Chapter 4: I'm Peter, Peter Pan

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A sharp tip poking at her waist jerked her awake. She was still too weak to stand, but she rolled herself onto her back and stared up at a boy with a round face and bushy brown hair. He held the spear out to her, as if in defense, but it really was silly. She looked up at him in question, succeeding in looking as innocent and vulnerable as she felt. He just nodded, and ran across the little campsite to a stooped, hooded figure. The figure nodded, and the boy ran off into the forest, looking relieved. The hooded boy sauntered to her and stood over her; she could see his face at this angle. It was the boy with the scar, Felix.

            “Well, Princess, how are you this fine morning?” she didn’t have much experience talking to people, but she didn’t think concern sounded like his tone. And thinking of how he’d treated her before, she didn’t think he really cared.

            “I…um, I can’t stand,” she sat up and managed to pull herself to her knees, then stopped, gasping. Just as her head turned to look up at him, he knelt down next to her and gently nudged her back down.

            “Come on, don’t hurt yourself there,” he murmured in a tone much gentler, and kinder, than before. Then she shrieked in shock when his--very long, and rather intimidating compared to her small stature--arm wrapped around her back, with a fluidity and decisiveness quite like a snake’s. The other went under her knees and he lifted her up with ease. This was the most physical contact she’d had with a person since she was a child, and every nerve in her body was on fire at the new, long-lost and long-missed feeling. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable than a log, eh, Princess?” she barely registered his suggestion, too caught up in the shock.

            Then her logic kicked back in. He’d carried her as if she weighed nothing, not even a grunt when he first picked her up. She wasn’t particularly large, actually quite a bit below average according to her calculations, but she was still a whole human. It was a bit unsettling.

            And then her rapture at being somewhere other than the tower returned as well when he ducked into a tent. A real tent, in a real forest. She’d barely gotten used to being outside; again, she didn’t care that she was surrounded by wild boys, at least one of whom was strong enough to carry her without so much as an extra breath, it was still her idea of freedom.

            Her back hit a surprisingly soft bed that seemed to literally be stuffed with old dirt and leaves, then piled high with skins. It was incredibly warm, and the fur tickled her cheek as she turned on it. She sat up to look at the tent’s inside, barely noting Felix standing in the entrance watching her. The tent itself looked to be made from a mixture of bits of clothing and vines and plates woven together from grass and leaves. She liked it, it kept the inside dim enough if one wanted to rest but still let the light in so one would be sure of the time. So much light. She had actually enjoyed being left in the open, she had the sunlight fully on her; it had been so long since she’d felt the full sun. The tent was held up by thick wooden poles, definitely hand-carved by the boys. The floor, of course, was that of the forest, but cleared of most of the loose leaves and twigs. It was rather impersonal: the bed of skins, a bow and arrow set in the corner along with a large wooden staff, and a wooden chest that she could probably just barely hold. She went to it, but huffed in disappointment at the lock. Felix chuckled and tossed her a dirty metal key, which she only caught in her lap because of his aim.

            It was unusual, a sudden allowance into something that clearly wasn’t for ordinary eyes. “Why?” she turned to him, eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. He just smirked--but without malice--and shrugged.

            “You don’t seem the type to go talking, and ruining the secret,” he drawled. Then added, “not like you’d know what it is or what to do with it anyway.” There was the catch. She was reminded of her very first life important lesson: a sword’s blade always has two edges.

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