Sometimes, every now and then there will come a period when I don’t feel very “Lost Boyish” at all. I don’t know why it happens and there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to when it will occur. For those times when it does occur, I wait until the witching hour and go to this huge swamp. I’ve never asked anyone about this place and no one’s ever volunteered anything to me about it. I don’t figure that I’m the only one who knows this place, but sometimes it feels like it. There’s this old pine tree right on the edge of where the swamp water begins that’s sort of creaky and not real steady. Whenever I’ve gone down to the swamp, there’s always been mist curling around the trunk of the tree. It’s a very tall tree, but normally doesn’t take me hardly any time to climb it because I never pay that much attention to it. Near the top of the tree, the trunk splits into two creating a fork that’s not too horribly uncomfortable to sit in. It’s a perch that’s very un-sturdy and sways in the gentlest breeze. Usually the wind feels more like a gale. Normally I’d be too cowardly to climb to the top of such a tree, but sometimes there’s stuff that even one as craven as me has to do and this tree is the only one I’ve found that I can see what’s in the swamp.

Depending on the season and the phase of the moon and position of the clouds, pictures and dreams come alive in the fetid waters of the swamp. They usually begin with a flock of fireflies flying madly over the water. At first the reflection of their lights appears on the dark surface. As the fireflies fly away, a memory of the light stays behind them. Slowly the memory fuses together and gently sinks below the surface of the swamp water. The stars above grow dim and the moon pulses with brilliant light as the clouds sweep between moon and swamp making pictures with shadows that come alive with the memory of the light under the water. After that happens, the clouds expand to fill the sky from horizon-to-horizon, the only light coming from the dreams and pictures in the swamp far below where I’m seated.

The dreams and pictures are of things that might be and might have been. The things wished for, things lost, things that dreams and dread are made of. Daydreams and nightmares and a very fine line between the two. The things that appear can call to me in such a way that they echo so deeply inside that I feel like a part of me is going to escape no matter how hard I try to grasp it. The pictures will taunt and tease one moment and then make me believe in the probability of the most hopeless of daydreams in another moment.

I don’t know why I go to the swamp when I’m so down-hearted. I don’t even remember how I found it in the first place or how I remember the path back. I’ve never seen it in the daylight and am not even sure it exists during the day. I don’t know if it’s a door or a window, good or evil or neither. I do know that it scares me to death and that it calls to me. It’s one of those things ‘not talked about’ but I know, somewhere inside of me, that I’m not the only Lost Boy who’s seen this place and succumbed to its lure. I know of only one being who could tell me what this place is and maybe even why it is. Until I can ask, though, I’ll continue journeying out here, climbing the tree, and looking at what it dreams and pretends to promise.

One of the interesting things about the island is sleeping.  Okay, not so much the sleeping as the dreaming parts and sometimes the waking up parts.  Dreams in Neverland feel 'realer' than they do in the 'real' world.  Normally that's pretty cool, especially when one dreams about blueberries or swimming with dolphins or Orcas.  There is a downside, though.  That would be nightmares.  I'm not exactly sure why, but I used to have a ton of nightmares in the 'real' world.  They probably wouldn't interest anyone else since they had to do with stuff that was going on in the 'real' world, but they were pretty scary to me.  Nightmares on the island are totally different though.  They have all the realism of the regular dreams with a ton more terror thrown in.  One reason I sleep under the common room table is because I keep hoping that the Nightmares will overlook me there.  Nightmares are the hoofed beasties that deliver nightmares to Lost Boys.  I guess they deliver them to elves and pirates and other beings, but you never hear about it.  I used to think all Nightmares were pure black horses with red eyes that glowed in the dark and hooves that struck sparks as they galloped through the night.  It turns out that most of them are horses, but there are a few unicorns around who deliver nightmares too.  Because their horns are magic, their nightmares tend to be a bit more terrifying than the regular Nightmares' nightmares.  Nightmares' eyes don't glow red, but have more of a greenish hue to them.  They can also range from black to roan in colour (their coats, not their eyes).  I've met a few Nightmares from time-to-time.  I'm not sure why, but I've had more than a couple manage to step on me when they're delivering a nightmare to me.  They were very embarrassed about the whole thing and couldn't figure out how they got so clumsy at the time.  None of the other Lost Boys have ever been stepped on by a Nightmare, so I'm not exactly sure what that means.  The good thing about it is that I've had a chance to talk with them before drifting off and being terrified by them.  Nightmares, for the most part, are pretty nice and friendly. They spend a lot of time talking about some of the dreams they deliver, their dental plan (Nightmares are very particular about their teeth), how well they are doing in the soccer team they belong to, and ask a bunch of questions about being a Lost Boy.  I can't tell them a whole lot about the last because I haven't been one long enough, but they are nice enough to listen to my opinions and things.

