“Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.”

“Peter glanced up at the stars and a wicked smile lit his face. "Time to play," he whispered to the stars and winked. And the stars winked back, for Peter's smile is a most contagious thing.”

“The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name's Peter. Can I play too?”

“Peter had two short swords strapped on his back, the belts crisscrossing his chest bandito style. A black splash of war paint covered his face, and his golden eyes gleamed out from the paint. He pulled his swords free, clanged them together, and all the Devils lined up on either side of him. (the Child Thief)”

“Enough talk," Peter said, and his eyes flashed. "It's time to turn you three into killers.”

“Peter finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused. Is that not why you are here? Did Peter not save you?”

“Mama," Peter cried. She didn't look up. The door shut.”