Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,34
I set you free, you might even fly off yourself, in search of him, lonely in your bodiless state.”
The thing bobbed quickly and wretchedly up and down. It tipped its head toward the small porthole window. Let me go, it was obviously pleading.
“AHA!” Hook said triumphantly. “You do have some idea. The direction at least. Now that the two of you are both back in Never Land, you can somehow sense where he is. You couldn’t when you were trapped in London.”
“Almost like a compass,” Mr. Smee said whimsically, chuckling from deep within his large belly. “Always pointing north, in a manner o’ speakin’.”
“Always pointing—what?” Hook blinked. “Almost like a compass, you say?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Now that, Mr. Smee, is an interesting idea.…”
Wendy stumbled backward. She wasn’t hit hard enough to fall down, but the tiny points of the fairy’s—feet? Fingers? Head? Stinger?—jabbed her right in the middle of her rib cage, knocking the wind out of her. It would probably leave a nasty bruise.
She warily regarded her attacker. The fairy—again, Wendy assumed—was an angry tinkling ball of light with the prettiest girl imaginable inside. Diminutive but…solid, with a scandalous lack of decorous dress. All she wore was a ragged green shift which barely covered her hips and thighs and breasts and was gathered dangerously over only one shoulder. This was both shocking and delightful; it made the tiny creature resemble statues of ancient nymphs and nereids Wendy had seen. Her hair was even done up in classical style, a goddess-like bun of hair so golden it glowed. Tiny pointed ears curved their way through the few dangling tresses. Her eyes were enormous and not even remotely human: they were far apart and glaring.
The crowning glory was, of course, a pair of delicate iridescent wings sprouting from her back. Their shape was somewhere between butterfly and dragonfly. They were clear as glass and thin as onion skin.
The fairy chimed and jingled angrily, shedding little sparkles of golden light that danced for a bit in the air before drifting down to the ground and fading. Wendy couldn’t tell where the girl’s lovely tinkling sound was coming from, exactly. At first she thought it was bells on the tiny shoes but close inspection revealed nothing. The chimes, like the dust, seemed to come from her very essence.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Wendy breathed, apologizing for her…standing? Being? In the way of the beautiful little thing? “Are you all right?”
The tinkling grew more insistent. The fairy bobbed up and down in the air and balled her tiny hands into fists.
She aimed herself at Wendy’s chest again and struck her.
Prepared as she was for it this time, the pain was no worse than a bumblebee accidentally knocking into her and then buzzing drowsily off into the sunlight.
“Whatever is the matter?” Wendy asked patiently. “Have I done something wrong? Will you tell me?”
Luna barked once, forefeet planted firmly and defensively.
The fairy suddenly dipped down to the ground. The light emanating from her dimmed.
“What is it?”
The fairy stamped on the dirt and pointed at it.
“Am I trampling your flower?” Wendy asked, stepping back carefully and examining the prints where she had just stood. There were no crushed petals there, just some grass and sand. No dead insects, either.
The fairy gritted her teeth in frustration and flew back up to Wendy. She grabbed a lock of her hair and yanked, hoisting it over her shoulder like the heaviest rope on a ship.
“Ow! Hey! What is it? You merely have to tell me!” Wendy cried, stumbling farther into the clearing, trying to free her hair from the pixie’s grasp.
Apparently satisfied, the creature released her grip and dove back down to the ground…and walked. Slowly and carefully out over the ground, along…
“My shadow,” Wendy said slowly.
A sinking feeling came over her.
Her shadow crossed her arms knowingly.
“Not my shadow, of course,” Wendy said, biting her lip. “Peter Pan’s shadow.”
The fairy nodded twice, slowly and solidly—no misinterpretation possible.
Wendy sighed. The time of reckoning had come far sooner than she expected. She had hoped for a little more time in Never Land before her choices caught up with her. How did this fairy even know about it, really? Wendy thought she would only have to apologize to Peter. Not anyone else.
(Of course she also rather hoped that the imminent doom of Never Land would overshadow any mistakes or transgressions on her part.)
“I don’t have it. Anymore.”
The fairy’s eyes widened. She started to move, uncertainly—perhaps to pull Wendy’s hair again, perhaps to