Waking up can also be interesting on the island because there are times that I don't wake up where I went to sleep.  At first I thought it might be sleepwalking or something like that.  I'd wake up to find myself going over the falls on the Big Bear River or tumbling down some embankment towards the sea.  At one point I woke up in the branches of a huge pine tree and another time I was at the bottom of a bottomless pit.  I began to wonder exactly what kind of dreams or sleepwalking I was having until I woke up one day to find myself being carried by the rest of the Lost Boys (I ended up hanging upside down by my left foot from a suspension bridge--the elves who had to get me down were not happy.)  At first I was depressed because I thought they were trying to get rid of me or something.  But when I mentioned it to Peter one day he pointed out that they actually hadn't killed me or injured me too badly.  This was just their way of welcoming me.  At first I didn't believe it until I realized that it was a lot more fun waking up while shooting down rapids towards a towering rock than it was while you were being told it was your turn to find three skunks and a dozen tomatoes (don't ask, it involved a joke gone horribly wrong on a group of pixies who have no sense of humor).  I never realized before how Nightmares and being dumped in a river while sleeping can give one the feeling of belonging.

I tossed in the hammock once more and finally gave up.  I rolled over and waited until gravity slammed me onto the floor and then crawled over to where Leo was snoring away in counterpoint to Tigger's snores.  I shook him.  "Hey Leo, are you awake?"  I repeated this a couple of times until the snores suddenly stopped and were replaced with a long suffering sigh.

"No, Cubby.  I'm not awake.  You're just dreaming this whole thing and should go back to bed before something awful happens like someone decides to hang you up by your feet from the ceiling.

"C'mon, Leo.  This is serious."

"Why is it you always have to be serious in the middle of the night?"  There was another sigh.  "Fine.  What is it this time?"

"You know how we never grow up?"

"Yeah.  Being around you has made that really clear."

"Well what if we're like Tink?"

"Huh?  What do ya mean?  Somehow I can't see you in a dress flying around with wings.  I don't think they'd ever get you off the ground."

"Naw, not like that.  I mean what if we fade away because no one believes in us?"

There was a long pause at that one.  "Where'd that thought come from?"

"I dunno.  Well, I do, but whatcha think?"

"I think you're too big to fade away."  He let lose with a huge yawn.  "Besides, Lost Boys believe in each other, right?  So we can't have that happen cuz no one believes in us."

"Maybe," I admitted.  "Sometimes though it seems..."

"Are you really worried that you're going to fade away if no one believes in Lost Boys?  What makes you think that anyway?"

I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see it.  "Stuff."

"That makes sense," he said in a sarcastic manner.  "I told ya you shouldn't have had that fourth helping of stew last night.  You always come up with this stuff when you do."

"I didn't.  I didn't even have three helpings of it."

"Oh.  You haven't been eating pixie dust again, have you?"

"Course not.  It makes me burp and it always tastes funny when I do that."

"Look, Cubbs.  You're not going to fade away unless you don't believe in yourself.  You believe in yourself don't you?"  The sound of crickets chirping and wind blowing seemed to fill the common room for a few moments.  "If you didn't believe in yourself, you wouldn't care, would you?"

"No, I guess not."

"And you still believe in faith, trust and pixie dust, right?"

"Yeah, course I do.  Everyone knows that."

"Then you don't have to worry.  Your light ain't ever going to go out as long as you believe in that.  One of the reasons we are Lost Boys is because we believe in each other and make sure none of us fades away.  Don't worry Cubby, it's not like the 'real' world."  There was a huge yawn.  "Now go let me sleep or tomorrow we won't play one of your favourite games."

"You mean the 'Don't Hit Cubby on the Head Game'?

"Yup.  And I"ll tell Tink you were trying to steal her pixie dust."

