by Liz Braswell
They do not look like men or fairies or mermaids or pirates or animals or insects or fish or plants. They look like nothing—and everything at once.
Wendy sighed. “All right. I see. But if they’re so dangerous and unknowable, why do you think Peter went to see them?”
The fairy looked disgusted at yet another question. But then she thought about it.
Maybe he thought they could get him a new one.
“A new…shadow? Can the First do that?”
They are Never Land. Why did I give you the dust to hear if you won’t listen?
“All right, all right. But—would they do it?”
At this the fairy looked troubled.
They don’t talk or listen to reason…or they do things for their own unknowable reasons. Big things. Scary things.
“So they are opaque and random? Powerful and whimsical? Unknowable, inscrutable, and unpredictable, like an Old Testament sort of god?”
Tinker Bell looked at her for a long moment.
Sure.
“Lovely. I suppose we must go then and chase Peter Pan together to the demesne of these terrifying gods of Never Land. How do we go about finding them?”
Their place of being is never constant for very long. We will need to ask where they were seen last.
“Oh, dangerous whimsical gods—on something like the Flying Dutchman. This gets better and better. So how do we find out where they are?”
I have been asking the Small Friends, the many-legged companions of the woods. But I think we shall need to seek fairy help.
The OOOOOOH! that Wendy couldn’t quite suppress in her throat had to be caught and killed physically with her hands: she clapped them over her mouth and held tight while the sound tried to come out.
Tinker Bell did something that was a like an eye roll stopped midway, with a tiny smile thrown in for good measure.
Unfortunately, this is not the best place to do it. We’re at the edge of the Qqrimal Range in the Pernicious Forest, and things live here that feast upon fairy kind. We tend to avoid this area. And we certainly don’t draw attention to ourselves while here by gathering in groups. But hopefully there will be one or two of my kind about, traveling through.
Besides predators, my brethren avoid human contact. Hide somewhere and peep out.
“Absolutely!” Wendy breathed, only a little disappointed not to be involved in actually meeting them. Watching fairies up close was still more fairy contact than she’d ever had before…even if it didn’t seem fair somehow, now that she could understand what they said.
She found a clump of shiny, large-leafed plants and arranged their long canes until her body was hidden from view. There was a nice hole in one of the leaves through which she could spy. The hole was still being worked on by a “Small Friend,” a caterpillar with purple scales instead of fur. It looked at Wendy in dubious surprise. Or so Wendy assumed. It was hard to tell with its faceted but depthless golden eyes.
“Excuse me,” she whispered. “I’ll just be here for a moment.”
She was unsure if the fairy dust gave her the ability to communicate with otherwise unspeaking Never Land creatures, but the thing did give her a long, hard look before going back to the business of chewing and ignoring.
Tinker Bell, meanwhile, was drifting with purpose up to the highest leafy branches of the jungle. Her light glowed warmly off the leaves below, the droplets seeping off their thick veins, the sweet sap running down the trunks of the trees. It made the whole clearing look…
Well, like it was touched by fairies, Wendy thought with a smile.
All her life she had looked for fairies in more mundane places, experiencing a rush of hope and warmth whenever a scene even palely imitated the one before her now. Candles at Christmas, fireflies in the park, flickering lamps in teahouses. The sparkling leaded glass windows of a sweets shop on winter afternoons when dusk came at four. A febrile, glowing crisscross of threads on a rotten log her cousin had once shown her out in the country: fox fire, magical mushrooms.
And here it was, for real! Tinker Bell was performing what appeared be a slow and majestic dance. First, she moved to specific points in the air around her, perhaps north, south, east, and west, twirling a little at each stop. Then she flew back to the center and made a strange bowing motion, keeping her tiny feet daintily together and putting her arms out gracefully like a swan. As she completed each movement, fairy dust fell from her wings in glittering, languorous trails, hanging in the air just long enough to form shapes. She started the dance over again, faster this time.
