A small meow came from the dining room doors.
Golden and long-haired, Sunny strolled toward the table with his bushy tail raised high above him. Scamp rose from his chair to pull out another one, gently patting the seat while getting the cat’s attention. Much to Maggie’s surprise, Sunny listened to the boy’s call and bounded onto the chair instantly. Scamp was already ready with a bowl of food for the cat, as though it was something they did all the time. Maggie softened at the interaction, her heart full of a happiness she had never known before.
“How is the investigation of the moon coral going?” Dusty asked after a few moments.
Maggie blinked a few times as she came back to reality. “I collected a piece that had this odd substance on it,” she explained, reminded of how they needed a plan forward. “Though I’m not entirely sure where to go from there. Human botany only gets you so far in Neverland.”
Peter leaned forward, his chin resting on his hands thoughtfully. “There might be a witch who can help us,” he murmured. “She’s knowledgeable enough, I think. We can try to see her tomorrow, if you wish.”
“Great!” Maggie eagerly finished the last few bites of food on her plate, ignoring the feeling of Peter’s eyes remaining focused on her from across the table.
“I suppose sooner rather than later is for the best,” Peter continued, his gaze heavy. “I know how badly you’re wanting to get…to get home.”
A chill passed over the table. None of the Lost Boys met her gaze, their attention focused on their emptying plates. Only Peter watched, his expression unreadable. No words came out of her mouth in response. What was there for her to say? They allwent out of their way to give her a beautiful evening, one that she never thought herself deserving of. In the next breath, she is reminded of the truth behind it all, that she had been brought against her will, and that there was a life waiting for her back in the human lands.
Maggie met Peter’s gaze.
But what kind of life will that even be?
6
“And what did he say after that?”
Peter’s arms tightened around Maggie’s frame as he swooped around the treetops. The coarse tips of leaves tickled her arms as they flew by, the breeze throwing her hair back behind them. He popped back out on the other side of the narrow column of a thick jungle, revealing a long field on the eastern side of Neverland’s island. It was a path Maggie had never taken before, which was why Peter was dead set on flying himself. According to him, it was an easy way to get lost.
The King of Neverland was in the middle of telling a story while he absentmindedly flew. It was in an effort to keep Maggie distracted, she knew, though it hadn’t worked too well thus far. Something about visiting a witch struck a nerve within her. She instinctively blamed it on being born and raised within the human lands, where the title was only derogatory and insulting. Maggie couldn’t help but get more and more fearful the closer they came to her hovel.
Peter swore to Maggie that the witch wasn’t dangerous, so why did the idea of meeting a witch bother her so much? Was it because she had magic of her own, although she wasn’tcategorized as a witch? Did the idea that she wasn’t so different from the witch bother her that much?
Maggie shook her head and focused back on Peter. “Well, Peter?” she asked. “What did the beaver say?”
He grinned, holding back his own laughter. “The beaver said, ‘and if you come back to my dam, you’ll be the next damned thing I use to hold it up!’”
Maggie laughed despite herself, the tension leaving for a brief moment. “Did that really happen?”
“No,” Peter admitted with a shrug. “I just love your laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to laugh with their whole heart, like you do.”
She stared up at him, her hands meeting at the back of his neck. He was pretty well focused on the sky ahead as they slowly lowered more and more, but a part of Maggie wondered if that was purposeful, to some degree.
It wasn’t like they talked about their kiss yet. Instead the moment remained up in the air between them, until one of them had the guts to finally mention it to another. Maggie dreaded the silence and would’ve done anything to simply be brave enough to ask about it herself, or, better yet, have the ability to peer into Peter’s mind without uttering a word. That kiss was unlike anything she had ever known before, and a part of her was devastated with the idea of never knowing him like that again. Perhaps that was the only bit she was guaranteed, the only slice of happiness she was destined to have.
Her grasp tightened around Peter’s neck.
Whether what happened next was a response or simply something else, Maggie had no clue. But Peter pulled her closer, until her cheek touched his shoulder, until she was entirely pressed against his strong frame. The feeling was far more warm than a hug, than a timeless embrace. It was deeper than that, more intimate. It was as though Maggie was stepping into herhome for the first time, as though she was reuniting with her family, as though everything was attempting to fall into place.
“We’re here,” Peter murmured against her hair.
His feet gently touched the ground within a forest. Unlike the jungle that surrounded the treehouse, the forest was like that of a fairytale, where Red Riding Hood met the wolf in darkened shadows. Creatures sounded off where they could not see, wispy bugs slipped by their ears with mechanical buzzing. Birds that were only silhouettes overhead cawed a mysterious birdsong before flying off, rustling the leaves and dried twigs.
The trees themselves were all different shapes and sizes. Some were still young while others sprung incredibly tall, its old and thick roots protruding out from the grass below. The earthy smells were entirely intoxicating as Maggie took it all in. She had never experienced such an enchanted forest, where only a small cottage sat within it.
The house itself was rather snug and cozy. It was yellow, from the outside, with a small garden on one side of it. A scarecrow watched over trellised vegetables and a small gate led the way toward the front door. Smoke hovered above the chimney in a small, quiet trail.
Peter took her hand. “C’mon, Magpie.”
The King of Neverland led the way, pushing open the swinging gate and stepping up the front porch steps. The wood creaked beneath their feet as Peter reached the door, his knuckles rapping sharply against it.
With a sharp creak, the door swung open on its own.
