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Hot Embers

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A few minutes prior

TREES AND TREES passed him as he flew. His robe clung to him as the wind whipped by. He was Peter Pan. There was no open clearing in sight and he let out an aggravated sigh.

The bonfire was a tradition that he wanted to keep. He would go to a realm and gather Lost Boys to recruit and take to Neverland. Even if now he had limited time, it didn't stop him from changing this tradition.

Pan had always loved the bonfire. His pan flute playing a melody, luring boys who felt lost and unloved to the bright fire in the middle of the woods. The fire illuminated in the dark and hot embers flew out of it. The boys wearing masks and dancing freely around it — celebrating their freedom.

He could feel his time running out but then he felt something else. Something tugged at him, telling him to go to the left. So he did.

Pan flew until he saw a small village. However, there was one cottage that stood out to him, despite it being the same as all of the other cottages around it.

One window was wide open and he flew to a tree, stand on a branch, putting his one hand against the trunk. His green eyes found a girl. And he froze