Had not enough gone wrong?

“How much blood will it take to make them stop? How many more children must die?”

“Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird…”

“The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name'…”

“But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse …”