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His name is Hunter and he is having the most godawful time living on this godawful island.
A few more years, a few extra inches of height, a few more hairs on his jaw (please...) and he'll be a man. But for now he is pathetically young. And when you're young in Neverland, it's not a good look. Especially if you're a pirate. So you wear big hats and you wield big weapons and you carve out your whole heart and you smear the blood on the spotless white flag of your Uncle's ship and you swear you're a man at heart.
Blood, blood, blood, what is his brain's fixation with blood?
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he's currently bleeding out.
A setback for sure. Especially when attempting to run at top speed through a forest.
Hunter's breath is coming in tight laboured gasps as he hurdles across an obstacle course of foliage. One hand is clutching his side, trying to ignore the feel of shirt fabric soaking against his wound, while the other grips a tiny iron birdcage.
It's fine. It's okay. All of this will be okay once he makes it back to the ship and presents his catch to Uncle.
And then once he's certain Uncle is satisfied with him, he can work on patching himself up. Its okay. Everything is going to be okay.
It doesn't matter that this whole operation has been totally ruined. He's captured a fairy. That's all that matters.
He can still let himself be pissed at the crew though. He had everything under control. If they had just minded their fucking business and let him handle it.
But nooooo, they never trust him to do a single goddamn thing for himself.
He knows they're going to have some words for him. Like why didn't he bother to inform anyone that he was going undercover in the Lost Boy village? Why did he lie to Uncle about his whereabouts for days on end?
To keep the crew from butting in, that's why! Hunter has spent a lifetime being patronized for his age but God forbid anybody allow him to use it to his advantage. He was the only pirate aboard that ship who could have infiltrated the village as effortlessly as he did.
But what did they do? They followed him.
And being the impulsive, hard headed dolts that they are, they ambushed the village, successfully setting Hunter's whole plan ablaze. Days of hard work, that slow build of trust the Lost Boys were developing towards him, all gone up in smoke.
His crew is so fucking embarrassing.
He was left with no choice but to act fast. He sure as fuck was not sticking around to participate in the village raze. The moment he got wind of what was happening, he burst into the Magician's room where the Fairy dwelled and he snatched her up before she realized something was amiss.
Unfortunately, he couldn't escape undetected. There was a clash of swords, a few outraged screams from the boys who called him their friend not an hour prior and now he's barrelling through the woods to escape from his most persistent attacker.
This is fine. He can do this. He's in a tight spot but he always survives. Somehow.
When does his supply of 'Somehow's run out? He'll find out soon enough if he keeps pushing it.
The forest cuts off abruptly at the scarped edge of a cliff and Hunter lunges for the rope bridge. It's woven from rigging stolen from their ship. Lost Boys are thieves among other things, and no amount of games and laughter and arms looped companionably around his shoulder can make him forget that.
The bridge rocks violently with Hunter's sudden weight as he urgently scrambles to cross. And once he's thrown himself on to land, he's spurred by his immediate instinct and cuts the rope loose.
It's only when she bursts out of the trees, feet hanging in midair that he realizes how pointless that action was.
But by this point, Hunter has had enough. He grabs the birdcage handle and thrusts it over the edge of his respective cliff, dangling it threateningly.
"Don't move," He barks at the Lost Boy and she obeys. Though she remains hovering in the air, she makes no effort to pursue him, opting to instead raise her hands in a gesture of surrender.
He hears a shrill jingle of protest but he does not look at the captive, instead keeping his gaze trained on the Boy on the other side. A universe of sawtooth rock is cluttered beneath them.
He knows her well. The Lost Boy with the dark disheveled curls and the bright brown eyes. He's met her before, as he's met the Fairy, and the Collector and so many more of them.
This game has predated her by years, but he's just as closely acquainted with her as any of his other 'playmates'
What bewilders Hunter is how easily they were fooled by his disguise. Or. Well. Lack thereof.
He hadn't sought out to infiltrate the village, truth be told. It just kind of....happened. Humiliating circumstances best left unspoken of had led to him being caught in the woods in his night clothes by the Lost Boy Magician and his shoulder Fairy.
Hunter doesn't fully understand the science behind it (and by God, he's tried) but one's identity in Neverland is all an endless game of dress-up. It muddies up peoples' perceptions a little. If you're dressed as a Lost Boy and you carry yourself as a Lost Boy, you are unrecognizable as the pirate you were, even if you have sparred with these people countless time before.
