Wendy Darlin'

Chapter Fifteen - Alone Once More

It's raining.

And it's dark. 

I don't think I have ever-

I'm so alone. 

***

I writhe in my sleep, my peaceful slumber disturbed by heart-wrenching thoughts. The hard, cold terrain lies beneath me and I am entwined within the forests leaves and waste that has been shrewn upon the ground and left to rot. 

I tuck my feet beneath me and stand to find the world twisting from such a quick assent. I spin around, looking for Peter but he isn't here and my skin immediately crawls with fear and panic. I turn swiftly on my heel and take off into the night, following the path of disturbed forest growth and broken twigs. 

I do not dare to cry out for him. I do not recognise this area of the island. When we escaped, we ran so fast into the consuming darkness I lost track of where we were heading. 

The slow rising, pink sun provides light for me as it pierces it way through the canopy of leaves overhead. As I run into a clearing, it takes me a moment to gather my bearings before falling into the realisation of my location. I run over to the line of hollow trees carved out to provide an entrance to Peters Den. With the slightest hint of hesitation, I jump down below. 

Nobody is there. 

The scent of oak and general warm glow of the place hits me and welcomes me in. I light the oil lamps before venturing over to the book shelf, my skirts rustling with every step. 

The selection of books is limited and most of the shelf is busied with various knick knacks and charms, pine cones and shells. I pull out the worn, fabric bound book of "Cinderella" when a loose wad of parchment escapes the dusted pages. It is older and yellower than its others, so it clearly does not belong. 

I settle in the large leather armchair by the cold, empty fire place. Peters smell fills me up and my tears water over the thought of him. But I do not have time to waste crying, so I unfold the wad of parchment. 

First is a letter, addressed to me, from Peter. I scan read it and hastily shove it behind the other papers before continuing. 

Contained within is a map, just like the letter stated. It is far more detailed and simple than any of the others I have ever seen, and I almost cry at the time Peter took to write a map as such. It contains such landmarks to look out for, one example being "large tree", and another being "mud pool". I feel a grateful warmth surge through me. This shall help me find the Picaninnies if I ever need our close allies. 

 I stand and turn around, ready to go, one place or another-

My breath runs short. 

"Peter."

A small smile forms on his pink lips, his fingers flexed at his sides. I begin to laugh with relief as I run up to him, burring my head into his warm chest and my laughter rapidly resolves into tears. I feel his strong, thick arms wrap around my body and his head sink into my neck. We fit well and right. 

He pulls away all to quickly. I look up at him curiously as his hands settle on my waist. 

"Lemme show ya summin'" I notice how slurred and distant his voice is. He kisses me once before taking my hand and leading me over to the corner of the room. He wraps his hand around the old blanket hiding a mysterious object. He smiles at me once more before-

It is as if an icy window has been swept clean of frost in the winter time, and he vanishes before my eyes. I feel my bones crumple beneath me and I slam to the floor, still in front of the covered object. My mind is swimming in fear and curiosity, and I am so unsure if what to do, I simply sit there, my hand pressed to my forehead. 

I gather my senses and assume I am of tip-top health, that I was momentarily disorientated by the looming vacancy of Peters presence. With short, even breaths to calm myself, I stand and pull the cloth off the mysterious object. 

Spread over a simple, straight backed, wooden chair is an item of clothing. I stand and hold it up against my body, only to find it is just my shape and size, maybe a bit larger. It is made of soft, beige cotton and I have seen some of the young boys in the park wear them, it is almost a dress, only to end in a practical pair of short trousers that fall just above my knees. I slip it on as it shall be better to journey through the woods rather than in my gown, but I feel awfully awkward in such garb. 

Conveniently, the waistband beholds such things like pouches full of fairy dust and bands to slip a dagger or two into. I feel grateful for Peters effort to ready me for the unknown, and I always knew he was going to desert me, I would do the same in his place, to save the one I love from the fear and danger beheld within the illness. 

I find two daggers laying upon a leather pack by the exit. I slip them into my belt and dig around in the pack to find a water bladder and several pieces of dried meat wrapped in forest leaves. 

I hesitate before running back into the den one last time. With shaking hands, I shove the wad of parchment into my pocket and a few candles and matches before leaving.

Peter may have given up, but I have not. It is my duty to find him and bring him back to health.