"Okay, I'm going.  I'm going.  Don't even joke about doing that."  I stood up and after rubbing my head from where it hit a pot that was hanging from the ceiling (and wondering exactly why there was a pot hanging from the ceiling above Leo's pallet anyway), I started back towards my hammock.

"Hey, Cubbs?" Leo said from somewhere in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?  For real."

"Sure.  Us Lost Boys are tough.  I guess I just needed to know.  Or something like that."

"Dork," he said in a good-natured voice.  "You always worry about stuff like that even though you know you don't have to.  Even when it's about others."

"God's court jester," I said, which explained it to both him and me and caused us both to laugh.  I managed to find my hammock in the dark after accidentally stepping on Tigger's hand and earning me a kick in the shins.  On the third attempt I didn't fall out and the common room was once again filled with the sounds of snoring.

I followed my nose down the trail that I used to use all the time.  My paws knew where every ridge, pebble, hole and leaf was.  The trail ended at a cave and I got down on my hands and knees to wiggle through it.  With a great deal of grunting and effort I managed to squeeze through the entrance.  Not too long ago that hadn't been any problem at all, but that was when I had been a wolf too.  I looked down at the bear pelt, which was none too loose either, and deep inside knew that it was time to seriously work on becoming a wolf again.  I missed Ember and hoped that running with the pack might rekindle our friendship.  Even wolf sized, I was still the second strongest Lost Boy and was still the lostest Lost Boy.  It was probably time to work on simply being husky again.

I stood up in the middle of the cave and looked around.  It had a musty, disused feeling.  That was my fault.  This was one of my favourite places, but I'd let other things take up my attention.  The other Lost Boys and lots of friends used to hang around this cave, but now it was usually silent for days at a time with visitors few and far between.  There wasn't nearly as much laughter.  What had happened?  I sat down with my back to a wall.  There were lots of stories in the cave.  Stories about Lost Boys and dragons, elves, dwarves, the silly and the serious.  I picked up one story about a certain nightmare and the person who rode it that I'd had a crush on.  Here was another one about a Lost Girl who lived in the "real" world and had a puppy who enjoyed visiting the island as well.  There was one about a honorary Lost Boy who wore a coyote pelt and saved the lot of us.  Picking up another sheet, I couldn't help but grin as I read some lines about a cornrowed individual who had introduced me to my first poohka.

I looked around at the stories lying around and laughed out loud.  They were all still here, all waiting to be told and written and laughed about.  It was time to stop moaning about what used to be and time to start making it happen again.  I grabbed a conveniently placed palm frond and started sweeping the floor with it.  In a few minutes the cave looked much better and the unused part was beginning to wear off.  I let out a sneeze from the dust.  From behind me, at the cave entrance, there was a laugh.  I turned to see Tig with his head stuck through the cave's entrance.  "Bout time," he said knowingly.

I was jumping from rock-to-rock, in order to cross the Little Bear River.  It was a warm, summer day and I had just found a peach tree that contained a perfect peach.  Hopefully it wasn't some sort of elvish experiment that would mean the tree would be gone tomorrow.  I wasn't really paying any attention to what was going on around me, which is always a big mistake and not just concerning pirates, trolls or dragons.

"Tag!  You're it," a voice cheerfully yelled out an instant before I was tackled from behind and fell face first into the Little Bear.  I got up sputtering, wiping the mud out of my face.

"There's no tackling in tag and anyway, I wasn't playing."

"Course you were playing," Tig said with a laugh.  "You couldn't help but play the way you were moving along."  He waited as I got to my feet and tried to brush the mud and water out of the bear pelt.  He was nice enough not to laugh too hard when I pulled the pelt's hood over my head and drenched myself once again.  I figured I'd let the sun do the drying this time and wandered out into the sunlight.  Tig followed me and flung himself down next to me as I collapsed on the riverbank in a patch of sunlight.  "Good thing I wasn't a bunch of pirates," he commented.

I shifted and both heard and felt the pelt wetly squelch beneath me.  "Yeah, instead of being totally soaked, I might only be suffering from severe blood loss."

"Which is also wet and would cause the same thing to happen and possibly give you a case of dead.  You should thank me for dunking you.  So what be on your mind this fine and sunny day?"

Only Tig would attempt to make someone feel guilty for not being insanely grateful at being dunked and almost drowned I thought with a grin.  "I was just pondering about Roo, and wondering where he's at and if he's happy.  Stuff like that."

