“Probably. It knows that we’ve been in the forest, that we’re looking for it. It knows you’re afraid of the woods. It wants you to be frightened.” Peter looked over at her. The worry aged his already pale face. “It might be drawing us into a trap, Wendy,” he said. “Are you sure you want to go looking for this tree? What if that’s exactly what it wants us to do? It can probably smell the fear on you as soon as you step into the woods.” He shook his head. A frustrated growl sounded at the back of his throat. “Maybe I should just—”

“No way,” Wendy said, sharp and succinct. “My brothers are being held captive by this thing. There’s no way I’m going to let you fight it on your own.”

Peter stared down at his lap.

She didn’t want to point out that, in his condition, she was worried about him even being able to navigate the woods, let alone put up a fight against the shadow. He needed her help, and she needed to get her brothers back. “Besides, you said I’m the only one who’s been able to reattach the two of you, remember?” she pointed out.

“It was worth a shot,” Peter muttered. He sunk lower in his seat. With his head leaning against the cool glass of the window, Peter closed his eyes.

Wendy almost wanted to keep circling the tree-lined roads to let him rest, but finding his shadow was becoming all the more imperative.

She turned down one of the old logging roads. The grass was beaten down into a set of tire prints that faded into the trees. She parked her truck a little way down the road so it was out of sight from the main stretch.

Peter sat up as the springy seat jostled him when she put the truck in park.

“Did you get ahold of a map?” Peter asked, staring off into the woods ahead.

“I have one in here.” She reached across Peter and gave the dashboard handle two hard yanks before it flew open. Peter tried to move out of the way as a pair of old swim goggles and a bottle of sunblock fell onto his feet. “Sorry,” Wendy said. She dug into the glove compartment and pulled out a map of the town.