glanced over her shoulder, stepping closer to Peter as she tried to shield him from the gathering next door. “Come on,” she said, trying to make her voice sound gentler as she pulled him toward the side of the house, where no one could see them. “Tell me what happened.” Her eyes darted from his shoulders, to his arms, to his face.
Peter’s chin dipped, sending his hair splaying across his forehead, hiding his eyes from view. “I went after my shadow last night,” he mumbled.
“What?” Wendy hissed. Her hand went straight to his arm, gripping him before she could realize what she was doing. “Sorry!” she said, withdrawing quickly. She growled and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Why would you do that, Peter?” she demanded.
He shrugged, looking miserable and chastised as he leaned against a trash can. “I thought I could take it on my own. I thought…” He glanced furtively at Wendy. “I thought if I could just do it myself, then you wouldn’t have to—”
“No!” Wendy cut him off. “We were supposed to go together so I could help you! You could’ve gotten hurt—you did get hurt!” Wendy gestured at him and Peter cringed. She wanted to scream and shout at him for doing something so incredibly stupid and reckless, but she couldn’t with all those people next door.
“I thought I could do it,” he repeated. “But it was just too powerful.” Peter’s breathing was uneven and short. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled up the bottom of his shirt. Cresting over the tanned skin, just above his hip, bloomed an array of bruises. Purple, blue, and bright red grouped together like galaxies.
Immediately, she felt like a complete asshole for yelling at him. “Oh, Peter…” Lightly, she touched the bruise with her fingers, but he flinched back. Wendy’s skin crawled with a boiling mix of anger and fear. The shadow was capable of doing this? What else would it do? To her? To Peter? To the kids it had taken? To her brothers?
“It’s getting stronger,” Peter told her before tugging his shirt back down. “And I’m only getting weaker.” A shudder rolled through him, as if it physically repulsed him to admit it. Peter’s eyelids were half shut as he stared at the ground. “It just tossed me around like I was nothing.” Peter rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye. “I can feel my magic draining out of me,” he mumbled. “I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.” He frowned and his eyes roved over her body. “Are you okay? It didn’t come after you, did it?” A spark of intensity crossed his face.
“No,” Wendy said quickly with a shake of her head. She’d been safe and sound in her room last night, but that did little to comfort her. The thought of Peter, alone in the woods, being attacked by the shadow was enough to make her sick. She should’ve been there to protect him. She shouldn’t have left him. She should’ve made him come home. Wendy swallowed down a lump in her throat. She hated herself for letting him go.
“We’re in this together, okay?” Wendy insisted, stepping closer to Peter, making him look her in the eyes. “No more going off on your own. We beat it together, or not at all, just like you said, right?” Peter looked miserable and unconvinced. “You’re not the only one with something to lose,” she told him.
Peter held her gaze. She realized how close they were standing, Peter leaning against a trash can and she standing between his knees. There was a low rush in her belly. Warmth flooded her face.
Peter’s eyes drifted from hers, down to her mouth, and then to her neck.
A tired grin curled the corners of his lips. “Hey, you found it,” he murmured.
He was staring at the acorn she wore around her neck. “Yeah, I-I did,” Wendy stammered, and she quickly came back to reality. “I mean, I’ve always had it,” she corrected herself, holding it in the palm of her hand. “I just kept it in a jewelry box.” Some of Peter’s light seemed to slowly start returning. “I wore it around my neck last night when I fell asleep, and I had this dream—but it was a memory—about Neverland, and my brothers, and you.” Wendy looked up into Peter’s face. “I remembered you giving it to me. Do you remember that?”
Dimples pressed gently into Peter’s cheeks as he took the acorn between his thumb and