Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,21

Kensington Gardens, wasn’t it?

She flew the way she vaguely remembered they used to go, following the Thames and keeping an eye out for pockets of green among the gray, brown, and black.

Aha—at last, something familiar! She recognized the updraft that suddenly lifted her high into the sky and made it difficult for someone as light as she to land anywhere. Peter never had any trouble. Once in a great while she clung to his collar while he dove through gusts, and these were the best moments of all.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as Tinker Bell touched down delicately inside a park. She felt some fairy familiarity; magic had not entirely deserted this ancient place. But these fey folk were of earthly origin and she had no time for such riffraff. She was Never Land empyreal—and she had work to do.

As she peeped around the garden gate and up the street, she realized that things looked very different when you were down among the ugly buildings and not high above them. At least it was early and she had the city mostly to herself while she explored. There were only a few humans around this time of the morning.

A solitary girl hurried along, looking over her shoulder every few steps. She was large and ugly—was it Wendy?

Tinker Bell approached her eagerly.

But no, up close it was obvious the girl’s dress was shabby and poor and her eyes darted about in fear; they didn’t hold steady in dreams.

Toward this not-Wendy girl a pair of men strode broadly. Their voices were loud and their dress obviously fine even to a forest pixie’s eyes: great silk and wool capes, shiny top hats slightly askew, walking canes with glittering knobs. Much like foxes and wolves they had obviously been out all night hunting for whatever rarefied things these humans craved—eyeglasses, taxes, creampuffs.

“EGADS, is that the dancer from the Moulin Rouge? The one you liked so much?” one of the men said, guffawing, pointing at the human girl.

“Good evening, sirs,” she said, pulling her collar close and trying to hurry past them.

The other man put out his hand and stopped her, then looked her up and down.

“No, she’s a bad copy. Still…”

“Please, sirs, let me go. I’m just on my way home.”

“From what nefarious activities, I should like to know,” the first man said with a snort. “Would anyone even miss you? At ‘home’? All the decent girls have been in bed and asleep for hours now. They’re not out wandering the streets at night, looking for trouble.”

“I ain’t looking for trouble. Just let me go,” she pleaded.

Tinker Bell’s eyes widened as she watched the man reach out to touch the girl’s cheek.

Before she knew what she was doing, the little fairy was suddenly zooming in between the two, pelting pixie dust into the man’s eyes.

The reaction was immediate: he howled and clawed at his face like a madman.

His friend drew back in surprise.

The girl saw her chance and ran off, mouthing silent thanks to her mysterious savior. The ball of light now zooming away brightened visibly—thanks to a new believer in fairy magic.

“I can see!” the man moaned, falling to his knees. “I see too much! The world…as it really is…the great god Pan…”

But Tink was already whisking down the street, that adventure over and forgotten.

There were plenty of helpful street signs in this London—if only she could read. She remembered a big tree at the house; that’s how Peter always found it. A big tree in a tiny yard with an unused doghouse below. The windows to the nursery were on level with the highest branches of that tree, so they could perch there and listen. If Peter was especially enamored of the story they would glide silently over to the roof and lie on the slate shingles, half listening, half dreaming.

Some of the street trees were indeed large, grand, and imposing—and sadly penned in, surrounded by cobbles and flagstones. None were in a yard.

Human movement increased as the sun rose. Lamps were doused and people came out; they were sweeping the streets, hurrying into shops, unlocking doors with big keys. Tinker Bell buzzed unseen over everyone’s heads, looking out for young women of a certain height.

Aha! There!

A young woman in a very familiar blue dress entered a bookstore and coughed to get the bookseller’s attention. How perfectly Wendy!

Tinker Bell zoomed down to see if she was indeed her; this girl definitely seemed more likely than the first one. All right, her