#theme: arrows

As the bulk of the island appears through moonlit gilded mists a crowd carrying bows and arrows look up and spot the shadow and it’s strange cargo. Now the Lost Boys are under strict orders never to shoot down a boy the shadow brings to the island but sometimes the dark being will snatch up fish, birds and sometimes fairies for the boys to shoot at. Fairies are the most fun because the more agitated they become the brighter they glow, their movements more erratic. However fairies stopped being target practice once Tink found out their little sport.

“It’s like a white sheet,” one of them says, frowning.

“What if it’s a ghost?” one superstitious boy ventures aloud and is hit on the head.

“Don’t be stupid. Looks like a bird to me. Whoever delivers the killing blow is the winner,” a Lost Boy called Slightly says. As Wendy flies over the island shore the boys draw their bows and arrows, aim and fire. All the arrows are unique so each owner so they can immediately identify who made a hit. Of course none can honestly say who made the kill but by that point they are too full of bloodlust to care. Crowing and hooting they roar in delight as the white shape is hit in the chest and ripped out of the shadow’s grip.

Wendy screams as a dozen arrows come bursting out of the mist, shooting through the shadow as it moves to shield her. All but one are deflected by it’s strange magic and Wendy just has time to inhale a breath to scream again when an arrow hits her and she falls through the air like a stone.

  *

  They find her crumpled on the ground, surrounded by vines, leaves and broken tree branches. An arrow protrudes from her chest, a pool of blood spreading across the front of her nightdress. The Lost Boys stare at her, their grins starting to fade as confusion and an unfamiliar feeling begins to grow. Guilt. Her screams still ring in their ears, a cry that was all too human.

“It – it’s a girl,” Slightly mutters in disbelief.

“Maybe it’s a mermaid? A fairy?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers and gets down on his knees. The arrow is his. “The kill is mine,” he mutters and for a moment the jungle echoes with the cries of scared, homesick boys and in that litany he can hear himself. Trying to ignore the sound he grips the shaft, about to pull it out when a shadow fall over them.

“Don’t, she’s alive,” Felix says and Slightly freezes. The girl breathes shallow, wet breaths and Slightly gets hastily to his feet. Felix, their second in command, stares at him impassively. “I’d hide if I were you.”

“Is – is she for Peter?” he stutters in fear and the others look just as scared. Peter Pan is their leader, their only true family but every single one fear him.

“I think a game of hide and seek. You got until the moon sets, then we’ll come for you,” Felix says, flashing a grin, and the boys scurry into the trees like mice. Once alone the tall blonde boy sighs. “What are you doing here?”

Wendy does not answer. Sighing again he picks her up and heads towards Peter’s treehouse. She could die on the way but maybe that is what Peter wants. Felix does not do anything without his captain’s say so, even if a life hangs in the balance. However as he gets closer to the tree and the girl in his arms steadily bleeds he begins to listen to an old, abandoned voice that until that day has been ignored. Compassion.

He feels slightly sick.

  *

Heavy eyelids blink open but it takes her a few attempts to keep them open. She stares up and gradually a shifting canopy comes into view. Light filters down around her and she focuses on the way the light shifts rather than how laboured it is to breathe or the rising panic inside her. She is numb from the neck down.

I was shot…

“A girl?” The voice is soft and laced with disbelief. He sounds English, young.

“I removed the arrow, stopped the blood best I could and gave her something for the pain,” another voice says and the English boy laughs lightly.

“Felix, I’m surprised at you,” he says and then a shadow falls across her body. A tall young man with light brown hair and bright green eyes peer down at her. At first glance a feeling of familiarity blooms, though she cannot say why.

Like he’s something from a dream…

“Do you want the water Peter?” Felix asks and after a pause Peter nods, telling him to hurry. A silence settles and they are now alone. She tries to sit up, to turn but he holds out a hand to stop her.

“Who are you?”

“W– Wendy…Darling,” she pants, sweat rolling down her face and Peter frowns, leaning down.

“What are you doing on my island?”

“I – I was…was brought here.”

“By the shadow?”

Wendy nods, unable to speak. She looks down and sees a blur of red and white. Her skin feels clammy and cold. When she looks back up her eyes are full of tears. Peter sighs and gets down on a knee beside the bed.

“My name is Peter and this is my island…I don’t know why the shadow would bring you here but as soon as you’re well enough you can go back to where ever it is you call home,” he says as a tear slip from the corner of her eye and he brushes it away with the back of a finger. “You’re lucky the arrow wasn’t coated in Dreamshade. If it was you wouldn’t be getting blood on my bed right now.”

“Sorry,” she whispers, very tired and his lips quirk. “Am I – am I going to die?” she asks, her voice wavering and for just a moment his eyes flash with something cruel but he pauses, as if thinking better of it. He moves closer so she can see the brilliant green of his eyes, the earthy smell of him and through the numb pain something awakens in her.

“No because no one leaves this island without my permission. Even death needs an invitation,” he says arrogantly and she manages a smile.

“I – I dreamed…of Neverland.”

“And is it everything you dreamt?” he asks sarcastically but he is also curious.

“Not – not exactly,” she mutters trying to focus on him as her crying ceases. He leans over her and begins unbuttoning the top of her night dress and her eyes fly open. “What are you doing?!”

“You’re a mess,” he says, blinking. She is half conscious, numb and in shock but she still manages to give him a terrific scowl. It makes him tingle.

“It wouldn’t be p-proper, thank you,” she says stiffly and he grins, getting down on his hunches.

“I could just leave you in the jungle, leave you to the birds and insects,” he says in sudden spite but she only smirks weakly.

“You won’t…if you did I’d come back as…as those birds and peck you to death.”

Peter smiles as she falls unconscious again and gazes at her until he realises what he is doing and snaps out of it. He rises and orders one of the Lost Boys to fetch Tink, who has a small supply of pixie dust, poppy seeds and other potions. If she wants a woman to assist her than that is what she will get.

As the pearly moon, a gigantic iridescent orb, begins to sink Peter cups his hands over his mouth and crows.