Chapter 6
“And what did he say after that?”
Peter’s arms tightened around Maggie’s frame as he swooped around the treetops.
The coarse tips of leaves tickled her arms as they flew by, the breeze throwing her hair back behind them.
He popped back out on the other side of the narrow column of a thick jungle, revealing a long field on the eastern side of Neverland’s island.
It was a path Maggie had never taken before, which was why Peter was dead set on flying himself.
According to him, it was an easy way to get lost.
The King of Neverland was in the middle of telling a story while he absentmindedly flew.
It was in an effort to keep Maggie distracted, she knew, though it hadn’t worked too well thus far.
Something about visiting a witch struck a nerve within her.
She instinctively blamed it on being born and raised within the human lands, where the title was only derogatory and insulting.
Maggie couldn’t help but get more and more fearful the closer they came to her hovel.
Peter swore to Maggie that the witch wasn’t dangerous, so why did the idea of meeting a witch bother her so much? Was it because she had magic of her own, although she wasn’t categorized as a witch? Did the idea that she wasn’t so different from the witch bother her that much?
Maggie shook her head and focused back on Peter. “Well, Peter?” she asked. “What did the beaver say?”
He grinned, holding back his own laughter. “The beaver said, ‘and if you come back to my dam, you’ll be the next damned thing I use to hold it up!’”
Maggie laughed despite herself, the tension leaving for a brief moment. “Did that really happen?”
“No,” Peter admitted with a shrug. “I just love your laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to laugh with their whole heart, like you do.”
She stared up at him, her hands meeting at the back of his neck. He was pretty well focused on the sky ahead as they slowly lowered more and more, but a part of Maggie wondered if that was purposeful, to some degree.
It wasn’t like they talked about their kiss yet.
Instead the moment remained up in the air between them, until one of them had the guts to finally mention it to another.
Maggie dreaded the silence and would’ve done anything to simply be brave enough to ask about it herself, or, better yet, have the ability to peer into Peter’s mind without uttering a word.
That kiss was unlike anything she had ever known before, and a part of her was devastated with the idea of never knowing him like that again.
Perhaps that was the only bit she was guaranteed, the only slice of happiness she was destined to have.
Her grasp tightened around Peter’s neck.
Whether what happened next was a response or simply something else, Maggie had no clue.
But Peter pulled her closer, until her cheek touched his shoulder, until she was entirely pressed against his strong frame.
The feeling was far more warm than a hug, than a timeless embrace.
It was deeper than that, more intimate. It was as though Maggie was stepping into her home for the first time, as though she was reuniting with her family, as though everything was attempting to fall into place.
“We’re here,” Peter murmured against her hair.
His feet gently touched the ground within a forest. Unlike the jungle that surrounded the treehouse, the forest was like that of a fairytale, where Red Riding Hood met the wolf in darkened shadows.
Creatures sounded off where they could not see, wispy bugs slipped by their ears with mechanical buzzing.
Birds that were only silhouettes overhead cawed a mysterious birdsong before flying off, rustling the leaves and dried twigs.
The trees themselves were all different shapes and sizes.
Some were still young while others sprung incredibly tall, its old and thick roots protruding out from the grass below.
The earthy smells were entirely intoxicating as Maggie took it all in.
She had never experienced such an enchanted forest, where only a small cottage sat within it.
The house itself was rather snug and cozy. It was yellow, from the outside, with a small garden on one side of it. A scarecrow watched over trellised vegetables and a small gate led the way toward the front door. Smoke hovered above the chimney in a small, quiet trail.
Peter took her hand. “C’mon, Magpie.”
The King of Neverland led the way, pushing open the swinging gate and stepping up the front porch steps. The wood creaked beneath their feet as Peter reached the door, his knuckles rapping sharply against it.
With a sharp creak, the door swung open on its own.
“P-Peter –”
He was already stepping inside, tugging on her hand to follow. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Come on.”
Maggie followed along behind him as her heart sank to the floor.
There wasn’t a light on within the house.
The shadows were wispy and almost tangible, strange smells filling the air so much Maggie felt as though she needed to cough.
Across from where they entered, a large cauldron bubbled and smoldered above a roasting flame.
Peter’s fingers loosened around hers for a split second as he took long strides forward.
“Boo!”
A small woman jumped out from the shadows, landing in front of Maggie with a loud thud. Maggie’s hands flew up to her face, a sharp yell filling the air as the fright took hold of her.
Peter was beside her in an instant, reaching for her hands and pulling them away from her cowardice face.
He whispered in her ear, though she couldn’t quite understand him, until her breathing had slowed, and her hands were only trembling within his own.
Peter was smiling, not in a pitiful way, though the longer she stared she began to second guess herself.
Behind him, the woman was laughing hysterically. The sounds filled the small house instantly, drowning out whatever scream Maggie couldn’t possibly manage.
“Are you alright?” Peter asked.
Maggie nodded slowly.
“Hazel is quite the trickster,” he murmured, the corner of his lip perking up. “I’ll take the blame for not warning you.”
But Maggie was hardly feeling sour about it any longer. How could she, when the woman was resolved to tears from how funny she found it? “I find it hard to be surprised about much in Neverland anymore,” Maggie replied.
“How splendid!” Peter gripped her hand with a tight squeeze. “You’re learning!”
Behind him, the woman was beginning to collect her bearings. The darkness rendered her almost invisible, only a blur of dark colors. “Tell me, King of Neverland,” she cooed in a sing-songy voice, “Why have you come to my humble abode?”
