Thing He Loves Most (Peter Pan/Ouat)

Chapter Fourteen (part 8)

--*Flashback*--

-

Hours passed leaning against the oak tree with my knees pulled up to my chest and staring off into space, and before I knew it, the sun was starting to set, giving the rainforest a golden haze.

Night was closing in fast, and as much as I disliked the idea of surrendering back to the Lost Boy camp with my tail between my legs, I knew it was oddly preferable over being eaten or poisoned.

Begrudgingly, I pulled myself to my feet and started back—slowly—down the dirt path in which I came. As I wandered, I came upon another path—this one more narrow—that I hadn't noticed before. The opening was dense and overgrown with vines and tree branches, like it hadn't been used in awhile.

Or someone wanted to make it seem that way.

I felt a pull in that direction. Whether it was just plain curiosity or instinct, I wasn't certain, but I turned and followed it.

And I wasn't disappointed.

Soon, I reached the end of the trail and pushed aside a large fern bush, stepping into a small clearing. In front of me stood a low-hanging treehouse. A burning candle flickered from the window.

I took a step closer—only to quickly draw back behind the fern bush. A figure was descending from the ladder underneath. My eyes widened slightly.

Pan.

Of course, the boy leader himself would have his own private bachelor pad, far away from the other Lost Boys. But why—

My thought was cut off when Pan started in my direction. I cursed under my breath and crouched deeper into the shadows, hoping he wouldn't notice me. As I shifted slightly, the fern moved with me, making the faintest rustle. Pan slowed and I tensed, holding my breath. It was times like these that I was suddenly grateful for the dark. He turned his head slightly to the side, as if listening for something, and then he moved on.

When he was out of sight, I relaxed, slipping out of my hiding place. With one last cautious glance behind me, I made my way towards his treehouse.

-

The treehouse opened up into a small, simple room. A few trickles of the evening sun came in from the window, just enough to make out the furniture; an old rickety bed with a privacy screen, a desk with a wash basin, and a nightstand.

I perked up, making a beeline towards the nightstand. A candle sat on top with tiny wisps of smoke perspiring from the blown out wick. Seating myself on the bed, I pulled open the tiny drawer and shuffled through its contents; a bunch of old maps, string, quill pens, and...

I moved aside a few crumpled pieces of paper. Sitting in the far corner of the drawer was a small, black velvet drawstring pouch. I opened it and emptied out what was inside—and smiled.

A magic bean.

This was my ticket out of here. I could leave this place forever.

But Thomas...

Before I could finish my thought, the candle on the nightstand flickered to life, lighting the room in an orange hue.

He's back.

Hastily, I stuffed the pouch back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

"Breaking and entering."

I jumped at the voice and stood to face him, concealing the hand with the magic bean inside it behind my back.

Pan stepped into the candle light. His features were composed and relaxed; unsurprised, like my appearance in his treehouse was a natural occurrence.