The Fairy had gazed at him with unreserved curiosity. She seemed to have no recollection of the time she had chomped down on his nose during battle.
Neverland is a senseless place. It bothers him to no end. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't pluck at his intrigue.
It was like a mother cat adopting an orphaned kitten with little protest. The Fairy and the Magician helped him to his feet, brought him home with them and proceeded to rub their scent all over him.
Metaphorically and literally. Lost Boys smell terrible and now Hunter does too.
But the scent isn't the only souvenir he's getting out of this.
The Lost Boy across the cliff sheathes her cutlass and Hunter's insides sink at the sight of the thing. A rusty, grimy, jagged edged weapon.
Oh, he's getting an infection from this wound for sure.
She's such a bastard for this, honestly. Even if it's impressive that she managed to graze him at all.
Maybe he's too good a teacher for his own good. If circumstances were different, if they'd been different people, he'd be proud of her.
Granted, he thinks she regrets hurting him. The scuffle hadn't been supposed to get violent; she was just trying to rescue her Fairy. But when Hunter drew his sword, what could she have done but grab hers too?
He remembers the way her eyes had widened in alarm when the blade sunk into his flesh. A blessing in disguise really, as Hunter took advantage of her stupor by knocking her over and booking it.
"You're really gonna do this?" The Lost Boy asks of him. "You're really gonna hand Willow over to Belos?"
He doesn't like the way the Fairy's name sounds in his ears.
"Everybody knows what pirates do to fairies. But....but please...she's ours..." The Lost Boy's float begins to waver. "She's our friend..."
He doesn't like the way that word sounds either. It's uncomfortable.
He can see a hint of desperate tears glinting in the Lost Boy's eyes and he's getting very frustrated.
Crying over something that can fit in the palm of your hand is so fucking pointless. She's just a pretty little creature with a pair of wings. You crush a butterfly and the world won't fall apart over it.
Well, maybe it would. He doesn't know. He avoids crushing butterflies.
Hunter doesn't say anything. But he's reluctant to turn away. The moment the Fairy is safe from his threat, the Lost Boy will continue to pursue him.
And then he'll have to hurt her.
Right now, his best bet is to talk her down.
If he could just think of a single word to say.
"Like you," She continues, drooping lower and lower, "We thought you were our friend too. But I guess that was just part of your act, huh?"
It was. It was just part of his act.
But he doesn't like it when she says it like that.
He doesn't like any of the things she's saying right now.
"You're not our friend," Says the Lost Boy, so matter-of-factly that he flinches in spite of himself. "You're just a pirate."
He is.
He is a pirate.
That's a title he's spent years fighting for. And a decade ago, he'd tear off his limbs just for someone to call him that.
So why did he just inhale sharply and nearly blurt out a protest of her statement?
Why was his first instinct to defy it?
He needs to leave. Right now.
"And you're just a human girl who's trying to hide from her problems in Neverland," Replies Hunter monotonously.
The Human Girl's eyes widen.
"Go home," He says to her softly and he means it. "Stop fighting pirates. Stop playing with fairies and mermaids and the Collector. Stop chasing some stupid adventure and just go home,"
Her slow descent from the air stops abruptly and she crashes to the ground.
Hunter ignores her grunt of pain, turning away.
He doesn't like how it feels to look at her, so he decides he doesn't want to see her ever again.
He doesn't want to see any of the Lost Boys ever again.
But as he's attempting to hobble away from her, he hears her plead, shrill and devastated. "No!! Not Willow!! Please, not Willow!!"
Her voice continues to carry as he retreats, bordering on hysterical and Hunter is making every effort to block its attempts to burrow into him.
'Not Willow' she begs.
It's not the first time he's heard that today.
He remembers fighting his way through a riot of pirates and lost boys, and he had locked eyes with the Magician.
'Backstabber!' He had snarled, to which Hunter did not reply.
A fair and true accusation.
That was when he spotted the cage at Hunter's hip, and the captive within. And his eyes had exploded like an electric ocean and Hunter ran.
The Magician had been unable to follow, suddenly flanked by pirates and the excess of his magic had to be wasted on the task of keeping himself and his surrounding friends alive.
But Hunter still heard him yell the words.
'Not Willow!! Give her back!! Give me back Willow!! Please!!'
