Charlotte had only ever heard she was normal. When she lands on Neverland, it's no exception. She, like many others, is just another lost one. With one small exception.
Peter Pan, is anything but what he's supposed to be. He's rough edges, smirks an...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Arsonist's Lullaby-Hozier
1
Somehow I managed to let sleep carry me off the island, despite my excitement for my literal departure. That isn't to say I sleep well. My eyes flutter open every few minutes to watch the stars through the hole in the roof of our tent.
You don't get stars like this where I'm going.
A chill breaks its way into our tent, chilling my nose first. I wonder if Pan is having another nightmare. Hard to the touch, but not cold, the ground seems fine.
Push comes to shove, Felix lives near Pan. He'll wake the boy up at the first sign of frost.
Besides, if the island freezes over, it'll make for one exciting final day.
I lie back in the hammock, trying to get myself to fall back to sleep. It feels like the dead of night. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning I get up and head outside.
Night is still an odd time to experience the world around me. It's quiet, and dark, and cold.
Only, something feels off.
I can hear the cracking off wood in the distance; probably some rambunctious animals. The air is warm, and thick. The darkness still exists, but it's not as bad as I had assumed it would be.
When the noise in the forest gets louder, I assume it's Dominique. I unsheathe my dagger, stalking into the forest. If somehow I manage to accomplish my final goal tonight before I leave I'll be just peachy.
A few steps in, I notice him carrying twigs and leaves in his hand. When Dominique meets my eye, he drops them and sprints away. Wasting seconds isn't something I'm keen on doing, so I sprint off in his direction, twisting and turning into the deep woods of Neverland.
He trips, so I take the opportunity to tackle him, punching him in the face as hard as I can. My fist collides with his nose, and I notice the warm wet feeling of blood before the moonlight reveals its deep colour.
In the light, it looks black. Probably to match his soul.
He knocks me off him, but I still manage to keep hold of my dagger. I raise the sharp edge to his throat, the thin skin turning white at the touch.
"Kill me," he instructs. "Doesn't matter, I've done what I needed to do."
He backs up off me as I hold the blade steady, his hands raised in defense. That is, until they grab my arm, digging the blade into his throat. He pulls the dagger closer to himself than away, and I don't pul back.
"Go on," he says, "you can't stop me."
"Stop what?" I demand.
I lower the blade, slashing him in the thigh. As he crumbles to the ground, I follow him, ensuring the dagger is against his throat.
