There is always something left to lose.
Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.
My name's Peter. Can I play too?
What will happen, will happen.
The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name's Peter. Can I play too?
That's the spirit, one part brave, three parts fool.