The anguish in their voices did not sit well in Hunter's memory.
All for one fairy.
It's dangerous, he thinks. Being driven to your limit by the thought of a fairy being hurt.
This fairy is loved.
He doesn't really know how he's feeling about that so he figures it's an alternate flavour of anger.
Ow.
He is in....a lot of pain right now.
Feeling lightheaded, he tips to the side, crashing against a tree. He hugs the trunk in an effort to keep his balance.
Fuck.
It's fine. It's probably fine. He just needs to take a breather.
He'll crawl back to the ship if he has to. But this wound is going to be a bitch to deal with.
It's infected for sure, so he's probably going to get very sick.
Or he's going to die. Who knows? He'll find out.
Hunter doesn't want to die.
He never does. But he's always risking his chances.
Because he could either play it a little reckless and possibly die as a person, or play it safe and survive as a burden.
But no matter how rough he plays, how many near death scrapes he gets into, there is not a living breathing soul on this island who would scream 'Not Hunter!'
Uncle loves him as much as he's capable of. But if Hunter were to fuck up and die, Uncle would be too disappointed in his failure to mourn.
He's not made for Neverland. Deep down he knows that.
But it's all he knows. It's all his brain understands. So odds are he wouldn't cut it anywhere else.
But catching a fairy for Uncle? That would at least grant him an ounce of credibility. He could get a week's sleep without laying awake feeling useless. He wouldn't have to self medicate himself just for the sake of a few hours of unconsciousness.
It's not easy to catch fairies. They're a lot more vicious than they look.
And this one in particular is....
Well. She's a lot.
If it weren't for the cage made of iron, he'd be completely fucked.
Or at least have more injuries to worry about than a stab wound.
Still rendered wobbly against the tree, Hunter lifts the cage to check in on his captive.
She's been strangely quiet. It's unlike her.
He's expecting to meet a tiny feral beast, glowing a colour of warning and gnawing on the bars of her cage. He's expecting her to erupt in a chorus of furious jingles when she meets his eyes, cursing him out in a language he doesn't understand.
Like old times. Like it's supposed to be.
However, Hunter doesn't know how to react to what he sees instead.
The Fairy is slumped on her side with her back to Hunter, wings limp. When he swivels the cage around to find her eyes (momentarily panicked that she may have died), he's instead met with a dejected face, her chubby cheek smushed against a cell bar.
It unnerves him. Just a bit.
From what he knows about this Fairy, she's sweet and docile in the right company but utterly ferocious with the enemy.
He is the enemy.
So, where's her green fire?
He presses the cage against the tree trunk to provide easier access for his one free hand.
Against his better judgement, Hunter experimentally pokes his fingertip through the bars, dangerously close to her face. It's not until she raises her gaze, dull and uninterested, before it slips again, that he realizes he probably would have lost a finger if she were angrier.
By all means, he should be missing a finger right now.
He should have lost it when he shoved her into the cage too. But that hadn't happened either.
She hadn't put up a fight.
She hadn't realized that she was supposed to until it was too late.
Hunter made his move near immediately after the first pirate lunged into the village, swinging a sword around. He was accustomed enough with this place to know where the Fairy would be from the placement of the sun.
The ceiling of the Magician's bedroom was held aloft by an ingrown willow tree. And tucked away in the hollow of the trunk, was her little abode.
When Hunter brushed back the curtains, she was lounging on her lavender bed, scrubbing at her eyes. Her glow was still faint from her post-nap daze.
He should have grabbed her by the wings and flung her in the cage.
He should have.
But this is not what he did.
When the Fairy lifted her head in his direction, she smiled drowsily at the sight of him, letting out a half hearted little jingle of greeting and Hunter silently extended his hand to her.
And because he was a Lost Boy and because she trusted him wholeheartedly, she happily hopped into his open palm.
Happily hopped into the pirate's hand.
And then she was caged.
It occurred to him that Lost Boys likely did this often. They'd visit after her nap and carry her around until she had shaken off the sleepiness.
Because this Fairy is loved.
Not Willow
He can't purge how it feels to remember how easy this was.
He cheated.
She trusted him and he cheated.
Hunter wants his finger bitten off already.
This is aggravating him in ways that are hard to pin down.
He's angry at the Fairy, he's pretty sure. He wants to rattle the cage until she gets all riled up and starts desperately clawing at metal. He's furious with her for not fighting with him over this.
