“Do you miss Neverland?” Wendy asked, wanting to break the eerie quiet.

Peter tilted his head back, looking up into the boughs of the trees as he considered her question. “Sort of. It’s a lot nicer there,” he said. “I miss the beaches, playing games with the lost kids, being able to spend all day just lounging in a hammock by the waterfall,” he said in a far-off tone with a sigh.

“That definitely sounds better than trudging through the woods, looking for your shadow with me,” Wendy agreed with an airy laugh. “How terribly dull Oregon must be in comparison to Neverland.”

“It’s not that bad. Being here has its perks.” He nudged his shoulder into Wendy’s. She pressed her lips together as they threatened to quirk into a smile. “What I really miss is being able to fly. This body”—he looked down at himself—“just feels weird.”

Wendy trained her eyes on Peter’s face, actively keeping herself from taking inventory. Again.

“What do you think started all of this in the first place?” she asked. “Losing your magic and growing up, I mean?”

“I don’t really know,” Peter confessed. “I just assume the shadow did it, but it did only start when you came to Neverland with me…” He squinted, giving Wendy a curious look. “This has something to do with you, but I’m not sure what.”

“Do you have a plan?” Wendy asked. “For when we find it? How are we going to…” Wendy struggled to find the right word. “Stick it back on?”

“Well, we’ll need to weaken it somehow. And then you can sew it back on!”

Wendy looked at him. That wasn’t much of a plan. She was a decent seamstress. One of the doctors at the hospital had even showed her and Jordan how to do basic surgical stitches on an orange, but how would it work with a shadow?

Suddenly, Peter jerked to look over his shoulder. Wendy’s gaze followed, but she didn’t see anything in the mix of greens and browns.

A shiver ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She edged closer to Peter and twisted her fingers into the back of his shirt. She looked between Peter’s sharp expression and the unmoving trees. “What is it?” she asked.

The woods were getting darker as the trees grew closer together, blocking out the sunlight from above the canopy of branches. When had it become so cold? She moved still closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his warm back.

Peter kept staring into the distance, standing still as the silent trees. Fear swelled in Wendy’s body and thrummed through her veins. She tugged on his shirt. “Peter?” Was he even breathing?

“I thought I heard something,” Peter murmured. He tilted his head, listening to something Wendy couldn’t hear over the pounding of her own heart. After a moment, he gave his head a small shake and sighed, though his shoulders remained tense. “It was nothing.”