"Second star to the right and then straight on till morning."
That was how Peter had described the way to the island of Neverland.
But these directions were not very exact. And the children had no map!
They were depending on Peter to guide them there.
At first, they were excited as he led them through the clouds.
They flew over treetops, made rings around tall buildings, and dipped close to the waves in the sea.
From the sky, the world looked very different and their eyes delighted in everything.
"Follow me!" Peter commanded. He used his best captain's voice.
But Peter was a little too daring.
He flew a little too close to the trees―just missing their branches.
He flew a little too close to the water—touching every shark's tail.
As the children flew with Peter, night became day, light became dark; then it became light, then dark again.
The moon and the sun took turns trading places.
The children followed Peter bravely.
But the excitement of flying started to wear off.
The children became hungry and cold.
They also became sleepy, and this was dangerous.
In order to fly, they had to remain awake.
When Michael suddenly nodded off, he began to fall.
"There he goes—down, down, down!" Peter laughed.
He thought this was hilarious, but Wendy was alarmed.
Peter caught Michael just before he fell into the sea.
When he saw how upset Wendy was, he taught the children how to rest on a cloud.
Peter flew much faster than the others.
Sometimes he would fly out of sight for a while.
He had secret adventures on his own.
He would come back talking about a star or a fairy he had met.
When he was out on an adventure, Wendy worried that he might forget them altogether!
"What would we do if Peter were to leave us?" asked John.
"Well, we would have to go on.
We don't know how to stop," replied Wendy, trying to sound brave.
This was true. Peter had not shown them how to stop flying.
Soon they lost track of time. How long had they been traveling?
Would they ever arrive in Neverland?
The children wondered whether they had lost their way.
Finally, they saw an island in the distance.
The island seemed to be calling to them.
It was all very new and strange—yet somehow familiar at the same time.
"There it is," said Peter, "where all the arrows are pointing."
He was right.
A hundred golden arrows, sent by the setting sun, pointed to the magic shore of Neverland.
Night was approaching.
The sun wanted to make sure they found their way safely.
The children looked down below. They could see splashes of color everywhere.
Purple mountains stood behind dark green forests.
Rivers and lakes ran through the green land like blue veins.
Red coral reefs accented the color of the water.
Flowers and bushes in brilliant shades dotted the landscape of Neverland.
Strangely, the children immediately recognized the island.
Below them, they each saw a landscape from their own dreams.
John saw his lake with flamingos.
Michael saw his cave with a river running through it.
And Wendy saw Mermaid Lagoon, just as she had often dreamed of it.
In the nursery, Neverland had been make-believe, part of a dream world.
Now that they were here, it was all very real.
The sun's golden arrows disappeared; the sky became dark.
Night was falling on Neverland, and suddenly the children were frightened.
There were no nursery night-lights to keep them safe.
Nana wasn't standing guard beside them.
Still flying, they all moved closer to Peter.