Chasing Neverland

When she awoke, the room was eerily empty. It had to be high noon, because light streamed into the room from somewhere far above, and streaks of dust danced in the sunlight. She shoved the pelts off of her legs and lifted her arm to sniff at it. She smelled absolutely terrible, but she wasn't sure of how to fix that.

“You're awake.”

Willow sat up and turned her face to Peter, who had mysteriously appeared at the foot of her bed. She didn't say anything, just looked at him stand there in the same clothes he'd worn the day before and his hair looking unkempt from sleep.

“Get up. I'm taking you to see the skies.”

She didn't protest, eager to examine her surroundings above ground. She slid out of the bed, thankful that she'd been wearing her slippers when she'd tossed herself off of her roof. Without warning, Peter slid his arm around her waist and hugged her body close to him. Then, he flew with her up and out of the hollow tree that was their hideout. He sat her down on the plush grass of a cleared field around the tree. She noticed a noose hanging from one of the thicker branches and shuttered.

She looked up to see the endless blue of the sky, a few fluffy white clouds making their way lazily across that never-ending expanse. She felt dizzy, looking up into that forever sky and into the edges of tropical forest. It was all so beautiful, which made her isolation ache even more.

“THIS is Neverland,” Peter said triumphantly, his feet never touching the ground.

Willow spun in a circle, feeling the wind touching her exposed legs and shoulders, her breath coming easier and the smell of wildflowers and the sea deep in her lungs.

“It's WONDERFUL,” she breathed. “Absolutely wonderful.”

“Isn't it?” He touched her arm in an invitation for her to climb into his strong arms.

She obeyed, and he lifted her into his arms. He flew high above the tops of trees in all shades of green, and he lowered her onto the white sand of a beach. She took off her slippers and buried her toes into the hot sand, enjoying the warmth and the view of the ocean. Though she could see no person nor landmass, she was truly content standing at the edge of that beach with the waves kissing the shore. Peter watched her, and eventually, he settled onto the sand next to her, his bottom hovering barely inches above the sand.

The ocean was so blue, bluer than the sky and any ocean she had ever seen back home. It was almost green, and so very clear. She could see rocks at the bottom of the sea for nearly a mile out, and she was positive that if she were to slide into those waters, that they would be warm. She had never felt the warm waves of an ocean before, only the cold chill of the pacific. She guessed immediately that this “Neverland” was not in another dimension but an island of the tropics that had simply never been discovered, and where there was no perception of time.

However, that didn't explain the Lost Boys staying young for all these years.

Willow was perplexed.

“Peter?”

He tilted his head, watching a soft breeze rustle the edge of her night dress. “Hmm?”

“How did you come to find this place?”

She turned when she heard a soft thump on the sand. Peter had let himself drop, and he seemed completely puzzled, like it was something he simply could not remember.

“Hook brought me here, I think.”

“Hook?”

She watched him nod his auburn head, the red feather of his green hat bobbing. “Yes, Captain JAMES Hook.”

“Why would this.. 'Captain' bring you here?”

He outstretched his legs, digging the heels of his moccasin-like shoes into the sand. “I don't rightfully know, Wendy. I think he wanted a son.”

“My name is not Wendy, Peter.”

“Right, right.” He looked up at her then, his eyes hazy. “I wouldn't take prisoners or make those who wouldn't follow him walk the plank. I don't remember when I met Tink, and I don't remember when I first fought Hook, but I do remember that I won, and I vowed to do good.”

Willow didn't quite follow the story and found huge gaps in it, but she didn't try to protest. After all, Peter could just leave her stranded here on the beach, and she couldn't fly and was absolutely without any sense of direction.

“Do you want to see more of the island?” he asked suddenly.

She agreed, and Peter scooped her up like before.

---

Willow smelled smoke before she saw it. She tried to ask Peter where he was taking her, but she felt breathless at being so high up in the sky. There were trees all below her, and soon, the beach disappeared. A dirt path slowly began to wind its way through the foliage, and Willow struggled to trace it with only her eye, but she found it difficult with the wind whipping her hair into her face. It had fallen out of the bun sometime in the night, and she hadn't noticed until the breeze had picked up.

