Peter and I spent a few happy years together, living a life of splendor and carelessness as we roamed the forests near the beach he had first found me. We were afraid of nothing as long as we were by each others' side. We were companions through the thick and thin, and we wanted to make the fun last forever. Sadly, I knew Peter would have to grow up on day. But that was before the existence of Neverland.
That day, Peter was twelve and I three (or around 17 in Foxer years). "Hey, Never," said Peter, digging around under his bed in the stick hut we were proud to call our own.
"Yeah?" I called back as I lazily hovered on my back, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what we could do that day.
"You never want to grow old and boring, right?" responded Peter, crawling back out from under the bed clutching a book. I looked over and stopped what I was doing to see what was so important. I didn't know Peter possessed such a book. "Yes, of course!"
"Well, we can, by making this potion," said Peter, riffling through the pages until he stopped at a dog-eared one bearing the title "Stallbrew".
"What does that mean?" I asked curiously, at that time not knowing what human letters meant.
"This potion grants the drinker immortality. It stops time for them, so they never grow older."
"Peter, that's amazing!" I said, firing up at once. We exchanged eager grins.
"But it's complicated," said Peter, his face falling as he ran his index finger down the list of ingredients. "Lonkrin flowers are extremely rare, as are Baterpillars... oh, we'll even need finely ground diamonds and the hair of a mermaid! But when it's all done," he said, indicating the opposite page, which bore the illustration of a cauldron bubbling over with a pearly-blue substance, "The fun will never end."
He and I both took a second to marvel at this potion.
"But that's not its only use!" Peter continued gleefully. "Guess what it also does? If you pour it on the ground, it will create an island where anyone living there will never grow up!"
"Amazing!" I cheered. "Peter, we need to make the potion as soon as we can!
"Lucky for us," said Peter, tearing out a page and putting the book in a satchel, "There's a map so we know where to find these things!"
"Terrific!" I cried. "Race you out the door!
The first stop on our list was the beautiful blue Lonkrin flower, which, according to the map, grew near mountains. The nearest ones to us were the rolling green hills of Saphor, where we sometimes played. At the base of the mountain, I invited Peter to climb on my back. I lifted off with ease, knowing that scouting around for the flower in midair would be more efficient than hiking. The mountains were hard to traverse, but for a Foxerfly like me, the job was made ten times easier. Peter's eyes scanned the hills for any signs of the blue petals we sought. Even after several hours, when my wings grew sore, there was no evidence of the elusive plant.
"Peter," I panted. "We'll need to camp here. There's no way I can make it back down the mountain." He nodded as we drifted downwards in a sort of spiral. I was so exhausted I wasn't controlling my flight for the last few seconds. I landed in a heap on a wide ledge with an overhanging roof. As the moon illuminated the cloudless night, I curled up, wrapping my tail around me and folding my limp, throbbing wings, aching from how hard they had been pushed today. Peter lay his head down on the satchel and we exchanged tired murmurs of "good night" before falling asleep.
I awoke with a start in the early hours of the dawn. The sky was still grey and the stars were feeble and slowly fading. Peter was shaking me awake.
"Never, we've got to go."
"Wha-?" I mumbled groggily, blinking my bleary eyes.
"Now!" he said urgently, pointing behind him. What appeared to be a mountain lion was sleeping behind us. I was so tired last night I hadn't even noticed! But our conversation had triggered the sudden opening of one luminous, yellow eye.
Peter hopped on my back and I flew off and away from that ledge like there was no tomorrow. At a safe enough distance away from the fearsome cat, I plopped down on the grass. I panted heavily, and Peter dismounted, walking away from me, seemingly distracted by something. I didn't pursue him, needing time to catch my breath.
"Lonkrin flowers," said Peter, returning moments later with an armful of the blooms, "Check!"
We headed back down the mountains together, pleased that we were a quarter of the way to immortality. We passed by a lake on the way to our house to store the flowers in a safe place, so we thought maybe we'd get lucky and find another ingredient today, the mermaid's hair. There wasn't much else we could do but wait until one showed up, so we sat ourselves down by the water's edge and did just that. We passed the hours by telling our favorite stories and jokes, and filled the air with our idle chatter. The next few days were spent like this, until it became apparent that either no mermaids lived in this area, or they weren't interested in seeing us.
"Maybe they're frightened?" I said glumly, rolling over onto my back for a change of perspective.
"Well, if they won't come to us," said Peter decidedly, standing up, "then I'm coming to them."
"You're going underwater?" I yelped, standing up abruptly. He nodded. "But it's dark down there," I pleaded. "And there might be sharks!"
"If we wanna be immortal, that's the risk we'll have to take," said Peter resolutely, taking a great gulp of air and diving into the lake with inflated cheeks.
