describe that was other than just him. Felix had a smell like that too, underneath al the forest and sweat scents, there was always a scent that was just unique to a person. They were so close, she could see his lips move slightly when he breathed, and catch long dark blonde eyelashes fluttering when he blinked.
"You might want to ask," Felix murmured over her shoulder, close enough she could feel his body's warmth at her back. It made her nervous, them both so close to her. She felt claustrophobic from all that her senses took in. She couldn't pull her eyes from Pan's face, but she saw his eyes flicker to Felix and his smirk fade a bit. She felt him tug her closer, but as if he didn't quite realize he did it, and she felt dizzy. If she took a deep breath, her body would touch his. It was almost too much to take in.
Pan chuckled. "Don't worry love, you're very useful actually," his voice was dripping with glee and taunting. He was the type who was used to knowing more than others, and enjoying it. But it wasn't working. She knew that tone too well, that meaning.
"I don't know how to, just so you know," she found the strength to break eye contact and looked down. She was scared, now she'd be thrown out as useless, and angry, she was so helpless.
"I'll teach you. Such potential should never go wasted," he looked at her the same way the mistress used to. With greed, and with no care or mercy for her. It made her sick. Then disgusted, both at him for using her like everyone else had or wanted to, and at herself for believing he was any different, any better.
"Of course," she ground out, wrenching herself out of both their grips and shutting herself in Felix's tent, white hair growing brighter with each step. All three ignored the wind that suddenly ruffled the trees.