The First Lost Boy (Wattys 2017) ON HOLD

s i x t e e n

After scavenging the lake for Gwen's knickers, which had clung themselves against the rock sitting in the middle of the water, Harry is carrying Gwen back to camp. With his arm tucked under her knee and one wrapped around her lower back, he carefully steps over branches and logs to avoid tripping. Gwen had told him various times she was perfectly capable of walking on her own two feet but Harry was making a fuss about her and insisted on carrying her. He was babying her, checking on her every few minutes even though her condition hadn't changed in the time between spent in his arms. If it had been anyone else, she would of found the fussing annoying. But with Harry, she couldn't help the small smile that would play on her lips every time Harry asked. He cared.

"We're almost there." He assures her, glancing down at her body with his eyebrows furrowing. "We'll get some honey on that cut."

"Okay." Gwen responded and frowned when she noticed Harry's slight heavy breathing. "Harry, put me down." She told him and wiggled her legs that he automatically tightened his forearms around. "You're tired and I'm sure your arms hurt. Let me walk."

"No." He protested defiantly and dug his fingertips into her thigh when she tried to bring her feet back to the ground. "My arms are perfectly fine, Gwenevieve. Stop thrashing around and let me carry you to camp."

She stopped at the determined tone of his voice and the warning in his eyes that is usually reserved for the lost boys when they do something wrong. Gwen leans away slightly and clings onto her hand tighter that are currently clasped together around the back of Harry's neck. "Okay, okay..."

He nods and grunt lowly when he almost trips over a log but manages to see it right before he can. Gwen bites her lip to stifle a laugh that wants to escape at his widened eyes but another hard look at Gwen shuts her up. He smirks to himself, shaking his head and let's out a grateful sigh when they finally make it past the edge of the trees and into camp.

Most of the lost boys are busy with tasks, while some sit in a circle in the middle of it talking or playing a game in the dirt using sticks. Others are merely wandering but they all look up at their arrival and stare at them as Harry continues to carry her through camp. He ignores the looks they're giving him but Gwen recognizes it being curiosity, wonder, and from Oscar- disgust.

Gwen looks away when she sees his curled lip and hard glare, pursing her lips when her gaze settles on Peter. He's standing near Gwen's hut with a bowl in his hand, face expressionless as he waits for Harry to approach him. He doesn't look at Gwen when Harry finally stops in front of him, only briefly handing the bowl to Gwen without looking at her. She looks down into it to see a light brown syrup that she can distinguish as honey and she looks up at Peter with a genuine smile. "Thank you Peter."

He doesn't look at Gwen nor does he respond to her. His gaze set on something past Gwen's shoulder as he nods stiffly and turns abruptly on his heel, walking off with determined strides. Gwen frowns at his retreating back before Harry moves towards the door of Gwen's hut, lightly nudging the door open with his foot. Walking into the room, he kicks the door closed with his foot and lightly places Gwen atop her makeshift bed. She immediately moves to sit up against the wall behind her, bending her knees to bring them to her chest when the draft at the movement brings her attention back down to her legs. Suddenly realizing how short her gown now is, she lays her legs straight against the bed, crossing them and tugging her gown down to cover her thighs but her attempt is feeble.

"I don't think that will do much." Harry comments when he sees her constant pulling on her gown, an amused simper on his lips. "Not that I'm going to complain."

Gwen's cheeks flush and she looks down shyly, picking up the bowl of honey again before thrusting it at Harry. "Oh shut your trap and put the honey on me like you said you would."