Scamp shrugged. “Means what, Peter?”
“I don’t know yet,” he replied.
Silence spread across the table. There was an eerie anger hanging around Peter’s aura, one that Maggie could feel from her own seat. Perhaps he was simply perplexed over their pirate predicament, especially when the key to healing the Everything Plant might just lie within their grasp after all. Ever since the attack, Peter avoided discussing the artifact he mentioned, the one that had been taken by the pirates some time ago. Maggie shook her head, the motion so small she didn’t think anyone else caught it.
That is, until she noticed Hazel’s glowing eyes clinging to her.
Maggie cleared her throat as a delicate heat rushed across her cheeks in embarrassment. “What about those who were injured? I remembered hearing about a few fairies who got caught up in the attack. How are they?”
Hazel, who finished her slice of pie, gave her a small smile. “They heal well, if not slowly. But sometimes time is needed for the medicine to truly work its magic.” She pressed her hands against her chest, overlapping the warm space where her heart lay. “I pray to whatever higher power there is in thanks for theirmercy. No lives were taken in the attack, and that is something to be grateful for.”
“You’re right,” Maggie replied with a smile. Her eyes found Peter at the end of the table, who still looked as troubled as before. “Did you hear that, Peter? They heal well and there is much to be grateful for.”
He stared off into space until Dash tapped the table beside his empty plate. Peter’s sharp eyes snapped up, finding Maggie with a familiar twinkle. He tilted his head and grinned, acting as though there hadn’t been a thing bothering him before. Maggie wished then and only then for the ability to peer into another person’s mind, if not for just one single second.
“I’ll drop by soon to check up on them, Hazel,” Peter said. “If that isn’t too much of a hindrance for you.”
“Of course not!” Hazel beamed. “They would brighten at the sight of their King coming to visit them.”
Maggie twiddled her thumbs together as a low chatter took over the table. Dash and Scamp discussed what pie they would like to see next, Twitch leaned back in his seat with a cloth napkin draped over his eyes, and Dusty was busy giving every ounce of his attention to Sunny – who was in the process of begging for some sort of early morning treat. Maggie eyed Hazel. The woman picked a few crumbs off her plate, looking rather at ease with herself. Maggie chewed on her bottom lip. One of the reasons why Hazel visited the treehouse more frequently was because of Maggie’s unlocked memories.
After their encounter with the memory collecting goblin, Maggie often grew distracted over her newfound memories. They visited her in the late evenings, when darkness shrouded her vision and the moon loomed overhead. They clung to her in the early hours, when there wasn’t a soul around to distract her from it. There was only Hazel’s promise to help her understandthem that kept Maggie going throughout all the questions, throughout the wondering.
She leaned toward Hazel. “Forgive me if it’s odd to ask,” Maggie began, “but have you given any more thought to my strange memory?” In an instant, it flashed across her vision once more.
A dark storm looming over her. The full moon watching from above. Wild ocean waves knocking the rusty rowboat in every direction. The unforgettable and unmistakable wail of a newborn baby. And a feeling, one that Maggie kept to herself throughout it all. One that was oddly familiar, one that wasn’t recognizable at all. She shook her head, swallowing the rising emotion as she faced Hazel hopefully.
The witch stammered, squirming around in her large seat. The anxious silence continued as she chewed on her lip, dark eyes darting in every different direction. Finally, after the attention of the Lost Boys and their King were pulled toward them, Hazel drew in a long breath, and collected herself.
“Yes, my dear,” Hazel murmured. “I very much have.”
From the layers of Hazel’s clothes, she produced an oddly shaped glass bottle. There was a pale brown cork at the top, stopping the emerald colored liquid from spilling all over the table.
“This potion will allow you to uncover whatever other memories lay trapped in your mind’s eye,” Hazel explained, her grip tight around the bottle.
Maggie was already reaching for it, like a hungry and greedy child.
The witch jerked the bottle back the moment Maggie’s fingertips scraped the glass. “Not everything should be downed in one breath, my dear.” Hazel gave her a sweet smile before gently resting it in Maggie’s outstretched hand. “Take my advice, and only drink this when you aresureyou’re ready.”
Maggie’s brow furrowed. “If I don’t take it now, how will I ever know?”
The question passed over the table thoughtfully, with the Lost Boys and their King considering it as well. Hazel’s smile only grew, the skin around her eyes crinkling thoughtfully before she spoke.
“You will know,” Hazel murmured. “Trust me.”
As the witch’s hand pulled away from Maggie, she took in a deep breath and excused herself from the table. The Lost Boys waved politely, and Peter rose, giving their guest a thoughtful bow. Maggie was the only one who eagerly leapt from the table after her.
“Thank you, Hazel,” Maggie called out once the woman reached the door. Before Hazel could say anything, Maggie let her arms fall over her in a warm embrace, pulling the small woman tight into her chest. “For everything.”
Hazel pulled out of the hug quickly, the corner of her lip twitching between a frown and an uneasy smile. The anxiety she carried from before remained with her still, though Maggie was at a loss as to where it had come from. Hazel murmured incoherent words below her breath as she grabbed the door, already slipping out into the early morning breeze.
“So,” Peter began as Maggie reentered the dining room, “are you going to take it now?”
Maggie lifted the bottle and watched the morning sunlight reflect off the crystallized surface. The liquid inside sloshed when she rolled it around, and she could’ve sworn that the memories appeared in the emerald colored waves, just mocking her. Maggie tilted her head, the temptation almost tangible. But behind every temptation lay the truth, the need for a revelation, for a purpose, for a reason as to why she was there in the first place. If there was one thing that Maggie was finally coming toterms with, it was that Peter’s efforts to bring a chef to his island was somewhat fated to happen after all.
Somehow, someway, Maggie Hart wasalwaysmeant to be in Neverland.
All that was left was to find outwhy.
