The Child Thief

eternity. I am your life. I am your death. I am all things forever and always.
Love me. Love me. Forever love me. He curled into a ball, a floating fetus
with the pond his womb. Yes, he answered. Forever. The womb began to
glow, growing brighter, then brighter. His head broke the surface.
Peter spat out a mouthful of water and sucked in a deep lungful of air.
He blinked against the sunlight. Where was he? Then he saw the Lady and
nothing else mattered. She was the most perfect creature he could imagine,
and he couldn’t understand how he ever thought otherwise. His heart fairly
strummed with her vision, all he wanted to do was gaze upon her forever.
The Lady examined him. “The poison is gone,” she said, looking
satisfied. “The wounds will heal with time.”
Reluctantly, Peter tore his eyes from her and glanced down at his chest.
There was only the slightest pink trace of the bite mark left. The slashes in
his side were closed and the hundreds of insect stings had vanished.
They got dressed and lay out upon a wide, flat stone to warm
themselves in the sun.
Peter was watching a heron drift by overhead when a host of hoots and
howls burst from the trees. He sat up. A crew of long-armed creatures came
swinging into the clearing. They were a bit larger than raccoons, black
manes sprouting around their necks. Their small, dark eyes were close-set
and their snouts were long, reminding Peter a bit of wolfhounds. They
scampered up to the far bank on short legs and knuckles, slurping noisily as
they drank from the pond.
“What are those?”
“Barghest,” the Lady said. “Be careful, they can be nasty if given the
chance. They’ll certainly rob you of anything they can get their hands on.”
The creatures hooted and barked as they drank.
Peter cupped his hands to his mouth and mimicked their hooting.
The barghest fell silent, all of them staring at Peter. Peter jumped up and
let loose several more hoots. The creatures erupted into a volley of irritated

---

barking, the lot of them leaping away into the trees and disappearing into
the woods.
The Lady laughed heartily and the sound was music to Peter’s ears.
“That’s good, Peter. How’d you learn to do that?”
Peter shrugged, then began to mimic the whistles, hoots, chirps, and
calls of the other animals. Soon all the creatures around the pond were
cocking their heads quizzically at him.
The Lady laughed long and deep, and even the elves couldn’t help but
smile.
A strange cry caught their attention. Peter saw a large bird with fiery red
plumage glide across the pond and alight in a nearby tree. It surveyed the
pond, its brilliant orange eyes standing out in stark contrast to a crown of
black feathers.
The Lady let out a soft gasp and leaped to her feet. “Peter,” she
whispered. “The Sunbird.”
It lifted its head and began to sing, and all the creatures in the forest fell
silent. This wasn’t just a call, but a song made up of whistles and chirps,
like nothing Peter had ever heard before.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she whispered.
Peter nodded and glanced at the Lady. She held her fingertips to her
lips, her eyes captivated.
As suddenly as it had appeared, the bird took flight and left them.
“Oh, don’t go,” she said, and sighed. “I’ve not seen it since I was a girl.
That sweet song takes me back to happier times.” She was quiet then, her
eyes distant.
Peter caught a flash in the sun and something landed on the sandy bank.
He leaped up, raced over, and picked it up. It was a brilliant red feather. He
brought it back and held it up for the Lady to see. The sunlight shimmered
off the fine filaments, and when he twirled it, it sparkled and glowed as
though aflame.
The sparkles glittered across the Lady’s face. “Oh, Peter. It’s beautiful!”
He handed it to her. “It’s for you.”
“For me? Peter, no, you can’t. It is too wonderful a treasure.”
“Yes I can.”
She took the feather and began to twirl it. A smile of unabashed joy lit
up her whole face, and in that moment she looked like a little girl.

---

Peter cupped his hands over his mouth, and began to whistle and chirp,
trying to mimic the Sunbird’s song. He didn’t get it right, but after a few
more tries, he had it and whistled the song all the way through.
The Lady stared at him in utter amazement, then grabbed his hand and
clasped it in both of hers. “That’s wonderful! You must be part bird.”
“Yes, I am,” Peter said proudly. “Why, I’m a Peterbird.”
“Well Peterbird, you must come visit my court and sing for me. Is it
agreed?”
Peter gave a big nod.
“Good.” She looked at him, looked at him intently for a long time. Peter
wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“One more thing.” She reached behind her neck and undid the gold
chain. She held it out so Peter could see the eight-point star. He noticed it
was actually fine threads of tarnished gold spun around a dark stone. “This
belonged to another little boy, a very special little boy. He is lost to me. I
would like for you to wear it for now. Would you do that for me?”
Again, Peter nodded.
She slipped it around Peter’s neck and kissed him atop his head. “My
little Mabon,” she whispered, so quietly he almost missed it
As Peter held the star, it began to glow slightly.
The Lady saw it too and her eyes began to tear. She reached for Peter
and pulled him tight, hugged him for a long time. She smelled of pollen and
the sweetness of cool water.
Peter heard her again in his head, or heart maybe, like in the pond. You
are mine. Mine forever.
Yes, he answered. Forever.