Peter Pan and the Airship Darlings

The boat cut through the thick, swirling fog, its bow barely visible beneath the dense shroud that enveloped everything. Slightly sat near the front, gripping the edge of the small craft a little too tightly, though he did his best to keep his nerves from showing. Behind him, Peter steered the rudder confidently, his usual carefree grin never faltering, as if the impenetrable mist that surrounded them was just another game.

“We’re almost there!” Peter called, his voice muffled by the fog but full of excitement. “Hidden Island’s right up ahead. I can feel it!”

Slightly wished he could share Peter’s enthusiasm, but the oppressive fog felt too close, too thick, pressing in on them from all sides. It was hard to shake the sense that something was watching from the unseen depths of the mist—something lurking just out of sight. Slightly tried to dismiss the feeling as nothing more than his imagination, but every creak of the boat and every ripple in the water sent a jolt through his nerves.

Beside him, Wendy leaned over the side of the boat, squinting into the fog. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” she asked, sounding more curious than worried. Wendy always seemed to have that steady, calm confidence, even when the rest of them were on edge.

Peter laughed from the back. “Of course! I know this place like the back of my hand. Just a little farther, and we’ll be on the island.”

“Hidden Island?” Michael piped up from where he sat next to Wendy, holding his slingshot tightly. “Why is it hidden?”

“That’s the fun part,” Peter said, leaning into the fog as if it might part just for him. “Nobody knows! Some say it’s magic. Others say it just doesn’t want to be found. But we always manage to find it, don’t we?”

Slightly shifted uneasily. Magic or not, the island always felt different from the others they explored. It was as though the island itself was alive, shifting and changing to confuse anyone who dared set foot on its shores. It didn’t just hide—it didn’t want to be found.

The fog seemed to thicken as they sailed on, until even Peter’s bold laughter was swallowed by the silence. The water beneath them grew still, unnaturally calm, and Slightly felt his heartbeat quicken. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like how the world felt when they got this close to Hidden Island, as though they had crossed some invisible boundary into a place that didn’t belong to them.

“There it is!” Peter suddenly cried, and the fog seemed to thin just enough to reveal the faint outline of the island’s shore—a jagged, rocky beach surrounded by thick, twisting jungle. The trees grew in strange, unnatural shapes, their trunks bent and gnarled, with branches that seemed to reach out like claws. The island loomed ahead of them, shrouded in shadow and mystery, as if it had been waiting for them all along.

Slightly swallowed hard, forcing a grin. “See? Easy as pie,” he said, though his voice lacked the confidence he hoped it had.

The boat scraped against the rocky shore, and Peter leaped out, splashing into the shallow water with a laugh. “Come on!” he called to the others, already halfway up the beach. “Let’s see what treasures the island has for us today!”

Curly and Tootles scrambled after him, eager to follow their leader into whatever adventure awaited. Wendy stepped out more carefully, offering a hand to Michael, who was buzzing with excitement.

Slightly lingered by the boat for a moment, taking a deep breath as he surveyed the island. The fog clung to the trees, twisting through the branches like a living thing, and the jungle beyond was dark and silent, save for the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Peter was already vanishing into the underbrush, his voice echoing back to them, full of energy and bravado. “Keep up, Slowpokes!”

Slightly hesitated for a moment, then shook off the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. Peter had put him in charge of guiding them through the island—he couldn’t afford to let the others see him nervous. He was a Lost Boy, and Lost Boys didn’t get scared. At least, not where anyone else could see.

He turned to Wendy, who was watching him with a calm smile. “Lead the way, Slightly,” she said gently. “We’re right behind you.”

Slightly nodded, trying to match her smile. “Let’s go, then.”

With one last glance at the boat—now barely visible through the encroaching fog—Slightly led the way toward the jungle, his heart pounding in his chest. The deeper they went, the quieter the island became, and the more he felt the weight of the hidden dangers that lurked in the shadows.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t the only ones watching.

