Between Sleep And Wake

Break Free

For a very long time, it was only Dorothy and Peter.

It got lonely some days. There were no other humans to talk to. It was difficult for a woman who was often eager for conversation to endure. Animals couldn't provide that kind of camaraderie. They couldn't speak; they were only good for one-sided discussions.

Dorothy, however, never had the heart to leave. Peter was a solitary soul. He was here by himself and Dorothy believed she needed to keep him company. Otherwise he would live in complete seclusion; the notion filled her with too much guilt. What would he do then?

She couldn't fathom why he was feared. On days when she walked outside with him she saw the panic in the eyes of the Lost Boys. Their faces paled, their mouths dropped and they'd slow their walking, turning the other way fast. Darting behind a large tree or a leafy bush. Dorothy liked to pretend she didn't notice, but she did.

The hut they lived in was nice; Dorothy spent her time making it much nicer. She encouraged Peter to get some needed furniture, to tear down part of the interior wall in order to construct a window, to create privacy by building separate rooms. She wanted it to feel like a place they could both call home. That others may call home, too. One day.

That one day came. Another person was here! A woman around her own age! They would live together and they would soon become the greatest of friends. Dorothy had a very strong sense about this. She wanted to know so much about Wendy. About her family and her life. What was her home like? Did she have brothers or sisters?

All Dorothy retained thus far was that Wendy had a friend Peter gave the Sleeping Potion to. Wendy seemed worried that she'd been killed. However, Dorothy knew better. She was confident the friend was alive. That Peter hadn't harmed her; he wouldn't hurt anyone dear to Wendy! Never! He only killed when it was absolutely necessary! To obtain food. To defend himself. They were not merciless killings. Dorothy knew that. Peter had a big heart and he used it well.

Luckily, Wendy was warming up to staying here. She wouldn't have suggested they go pick flowers if that wasn't her intention.

Dorothy grinned as they walked through the grass, thinking of what fun they'd have here.

"You can wear my shoes if you'd like," she offered. Her shoes were very worn down and the heels were scuffed from the excessive use, though she believed it was a better option than being barefoot.

"No. It's all right, but thank you," Wendy replied, smiling over her shoulder at Dorothy. Her eyes refocused on the trail before her. "We should go a bit further. I don't see any flowers here. Do you know where they are? It's been a long time; I can't remember."

"We have to keep walking," Dorothy replied. "We're going the right way. I'll lead the way." She stepped in front of her new best friend.

Dorothy loved the outside. There were no vicious tornadoes to rip everything from its roots. Aside from the occasional thunderstorms, the skies were calm and riddled with beautiful glittering stars. Dorothy liked to look up and connect them together in her mind to create images of animals and people and things.

And the moon was beautiful. Dorothy didn't know how a moon could be so large and cloaked by wondrous pigmentations. It always looked full, nothing like the one she used to see at home on Earth.

They were still quite a ways away, entering the forest, but their trek was halted once Peter appeared in front of them, out of nowhere. The gigantic trees must have obscured him from being seen.

His face had deep lines of an angry frown. "Where are you two going?"

"We wanted to pick you flowers!" Dorothy replied.

She thought this would make him happy, but he was still frowning.

"Why?" he asked.

"Wendy said you wanted us to get your flowers, for our home. We wanted to surprise you, but . . . the surprise has been ruined!"

"I said no such thing," he said, his tone irate.

Dorothy looked at Wendy, who had been oddly silent during this exchange. "You lied to me?"

Wendy opened her mouth partway, a brief vacillation delaying her reply as she breathed in. Once the breath was released, she spoke. "Yes, but I had no choice. You would not have untied me otherwise."

"I thought we were friends," Dorothy said, casting her eyes towards the ground, hurt by the fabrication. Friends didn't make up stories like that to trick people. Wendy wasn't a real friend.

"We are, but—" Wendy stopped, clearly flustered.

"I don't know why you insist on trying to run away, Wendy. There is one thing you should be informed of," Peter started, "There are no fairies around to help you this time. If you leave I will keep finding you."

"What do you mean there are no fairies?"
Wendy questioned, her brows furrowed.

"There are no fairies in Neverland anymore. They're all dead," Peter replied, his voice low and collected.

"They died a long time ago. They weren't here when I first arrived either," Dorothy added. "Peter is the only one who can take you back. No one else here can fly."

Wendy did not take to this news well. Her face went deep red and tears poured down her pale cheeks. "How is that possible? Did you exterminate them all? Is that why there aren't any left?" she cried.

Dorothy gasped at that accusation. How could Wendy think such an awful thought?

"I did not kill them," Peter said. "They fell sick and perished. Nothing could be done about it."

"You're a liar!" Wendy yelled. She slapped him across the face, the sound echoing through the forest.

Peter intercepted her second smack by grabbing her hands. "Stop it." He seemed to be coping with being hit exceptionally well. His voice wasn't raised; he wasn't hostile. He stood still confident.

"Why don't you kill me and be done with it?" Wendy asked.

"I would not do that and you know it," Peter said. "Now please, let's calm ourselves down and return home."

Wendy did not put up much of a fight after that. She was still crying but they headed back as a group, Peter keeping his grasp on one of Wendy's hands.

They had a history. Dorothy knew that before, but she was beginning to wonder how much of that Peter omitted. There had to be a reason why Wendy resented him so. The question was, what was it?