The clanking of chains echoed in Jeremy's ears as he and several other inmates shuffled forward to their demise. He had been caught stealing, which is a crime punishable by death in the port town of Dovington. Food was scarce and disease was rampant, so Lord Bell decreed that all miscreants to be hung until dead. Little Jeremy, barely ten years old, was one of the youngest in line for the gallows.

An older man that was mostly beard and belly stood behind Jeremy. He wished there were some way that he could help the boy escape, but there were guards all around. One young man had already tried to run and he ended up with three arrows in the back of his neck before he could even get to the village gates. Warrick had always been a bit off his rocker, anyways.

"You're a brave lil' chap," the man said quietly to Jeremy. "Best start saying your prayers soon before you meet your maker."

Jeremy nodded, and then shuffled forward. His chains were too big for his wrists, but he didn't dare slip them off.

He began to shake like a leaf as he stood in front of the steps to the gallows. He clanked his way slowly up each step and cautiously walked over the trap door. He craned his neck, but he was too short for the noose, which made the executioner dumbly scratch his head.

"Does somebody have a box or somethin'?" the executioner asked.

A guard came up, his hat covering his face, with a tall, thin crate in tow, and set it on the trap door. The guard turned quickly away as Jeremy's eyes began to burn with tears. A black sack was slipped over his head and he was unceremoniously placed on top of the box. He closed his eyes and began to breathe slowly. He refused to let them know he was crying because he was a man now and men don't cry.

"Jeremy, son of Silas. On trial for stealing from Lord Bell's shipments," the executioner shouted.

"Guilty," a cold voice replied.

The trap door fell open as soon as the decree was made. Jeremy's stomach lurched as the world pulled him down. He held his breath, waiting for the sharp snap of his neck to follow, but it never happened. He felt himself being lifted up into the air.

"Sorry I'm late, Jeremy, but this is how it's supposed to happen," said a young boy. "You can open your eyes now."

Jeremy opened his eyes to see that he no longer had the sack over his head. He was up in the air and could see the entire town square below him.

"Is that me?" Jeremy said, pointing to a small figure hanging limply on a rope.

"Yeah," said the boy carrying him. "You won't need that where we're going."

"I don't wanna go!" Jeremy cried. He began to squirm to be free from this menace.

"Jeremy, where we're going, you'll never be hungry or sick again. We'll get to play together with other lost boys like you," said the boy.

Jeremy stopped moving.

"Are we flying?" he gasped. Jeremy could have sworn that only birds could fly, but here they were. The boy carrying him didn't have any wings, but he seemed to be in perfect control of what he was doing.

"I could teach you if you'd like," the boy said. "You'll have to come with me, though."

"Okay," Jeremy said. He wiped away his tears and held on tightly to the boy.

"What's your name?" Jeremy asked. They began to fly higher and higher until the night sky became as brilliant as the heavens.

"Peter."