The Princess and The Piper

Chapter Twenty-One

The vines had grown far too long, wrapping around trunks of trees like thin snakes. Once flourishing forests became overcrowded, an active habitat for poisonous weeds and ivy. With the lack of upkeep, the boar began to die out, followed by birds and large insects. The only food sources of the wretched island began to slowly disappear. And the rivers that flowed upstream gradually dried up. Any life claimed to have been there before no longer existed, leaving the starving, dehydrated survivors without much variety of choice.

Since she left, the magic and livelihood of Neverland had ceased. He continued as miserable and brutal, transforming the island from a place of refuge into one of slave labor, much like a concentration camp. His lost boys rarely gained anything from their hunts, and if they did, he would burn it to a crisp. Not only was he angry, but he was regretful. And that was the worst kind of rage-- one you couldn't change no matter how hard you tried.

He sat on his cot, the woven cloth hanging onto the grass floor and unfluffed pillows scattered across the room. Knickknacks crowded the shelves and tables, knocked over or broken and shattered. Pieces of torn parchment and scrolls laid under clothes and leaves, stuck between blades of overgrown vegetation. The tent was as much a mess as he was. No one went in; no one went out. Then someone knocked on the door.

"Pan, I have something you will want to see."

The boy remained on his cot, staring at the ground and refusing to feel. He was driven off the deep end and only one thing could bring him back. The only problem was that he messed up too much this time; he went too far. And he may never get her back. He didn't know how.

"Sir," the one at the entrance continued, his voice more hoarse and deep than it was two months ago. The sudden change of scenery had affected them all. "Let me rephrase. I have something you need."

And he walked in without permission and headed straight for the heartbroken boy on the cot, but he didn't sit down beside him. He wouldn't dare invade his space while in this susceptible state. The scarred blond, still shouldering his club as usual, dug through his coat pocket, easily retrieving a perfectly written, unwrinkled sheet of new, beautiful pink parchment, and handed it to his leader.

"Why?" was all the boy asked as he read over the note.

The blond sighed solemnly. "Sir, it's a ball for her seventeenth birthday. I highly suggest you go. Your magic is dying without her here with you; the island is dying."

The leader finally peered up, making eye contact with his once second-in-command. A gleam of guilt and despair fogged his eyes. "What's the point? She won't remember who I am, much less even look at me. I bet there's going to be hundreds of other boys at that castle, hundreds of other chances, and they're all against me. When I had her, I didn't want her. What makes now any different, Felix? I got my wish, didn't I?" He glanced down at his brown boots again, the red laces loose.

Irritation was growing inside of the scarred boy as the seconds passed. "So go find her."

"Where'd you get this anyway?" the leader asked, tossing the invitation to the ground as he got up and began pacing.

"It doesn't-"

He stopped and stood still, glaring at the taller, seemingly older blond. "It was Parker, wasn't it?" He shook his head and smirked. "I should have known. I won't go. And that's final." He made a gesture with his arm, swiping it through the air as he stared, furious that the older boy would go behind his back.

"We're all trying to help, Pan. So don't be so stubborn and go to the damn ball." He turned around and marched out, muttering as he did so. "Or at least don't sulk about it if you aren't going to make an attempt to fix anything."