And again even faster. Her trail of sparkles almost resolved into a picture, crisscrossed lines constantly flowing slowly down like drips of luminous paint.
Wendy felt a bit like John, overwhelmed with a desire to try to reduce and explain and thereby translate the magic. But she also felt a lot like Michael, with an almost overwhelming urge to break free from her hiding place and see it up close, to feel the sparkles on her nose, to run a hand through the sigils not for the purpose of destruction but from a hapless, joyful desire to be part of it all.
Tinker Bell finally stopped, breathing heavily.
Wendy held her own breath.
And then…
Out of the darkness…
An answering glow.
Like a firefly in the mists or fish from the darkest deep, the light came bobbling through the jungle gloom. This one was tinged orange like the last ember of a really good fire. Wendy felt warm all over just looking at it.
The tiny ball of light soon resolved into another fairy. She had darker skin than Tinker Bell’s that was orangey red at the tips of her ears—which were a little longer than the other fairy’s, and more pointed. Her hair was hard to focus on, more foam or spirit than actual strands: a cloud of dark reddish brown that had ribbons dividing it into two big puffs, each the size of her head. She wore a simple poncho belted around the middle—but it was hemmed nicely and not ragged like Tinker Bell’s. The belt was prettily tooled and had an intricate metal-and-gem buckle that Wendy desperately wanted a closer look at (with a magnifying glass).
Well, I didn’t even know you knew the Call.
If Wendy had expected some sort of intricate fairy greeting ritual, she was more than taken aback by the new fairy’s very casual tone.
Tinker Bell opened her mouth, and Wendy waited, wincing, for her usual intemperate response.
Instead, the fairy took a deep breath.
I know the Call, sister. I am fairy.
Really? I haven’t seen you at any of the midseason fetes, or the blossom gatherings, or the acorn hunts, or…
I don’t like crowds.
You don’t seem to like much of what it means to be fairy.
More and more was revealed about Wendy’s temperamental little friend! Fairies were apparently gregarious—social creatures, like people. Or horses. Not the lonely solitary haunters of hills and isolated groves Wendy had imagined, who came together for the rare dance around a ring of mushrooms.
But Tinker Bell obviously shunned the company of others like herself, preferring the company of a few giant humans like Peter Pan.
I need help. Tinker Bell put out her arms in supplication, trying to change the subject.
I’ll say, the other fairy retorted with a raised eyebrow. Then: I was hoping this was a Friends Invite; I don’t usually travel so far into the Pernicious Forest. It’s dangerous—there are qqrimals around here, you know. I’ll bet you don’t even have any nectar or cake to offer a weary fellow traveler, do you?
Tinker Bell shook her head morosely, looking at the ground.
Wendy started to fumble around in her bag. Along with her hastily thrown-together belongings, she was sure there was a packet of throat lozenges, maybe a mint pillow or two. Then she remembered her main directive: to stay hidden. She couldn’t help out her little companion even if she wanted to. Reluctantly, she settled back down.
A third glow appeared during this awkward silence; it zipped alon
g more definitively through the gloom and then stopped in the space next to the two fairies, revealing itself to be a fairy prince.
All right, perhaps it was just a male fairy.
But either way Wendy was thrown. He was devastatingly handsome.
He had bark-brown skin and high cheekbones and a broad chest—and he sported a neatly folded kilt and sash that did little to cover said chest. His head was shorn and his ears were extremely long, tapering to filaments that waved gently as he spoke. A weapon like a sword hung from his waist, hilt-less and slender and golden.
Even at his diminutive size, he radiated confidence, martial skills, and a general calmness that spoke to all the best characteristics of a leader of men or fairies.
Oh, it’s Tinker Bell! What a surprise. And hello, Berryloon.
He was polite enough to Tinker Bell, but he bowed to the other girl.