The land cut off briefly, and she saw that the path winded into the deeper part of the forest, but she found it impossible to follow it while they were flying over the ocean, many meters from shore.

“This is amazing!” Willow shouted.

Peter laughed, but the wind quickly stole his voice away, so that it was soundless.

They began to come closer to the ground and she finally saw the smoke. The source was a large fire in the center of a plateau. There appeared to be strange sort of huts surrounding it, and she could hear the drumming of an older peoples' music and chanting.

“I'm taking you to the red men!” Peter said to her loudly as he finally lowered to the ground.

His feet hit the ground with a soft thump and he lowered her feet to the ground, but he kept his left arm tight around her waist. Willow didn't protest, liking the comfort of someone familiar as she was lead into the unknown of a different people. Immediately, she saw the blushing skin tone of a people much different from her own. They dressed in a way that she found to be completely peculiar, and their tribal dancing made her wary. They chanted in languages unknown to her, but Peter seemed not to be out of his comfort zone.

“Who are these people?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Peter leaned to her ear, his breath warm on her face. “Redskins.”

Willow was taken aback. “Peter, that's racist.”

He stopped walking and stared at her. “What did you say?”

“Never mind.” Willow urged him to continue moving forward. “What do they call themselves?”

“They don't. They are simply the Redskins.”

Willow gave up trying to convince him that there had to be a real name for their people and walked silently toward their encampment. They were quickly greeted by a thin man wearing animal furs cut into a strange sort of garment. He gave a half bow, to which Peter raised his right hand with his palm facing forward and gave the same half-bow. The Indian man stared at her, expecting some type of greeting. She raised her right hand to shoulder height and let it drop; he didn't seem to like it.

Peter released her waist. They followed the man who had greeted them up a path to the burning fire. There were horses kicking up dust by a post, and they whinnied when Willow passed. A very large man was seated on a log, and he stood when he saw Peter. He raised his right hand happily, though he did not smile. Peter gave the same gesture and motioned for Willow to sit. She slid her night gown forward and sat on an empty log, trying to avoid the curious stares of Indian men all around her.

“What bring you here?”

“Chief,” Peter began in an unsure voice, “I have only brought my new companion to meet your people and see your way of life.”

The large man called Chief grunted and nodded, rubbing his face. He seemed to be interested in Willow, but he wasn't impressed. Suddenly, a beautiful young native girl moved to Chief's side. She brought a dainty hand up to her mouth in order to suppress a sly smile. She looked to Peter and began whispered something. When she saw Willow seated nonchalantly on the log bench, her dark eyes narrowed in an angry way. The young girl did not like Willow's presence.

“Who is she?” the young girl whispered harshly.

The chief clapped a large hand on the girl's shoulder to soothe her. “Tiger Lily, you must keep calm like the sea on a hot summer's day." He nodded toward Willow "This Peter's comrade.”

“Wendy?” the girl called Tiger Lily hissed.

Peter grinned. “No, this one's name is Willow.”

Tiger Lilly turned her nose up, her raven hair falling back from her shoulders. Eventually, the chief gave an apologetic look to Willow. “My daughter Tiger Lily does not take well to other women. However,” he looked to Peter, “I invite you and your boys to feast, just before the light falls for the second time.” He motioned an orb - the sun - setting, and rising, and setting again.

Peter gave a crowing sound like a rooster. “That sounds great! What do you say, Willow?”

She tried not to hesitate. “Alright.”

He moved towards her, yanking her up by her bicep in a way that was almost brotherly. Tiger Lily gave a smile that was not pleasant; it was one of triumph, like her foreign beauty had made Peter regard her as nothing buy a companion. Willow was not very unsettled by this young girl's actions; after all, she had probably known Peter for what was decades, and who was she to try to step between that?

When they had moved down the path, far from the eyes of the Indian people, Peter pulled her close in that intimate way and began to rise off the ground without a warning, promising her that there would be better exploration of the island in the days to come. For a strange reason, Willow was excited, and she clung to Peter in a way that could have been interpreted as romantic, enjoying the scent he carried with him.