Doesn't she understand that she's loved?
Doesn't she realize what she has to lose?
Doesn't she grasp that fairies shouldn't be caged?
She loves to fly, he knows he does. She should be battering her tiny body against her containment for the right to fly.
And she loves those Lost Boys to bits. Just as stupidly as they love her.
He imagines her locked away in Uncle's study, her wings clipped for convenience sake and she's missing her comforting perch in the crook of her Magician's neck.
Meanwhile, he's out there in a far more desolate Lost Boy Village. And he's hurting too.
They all are.
Because this Fairy is loved.
And not only is she loved, but her love in return actually means something.
When she's gone, she leaves an uncomfortably empty space.
Which is something Hunter could never do.
He's stealing not only her body but her everything. He's stealing her ground, her love, her sky. He's stealing everything she's supposed to be.
This Fairy belongs in Neverland in a way Hunter never will.
He knows iron mutes fairy magic. He knows that, realistically speaking, it's impossible for her to escape.
But....
But damn....she may be small but she's a force of nature. Where the fuck is it? Where's her ruthless hope?
Where's that silly ditzy disposition firmly rooted in the ways of the impossible?
Where's her Neverland soul?
Where's her wild stupid inextinguishable green fire?
He doesn't like thinking that he might have snuffed it out. It makes his insides writhe.
He shouldn't be capable of killing a fairy's passion. He shouldn't have that kind of power. It seems insulting to the very foundation of Neverland, given that he doesn't even belong here.
He shouldn't be leeching the magic out of this world. He shouldn't even be touching it.
This is unnatural.
Too much.
It's all too much.
He wants her to look at him with boiling fury. He wants to strike a match in her eyes.
He doesn't like this.
This is so out of place that his already uneven breath is spiraling into hyperventilating.
He's going to fall very ill soon.
But if he brings back this Fairy, Uncle might be tolerant with him until he recovers.
If he brings back this Fairy, the burden won't be for nothing.
If he brings back this Fairy, he'll....
Not Willow
If he brings back this Fairy, she'll never fly again.
This Fairy is loved.
He fucking hates her for this, he really does.
'So, you return with nothing?' He can hear his Uncle's words in his head. He loves his Uncle with the intensity of an open wound, enough to have his speech patterns memorized.
He can hear the way his voice drips with disappointment.
Hunter exhales.
He'll hear it for real soon.
This Fairy is loved.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight, stretches his jittering fingers across the cage, seeks out the door and unlatches it.
Nothing happens.
For some reason, Hunter still has all of his fingers.
He tentatively cracks open one eye, only to find the Fairy standing by the edge of the cage, peering dumbly out through the open door. She has not budged.
A breathy impatient noise bursts out of him and he flips the cage on its side, sending her tumbling to the forest floor.
The Fairy lands unceremoniously on her rear end and when she stumbles to stand up, she's rubbing on it in exaggerated irritation.
If Hunter wasn't livid and in mind numbing pain right now, he would have rolled his eyes.
She turns on her heel and tips her little head up to gaze at Hunter with her wild open expression, pointedly making no effort to flutter away.
Or attack him.
"Leave," Hunter snarls, reaching his limit. Her lack of aggression is freaking him out. "Go back to your Boys. I don't care anymore, just get out of my sight."
The Fairy ascends from the ground in a flurry of wings and Hunter staggers back.
Unsurprisingly, she has no interest in doing as she's told, and instead looms closer and closer into his personal space.
Fairies and personal space. It's not something they really understand.
"Get back!" He yells, lifting his sword to jab in her direction.
Her head is tilted to the side and her eyes eating away at his, searching and searching....
Closer and closer.
He hoists himself up straighter, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain in his side.
She notices. She seems way too interested in whatever is going on with his torso for his comfort.
Now is a terrible time to be physically weakened.
His sword pierces the sliver of distance that remains and the Fairy halts midair as the tip of the blade presses threateningly against her chest.
"Final warning," Says Hunter, panting for breath. "I could change my mind and slice you though. I could..."
His gritted tooth declarations are softened by the unsteady sway of his frame, the cold sweat slick on his face, the uncontrollable tremble of his grip on the hilt.
And then, (He swears she's deliberately trying to provoke him) the Fairy props her hands on her hips and daringly repositions herself so she is perching directly atop the blade, fixing him with an exasperated look.
