Chapter 9
The wind was moving quicker that afternoon as Peter flew above Neverland.
Within his arms, Maggie clutched tightly to his neck, holding herself firmly against his chest. He moved with an impressive speed, unlike their first journey through the skies.
Maggie held onto him tightly, peering up at his concentrated but calm expression every chance she had.
To ignore the King of Neverland’s attractiveness would have been foolish.
It was obvious and apparent, but it meant something more to Maggie, something far past a physical attraction.
Who was the last person that claimed to make her life better, who wished to let her know that she was needed?
She could hardly think of one, much less one that also happened to be a King.
Behind them, the rest of the Lost Boys streaked through the sky.
They lingered above and a little bit away, just trailing behind their King.
Maggie peered over Peter’s shoulder and eyed them for a moment, watching how they played with each other and glided seamlessly through the rustling winds.
Maggie felt Peter’s hands shift and tighten beneath her.
Not once did she stop to consider how much of a struggle Peter must have in carrying her.
She was in no way a small woman, and though his strength wasn’t anything to scoff at, routinely carrying someone that was her size across the length of an island couldn’t be an easy thing to do.
As the insecurity simmered and grew within her, Maggie found the silence made her thoughts run far more amok and louder than she wished for them to be.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to focus on the lightheartedness of it, and held her face up to Peter with a small, shy smile.
“I can’t help but wonder…”
Peter looked down at her. “What is it, Magpie?”
“Would I be…” she paused and shook her head, searching for her voice. “Maybe I’m a bit too heavy for you to carry?”
He jerked back, his flight pattern stumbling and yearning a shout or two from the Lost Boys trailing behind him. Peter eyed her sideways, his brow furrowing deeper every time he glanced down at her.
“Why would you be too heavy?” He shook his head and scoffed, holding her up boisterously. “You are as light as a feather, Magpie.”
Maggie laughed louder than she wanted to. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Why not? I’m the one carrying you, aren’t I?”
“Well, sure, but,” she paused and shrugged. “There’s no need to lie for my comfort.”
Peter eyed her again, his irritation and confusion meddling together within his foggy expression. “Lie?”
Maggie avoided meeting his eyes and looked at the ground below.
The forest thinned out into fields of bushes and foliage.
They searched for something in particular, but she hadn’t spotted it yet.
She wished that it would have appeared in that moment, stopping the conversation before she said something to mess it all up.
“I wouldn’t entirely be considered a light woman, is all,” Maggie finally said. “There is hardly anything light about me.” Her laugh came again but it was clearly one from discomfort.
Peter mumbled, but it was far too incoherent for her to make out.
“My shape is pretty roundish, you know,” Maggie continued, unable to stop the word vomit from simply pouring out embarrassingly. “P-Perhaps you need a break in carrying someone like me. That was all I meant.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Peter said, his voice sharp and ringing in her ears. “I like your shape, and I like carrying you even more.”
Maggie went as still as a statue in his grasp.
Embarrassment grabbed a hold of her throat and she pulled her gaze back towards the ground.
He had only said it to make her feel better, to try and tell her what she wanted to hear.
Maggie knew it was true, but needed to repeat it till her heart stopped acting like any of it was real.
The longer she stared at the ground, the easier it was for her to pretend like nothing had ever happened in the first place.
And, judging by Peter’s lack of words and awkward stare into the distance, Maggie figured he was doing the exact same thing.
Refusing to wallow in her shame, Maggie kept up to the task at hand.
“Wait,” she called out, something catching her attention on the ground. She pointed across the field. “There, Peter!”
Peter let out a resounding shout, one that wasn’t entirely a word but acted like a call all the same.
As he dove forward, carefully tucking Maggie against the safety of his chest, the rest of the Lost Boys moved in the same formation, circling around their King.
They moved like eagles, growing closer and closer to the cluster of bushes Maggie had pointed out originally.
Despite how fast they moved, the Lost Boys and their King pulled back at the very last second, earning a delicately soft land against the grassy floor below.
Berries grew in volumes along the rows of bushes.
They had a duller color than other fruits Maggie might’ve been used to, along with split leaves.
They did not grow in clusters, but rather in solitude, hanging down from the winding vines in long, uniform lines.
Maggie crouched alongside one of the bushes, retrieving the satchel she carried and pulling out the small pair of shears she carried.
She snipped the berry off from the vine, and used the sharpest point of the shears to slice the fruit open.
Beneath the dark shell lay a fleshy, pink fruit.
It was unblemished and smooth, a delicate shade that was incredibly enticing.
Maggie plucked the jewel out of its shell and popped the entire thing in her mouth, hardly able to help herself.
There wasn’t a seed within the center, which was the first thing she was happy with.
The taste was something like a strawberry crossed with a cherry, and it sent her tastebuds ablaze.
With a nod of her head, Maggie rose to her feet, satisfied and proud of her finding.
“This is another one, boys,” she exclaimed. “And maybe the best find yet.”
Dusty nodded and stepped forward, marking the bush with a red piece of fabric.
Raising her head to the climbing sun, Maggie held up a hand to block out its insistent rays. “Perhaps that’ll be enough for now,” she said. “It’s long past lunch, isn’t it? Well, I’m rather hungry, so why don’t we stop here? We’ll pick up afterwards.”
Peter stepped towards her. “The fairies should’ve already put everything we’ve picked so far in the kitchen back home,” he explained. “And, don’t you worry, Magpie. Everything’s going according to your instructions.”
“Really?” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Do you think they really could have ground all that wheat by now?”
Peter’s smirk was proud and confident as it stretched across his face. “I’m sure of it.”
The excitement was far too hard for her to ignore.
Everything she strived to ignore and push past was now at the forefront of her mind, and she couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to finally use that kitchen.
The flames within the stove would turn on for the first time, they would simmer and garble and pop for the very first time, all for Maggie.
It all felt like too much to keep beneath her skin, and she was moments away from bursting at the seams.
Peter came up beside her, his arms already extended. “May I?”
Ignoring the blush that crawled up the sides of her face at his simple question, Maggie nodded shyly and let her hand slide across his smooth neck.
Peter hoisted her into the air and off her feet with a single, effortless motion.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he raised a brow, holding her even higher in the air.
“Alright,” Maggie mumbled, feeling the small tufts of hair on the back of his neck tickle her palm. She bit on her lip. “I get your point.”
Peter’s laugh filled the air as he and the Lost Boys began to soar into the sky above.
Their chatter filled the flight as they hung close together the entire way home.
They discussed the kinds of food they wanted, and everything they were excited for Maggie to do.
Peter reflected the same excitement for what was to come, and it was then that the pit began to take form in the depths of her stomach.
Maggie clutched onto Peter as they dove through the sky, though it wasn’t his flying that was making her queasier with every passing second.
The realization of needing to satisfy the men who were banking on her cooking weighed heavily against her shoulders. No matter what, it was going to happen anyways, whether or not she was afraid of the outcome. She needed to do this. It was important.
She had something to offer the great land of magic. She just knew it.