Tigger rolled over on his stomach and put his head on his arms and yawned.  "Yeah, Roo was pretty cool.  He listened real well and never shoved advice down your throat.  He was always concerned about us.  Then he..."  Whatever it was he then did, was lost as Tigger started to snore.

My mind wandered back to Roo who had run across his soulmate and decided to grow up.  Well to leave the Island.  I'm pretty sure that no Lost Boy ever truly grows up even though they might pretend to for whatever reason.  I'd had a dream that showed someone who resembled Roo and his lady fair looking as though they were working on some sort of marine rescue vessel or something.  The dream was fairly vague except for the look in Roo's eyes every time he looked over at his maiden.  It was the same look which was returned by her when she glanced at him.

When I first arrived on the island, it was Roo who sort of showed me how things went and listened to my occasional whining and mewling about what had happened to me in the 'real' world and those day-to-day things that happened on the Island.  He'd listen to my issues and after a time, I persuaded him to tell me some of his issues.  Talking about things like that was a bit different for both of us, which is no doubt why we are both masters of the 'change in subject' maneuver.

All Lost Boys are brothers, naturally enough, but every now and then a true friendship is formed that is awesome and you can't help grinning, knowing that there's someone you can grumble to about something even if you don't take advantage of it very often.  (They also tend to overlook your run on sentences as well.)  That's the way I feel about Roo, a brother and a good friend, even if he doesn't like blueberries.

I had a sudden thought and dug into the pocket of the bear pelt and came up with a worm, two pebbles, a marble, a thing of string that looked like it was molding, some gum that... well, some gum, and finally a dirt encrusted tupence.  I sat there for a moment pondering then grinned and decided the simple things worked best.  "I wish there was some way I could thank Roo for being one of the most awesomest friends ever and let him know how much I appreciated it."  I threw the tupence into the Little Bear River and watched it skip three times before disappearing below the surface.  There was the chime of magic and a breeze flew by as if on its way to accomplish some errand.  Tigger stirred and turned his head to look at me.

"You made a wish, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so?" I said defensively.  I guess he had good cause to be concerned.  "This was a good wish."

"Define good.  Last time you made a 'good' wish, it rained for a week over my hammock."

I couldn't help but grin.  That had been pretty funny, even if the payback was waking up with what appeared to be every flea on the island inhabiting my pelt the next morning.  Flea dip is just another word for bath, by the way.  "Naw, this really was a good wish.  Promise."

I sat in the Sentinel Tree looking across Lost Boys' Meadow.  It was a cloudy February 14 with a hint of rain in the air.  I'd been sitting up in the tree for about the last hour pondering certain events of the last year, and heard the rustle of dead leaves on the ground behind me.  I turned to see Ursa walking up and I let out a sigh.  Whether it was of confusion, relief or something else was hard to say.

"Lost Boys' Meadow, huh?" he said as he sat down under the tree.  "Deep thoughts?"

"Kinda," I said.  "Just thinking about stuff."

He nodded in that way of his, not saying a word and picking up a blade of grass to chew on.

"Today's February 14," I said.

"Valentine's Day," he commented, not asking how anyone could tell for sure what day it was in the insanity of time in Neverland.

"Yeah, but also someone's birthday.  I think a lot about that person.  I wonder what happened to them, how things went.  Things like that."  Ursa nodded again.  I twisted on the branch, leaned back, and a moment later was looking at Lost Boys' Meadow upside down while hanging from my knees.  "I never met this person and although I guess I knew more about them than some, didn't really know a whole lot at all.  That was okay, though.  I was just trying to make them smile.  To let them know someone cared and that if they needed a friend, there was one out here who'd listen if they needed it."

"Sounds like something right up your alley."

"Yeah, I guess it was.  Funny how you wander along and you bump into someone that becomes more than an acquaintance, but becomes a true friend.  Someone you truly care about, not because you always say 'how are you' after hello, but because you really, genuinely care about them.  Almost like a part of the family or another Lost Boy.  The ones that you know you'd try and do anything for if they asked because you know they wouldn't ask unless they really needed it."

Ursa gave me a 'look'.  Ursa didn't really have to speak during a conversation.  He had a million looks, mannerisms, signs that he knew exactly what you meant and displayed his reaction to it.  He let me know he agreed.