She jingles something, which he assumes is a smart ass comment.
Hunter is too stunned to immediately retort. He's pretty sure his bottom lip is hanging open brainlessly.
She cannot be serious.
Something explosive is bubbling to the surface and Hunter is about to blow, when the Fairy makes an elaborate gesture with her fingers and a yelp of alarm is torn from his throat instead.
He is now laying flat on his back, having been bodily slammed to the ground by God knows what. But before Hunter's instinct can even kick in enough to try climbing to his feet, he is physically subdued.
He feels something slither and coil around his ankle and he quickly gathers that a similar sensation in his other ankle is what yanked him to the ground in the first place. He's about to start kicking when it firmly stretches his legs out taut, rendering them immobilized.
While he's distracted by the business of his bound legs, he doesn't notice the same culprit snatch both his wrists and pull them over his head. He numbly registers them as vines.
Okay, okay, okay, okay....
The hand he's been using to clog his wound has been removed....
Okay, okay, okay, okay...
The panic is escalating. He can hear it in his own crazed gasps and grunts and, much to his humiliation, whimpers.
He's going to die.
His body is already thrashing around like a feral animal, having gone completely fight or flight. Even though Hunter knows, somewhere at the back of his mind, that he's going to bleed out faster this way.
So why can't he stop? Why can't he shake off the primal fear? He hears his own voice flooding in his ears, high pitched and desperate. Not a sound released is of his own volition.
It's the beast that possesses you when you're petrified to die.
Bells.
He hears jingling bells.
Fuck.
Fucking shit. Fuck.
Her lustrous glow drowns his eyes and her business-like demeanour as she bunches up the hem of his shirt has him praying to God and fucking hoping the deity doesn't completely hate him by now.
Hunter's shirt, a textural nightmare, sopping wet from a bloody blossom, is suctioned to his midsection. She peels back the damp material and lifts it up his chest and every brush of fabric against skin is adding another spike to his already rattling breath. It's an agonizing anticipation.
In the midst of Hunter's terror struck hysteria, an unwelcome memory resurfaces.
He wasn't supposed to be lingering in the Berth as the crew settled down for the night, but he was insatiably curious and his ears perked up at this new bout of information.
They spoke in hushed tones of fairies and just what those little hellions are capable of.
If you're not careful, they'll steal your heart away.
Hunter nearly tripped over his own boots in his efforts to stumble over to them, a moth to the flame of potential knowledge.
He had questions. A lot of them too. Since when are fairies organ harvesters? What do they need hearts for? Are they carnivorous? How do they extract the hearts? Their teeth? Is it only hearts or would they help themselves to other innards if they felt like it?
They had laughed at him, which brought an uncomfortable heat to the tips of his ears. He suddenly wasn't in the mood to ask any more questions.
They did provide him with one answer though. Your heart, your lungs and huge chunks of your brain. Fairies are ruthless thieves for those kinds of parts.
Being a boy as young and weak as he is, they told Hunter he wouldn't stand a chance. If a fairy set their sights on him, he'd be brought to his knees.
Hunter resented their claims. 'Young' was always used so derogatorily, even when he knew damn well that he had better knees and more stamina than the lot of them put together.
Hunter was pretty sure he could ward off any attempts to snatch his organs. He's good with a sword, after all.
Or maybe he's a fucking idiot.
He can't stop wriggling, making every last attempt to cling to the remaining threads of dignity and not whine or beg for his life.
On the bright side, he's about to learn the Fairy's favoured organ extraction method. On the less than bright side, he won't have a chance to write it down.
He still manages to think about the crew and how funny they're going to find it once they uncover his corpse, all scrapped for parts.
They told him so.
Every instinct is screeching to shut his eyes but Hunter's curiosity is not called insatiable for nothing.
She's not paying his pathetic shaking and hyperventilating much notice, which is appreciated. Seems she's all about results, with little interest in the gorey process or the fact that he's at her mercy.
Her fingers are spinning again and he can see something undocumented breaking the ground open.
Hunter weakly attempts to register the raucous purple hue, the almost sentient sway of the capitulum and what appears to be jagged greying teeth lining the petals.
He is about to be chewed open by what looks to be a carnivorous plant.
And he can't even fucking study the stupid thing.
The frustration is mingling nicely with the blind terror. Evens it out.
