Chapter 7: Little Changes

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She hardly saw Pan after that for almost another week. She couldn't really say she complained, though, that day he gave her unusual thoughts—and feelings. Being around so many people was still a bit shocking, she had mostly gotten used to it by now, but her senses were still incredibly acute around him. It was probably because he was the most threatening.

            Instead, Felix kept her company. It felt odd for them both. He was Pan's right hand boy, he was usually off leading hunts or teaching or playing games. She was...well, she didn't have a usual yet. Her first week had been spent tied up and starving, the next spent recovering. Still, it was fun: he taught her camping and the way the boys lived. By the end of the week, she could gather materials for food and building, build a tent, make weapons (though she hadn't used them). She knew which plants were best for food, or poison, or building with. Felix was surprised she knew most of that already, as well as how to figure out the dimensions and amount of materials she'd need. When he asked, she merely said she was well-educated before arriving. It was believable, though vague, but he didn't question her further.

            That was two weeks total she had spent with Felix, and if he wasn't so scary when he wanted to be, she would've told him he felt like a brother to her. She suspected he felt the same about her. He was a far too enthusiastic teacher, congratulating her extensively when she accomplished something and teasing her when she didn't, it was really rather funny. And he was kind to her, more so than he was to any of the boys. He mocked her, and enjoyed knowing more than she, just like Pan, but he didn't threaten her and didn't intimidate her too often. He also told her jokes and silly stories. He really would've been an ideal older brother.

            They sat together, her making arrows as he watched her and sharpened his knives, when she thought of this. The boys never spoke of their pasts, but she was curious. The behavior couldn't be natural, none of the other boys treated her that way—granted, they mostly ignored or went around her presence—and Pan certainly didn't.

            "Felix," she asked tentatively. He didn't even pause in his work, just hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you...um, that is...before you came here..." she tried to begin. He stopped, took a deep breath, and slowly looked at her. His face was a stone mask. She expected him to tell her to hush, to stay out of what wasn't her business.

            "Yes?" he surprised her. His voice was quiet, but he was letting her continue.

            "Did you, you know, have any f-family? Or, o-or friends? Or...before," she stuttered, looking into his face, trying to keep hers relaxed and gentle. She didn't want information to use against him, or to hurt him at all. She was just curious.

            He took another breath and looked down. His hands put down the knives and his back went stiff. He looked into her eyes, his own hard. "Yes. No parents, they ran off when I was six. Lousy low-lives, never escaped their poverty, even abandoning their kids," he chuckled humorlessly. She just nodded for him to go on. "Had friends, we were sort of like the boys here. The Enchanted Forest version of Pan's Lost Boys."

            "You're from the Enchanted Forest?" she blurted. She thought they were all from the other land, the one with no magic. All people in the Enchanted Forest possessed some, just the tiniest flicker, of magic. Most could do no more than make a fire a bit bigger, and didn't even realize.

            "Yes, that's part of why I'm his right hand," they both knew who he was talking about. "I practiced a little magic, here and there. Just things like making wine glasses move to distract men so we could steal their purses," he smirked. She grinned a little, imagined Felix as a child sneaking about with little tricks. "Or making flowers pop out, or other little things, for street shows. And extra coin here and there for them never hurt," he nodded to himself, his eyes glazed with memory.

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