Peter moved the bear skin curtain aside and held it, motioning for you to go in. You obliged and took a tentative step inside. His room, like the rest of the tree house, was round. The room was modest sized, just big enough to fit the bed the Twins had recently moved in with a long mahogany colored hammock hanging above it that must have been where Peter usually slept, a worn wooden dresser, a small fire pit, and most eye catching of all a tall throne attached to the wall and carved from the very roots of the tree itself. The floor below was tidy and spotted here and there with fur skinned rugs. More of the Indian décor seeped in here as well. On the far wall was a tribal styled pendulum clock and to the left there was a large dark wooden bow mounted on the wall with a sheaf full of turkey feathered arrows propped underneath it. There wasn't as much light here as in the rest of the place. The dim setting made being in Peter's room feel intimate. As you walked further into the room you heard the slide of the bear skin curtain falling back into place and you felt Peter slowly coming to stand behind you.
"It's not much, but its home," he murmured softly by your ear. "It's great, it just needs a woman's touch," you answered as you picked up a broken arrow off the floor and turned to show Peter with one eyebrow raised. He chuckled a little and took it from your hands to throw it in an empty tribal drum off to the side. "Well, other than Tinker Bell and Tiger Lily you are the only girl to ever step foot in here. The tree house is one of the best kept secrets in Neverland. We don't just let anyone in here you know." He flashed you a mischievous smile and gave you a playful wink. You smiled back at him, but it faded when you thought about Tiger Lily. "Poor Tiger Lily... Do you think there is something I could do for her maybe?" Peter's face sobered up and he took your hands in his. He looked down at them while he said, "There is nothing really any of us can do for her except go to the funeral and be there in case she does need anything. Only time will help her heal." He began to lightly trace his thumbs over the back sides of your hand. "How are you feeling about it?" you asked watching his face closely. It worried you a bit how the other Lost Boys had instantly showed signs of their loss, but Peter had remained immobile. He didn't look up at you, but he answered your question. "The chief was a good friend of ours. He's watched out for all of us since we were boys...he was the one who taught us how to hunt and use the animal skins," you saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed his emotions, "He was a great leader, tolerant and wise...he was the only man I've ever looked up to."
Peter's face remained impassive and his voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the emotion in it. You slid your hands out of Peter's and stepped closer, hugging him around the middle. His arms instantly slid around your waist and drew you tighter into him. Laying your cheek against the hard planes of his chest you said, "I'm so sorry Peter." He buried his face in your hair, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. There really is no proper response for grief, no magic words that will make everything okay. When one has lost someone important to them the pain never really ever goes away, it just doesn't hurt as bad. Loss is a deep wound that although it heals, it leaves a permanent scar on the heart. Even though in time it won't hurt all that much anymore and even if you are able to forget about it most of the time, once you do think about it the memories of pain will come back and sting anew.
You both stand there wrapped in each other's arms for a few moments. The silence was a comfortable one with each one of you not needing to say anything to understand the other. After a while he withdrew from your arms and looked down at you. His face was composed as before, but his warm brown eyes were softer and more tender than before. "We better start getting ready for the funeral," he said while giving you a wan smile. He turned and walked past you towards the wooden dresser. He dug around a few seconds then found the things he was looking for and gathered them in his arms. Then he strode over to the bed and dumped the objects on the thick dark brown blanket. He sat down and rubbed the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit down. You took the intended seat beside him with your body angled towards his. He reached behind him to the pile of objects and grabbed a small wooden jar that looked identical to the one that held Slightly's medicine. He removed the lid to reveal a bold red liquid. You scrunched up your nose and asked, "What is that?" A Cheshire cat like grin spread across his face and a naughty twinkle came into his eyes. "Make-up. Can't take you to the funeral looking like that." He then dipped the tips of two long fingers into the red goop and quickly swiped it sideways across your cheeks. Its paint! He was painting your face tribal style. You should have guessed it; you were getting ready to attend an Indian funeral after all. You couldn't help the silly smile spreading across your lips. You felt like a child again as he dipped his fingers back in the pot and then brought it vertically down the bridge of your nose. You were sure you probably looked ridiculous, but the playful look on Peter's face made you not mind. Next he put the lid back on the jar and then he took out a green handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers clean. He then arched his arm and deftly threw the dirty handkerchief into the empty drum. "Finished?" you asked. "Not yet, you just need one more thing." He reached behind his back and brought out a slim crimson leather band that had a yellow cord braided through the middle. He wrapped it around the center of your forehead and tied it in back. Then he reached behind him again and brought out a long white bird feather with a red tip. Reaching behind your head again he fastened it to the band behind your head, sticking it straight up in the air the same way Tiger Lily's own turquoise band had. He leaned back to assess his work.