No...no...he's lying to himself, no it does not....
The Fairy orders the plant into motion and Hunter screws his eyes shut tight and throws back his head.
He expects the sharp puncture of teeth, the brutal tear of flesh.
But that's not what Hunter gets.
It's worse.
It is unfathomably worse.
Sixteen years under the care of his Uncle, who is endlessly creative with punishment, but this is the most excruciating pain Hunter has ever experienced.
The plant goes for his open wound and he feels the drip drop drip drop of a searing hot liquid slathering all over it. The burn across a spot of flesh spreads like a grease fire across his whole belly into a vicious, needling sting.
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, just kill me, just kill me, just kill me, just kill me, stop, stop, stop, stop,
He can't say the words. His tongue can't remember how. His throat is lost to an endless gutted scream that's booming against his own eardrums and he wants it to stop.
He can't see. Tears are salting up his eyes. He can feel them streaking his face.
There's a disturbing sensation around his gut. He can feel the flesh melting and stretching like putty.
He's in a nightmare.
His fingers are squeezing something he can't register and he's holding on for dear life.
Hunter blacks out, the pain devouring him whole.
He doesn't know how long he's been laying here in anguished screaming delirium.
Minutes...
Hours...
But by the time he's gone hoarse, the pain is ebbing away, bit by bit...
His brain does not immediately anchor itself back to reality, but once it regains some hazy form of consciousness, he wonders how long he's been blankly staring at her.
It's a lot to take in.
She's a lot to take in.
Hunter is not blearily gazing at a palm sized sprite who's pretty in the way of a delicate butterfly.
No....no there's a lot more of her at the moment...
Way more than he knows what to do with.
This is...
This world is fucking with him...
In what other universe would he be put through the ringer in a round of agonizing, acidic torture, only to finally return to consciousness and be met face-to-face with the most enchantingly beautiful picture of a girl he has ever seen in his entire fucking life?
What's he supposed to get out of this? Whiplash so strong it gives him brain damage?
It is a very tiny aspect of his brain that is currently having these thoughts. Actually it is the only aspect still functional.
Hunter was caught by a pair of eyes. They are eyes that had never been big enough to truly delve into. But now they are casting a glow on him that's dazzling enough to render him at a loss for words...or thoughts...or breath....
Green. Her eyes are green. So many shades of greens imbued into a single set of irises.
There's the rough riotous green of the forests, but then she tilts her head towards the sunlight, and he catches a glimpse of the airy silky green of the mermaid lagoons.
Her eyes are glittering. Like fairy dust. Like stars.
Neverland....
Her eyes are pooling with Neverland.
Which is why Hunter feels he should tear his gaze away immediately, but they're an outright vortex.
This is why so many lose themselves to this world.
As the rest of his brain retains its faculties, Hunter notices that those spellbinding eyes are damp and there's a streak of panic coursing through them.
Bit by bit, bit by bit, bit by bit...
He becomes more and more aware of the details of his surroundings.
And...
Alright...
So....
The most enchantingly beautiful picture of a girl that he has ever seen in his entire fucking life, is stroking her fingers through his hair.
Actually, now that it's all coming back to him, he's been feeling something in his hair since the pain began.
In spite of everything, he can still manage to feel embarrassed over the fact that sweat has definitely drenched his scalp and she can probably tell.
And then he realizes....there's a hand....
Her hand, fingers threaded through his, and holding on tight.
She had given him her hand to squeeze.
He's never been given a hand before.
And...
Okay....
Alright...
So 'Young', as he had previously mentioned, is often used disparagingly aboard that ship, and this is something Hunter takes issue with.
However, nobody needs to know, that being the specific age that he is (sixteen) has its unique set of obstacles.
Namely, the fact that he is currently in the presence of a Fairy, whom has every reason to seek vengeance and cut him apart with her teeth.
If he currently had two working braincells to rub together, he'd be writhing against his restraints in an effort to snap the vines loose, or screaming at the top of his lungs for one of his crewmates to come rescue him.
But this is not what Hunter is doing.
Because most of his consciousness is dominated by the fact that an utterly ethereal teenage girl is holding his hand.
And he is aware (painfully aware) that this should not be where his priorities lie.
Which is why he needs to fucking grow up already and build up some immunity to pretty women before this fucking island fucking kills him. Fuck.