It’s more than a little dangerous for the three of us to be gathered together here like this—every qqrimal in the area will sense our presence. What’s the emergency?
I don’t know, ask her, Berryloon snorted, tilting her head at Tinker Bell.
I have to find the First. Have either of you seen them, or heard about them lately?
Both the fairies looked shocked at her question.
What is this about? the boy fairy asked seriously. Are you in trouble?
Tinker Bell looked a little cagey. No—not me.
Who then?
Peter Pan has lost his shadow, and seeks them out for help.
Berryloon burst out laughing. The male fairy just looked greatly disappointed. Wendy cringed, feeling like the look was directed at her as well.
Bell, let the boy to his own fate, he suggested, putting a hand on her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. For how long are you going to keep rescuing and following after that big ugly human?
He’s not human! Tinker Bell responded angrily, so angrily that she put her hands on her hips and her backside lifted up as her wings buzzed.
All right, calm down, he’s not…exactly…human, the boy said soothingly—while giving Berryloon an eye roll. But his friends are. Tinker Bell, if he’s such a great not-human adventurer, he can take care of himself. And you can come with us to the Pinkpetal Harvest!
Oooh! Berryloon—well, squeaked would be the closest approximation to the way she jingled. She spun and grabbed the boy fairy’s hands. Me too! Let’s be partners! We could even trio, if little miss boring wings here will come.…
As nasty as it sounded, Wendy could tell that Berryloon was making a real effort to reach out to Tinker Bell. The offer was genuine despite her tone, whatever it all meant.
Tinker Bell shook her head. I have to find Peter. I know where his shadow is—it’s with the pirates. And they’re planning to destroy all of Never Land! Peter needs to hear about this before he reaches the First and makes some sort of terrible bargain. Or mistake. And then we’ll go after Captain Hook and stop him.
Planning to destroy all of Never Land, Berryloon sneered. Uh-huh.
The boy fairy sighed, shaking his head. It sounds like just another round of games between Peter and the pirates. But all right, Bell. A comrade of mine saw the demesne of the First appear on the northwestern corner of the island, at the base of the Chanting Peninsula, east of the Shimmering Sea.
Thank you, Tinker Bell said with relief, and gave him a little bow.
Good luck, weirdo, Berryloon said with a toss of her head. Guess we’ll see you next time you need something, or you finally tire of the company you keep. Shall we?
Hand in hand, she and the boy fairy rose perfectly in tandem, more gracefully than the most skilled ballerinas Wendy had ever seen, more smoothly than any ice-skaters.
And then—just before they disappeared into the depths of the jungle darkness as little bobbing glows, the boy fairy turned and winked.
Directly at Wendy.
She fell back, overcome by the direct, smiling gaze of the tiny man-at-arms.
Strange thoughts popped into her head: shrinking, or growing, clinging to a boy as he rode up into the air on the winds, his dragonfly wings beating strongly behind them.
Breathless, she staggered out of her hiding place, feeling a trifle disconnected from things.
Seeing Tinker Bell knocked sense back into her. The little fairy was hanging in the air like an old toy tied to a string to amuse a baby or a cat but then forgotten: she twisted a little right and then left as the breeze nudged her. Her gaze was fixed on the disappearing lights of her “friends.”
Poor Tinker Bell!
How entirely wrong Wendy had gotten her! What she had thought was fairy affectation—artfully ragged dress, tousled hair in a messy bun, snobby and antisocial behavior—was not de rigueur for fairies at all. The other two seemed to spend all of their time at parties and gatherings. They both had neatly tailored apparel complete with perfect, high-fashion little accessories. Tink cared less about her appearance than whatever quest she was currently on, whatever fun she was having, whatever the Lost Boys and Peter were up to, whatever her own mischief involved.
Oh yes, Tinker Bell did appreciate the finer things, like her delicate little bedroom. But on her own terms and, most importantly, on her own. She didn’t fit in with other fairies. And they obviously had issues with her chosen way of life.
