Chapter 7
They didn’t fly very far, it seemed, or the forest happened to stretch on forever.
Where Hazel’s cottage sat in a rather delightful spot in the woods, with a slurry of different kinds of trees to keep her company, Maggie and Peter found themselves in a much darker area.
The trees were thick but few in number, their treetops so tall and lush with leaves that the sunlight was entirely blocked out from above.
Only streams of light managed to make it through, making it a wilderness of shadows and curious sounds.
Everything rustled in every which direction, making the hairs stand up on Maggie’s neck.
She felt scatterbrained as she jumped at every sound, her attention pulled wherever a twig snapped, wherever a leaf settled into the dirt.
“Magpie.”
She almost yelped, but slapped her palm against her lips, stopping the sound before it had the chance to make it out. Maggie whipped around to face Peter, catching his surprised expression before he gave her a small, sheepish smile.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Are you alright? You’re so skittish, like a rabbit.”
Maggie would’ve laughed if they were anywhere else. “Well,” she whispered, stepping closer to him when a series of bushes rustled beside her, “Doesn’t this frighten you?”
His smile broadened as he reached for her. “Can I take your hand, Maggie?”
Something made her pause for a second, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the suddenness of his question, or if it meant he was frightened, or if he only recognized that she had been afraid all along. Either way, she knew she wanted to hold his hand all the same.
“Of course,” she murmured.
Their fingers intertwined within the same breath, the warmth spreading between them just as a sharp chill rose in the air.
There was no path forward, but Peter walked with such a determination that Maggie assumed he already knew the way.
The darkness within the woods only grew heavier the further they went, a crow’s sharp caw following close behind them.
“Is this a normal day for you?” Maggie asked.
Peter glanced down at her. “Huh?”
“Exploring a dark and scary forest,” she murmured. “Tracking down impossible to find ingredients for an impossible to cast spell.” She shrugged. “A normal Thursday?”
His laugh echoed through the woods. “I wouldn’t say that. Neverland’s all about fun, you know that.”
Maggie sighed as she looked around another time. Talking to him managed to calm down her senses slightly, but the fear didn’t fail to linger close behind. The more she spoke, the more scared she was that she might miss something in the distance.
“I wouldn’t ever have imagined doing something like this,” Maggie said.
Peter scoffed. “I doubt that.”
“If you knew what my life was like back then, you wouldn’t be saying that.
” She shook her head and pressed her lips together, a sensation that felt along the lines of grief beginning to take hold of her heart, though she wasn’t sure where exactly it had come from.
“Everything was boring enough to put an entire country to sleep, compared to this life. There wasn’t a single interesting thing to it, minus Sunny, of course. ”
Silence passed over them and Maggie remembered where they were. She glanced around, her hand growing tense within Peter’s. He tugged until she was facing forward once more.
“I don’t think your life was ever boring, Magpie,” Peter finally said.
She eyed him. “How would you know anyway?"
“Well, from all the things you’ve told me, of course!”
Maggie shook her head. “You can’t know that just from what I’ve said. And besides, everything I’ve said is boring! You didn’t hear me mentioning mermaids or whales with stars or –”
“Whales with stars…” Peter interjected in a murmur. “Do you mean StarWhales?” His laugh blurted out, causing a few creatures to leap from their spots in the trees. “They’re guardians of the small merfolk. Their light shines a path through the darkness of the ocean.”
Maggie waved a hand at him. “That’s my point exactly. There won’t be a single story I tell of my life that has anything to do with something as spectacular as StarWhales.”
“Well,” Peter drawled as he clicked his teeth together. “I’m not quite sure about that, Magpie.”
She stopped in her tracks, arm pulling free from Peter’s.
He turned around to face her, looking incredibly oblivious.
Maggie didn’t know at all why it was frustrating, why he was angering her, why she wanted to convince him that her life was nothing to smile at.
It was an entirely sad ordeal, but she couldn’t stop herself, not even when they were in the middle of a dangerous forest.
“Do you know what isn’t exciting, Peter?
” Maggie asked. “Finding places to call home, only for someone to discover your magic and force you to go on the run. I’d have cold nights with nothing to cover me besides the clothes on my back, with the stars watching me overhead.
I’ve cowered in the rain without a lick of shade in sight.
I’ve felt hunger span on for days, for weeks. ”
Maggie was pacing in front of him without even realizing it, her heavy steps beginning to make a path within the dirt.
“You know what’s uninteresting?” she asked again, the question feeling more targeted at herself more than anything.
“Living a lie just to get your dream made into a reality, only to realize you were never worthy of it anyways, only for it to be ripped out, right from beneath your feet.” She stopped in her tracks, looking up to meet Peter’s steady stare.
“That’s what an uninteresting life sounds like, Peter. ”
With his hands tucked into his pockets, he slowly began to stride toward her as he spoke with steadied, leveled words.
“I am the King of Neverland,” he whispered.
“Magical beings I can’t even describe with words built me the treehouse.
Friends I have known almost all my life have remained by my side since day one, never daring to let me fall.
There has never been a time when I needed to make food for myself, to clean up after myself. ”
Peter was directly in front of her, looming over her without an ounce of intimidation. “You, Maggie Hart, are the bravest person I have ever met in my entire life. And you, dear baker, have the tale of a dazzling heroine at the center of your heart.”
Out of all the things Maggie expected Peter Pan to say, that was not at all on the list.
She never had the grace or patience to see herself in such a light.
It was practically impossible after spending her life treading through the darkness to spot the shreds of light that managed to sneak through.
But there, right in front of her, a brilliantly bright light was forcing its way into the dark, eliminating every shadow it managed to come by.
