Peter Pan lands awkwardly on the soft forest floor, wincing as he clutches a bruised arm. Hook’s pirates have retreated, but the fight has left him battered. Tinkerbell flits down immediately, wings trembling, her tiny hands glowing with healing magic.

“Peter! You’re hurt!” she cries, hovering close. Her green glow bathes him, tiny sparks landing softly on his scraped skin.

She presses her hands gently to the worst cuts, whispering encouragement. “Shh… it’s okay. I’ve got you,” she says softly. Every spark of fairy dust brings warmth and relief, easing the pain.

Peter tries to joke, grinning through his discomfort. “Don’t fuss, Tink… I’m fine.”

But Tinkerbell shakes her head, voice firm and caring. “No, Peter Pan! Even heroes need help sometimes. You can’t always fight your way out — and I’m not letting you pretend you can.”

She hovers closer, brushing his hair from his forehead. Her small fingers leave a trail of warmth, and her eyes shine with worry and affection. “You’ll be flying again soon,” she murmurs. “But for now… rest. I’m right here.”

Peter sighs, comforted despite himself, as the night wraps around them. Tinkerbell’s tiny presence glows like a protective light, making Neverland feel safe again.