He was running. Again. Feet flying over the lush grass that clung to his
bare skin; long blades coiling upwards like fingers trying to grasp on
to ankles and calves to somehow ground him to Neverland's surface. But
the green tendrils were unsuccessful, stomped onto one another, crushed
and broken with each footfall - tread upon too heavily in the split
second that each heel landed to keep him tied down.
He was breathless. He couldn't drink in the warm air rushing through his
nose quickly enough. His chest heaved as he tore across the ground. His
lungs felt as if they were about to burst, desperate for him to slow
down so the shallow inhalations could be exchanged for a deep breath
inwards. The sting of the salt in the light breeze caused his throat to
burn, caused him to hold those remaining breaths until his whole torso
ached under the weight of agony. Only then did he dare to inhale again..
His heartbeat was thundering in his ears. The usual symphony of
Neverland - the birds and bugs and boys - had been silenced by the
drumming of his pulse. He could feel it knocking against his chest, in
his neck, in his wrists...as if it were trying to explode outwards.
And still he ran...as if the devil, himself, were hot on his heels -
trading his invisible wings for five minutes of being a simple mortal.
Naked feet carried him past the landscape; past the old knotted tree
where he'd carved his name after the first week of his stay, past the
rocky bed at the base of Neverpeak...not even the smallest flinch when
jagged rocks cut into exposed flesh, past the outskirts of
Neverwood...bolting in and out of the treeline as if daring whatever
haunted the forest to suck him inwards...and feeling a bit
disappointed when it didn't.
By the time he reached the edge of the lagoon he was a mess of a boy -
the already wild Pan looking that much more untamed; face glistening
with sweat, dampened locks of hair jutting up around his head in some
mock halo, lips tinged with a faint violet colour from lack of oxygen.
He was parched, tongue and throat desperate for a drink, his only
thought resting on the aquamarine pool that awaited him just ahead. Each
step pushed him closer to the roar of the waterfall, its rumble
conquering all other noise.
And perhaps that was the reason the man's footsteps were lost on him.
Perhaps the cascading water was to blame. Or maybe he'd become so lost
in his only thoughts of that satisfying mouthful of water that would be
swallowed as he cannonballed into the basin, completely submerging
himself in the cold pool. Whichever the reason, the sudden appearance of
the body from practically out of nowhere caused some startled cry to
spring out of him...though it too was lost in the cannonade of water
spilling into water. Pan's feet flew out from under him, the soggy
ground rushing up to meet his spine with pain that shot down his legs,
his eyes immediately blinking open to stare up at the wall of pirate
he'd collided into, now towered over him. Pan's face darkened in that
moment, jaw hardening as his chin jutted outwards...defiance setting his
features into a scowl as he glared upwards. But he wasted no time
dashing back to his feet, ready to rocket just out of reach should Ol'
Hookie-boy decide to reach out for him.
"Well if it ain't Hook! I didn't know they let you outta the old folks
home, You must'a been really, really good," Pan scoffed, balled up fists
instinctively falling into place at his hips, a tsk falling past his
tongue, "...or very, very bad."
