Peter glared intently down at the stubborn snow beneath his feet, as if his glare alone would will it into melting. He didn’t understand it. Why wasn’t winter over yet? Wendy was back on the island, the way she was meant to be. And he was happy. Wasn’t he? Peter and the island had never been out of sync like this for as far back as he could remember. An incorporeal whisper that would have gone unnoticed by most others caressed at his ear, taunting him viciously with a velvety voice that he knew all too well but could just as easily be perceived as a whistle from the frigid winds.
“That’s ridiculous — I am not! Why would I be?” Peter hissed through clenched teeth as he half-turned to glare at a new spot on the ground directly in front of him. In doing so, his gaze was pulled toward nearby movement and he was surprised to find someone approaching.
“What?” He barked, indignant about having been snuck up on, intentionally or not.
















