Jas. Hook, Captain

Perhaps, the Last Wild Place

"Don't be silly," she remarked. "You're not the first and you won't be the last. Look there if you don't believe me."

I scanned about till I saw it, a wisp of smoke trailing from an encampment at the top of a hill. The smoke rose from a ring in the center, lazy and wandrous as it climbed into the sky. In a circle around it were cone-shaped homes made of animal hides and long poles, some bearing stripes and symbols, other sun-bleached and plain.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Blackfoot, I believe," she answered. "Siksiká, actually, but they call themselves Niitsitapi."

"When did they arrive?" Peter asked.

"Arrive?" she chuckled. "They didn't arrive. They've always been here. They were the first."

"Are they dangerous?" I asked.

"Oh don't be silly," she said, "We're all dangerous in our own way. You're going to have a lot of fun with them, so be sure to show some respect."

We glided down from the canopy and landed somewhat gracelessly on the forest floor. I took a tumble myself, although I bruised nothing more than my ego. Our journey had seemed endless and over in a blink all at the same time, if that can be imagined. I began to wonder quietly to myself how long it had been since I had eaten. My stomach wondered somewhat more noisomely, for I could hear it grumbling.

"Pardon me, lady, but if I might ask...?"

"Go on then, what is it?"

I blushed fiercely.

"It's just that it's been some time since my friend and I have had, well..."

"When do we eat?" Peter blurted abruptly.

The fairy sighed greatly.

"Oh you humans are a worrisome lot, aren't you? We're cold. We can't fly. What's the name of this and that? When do we eat?"

I suppose if she were standing on the ground she would have been tapping her foot impatiently, but she made her annoyance clear at any rate.

"Well I suppose you could imagine you were hunters and go in search of food," she began, derisive. "But then if you're going to start imagining, you might as well imagine yourself whole plates of food, cooked hot and ready to eat."

"That sounds easy enough," Peter said, sarcastic. "I suppose I'll just have a bite of this apple."

At that he reached out into the air and mimed plucking an apple from an imaginary tree and taking a bite. No sooner had his lips closed around the imaginary apple than his eyes went wide with shock. He began to gesticulate and blabber on as though speaking with a mouthful.

"Peter, don't be silly," I said. "I'm really hungry."

He pretended to finish his bite and even swallowed dramatically.

"Jim, you've got to try this. I'm not kidding."

He made as if to throw me this invisible apple, and I might have turned my back on him, not pleased at being made the butt of one of his jokes. Yet for some reason I played along if only for a moment and pretended to catch what by now would be sailing through the air at me.

To my surprise, impossible as it seemed, a bright red apple landed in my hand. I turned it over and saw a large bite had been taken out of its side. Slowly, too real to be disbelieved, I too took a bite. Tart and crisp, it brought me back to that gift my mother and I had shared.

Once more, I began to float up off of the ground, the fairy dust not quite having lost its effect. By the time I came back down to land upon the forest floor, substantially more graceful this time, I had eaten the remainder of the apple down to the core.

So lost was I that it took me a moment to notice Peter had a seat at a rather large table arrayed with a great feast, the likes of which you might expect to see in the court of a king, steaming and fresh from the kitchen.

"Jim, my boy, you must try the roast. It's really t'riffic," he mumbled through a mouthful.

"This is brilliant," I said.

"Well, what did you expect?" Tinker Bell added. "Never work. Never go hungry."

"Neverland!" Peter shouted, and polished off a flagon of some sort of purple and yellow and orange shimmering liquid.

"Do you mean to tell me if I imagine all sorts of cakes...?"

Tinker Bell glinted down and landed upon a silver domed serving platter. I reached for the handle and lifted it up, imagining elaborate little morsels and pastries. Our fairy companion sparkled away and I was left gaping for they were as I had imagined, even more so. I tore into them with fervour.

Custard bursting with the tang of lemon, fruitcakes dense and rich with brandy, cakes fluffy and luxurious, even wedges of all manner of pie. We gorged and glutted ourselves as we had never had the privilege in our lives previous. We transitioned back-and-forth from sweets to meats to fruits and breads and cheeses and back, washing everything down with sparkly bubbly drinks and colourful creamy drinks, none of which I had ever seen before outside of my own dreams.

Noticing some utensils, I held them up.

"Peter, what are these for?!" I laughed.

"Polite company!" he cheered.

"Good thing we didn't invite any polite company!"

"That's the spirit!" Tinker Bell chimed.

"I feel as if I could eat for days!" I remarked. "I don't feel full."

"Never full," Tinker Bell said.

"Neverland!" Peter sang.

I looked around for what seemed the first time in hours and noticed the sun was going down. I suddenly felt extraordinarily drowsy.

"What about never sleep?" I asked.

"Well where's the fun in that?" Tinker Bell answered. "In dreams we imagine more even than this. The greatest desires and fears of the recesses of our hearts laid out for us to see, unclouded by our silly brains."

"I suppose we should tidy up," I said.

I turned to see the table had disappeared, along with its plates and bowls and cups and all the food. I felt the warmth of a good meal in my belly, but did not feel overly full.

Peter punched me in the arm.

"You'll have to let me get the dishes tomorrow, Jim."

"And the sweeping and the wash as well," I said.

Tinker Bell led us over to a stand of trees where hammocks had been strung, and we flung ourselves into them with relief.

The last thought I recall before drifting off was the abundance of constellations full of stars in the sky above. I'd never witnessed so many little lights twinkling away, and only a thin trail of smoke from the Blackfoot encampment. Not like the factories of home.

As if divining my thoughts, Tinker Bell whispered to me.

"Neverland is your home now."

And I drifted away.