“Maybeshe’s ready,” Peter added. His eyes only glanced in her direction before he took another big bite of his pie. By the time he was done chewing, there seemed to be an entirely different topic on his mind. “Has Hazel dropped by the treehouse?”
Dash shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m sure it’ll be soon.”
“I’ll say,” Twitch muttered, “I can’t remember the last time Hazel left her cottage. Now, all of sudden, we see her on a daily basis. Anyone else find that odd?”
Dusty stood from the table, his plate wiped clean. He turned his attention towards Sunny, who was patiently waiting for pets directly behind him. “Not really,” he replied. “It’s not like Hazel’s coming to seeus.”
One by one, all the eyes at the table turned to Maggie. She squirmed beneath their persistent stares, a heated blush already seeping across her face. “I don’t really mind,” she answered truthfully. Their eyes didn’t leave her. “I happen tolikeHazel, you know.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak when there was a knock at the treehouse door. He closed his mouth as he looked around the room, one brow raised. Maggie finished her own slice of pie, a newfound grumbling in her stomach saying that she wasn’t hungry at all. She just hoped that there wasn’t any trouble knocking on their front door.
2
Maggie
“Good morning, all!”
Hazel Broomlin’s wide smile was enough to brighten the entire room. Earthy green robes hung from her thin hands and fell down her back in a shortened cloak. She pulled down her dark hood as she stepped inside, ruffling her pixie short brown hair before joining the crowd in the dining room. Sunny, with his golden tail held high above his head, strode toward the witch without an ounce of fear. The feline got used to seeing Hazel around after her first few visits, but something told Maggie that the cat didn’t mind her intrusions at all. Each time Hazel strode through the treehouse, navigating the woody halls as if she had built them herself, Sunny was the first inhabitant to greet her.
After swooping down to tickle the cat’s wispy chin, Hazel stepped into the dining room, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. “Dear me,” she exclaimed, the corner of her lip perking up in an amused smirk. “Don’t you boys think it’s a bitearlyfor a slice of pie?”
Dash rubbed his belly, his mouth smeared with the fruity compote in the middle of the delicious treat. “But it’s rhubarb! That sounds a bit breakfast-y, doesn’t it?”
Despite the comments, Maggie was already spooning the final slice from the tin for Hazel. The buttery brown crust held its shape nicely as she slid it onto an ornate green plate, one that happened to match Hazel’s entire outfit. The witch readily took the slice, giving Maggie a beaming smile as she did so.
“It does,” Hazel murmured, already diving her fork through the dessert, “I guess I’ll indulge along with the rest of you!”
Maggie settled back into her seat as Hazel took her own beside her. Maggie wasn’t at all sure what made her feel so bound to the witch, and she wasn’t in the mind to question it anytime soon. Something about the older woman simply fit into their odd herd, as if she was always meant to join them at the dinner table all along. Maggie, who already finished her pie, rested her chin against her palm as she watched Hazel greedily scarf down her slice of rhubarb pie.
Once halfway through, Hazel lifted her head up for a gulp of air, dabbing her mouth with the cotton napkins they used. She leaned her back against the chair and scooted to get comfortable. The witch never visited without a reason for doing so, and often discussed the coming and goings of the island with them. But there was a hesitancy on the woman’s face that early morning, one that Maggie was quick to notice. Hazel eyed her a few times, careful not to linger enough to garner a question as to why she was being so tight lipped. As if he felt the same things Maggie ruminated over, Peter pushed his empty plate away, and leaned his elbows onto the table.
“How goes the western woods of Neverland, Hazel?” Peter asked.
Hazel sighed, a smile tugging across her face. Maggie could’ve sworn she saw her shoulders fall in a sense of relief.
“Rather quiet these days,” she reported with a shrug. “Fairies don’t come my way unless they need to, and more times than not – theydon’tneed to.” A quiet laugh rippled across the table.“That being said, I’m sure you have all felt the sense of unrest passing across the island, like a stormcloud.”
That caught Maggie’s attention. “What sort of unrest?”
“Well,fear,of course, my dear,” Hazel replied. She reached for her, gently patting the top of Maggie’s hand. “No one has heard from the pirates since they attacked the island a few weeks ago.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
Peter spoke up, his sigh as heavy as the stormcloud Hazel referred to. “Not when it comes to Hook and his crew.” He shook his head without saying anything yet, his brow furrowed at the center of his forehead, creating a ripple of wrinkles along his eyes as he thought. “They had enough courage to jump out of the shadows. That’s not something to just move on from.”
“Is it really that unusual for them to attack in broad daylight?”
The question, Maggie realized, was probably not one that Peter Pan needed to be asked.
He stood from the table, pushing back the old wood until everything on top of it rattled and wobbled with uncertainty. The Lost Boys lifted their plates before it even happened, as though they were familiar with the King’s child-like outburst. Where Maggie thought he was about to put on the show of a laughable angry King, Peter simply let out another sigh before retaking his seat. His chin fell against his fist irritably, and then his elbow smacked harshly into the table.
“Honestly,” Neverland’s King began in a low murmur, “the entire thing has kept me up at night, it’s bothered me that much.”
Maggie leaned forward. Weeks had passed since their encounter with Captain Hook and his crew, and she had no idea that it burdened him in such a notable way. And yet, by the way he stared off into a random spot in the table, Maggie figuredthe problem lingered with him a lot more than she could’ve imagined.
“Rightfully so,” Twitch replied before she could. “When was the last time Hook dared to attack in the middle of the day? When heknewPeter and the rest of us would be out and about? He must’ve known they wouldn’t have lasted long, at least not with us around!” He gave a high-five to Dash, who sat with an amused expression to his left.
Peter still seemed troubled. “Hook’s up to something,” he muttered. “And the fact that we haven’t heard from them since that day isn’t a coincidence.”