"Anyway, the one I'm thinking about had to say goodbye and left.  I shook my head causing my hair to fly, but at least upside down it didn't get in my face.  "Anyway, I just came out here to ponder about the one who's flown, to make a wish for them, and to tell them Happy Birthday.  I thank you for listening to me and being a friend."

"You're welcome," Ursa simply said as he got to his feet.  I started to swing to get up on the branch and then suddenly realized what I should be doing.  I straightened my knees and dismounted the tree straight away.  There were a lot of stars when my head hit, but for a moment I thought I saw her smiling at, once again, seeing a clumsy Lost Boy fall out of a tree.

Happy Birthday, Katers.

I'm hanging by my paws for 'dear life' from a limb of a tree about 60 feet off the ground.  My hair is sticking out in all directions, stiffend by pine sap.  My face is smudged with the same stuff and the bearskin has several new tears and a rip or two.  Normally this is the point where I'd simply let go and tumble to the ground.  I'd probably bounce off a few limbs on the way down and land on my skull at the bottom.  It wouldn't hurt too badly.  It never does.  It certainly wouldn't be fatal, since with all I do believe in, I don't belive in 'fatal'.  Yet today something is wrong.  I'm afraid to let go.  Being a coward isn't anything new, it's like a pedigree.  But this isn't that type of fear.  As I hang here, I wonder if this is what it's like to grow up.  That is worth being scared over.  Not getting older or even getting more mature (although I doubt that's going to ever be a problem), but growing up.  There is a difference.  Every Lost Boy knows that and every Lost Boy knows what happens if one does grow up.  So I hang here, as the wind causes the tree to slowly sway back and forth, pondering things like doubt, loss and circumstance.  There are people I miss and people who don't wander my way anymore.  There are things I used to do that I don't do anymore.  But, in the end I will let go of the limb because there are a couple of people who still believe.  I will tumble to the ground and get back up, no doubt with a grin on my face and the thought that the whole tumbling experience was a blast.  Everything will be back to 'normal' and the doubt that was chasing itself through my mind will have faded away to grey.  The only thing that will bother me is the fact that I hesitated before I let go.

It was the end of a late autumn day and all us Lost Boys were gathered around an old table in front of the fireplace in the common room trying to get warm.  It's amazing how cold one can get when they're trying to tag someone when it's pouring and the temperature is close to freezing with a brisk north wind.  The rest of the boys were drinking hot chocolate, but I was trying to be 'good' and was drinking tea.  I think I got the short end of the stick, even if it was Earl Gray (for some reason it had a bit of a taste like stew).  Tig and Leo were arguing about whether lion pelt or tiger pelt was warmer when it was wet.  Apparently they'd given up on discussing who had the most fearsome growl.  Surefoot was flenching arrows and Ursa and Reynard were arm wrestling.  Unsurprisingly, Ursa was wiping the floor with Reynard... almost literally.  Cat was simply watching it all, her eyes calculating as it appeared she was weighing various plans for mayhem and discarding them almost as quickly.

I waited until a moment of silence occurred as Tig started gnawing on one of Leo's lion ears because he didn't agree with his concept of pelt warmth.  "Hey, I have a question."

"Just one?" Surefoot said.  "That's gotta be some sort of record.  Better mark this day down Reynard."

"Does it look like I can write anything?" Reynard demanded.  Ursa had just flipped him upside down during the arm wrestling contest.  Ursa hadn't spilled a drop of the hot chocolate he'd been holding in the other hand.

"Whatcha want to know?" Tig asked, standing in front of the low table and spitting pieces of fur out of his mouth.

"How do you thank someone for being a good friend?  I mean a really good friend.  Someone who you really appreciate the things they do for you and the... well, the friendship you share.  Should it be some sort of huge grand gesture?"

Tig's response was cut off as Leo tackled him and both boys crashed across the table, sending crockery flying everywhere.  Most of it is 'homemade' stuff though, and weighs a ton, so it's hard to really damage it. There's clay down by the river that we've made bowls and plates and mugs out of and then put near the fire to dry out.  It's not the best looking stuff in the world, it looks like a bunch of kids made it for some reason, but it works. 

Surefoot looked up and frowned as one of his arrows fell from the table to the floor.  Tig and Leo rolled off the table and joined the mugs and puddles of hot chocolate on the floor and started wrestling.  "So the next time ya see them, just thank them for being a good friend.  That's easy enough to do, isn't it?" Surefoot said.  "Cut it out Tig," he added as another arrow joined the one on the floor."

