“Owwww. All right. Give yourself a moment.”
Then she turned over on the floor, her body not willing to move. Instead, she sprawled out underneath the wildly swinging hammock, watching how the Neverland light reflected off the colored ribbons that brushed over her face with a gentle caress. The light refracted and bounced around the room, and Wendy thought that she caught the scent of breakfast wafting up from the Table below. She reached up her slender white arm to touch the light, watching it play over her pale fingers, reds and yellows filtered through the ribbons of her bed, purples and light blues through her linen curtains. Even the light here was different, she marveled—it was as if every particle of light had been brushed with gold, giving a hazy glow to everything it touched.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
The same drumming noise that she had thought came from inside of her head came barreling in through her open windows. What in God’s name was that awful sound? She pushed herself off the floor and brushed off her nightgown, which was now filthier than she had ever seen it. She was practically a street urchin at this point. With a sad sigh, she untied one of the lapis ribbons from her hammock and pulled her hair into a neat bun, lacing the ribbon around her brown strands and tying it with a bow. Even though she didn’t look like a lady, she didn’t have to behave like she wasn’t one. She splashed her face in the pot of water near the end of the bed. The morning was quiet without Michael scampering around her feet. She at once enjoyed the silence and missed him terribly. With more confidence than she had had the previous morning, she whistled her way down the tree branch, even leaping off it at the end with some grace. Oxley grinned at her from across a rope bridge when she landed, wiping her raw hands on her nightgown.
“You did that well, Wendy—no falling! Color me impressed! It must be a good omen for our raid day!”
Wham! Wham! Wham! Wendy turned her head away from the overbearing sound.
“Oxley—WHAT on EARTH is that?”
A huge grin stretched across his face. “Well, you aren’t on Earth, so that may help explain it! Those are the drums of war. Should I show you?”
“Do you quite have to? Can’t you just make them stop? It’s absolutely horrible.”
“I think you will want to see this.” Oxley trotted over and grabbed her wrist, and then they were flying downward. “Peter gave me flight this morning. For the raid.”
“Ah.”
Flying with Oxley was so different than flying with Peter. Flying with Peter was intimate, a chance to be close to him, a chance for Wendy to feel that fire flush through her skin. Flying with Oxley was at the very least fun, but practical. When they landed with an “oof” on one of the lowest levels of the tree, he released her wrist and pushed aside some hanging maroon leaves, each of them covered with microscopic veiny black lizards. They scampered into the leaves at his touch, but one proceeded to run up his arm before sinking its teeth into him. Oxley flinched.
“Argh! Blood suckers!” He flung the tiny lizard off into the tree. “Watch out for those. Weird little buggers down here! Argh, follow me!”
Wendy quietly followed him out onto a small overlook that looked down through a thicket of roots below. Directly below them was a long leather drum, easily the length of several huts, large enough that probably thirty Lost Boys could stand on it. Right now, however, there were only two boys on it—and one of them was Michael. Once she saw him, she could hardly contain her laughter and burst out with loud giggles.
“Michael!” He looked up at her and grinned.
“Look at me, Wendy!”
She did. Michael was bouncing up and down on the drum, getting higher and higher with each slam of his feet, flipping forward and backward, landing on his knees the vast majority of the time and then leaping into the air again. Wham! Wham! Wham! The other boy, Thomas, with his long blond curls, was bouncing along with him, the boys occasionally running into each other midbounce and collapsing into a pile of giggles upon the drum.
“Keep jumping, boys!” Oxley called out. “Sound the troops awake!”
Michael bounced up again, his blond hair standing up straight in the air.
“Look at us, Wendy, we’re making war!”
“Sounding the drums of war,” Oxley corrected.
Michael just giggled. “Same.”
Wendy was glad to see the big smile on his face as he and Thomas linked hands, bouncing each other higher and higher. They seemed like easy friends. She turned to Oxley.
“Where is John? Did Michael sleep with him?”
Oxley shrugged. “The Lost Boys sleep where they want. He might have slept in a soup bowl for all I know.”
Wendy frowned. Oxley grinned and linked her arm through his. “You must learn to relax, Miss Darling. There are no grownups here to tell you what you’re doing wrong. Don’t worry about Michael. He’s doing just fine.”