He put the knife back in its sheath, worked the arrow out of the animal's wound, and cleaned it on a clump of grass as well. It took a long time to gather the feathers, split them open, and tie them to the projectile shaft. In addition, there was the stone they smashed, as they had learned long ago from the Indians, or metal spikes that fell into the hands of the boys during raids or in the lake town. A fluid motion later, the arrow was back in the quiver, and Peter hoisted the prey over his shoulders. Tink fluttered indignantly to the side before settling on the fellow's head and tugging reproachfully at a curl.
"Sorry.", Peter muttered, lost in thought.
He was no longer accustomed to the presence of his longtime companion. Their paths had parted, more or less at least, and already sometime after, a particular riot had first rocked the island. In the few moments they still spent together, Tinker Bell used to play with Peter's honey-blond curls as she always did, bringing him a berry and helping herself to the freshly gathered supplies. Or she would keep him company, sitting on a low-hanging branch and listening to his flute playing and the new stories he could tell.
As Peter pushed himself off the ground, he struggled with the weight of the deer for a moment, then regained his balance. Fortunately, the arrow had wounded the animal in the neck, so there wasn't too much blood staining his clothes. Somehow he had to get it to Hangman's Tree without attracting wild animals with the smell of blood. Or Indians? Or some crocodiles? It was almost nice that you never knew which adventure would jump in front of your feet next. Peter didn't even think there could be a real danger in these encounters. He looked forward to the boys' faces, the roasted meat, and tonight.
As soon as the trees were left behind the wind, Tinker Bell rose into the air and drifted as a golden dot first down, then forward again, where she took the lead and zoomed towards Hangman's Tree. A grin flitted across Peter's face as he deeply inhaled the scent of the forest. Sunshine and a fresh sea breeze mingled with the rich green aroma. It was a truly glorious day.
The night was falling when the Pips set out. Satisfied, Peter watched them trickle in from their huts, shelters, and cottages in the small clearing in front of Hangman's Tree, encouraging each other. A few nudged each other encouragingly; the older ones, like Slightly, just grinned mischievously or laughed at a few paler boys who probably couldn't quite put away their nervousness. Peter had made sure that everyone made it ashore without a problem despite the high water level - quietly, he had fetched a few portions of fairy dust from his little hiding place, knowing full well how valuable this resource had become. Pixum, fairy glow, or fairy dust... the luminous sparkle surrounding a fairy-like warmth covers fire. Rough hands had grabbed at it too greedily, giving the little creatures no time to recover, and... now they were almost completely gone. Peter knew that even Tinker Bell would no longer live here, close to them under the tree in the rock, her little nest, had not fate played into his hands and his friend's in addition to a long life still incredibly lucky.
With a dreamy sigh, Peter watched as Crow held the leather pouch under the noses of the new lost and explained to them, chin up, what it was. Not a few hours earlier, Pan had filled that jar with the shimmering gold that only he knew existed in a few small piles in the corridors of the floating boulder beneath their feet - perhaps even responsible for their islet still hovering high above the water. But he had no intention of sitting around here all evening waiting for his friends to return. Peter often went off on his own, roaming the woods and whispering to the wind what was new. He searched for berries, brought the boys something from his forays, scouted out good opportunities for adventure, and looked for new hiding places to watch the mermaids. Peter liked doing it too much because one of the beasts had once given him a nasty scar. Just like that, he had escaped with his life, and even today, he could proudly pull up his shirt and show the broad silver line if someone asked him.
YOU ARE READING
A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)
Fantasy** Only one thing can still prevent Neverland's downfall: In the dark times when a star's light perishes, a new one must be found! ** Neverland - a world in which simply everything was possible as long as you could dream it. But behind a shining lig...
