Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughtout the garden.

Peter's face clouded. "Everything comes at a price. Or have you not learned that yet?

For Peter's smile is a most contagious thing.

My tale doesn't end there, for the end has yet to be written.

The darkness is calling. A little danger, a little risk. Feel your heart race. Listen to it. That’s the sound of being alive. It’s your time, Nick. Your one chance to have fun before it’s all stolen by them, the adults, with their cruelty and endless rules, their can’t-do-this, and can’t-do-that’s, their have-tos, and better-dos, their little boxes and cages all designed to break your spirit, to kill your magic.

And may God be merciful, because these twisted men will not.

But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse to be cruel and murder one another.