"The truth is, I've never seen this person before."  I took another sip of tea and decided the mug had definitely been filled with stew at some point before and hadn't been washed real well.  Tig and Leo had rolled up against my feet and I 'accidentally' poured half the remaining tea in Tig's real ear.  He immediately started yelling at Leo, although there's no way he could have possibly done it, and they rolled off in some other direction.

"If you've never seen this person, than how do you know they're such a good friend?" Ursa asked as he won another bout of arm wrestling with Reynard, who was using both his arms against Ursa's one.  Ursa is sort of amazing that way.  He's as fat as I am and it's all around his middle, but he's stronger than the rest of us combined and can move so silently that you don't know he's even around until he tags you.  "C'mon Reynard, I've already beaten you twelve times, why don't we just leave it at that?"  Reynard responded by sticking his tongue out at Ursa, suddenly standing up and rushing him.  Ursa's response was to simply pluck Reynard up when he got close enough and toss him on top of Tig and Leo who were still discussing pelts in a sort of physical way.

"Even though I've never actually met them, I have conversations with them and they tell me stuff and are just generally there when the 'real' world gets to be too much not like Neverland.  They write some really cool stuff too and help me with some of the stuff I write."  I put the lopsided mug of tea on the table only to have it vanish as Tigger and Leo threw Reynard on top of it.  Apparently they'd put their differences aside so they could take on a common foe.

"You been hanging out with elves again, Cub?  You know they're a bad influence.  You see what happened to me," Cat said with a grin, her slanted eyes wrinkling at their corners.  "Better stay away from the elves or they'll hang you by your ankles from a tree and tickle you 'til you puke."

"No, it's not an elf.  It's someone in the 'real' world.  I don't think they're an elf, but they are a little fey I think," I said, pondering for a moment.  "Besides, I don't believe that stuff about elves hanging me by my feet."

"Oh no, he'd never believe that," Tigger said standing up and huffing.  His hood thrown back to reveal his blonde hair and his face bright red from exertion.  "After all, Cubby knows that it isn't true..."

"...because after being scared about it for three months after Cat told him," Leo said.

"...he found out that there weren't any elves strong enough..."

"...to lift him off the ground.  Not to mention that..."

"...Cubby falls out of any tree he's in," Tigger finished.

"C'mon guys.  I told you I was only faking being afraid of that.  I mean, c'mon.  I'm not that big a chicken.  Really."

There were several peals of laughter from that comment.  Cat looked a bit curious, "So you found a fey person in the 'real' world?"

"Well, duh, all he has to do is look in a mirror," Tig said.

"There are lots of fey things in the 'real' world if you know how to see them," I said.  "Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me from going nutsy."

"You mean more nutsy than you already are," Leo chimed in.  "Not that we'd have it any other way."

"Yeah," Cat said, "there are fey things in the 'real' world, but it's unusual to find...  Wait, this person is human, right?"  I nodded.  "Okay, I suddenly realized you might be talking about a troll or wampus or a sprite or something.  Anyway, it's unusual to find a human who's fey in the real world.  You ever tell them you thought they were a bit fey?"

I pondered that for several moments.  "I don't think so.  I'm not really sure, come to think about it."

"Good thing, they probably wouldn't appreciate it.  Humans are strange that way for some reason.  They tend to take a dim view of the sidhe."

I shrugged.  "I know I'm more than a little fey and it doesn't bother me."

"Course not," Reynard spoke up.  "But you're slightly less than human and pretty much a creature of this place."

"And proud of it," I grinned.  "Anyway, I'm almost positive they would consider it a good thing if they were a little fey.  Just a feeling I have."  There was a huge pop from the fireplace as some sap in a log boiled off or something similar occurred and sent sparks flying.

"Uh, Reynard," Surefoot said matter-of-factly, "your tail is on fire again."

"What.  Darn it.  Why does this keep happening to me?"  He grabbed the fox tail and beat the end of it against the dirt floor until the flames were extinguished.  There was a smell of singed hair in the air and Reynard looked at the end of his tail with a distressed look on his face.  "It never matters who else is here or where I'm at.  The sparks always hit my tail and it's like it goes up in flames instantly.  It's not funny."  I glanced over at Cat who seemed to be having a heart attack or convulsions trying to keep a straight face.  It seemed really obvious to me, but everyone else seemed oblivious to it.

