the girl up.
Wendy rose onto her toes.
Luna barked again, less worried and more perplexed.
“Oh! It’s working!” Wendy cried.
In that moment, all of Never Land became everything she had always imagined it would be. She could do anything. The sky was blue, the future full of infinite good.
The fairy still held her hand, obviously trying to keep a skeptical, annoyed look on her face. But her lips moved in a strange duck-billed twist, as if she was working very hard to keep them frowning. Her whole face had lightened, the scowling darkness removed like a storm whisked away by a whimsical and beneficent god. When she impatiently rolled her eyes and twirled her fingers, it wasn’t with anger this time; it was encouraging: Come on, come on! More of that!
“But…more of what?” Wendy asked, distracted by the feeling of weightlessness, Luna, and her own thoughts.
The fairy tapped her head then pointed at the human girl and shrugged dramatically.
“What? What was I thinking? Is that what you—yes, it was. Well, I was thinking about flying—no, I was thinking about Luna, actually. What a good girl she is and how wonderful it is that she loves me.…”
Wendy’s toes left the ground entirely.
“Oh! Oh! It’s happy thoughts! I see it now! They make you fly!” she cried, clapping her hands.
And with that, she slipped the surly bonds of the earth and rose slowly, twirling into the sky. The fairy kept one tiny hand on hers, steadying her ascent.
Trees and bushes below her waved in the mild tropical breeze like undersea plants. Wendy wasn’t as terrified of the height as she had thought she might be. The change in perspective was a little thrilling, a little startling, but that was all. It was like she merely had nothing to do with the ground anymore.
Luna barked.
“Oh, Luna, I’m all right, I—”
The fairy let go.
Wendy suddenly listed to the left. It was as if the fairy were the only thing anchoring her to the sky. She thrashed wildly, making flailing swimming motions that did little to help. The earth rolled sickeningly below, looming close.
The fairy immediately grabbed her again.
Wendy felt everything…stabilize. The lightness on both sides of her evened out and she bobbed steadily again, feeling somehow supported by the air around her.
The fairy waited a moment and gave her a look—All right? Are you ready?
Wendy swallowed and nodded.
The fairy—slowly—withdrew her tiny hand, drawing it across Wendy’s skin until just a finger touched, and then nothing at all.
Wendy remained steady this time.
She laughed. Out loud, like she hadn’t laughed in years—honest, billowing peals of pure joy. Her skirts swished and spread out. Gravity had no effect on her anymore—nothing tugged at her shoulders, feet, neck, mind, ears—she was weightless, untouchable.
Luna barked. But it was a bark of excitement this time, a wow look at us and you and me and that’s all great yes! bark.
Seeing this, the fairy dipped down and started to sprinkle some dust on her—but the wolf ducked neatly out of the way. She pranced back and forth, her back bending and shimmering in the sunlight. She barked again politely. No, thank you, she was obviously saying. I’ll go my own way.
The fairy shook her head—Who wouldn’t want to fly? Silly thing!—then buzzed up to Wendy’s nose and snapped her fingers imperiously.
“All right, yes, yes,” Wendy said, too happy to take offense. “I’m coming. Forgive me—I’ve only flown in my dreams before!”
The fairy rolled her eyes and took off toward the gray mountains. More slowly this time.
And Wendy, spreading her arms out to catch the wind, happily followed.
Wendy followed the fairy as best she could without becoming distracted by the details of the landscape below. Some things looked exactly as she had imagined them (the savannas of Upper Hillsdale, for instance, and the multilevel pools of the Tonal Springs). But some things were subtly different and others entirely unrecognizable. Far to the northwest was the area she couldn’t remember very well: in reality it turned out to be a peninsula shrouded in a heavy gray and viscous fog.
Maybe it really is masked by the elements because it hasn’t been described yet, or used in a story, Wendy thought.
To the south of that was a strange, balding mound of a hill that was just crying out for an obvious name. Was it John’s invention? Or Michael’s? Or…someone else’s?
And, wait a moment, what about those someone elses? Other children? Besides me and Michael and John? Wendy suddenly wondered. Did they make up whole areas of the