No wonder she was so enamored of Peter Pan. She finally had a companion like herself. And of course she would be jealous and unwilling to share—without him, she might be alone.
“Tinker Bell?” Wendy said softly.
The fairy spun around in the air, obviously not having heard her approach. Her eyes were filled with brightness and wet. She shook her head to physically remove any traces of emotion and crossed her arms resolutely.
“Tinker Bell, I…”
Wendy bit her lip. The sort of person who abandoned her extremely cozy people to live a wild life with an unapproved-of boy, a girl who wore tatters and didn’t care…well, she wouldn’t be the sort of girl eager to discuss her feelings. She was obviously already embarrassed by what the human girl had witnessed.
“I feel like we should get started on our way to this Enchanted Peninsula, shouldn’t we?”
Tinker Bell let out an audible sigh, relieved at the direction Wendy’s statement had gone.
Chanting. Not “Enchanted.” You’ll understand when we get there.
“All right then. Let’s—”
And that’s when the creature leapt from the bush, grabbing Tinker Bell out of the air.
It was all predator. Sleek and slinky and black and lithe. Its paws had claws, long curled half-moons that easily ripped through the fairy’s dress and closed around her waist.
Without thinking, Wendy threw herself at it, grasping at the beast with her own hands, naked, pink, and clawless.
One would suppose that after her experiences in Never Land she might stop and think twice about engaging a strange creature, an unknown entity who might have had any number of unpredictable and magical attacks. But the thing’s closest approximation to any London beast was cat; an angry, starving alley cat. Fierce but not indomitable. Wendy had her share of experiences with those, ranging from pulling them off hapless songbirds to begging her parents to let her keep one.
And in fact, the twin mirrors on the front of its snub face could have been mistaken for cat’s eyes with a light shining into them.
“Down!” Wendy cried imperiously.
Her hands closed tightly around its middle—but it didn’t yowl as she expected. It dropped the fairy in shock…then sort of thinned out between Wendy’s fingers. The creature slid through them like oil, dripped to the ground, and reformed into a weaselly, mink-like critter.
“Ugh!” Wendy looked at her hands. But they were clean and all she had actually felt was the soft fur one would expect.
With barely a pause the creature found Tinker Bell and again leapt on her.
The little fairy was a bit stunned and shaken up by its first attack; she was still on the
ground and stumbling.
She emitted exactly half a jingle-wail before it had body-slammed her, smashing her straight down into the ground.
“I said, get off!” Wendy cried. She grabbed the first stick she saw and—though usually opposed to violence toward animals—whacked the qqrimal as hard as she could on its side.
It rolled out of the way but kept its claws around Tinker Bell, the fairy close to its belly.
Then it jumped upright on its four paws and—laughed?
“You—you—” Wendy stammered, indignant.
It really was. The horrible thing was laughing at her, chuckling and warbling. It bent its head and licked Tinker Bell with an ugly gray forked tongue. It smacked its mouth.
Wendy brought the stick down as hard as she could on its head.
It easily leapt out of her reach, landing on the side of a tree. From this new perch it chuffed one more time back at Wendy before scuttling up like a lizard into its branches.
“No!” Wendy dropped her stick and grabbed the trunk of the tree. “Come back! Come down here this instant!”
She shook the tree as hard as she could, expecting disappointment. But the tree was a slender tropical thing whose body was far more lithe and pliable than its London counterparts. It swayed easily under her efforts, and its long leafy fronds clattered and clashed satisfyingly.
The creature fell and hit the ground with an equally satisfying whomp.
“Tink!” Wendy grabbed the creature’s tail to yank it off the fairy.
Only—its tail slid into nothing in her hands. Overpowered by the momentum she had created with nothing to balance it, Wendy fell back onto her bum.
The creature looked back at her and chuffed again.
Faint jingling sounds could be heard (pitifully) from under its stomach.