"You've gotten off track," Surefoot finally said, while looking down an arrow shaft to make sure the feather was straight on it.  "How is Cub going to thank this person for being a friend?"

"You could simply send them a note thanking them, can't you?"

"I guess, but they're sort of like me when it comes to being thanked."  Six pairs of eyes rolled and there were at least a couple of groans.

"You might as well give up then," Leo declared.  "No one can be as bad as you are when it comes to being thanked.  I stuck my tongue out at him.  "Oh, yeah.  Good comeback there, Cub," he said with a laugh.

"Look," Cat said.  "Why worry about it.  They probably know you appreciate their friendship, right?"  I nodded.  "And you're their friend as well?" I nodded again.  "So what's the big deal?  You say thank you every now and again and let them know you're there if they need a friend and that you care.  They let you know they're there if you need one and they care as well.  You share those little things you find in your wanderings through out the 'real' world and this world and they share the things they find as well.  That's what friendship is all about, you know.  Why complicate it?  Geeze, you're such a Lost Boy," she said with another grin.

I nodded.  "You're right," I agreed.  "The best way to be a friend and let them know I appreciate it is to simply be myself, share, and not worry about making a grand gesture because they already know how much their friendship means cuz of my friendship towards them."

Cat took a stick and started diagramming stuff on the dirt floor.  "Let's see," she mumbled to herself.  "You said they'd do this, and you showed that, and then the grand gesture is taken out, and you do this, and voila!"  She looked up and spoke at me, "ever wish upon a star for them?" I nodded and she made another notation in the dirt.  "Ever ask their advice?"  Another nod.  "They ever ask for yours?"  A third nod.  "Done and done.  I'd say they know how much you value their friendship, or at least they do now.  Just one word of advice."

"What's that?"  I asked, scratching my head.

"Two things," she said as she noticed.  "First thing, if you ever meet them in the 'real' world, be sure you don't spit in your hand before you shake their hand.  That is so just a Lost Boy thing that wouldn't be understood anywhere else.  Second thing," she said looking at me scratching my head, "be sure to take a bath first and use flea dip."

But of course that got me wondering about the whole death thing in general (you know me, no tangent too big or too small to detour for), and the differences in the way it seems to be perceived in the 'real' world as opposed to the way we Lost Boys view it.  I’ve never been too concerned by it since I look at it as a big adventure (I just hope there are trees at wherever it is).  There’s also the fact that I’ve still got the youthful belief that it won’t ever happen to me anyway (comes from never growing up as well as having enough close scrapes that you figure it won’t occur)  I sort of figure that when it does happen, someone will note that the clumsiest Lost Boy had a look of pure and total surprise on his face LOL. 

I guess I’m one of those who feels more sympathy towards those left behind than those that die.  Probably because I feel that the burden of losing someone close is worse than dying itself.  Of course that could simply be me too, since being a Lost Boy I tend to be extremely sensitive to the act of losing friends (whether it be through death or some other means).  Even misplacing friends can be a bit traumatic for us Lost Boys.

I always feel death should be celebrated as the end of one life and the beginning of another (that big adventure thing mentioned above don’t you know).  I’m not sure how I feel about funerals.  They obviously help the living more than the dead, maybe a sense of closure or something.  I’d like to hope that if I’m buried, I’m the only one in attendance because somewhere a group of Lost Boys is busy laughing at the memories of me falling out of trees or the way I made them grin by doing something nutsy (sometimes on purpose) or recalling the look of silly wonder on my face as I watched the display of the night sky.  Perhaps they’ll simply recall some of the stories I used to tell them about the ‘real’ world.  I’d hate to think the last thing I did on earth was cause those who knew of me some sort of sadness.

Finally, there are the different stories of what happens after death and how you get there.  Personally I believe that there is a heaven and a hell.  I don’t want the elevator, or the walk towards the light, or the winding stairway (ugggh, stairs), but would like to take a last ride on Butercup.  I’d like to think that heaven in my case (well hopefully that would be the direction I’d travel) would be waking up in a large meadow bounded by forest and filled with those Lost Boys who have died before me.