Exploring the Island

The jungle swallowed them whole as they pushed deeper into the underbrush, its thick, twisted branches reaching overhead like claws closing in. Slightly led the way, brushing aside vines and ferns, but every step forward felt like they were walking into a trap they couldn’t see. The fog clung to the ground, wrapping itself around their ankles, as though the island was trying to pull them down, deeper into its secrets.

Behind him, Wendy and Michael followed quietly, while Peter dashed ahead with his usual boundless energy, vanishing in and out of the shadows. Curly and Tootles stayed close, eager but watchful. Every now and then, Peter would call back to them, his voice the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

“Look out for anything shiny!” Peter shouted. “That’s where we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

Slightly glanced around, trying to spot anything through the dense jungle. But the island seemed reluctant to reveal itself. Every path looked the same, every tree and rock blending into the fog-covered landscape, as though the jungle was deliberately trying to confuse them.

As he moved, Slightly couldn’t help but feel the weight of Peter’s words resting on him. Peter trusted him to lead, to keep the group moving in the right direction, to be brave. And while Slightly had always managed to play the part, today felt different. This island wasn’t like the others. The silence was unnatural, the air thick with tension, as though the very land was watching them.

A sharp snap from the bushes ahead made him stop in his tracks. The others froze behind him.

“What was that?” Wendy whispered, her voice low.

Slightly’s heart skipped a beat. “Probably just an animal,” he said quickly, hoping to calm his own nerves as much as the others’.

Peter was already up ahead, peering into the bushes. “It’s nothing!” he called, though he didn’t look back. “Just keep going. We’re almost to the fun part!”

But Slightly’s eyes stayed fixed on the bush. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw something move—something that wasn’t just an animal. The way the leaves shifted, the way the branches bent... it was as if something was trying to remain unseen. He blinked, and the movement was gone.

He swallowed hard and kept moving, though his grip on his sword tightened.

As they pushed further, the jungle became denser, the trees pressing in closer together, blocking out what little light filtered through the fog. Every step felt heavier, the ground soft and damp beneath their feet, like it was alive.

Peter darted ahead once more, calling over his shoulder. “I think I see something up ahead! Come on, we’re getting close!”

The others followed without question, trusting Peter’s instincts as they always did. But Slightly hung back, glancing over his shoulder at the path they’d taken. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was following them. The island was too quiet, too still. And the way the shadows seemed to shift when no one was looking made his skin crawl.

“Are you all right?” Wendy asked, stepping beside him.

Slightly forced a smile. “Yeah. Just... keeping an eye on things.”

Wendy studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

Slightly blinked, caught off guard. “Pretend?”

Wendy gave him a small, understanding smile. “You’re allowed to be scared, Slightly. The island feels... different.”

Slightly looked away, his throat tight. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he was just as brave as Peter, just as fearless as the others. But the truth was, he wasn’t. Not really.

Before he could say anything, Peter’s voice rang out again, cutting through the heavy air. “Over here! I found something!”

Relieved by the distraction, Slightly hurried forward, Wendy following close behind. Peter was crouched beside a large, broken piece of metal, half-buried beneath a pile of rocks and leaves. It looked like part of a ship’s engine, twisted and rusted, but still recognizable.

“This is it!” Peter said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is what John needs!”

Wendy knelt beside him, examining the piece. “It looks old. Do you think it’ll still work?”

Peter shrugged. “If it doesn’t, we’ll find another one. Neverland’s full of surprises, after all.”

Slightly knelt down beside them, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. It was covered in dirt and grime, but beneath that, it still had the gleam of something useful. John would know what to do with it. They were close to getting what they came for.

But just as he reached for it, a sharp noise echoed from the trees behind them. A rustle, louder this time. Close.

Slightly’s heart lurched. He stood up quickly, eyes scanning the jungle. The others stood too, looking around, but the sound had already faded into the thick fog.

Peter frowned. “Probably just the wind.”

But Slightly wasn’t so sure. The island was alive, shifting around them, hiding whatever lay in its depths. And he had the feeling that it wasn’t done with them yet.