Redhawk Caldera Lost boys go to Neverland

Peter's life recently had been rather eventful - he was constantly hungry and therefore weak, he did not wish to play or run, preferring to sleep on his own most of the time. Days lost meaning to him, there were simply moments between black nothingness and dull gray waking hours, when he could not force himself to get up and move. 

He did not engage in games and not even Ferret's sometimes cruel means of making him do something, did not help. He would simply lie there, limp and unmoving, staring in to the distance with blank expression. The little boy did not know it, but it was apparent to anyone, who was around him - he was running out of time, unless a miracle happened and they suddenly had plenty of food for both strong fellows and weaklings alike. 

It was a little unusual that Peter would leave his sleeping spot that day and walked towards the forest. He first had thought he had heard voices calling and then there was a whiff of wind that brought the most delicious smell of all. Food. And right about that time the runt was just about to believe anything his delirious mind was going to offer. Further and further he went, deliberately putting one foot after another, taking what little strength he had left, not to tumble and fall. 

No one saw or heard him leave.