I thanked the person for their offer to sell me insurance for dying, but said I was pretty sure I’d end up eventually dying without it (and yes, there was a long pause after I made that statement), which sort of ended that conversation.  Then continued reading after pondering the topic a bit.

1. Nope, the stories don't appear in any chronological order.  One may appear one day which took place "after banishment" while the next day I might publish an entry that occurred two years earlier.  Oh and yeah, I try not to run more than one unfinished thing at a time, although I know I've had one hanging for awhile *sigh*.
2. Sea monkeys--apparently were/are some sort of brine shrimp.  I guess at one time they were depicted in comic books as being vaguely humanoid looking and would do all sorts of tricks and stuff (yeah, right, just like the realistic submarine made of cardboard).  In a twisted turn of fate, when passing through the toy department this weekend I did see a box of something labeled Sea Monkeys.  I'll have to check back and see if I can find it again.
3. Chia Pets--We sold out of them.  Scary days my friend, scary days indeed.
4. Thanks to Molly for the bucket of aspirin, they were gone by the first half of my first weekend shift LOL.  On the plus side, I'll never have a heart attack now.
5. Geeze, remind me never to bring up fruitcake again (although the one Michaela mentioned sounded good and she didn't think I was crazy!)
6. I tend to only use mistletoe in the real world unless Death is around.
7. The heels over head crush on Death doesn't have any underlying notion of embracing death or doing one's self in (subject to change without notice, but nyahh).  There could be a bit more meaning than what is actually described, but not nearly as deep as getting scythed.
8. On the pie question about scratch vs. frozen... hmmm, blueberry pie sounds good right now.
9. Concerning the infamous question #13, you know it could simply have been a typo.  It's not as though I was getting ready to express... well, you know.

1. Chia Pets--You always see them advertised and apparently people do buy them (although most appear to get thrown out of the shopping cart somewhere between hardware and electronics), but you never see them in peoples' homes.  Are they the 'new' fruitcake, some sort of cult gag gift, or simply a well intentioned present gone horribly wrong.
2. If you can make a bazillion dollars using the 'Neverfail Real Estate Investment Program' advertised at 2:00 a.m., then why isn't the host doing that instead of trying to peddle computer discs and the complete book for $49.95 (but wait, order in the next ten minutes and we'll include actual printed words in the book).
3. Whatever happened to sea monkeys?
4. Why can't I ever find 'Can of Worms' at Safeway?  They always give me a funny look and mutter under their breath when I ask about it, but I'd imagine it can be a tasty addition to stew.
5. Does every kiss begin with 'K' if you don't speak english?
6. If Christmas is for giving, how come people have fistfights over the last sale item?
7. Has anyone ever sung a song about a multi-horsed, closed sleigh?
8. How can anyone spend a small fortune on a campaign for a state office that really doesn't have that much power and be able to sleep when a week later it's announced that X% of kids in that state live in poverty and go to bed hungry?  (Especially if it's their second + term for that office)
9. Why is it that one yawn can cause five thousand other people to start doing the same thing?
10. Why is it so hard to believe in Santa Clause?
11. Is it really cheating to string a piece of mistletoe between the horns on my Viking helmet when I'm wearing it this time of year?
12. Doesn't anyone accept minor credit cards?
13. Why do I feel... whoops, never mind.
14. Can you really learn to dance in one easy lesson?
15. What insane law of physics mandates that 1 ounce of chocolate can cause a Lost Boy to gain 3 pounds?
16. Is Christmas really the time to let those hidden feelings out?
17. Am I really strange because I like fruitcake?
18. If 'they' are really so sorry that I'm not an instant winner (Sorry, you're not an instant winner--try again), why don't they just give me the prize anyway?
19. Why is lost considered such a bad thing?
20. How come pine air freshener doesn't smell anything like pine, yet keeps being bought anyway?
21. Is there a training course for becoming a lord a leaping?
22. The full moon riding the night sky is an awesome sight! (My head doesn't hurt about pondering that, just wanted to add it cuz I saw it last night).
23. If a stitch iin time saves nine, will stapling it instead save the same amount?
24. Does Stephen Spielberg or Bill Gates read this site? (Okay, I think we all know the answer to that, but it should be interesting to see how many Google hits I get now).
25. Is nonplused the same thing as being very-minused?
26. Does as easy as pie refer to the frozen variety or made from scratch?