Peter turned around to face her. “Something’s wrong with the moon coral,” he explained. “The mermaids dammed the stream that led to the Everything Plant to try and stop the coral from dying. Though from what Maggie found on it yesterday, I’m beginning to think it has nothing to do with the stream.”
Maggie watched the woman’s expression change through the darkness.
Her face was very angular, but as the humor left the situation, her sharp features only grew more prominent.
The woman flexed her hand and snapped, the short sound signaling for the magic to begin.
The curtains were drawn within an instant, letting the early afternoon light stream into the house.
The cauldron that had been bubbling in the center of the room came to a quick stop, the liquid growing incredibly still within it.
Maggie eyed it and had the sudden feeling that everything they saw when they first entered was all for show, all to pull a fun trick.
The woman strode toward Maggie. “I suppose you’re Maggie?”
She nodded dumbly.
“The name’s Hazel Broomlin,” the woman said. She bowed her head slightly before staring at Maggie expectantly. “Well, don’t just stand there!” The woman rested her hands on her hips. “I only assume you took a sample of this sick coral, didn’t you?”
“Oh!” Maggie fished through her small satchel before producing the coral she pulled off the main stem. “How did you know I would’ve collected a sample?”
Hazel snatched the piece from Maggie’s fingers, already pulling it close to her face to investigate it. She turned around, holding the coral high above her so that the light glinted off of it. “You’re a botanist, aren’t you?”
“How –” Maggie’s eyes were wide as she glanced over to Peter, who was grinning.
“Your fingers,” the witch called out absentmindedly. “Botany fingers.”
Peter shrugged, looking thoroughly impressed. “She’s a witch, alright.”
Hazel turned around, the piece of coral lowered. “Shadow Fungus.”
“What?” Peter and Maggie spoke at once, both glancing in surprise at the other.
The witch closed the distance between them, setting the coral down on a small, round table. She turned away briskly, scanning her shelves before retrieving a leather-bound volume with wispy, fraying pages.
“Shadow Fungus," she repeated. “It’s the fastest growing fungus that is specifically attracted to magical plants. The organism will feed on the plant’s natural magic until there is nothing left to salvage.”
Maggie gulped. “You mean –”
“The moon coral will be destroyed.”
Out of all the things Maggie thought it could be, a deadly fungus wasn’t one of them.
They couldn’t go back to the mermaids and tell them that there was nothing to be done, that an illness was simply an illness, that they needed a new home.
Maggie shook her head and stepped forward, pulling the witch out of the pages of her book.
“There must be a way to be rid of it,” Maggie said. “Isn’t there?”
Hazel stared up at her with narrowing eyes. As she waited with bated breath, the witch snapped her book shut, making Maggie and Peter both flinch.
“The solution is a powerful spell,” Hazel murmured.
Maggie raised a brow. “Yes?”
“And it requires a trio of ingredients that are almost impossible to collect.”
Determination strung through Maggie’s voice. “Almost.”
The witch grinned before glancing over at Peter. “I like her.”
The King of Neverland beamed. “Me too.”
“There are three things needed to cast the spell,” Hazel began in a loud, ominous voice.
“There is a MirrorLeaf, found only along the dryad’s back.
It is simply a leaf, but look at it right, and suddenly it is capable of peering into the past and the future alike.
” She moved around the room as though she were in the middle of a dance.
“And of course there is a nymph’s veil! The only thing imaginable to render you completely invisible.
But you couldn’t possibly forget the goblin’s Carved Copper Eye.
” Hazel paused in front of them. “Without it, you might never see what true value lies ahead.”
Maggie blinked a few times as the witch’s rhyme came to an end.
It wasn’t like a poem at all, but there was something musical about it, something that kept Maggie hooked on her from start to finish.
The words lingered in her mind long after they had been said, as though they had been written within her.
“If we can gather all the ingredients,” Maggie began, “Can you cast the spell for us?”
Hazel paused. “Well, if you insist.” She pointed a finger at Maggie, her eyes narrowing skeptically again. “Why can’t you do it yourself?”
Maggie’s brow shot up. “M-Me? How could I?”
“You’re…” Hazel’s finger fell. “You’re one with magic, aren’t you?”
A startled laugh came from between Maggie’s lips. “S-Sure, but I’m a human. I’m not from here. I only sing and…and…” she felt herself trail off as heat rose to her cheeks.
“I don’t know what you were told back in the human lands,” Hazel stated, her firmness almost frightening, “But you’re at least half a witch. There isn’t such a thing as a human with magic. I’ll promise you that.”
Maggie was too at a loss for words to respond. She simply stared, her mouth left ajar.
“Never mind that,” Hazel muttered. “Just…You’ve got a friend here if you have questions, alright? But you two ought to be off now, if you’re going to save the moon coral.”
“Thank you,’ Maggie managed.
Peter quickly led the way out of the witch’s cottage, pulling Maggie along behind him.
She could only stare blankly ahead, the witch’s last words swimming around her head.
It couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible.
How could it be? Besides, it wasn’t even what mattered.
There was only the fate of the moon coral, and Maggie was beyond determined to see it as it should be.
“So,” Maggie said, “What now?”
Peter pulled her against his chest, sweeping one arm beneath her legs. “First things first, Magpie,” he whispered. “We find the MirrorLeaf.”
And they shot into the sky, leaving only a plume of dust behind.