Curly

  Curly didn’t move. He had heard them approach and had frozen in fear, now it was too late to sneak away.

  Closing his eyes tightly he curled into a ball and took small breaths trying to imagine he was small, invisible.

  “Peter?”

  Curly couldn’t help the instinctive jolt and look around that the name gave him. When he didn’t hear the distinctive crow or mocking laughter of Peter and Tinkerbell he relaxed, but it was too late. He had been noticed.

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  A sword. It was pointed right at him, and in the time it took to notice the weapon he also saw the familiar green eyes and reddish brown hair that he related to his leader, the only thing that kept him from collapsing in fear was the differences.

  “Who are you? How did you get here?”

  The longer he sat frozen staring at the odd version of Peter, the more he noticed was different. His hair was longer, his ears round like his own, he wasn’t wearing the leafy green clothing made by the fairies.

  “What - Who - what are you?” Curly stammered in confusion. Fuzzy memories of Before told him he had seen boys of the same size and odd proportions in the past but he couldn’t remember when or who they were.

  “Captain,” A different boy with black drawings on his arms stepped forward and pulled the not-Peter-boy away.

  Curly wanted to cry but bit his lip harshly, the pain made him blink rapidly and scared away the tears he had felt gather. Crying was for babies, and Peter had never allowed for it.