He hopes to God she doesn't choose now to carve out his heart. Because, quite honestly, it's a bit of a mess right now and he doesn't want her to see it.
She refuses to release him from the eyes, which continue to gaze at him in a way that's peeling back layers of him, making him feel naked. So naked that he has to quickly strain against his binds just to lift his head and make sure he still has trousers on.
(He does. Which is awesome.)
Something about his sudden movement melts a tightness out of the Fairy's (surprisingly stocky) shoulders. That's when she sighs, and it sounds like a girl, not a bell.
Hunter tries to demand something of her that implies he has a scrap of dignity left, but he promptly learns his lesson when all that tumbles off his tongue is an unintelligible splutter.
The Fairy, however, somehow reads his mind and....obliges?
Hunter watches, stunned, as she grabs hold of his cutlass and cuts him loose, vine by vine.
And he should have thrown himself to his feet immediately, but he's still mentally reeling from the fact that she is not only releasing him alive and breathing, but organs are still intact....he thinks...?
Hunter makes an attempt to stumble upwards but there's no masking his struggle. That's when he's suddenly whisked up by the arms and plopped into a standing position, and near instantly crumples from weak knees.
He's not going to forget falling into her arms. Not for as long as he lives.
This cannot be happening.
It is all occurring him very fast that he's never been held in a girl's arms before. The burst of warmth is so nice that it scares the motherfucking daylights out of him.
There's hips...
There's a chest...
There's a belly, which most of his body ends up crashing into....
There's very well defined arms....
And then there's a full moon face, framed by a bouquet of thick inky curls. She grins wickedly at him and the corner of her eyes crinkle, a pair of dimples notching into the soft skin.
At the very least, he wishes she'd stop looking at him like he's some fascinating speciman. He feels enough like a primal beast right now.
He's bleeding out for fuck's sake, can he just--?
Oh shit, he's bleeding out.
Flinging himself out of the Fairy's cradle, Hunter goes to grip his wound, terrified of how much blood has leaked at this point.
But it's not until his hand has gone to his side to gingerly feel around the area that the reality of his situation begins to sink in.
The pain is gone.
He's weak but he can stand.
And when his fingers slide experimentally across the wounded spot, it's slippery with blood, but strangely solid where it should be mushy.
"Fairy...." Hunter hears himself say. "The vines, the plant...were you....?"
As he whirls around to face her, she's standing there with her arms folded behind her back. All the mischief has drained from her features. Now there's nothing but a solemn expression and an ancient look in her eyes.
She lifts her eyebrows and shrugs.
Hunter is already gathering facts.
The sting. The utterly excruciating insanity inducing sting.
He knew the wound was infected. Badly.
"Antiseptic?" He asks, fingering the flesh tissue that has miraculous melded itself back together. "A....really powerful one I'm guessing,"
The Fairy shrugs again.
This is getting perilous.
Because now all Hunter wants to do is pore over her, bury her in his endless questions, make her the genius of his makeshift textbooks.
He wants to know the 'How'?
But the 'Why?' is tripping him up too.
In the same vein that he wants to examine every bit of info that she's willing to grant him, he's also tempted to crash to his knees and beg to know why healing him was her priority? Why did she decide that he deserved it?
It's embarrassing, being nothing but a dog who aches to know that he did good, but it's also baffling. Because he's done nothing but wrong this girl.
This is where the peril starts to edge its way in. Hunter doesn't think she's doing it intentionally, but her existence has got vines threading around his hips.
There's a pull. There's a very persistent pull.
To her. To Neverland.
But that simply can't be done.
Because Hunter isn't built for Neverland.
"Go," He asks of her.
And at first, the Fairy doesn't budge. She seldom does what anyone asks of her.
But Hunter cannot bear to look at her anymore.
"Please...."
This Fairy is loved.
"Go back to the idiots that love you," Says Hunter, in a twist of conflicting emotions.
There's anger at work there, though he's not even sure who he's angry at. Her? The Lost Boys? Neverland? Himself?
This island has never been one for emotional revelations. No matter how frequently Hunter attempts to be introspective.
The Fairy gives him one last unreadable look with Neverland's bewitching eyes and then walks away.
She walks, rather than flies and Hunter wonders why.
But as she's drifting away, his palm raises to rest against his chest and there's a lunatic organ pounding against those ribs.
He wonders if fairies stealing hearts is just a myth.
Probably.