"Wait, I'm coming, too!" I cried, jumping clumsily in after him. I wasn't a fan of the water, but I was willing to face it for the sake of my and Peter's immortality.
I followed Peter into a dank underwater cave, paddling feebly and using my wings as propulsion. I hated the water and the feeling I had of drowning whenever I got near it. I emerged into a safe air pocket as the cave led upwards into a larger opening. I clambered up into it, where Peter was already standing, sopping wet. Like dogs, we both shook ourselves off to rid ourselves of excess water. There, in little tidepools, sat a dozen mermaids, all laughing and chattering and grooming and pampering themselves.
"Hiya, girls!" called Peter, walking towards them. Some giggled, but others looked apprehensive.
He started a conversation with a pretty blonde one, resting alone by the tidepools and humming to herself. I approached her, too, though slowly. "Oh, your Foxerfly is beautiful!" she cooed, running her hand along my sleek coat, still wet from the swim.
"Oh, that's Neverland," Peter beamed. I was warming up to the mermaid and gently nuzzled her chin. "Aren't you a darling?" she whispered fondly, scratching my ears. "Why, thank you," I replied.
We spent the afternoon together, and we were quite disappointed to leave, to tell you the truth. It was getting close to dinnertime, and we bade the ladies goodbye, promising to return to our new friends.
Suffice it to say, we got the next ingredient on the list.
The next day we left our cabin and set out, following the map a ways out towards Stratford Meadow, where there lived an abundance of butterflies, to look for the Baterpillar, a species of nocturnal butterfly with the head of a bat that had a habit of eating its own kind. When we arrived, all was quiet and we were quite sure we were the only ones there.
"H-hello?" Peter called warily, not liking this eerie silence. Something wasn't right. In the past, the meadows were always alive and buzzing.
All at once, as if triggered by this greeting, a whoosh of wings came from overhead, and, looking up, our eyes met a queer sight: butterflies all colours of the rainbow were fluttering off over the treeline, all headed in the same direction, as if retreating. We soon found out why. A swarm of Baterflies was on their trail, on the hunt. We didn't run after them, but instead, Peter bolted into the woods opposite the meadow from whence the attackers had come.
"We're bound to find some nests in there," he shouted over his shoulder as I trotted after him.
Sure enough, we were soon greeted by a whole colony of Baterflies. Groups of them were hovering around cocoons, as if guarding them. They looked us over as we entered the clearing, and I felt nervous as hundreds of tiny pairs of compound eyes locked onto me. Neither of us moved an inch, or at least, it appeared to look that way. In actuality Peter was inching over to the nearest cocoon, anxious sweat rolling down his face. It wasn't like him to be scared of butterflies, but their stares were very imposing. With one swift movement, he grabbed the cocoon and plucked it right off the branch it was dangling from. All at once, the Baterpillars rose into the air and started following us. Whenever one got close, it would pelt and batter us with its wings before being swatted away. We ran like this all the way out of the forest, not stopping until we were safely behind our cabin door.
Now so close to immortality we could taste it, Peter and I waited until the next day to set off for the final ingredient of our search, the diamonds. This was the only problem we had; the map didn't give a location, since the diamond is the rarest of all the ingredients. We were stumped as to where to begin the search. We decided to ask the mermaids for help.
None of them seemed to know where to find diamonds, except for the blonde one we had talked to previously. "My mother used to explore these underwater caverns with me," she said with a sly grin, "and I know the perfect place to find what you're looking for. Come with me."
After a bit of swimming, we entered a cave immersed in shadow. The mermaid knocked thrice on the wall and suddenly the air-filled chamber was flooded with a gentle light. The walls were encrusted with gorgeous shimmering crystals, all reflecting the light and splitting it into shards. It was glorious and heavenly. It seemed a shame to upset it, but we needed the potion. Peter set to work prying a few diamonds off the wall. They appeared to come off quite easily. So did the ones next to them, without Peter even touching them. Then the next few, then the next, until it was a full-on avalanche!
We narrowly escaped getting hit over the head by the jewels as we hurtled out of the cave and back to shore. We swam upwards frantically, breaking the surface of the lake, gasping for air. Clumsily pulling ourselves onto solid ground, Peter and I sat on the grass, clutching our pounding hearts. In Peter's other fist, luckily, were the diamonds. He shouted with glee and I gave an ecstatic howl. We had done it!
The next day, the potion was complete, and we separated it into three bottles; one for me, one for Peter, and one we would pour on the ground to create our paradise island. We made a toast, and then it was time to test out our handiwork.
"Well, bottoms up!" Peter cried, chugging the blue potion in one go.
I downed my portion of potion and smacked my lips approvingly. It tasted sugary and I wished I had savored it more. After I had drained the last of the bottle, I felt changed, different. Like my life was just starting. And in a way, it sort of was.