“Peter,” Maggie murmured. “I –”
The forest began to quiet down into a low hum. Not even the breeze brushed by the leaves or rustled the bushes. The silence grew so obvious that Maggie was glancing around wildly, searching for the cause for everything to fall so silent.
Steps echoed out from behind one of the trees.
Dried leaves continuously crunched underfoot as a tall, crooked figure steadily approached.
With the similar frame of a human, the creature had all the attributes of an aged tree.
Sharp pieces of earthy colored branches were erected from his head to create a mighty crown, one that reminded Maggie of a deer’s exquisite antlers.
The creature’s body was as green as the mossy grass that scaled the tree trunks, with thick slabs of rusty brown bark protruding from him here and there.
Throughout the earthy colors were streaks of undeniable gold, sun-kissed and almost molten.
Peter began to dip down into a regal bow as the creature came closer. Maggie followed suit, her gaze flickering to the creature curiously.
“Arise, King of Neverland.” The creature’s voice was like wood cracking, like a tree splintering and collapsing. His head turned toward Maggie, steely grey eyes holding onto her with a distinct intensity. “Arise, Woman of the Way.”
Maggie’s brow shot up. “Woman of the Way?” she repeated under her breath. “Peter, what does –”
“Witch,” he whispered out the corner of his mouth, the sound coming out like a note of music. “The Way is that of magic. Spellbook magic.”
For the second time in one day, Maggie had been aligned with that of a witch. The coincidence was rather startling and drew her into a silence for a moment. She straightened slowly, almost forgetting what creature loomed in front of her.
“I am the dryad who guards these woods,” the creature spoke. “The land upon which you approach is that of the forest, only those worthy tread on.”
Maggie blinked and glanced sideways at Peter. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her in the same respect. The dryad spoke so stiffly with an odd tongue, as though he couldn’t say anything that was translucent enough to be simply understood.
“Tell me, Woman of the Way,” the dryad bellowed, eyes honed in on her. “Why have you entered my land?”
Peter looked over his shoulder at her expectantly.
This isn’t at all how it’s supposed to happen.
Peter was the hero, he was meant to collect the impossible ingredients valiantly and bravely.
Maggie was simply the side character, the one to look after the plants, to cook their meals.
Suddenly she was handed the reins, and the power and trust that came along with it was overwhelming.
But how could she not want it all the same?
Was that not what she had always wanted, to have been valued, to have provided something, to save those she cares for?
Maggie strode toward the dryad. “We seek a MirrorLeaf,” she said. “It is an ingredient in a spell capable of saving the moon coral.”
Suddenly, the dryad swooped forward, coming to Maggie’s eye level. “What is the spell of which you speak?”
“We discovered that the moon coral grows sick with Shadow Fungus,” Maggie explained. “There is a strong spell capable of saving it, but it requires ingredients we were warned to be hard to find.”
“If you were warned,” the dryad asked, “Why do it?”
Maggie paused at the question. Why had she done any of it? “If there are people in need, and I know myself capable of helping them, is it not my responsibility to do so?”
The dryad watched her closely before he pulled back to his tall height. “Your quest might be a noble one, Woman of the Way,” he began in a booming voice, “But it is not enough to win you a MirrorLeaf.”
Maggie’s brow bunched together. “But –”
“Solve my riddle,” he interjected, “And you will find what it is that you seek!”
She stepped forward, the bravery and confidence mounting in a way she hadn’t ever known before. “I’m ready,” she exclaimed.
The dryad’s voice echoed throughout the woods as he proclaimed his riddle:
“I rise, but do not walk.
I wax, but do not have arms.
I shine without flame,
And vanish with no shadow.
What am I?”
Maggie froze. The words seemed to trickle in one ear and out the other.
They echoed in her head but she barely understood a word of it.
Rise but don’t walk? Wax but no arms? Shine without a flame?
Vanish with no shadow? Not an ounce of it made any sense!
And who was she to think herself capable of uncovering riddles?
Whipping around to face Peter, Maggie could hardly catch her breath. She pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head. “H-How am I supposed to know this, Peter?” She began to tremble. “I don’t know this! I don’t know –”
Peter reached and collected her hands, holding them tight to stop the tremors. “Relax, Maggie,” he said. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against her own. “You know you’re smart. You know you can do this. Take a deep breath – a real deep breath – and it’ll come to you.”
Maggie’s voice was small when she found it. “It’ll come to me?”
“It’ll come to you,” he repeated.
Pushing herself off him, Maggie turned back to the dryad, the riddle echoing within her.
I can do this.
She drew in a long breath.
I can –
“Wait,” Magge whispered. “The moon.”
The dryad leaned forward.
“It’s the moon!” She threw her hands up, her eyes wide. “The answer is the moon.”
Silence passed between them as the creature looked down at her. It wasn’t until the corner of his lip tugged up in the smallest of smiles that she realized she had truly done it. The dryad reached behind his back before plucking a leaf, and bringing it toward her.
“Correct, Woman of the Way,” the dryad said. “You are worthy of my prize.”
Maggie took the leaf from his outstretched hand.
It was more beautiful than she expected it to be.
While it looked like a freshly plucked leaf from an aging maple tree, depending on the way she turned it, the leaf shone with the reflection of a mirror.
When Maggie raised her head, the dryad had gone, disappearing back into the forest’s shadows.
Peter looked over her shoulder at their prize. “Well, I’ll be. A real MirrorLeaf.” He looked mighty impressed for a moment, before the reality seemed to settle in. “Unfortunately for us, that was just the easy one.”
Maggie gaped. “That was the easiest?”
But Peter was already walking away.
“Hey!” she called out after him, already running to catch up.
Fear laced her heart as she began to wonder what might possibly come next.