“Shh, it’s okay,” Peter said gently into her ear, trying to coax her down, his cheek pressed against her hair. His words were as shaky as her hands.

She had failed them. Again.

The guilt and grief were all-consuming. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t pull herself out of it.

Under the cries of her mourning, Wendy could’ve sworn she could hear far-off chuckling.

Wendy twisted in Peter’s arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She balled his shirt into her fists and bawled with abandon.

Peter’s body tensed at first, but then his muscles relaxed. He placed one hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, pulling her closer. He tucked the top of her head under his chin.

The shadow had been right there in front of them. They should’ve stopped it. They should’ve done something. Wendy should’ve stopped it. That was why she was here, that was what she was supposed to do, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t—she didn’t know how. The thing that was holding John and Michael captive had been right in front of her, but she was still no closer to saving them.

Wendy didn’t know how long they stood there. She would start to calm down, but then she would think of her brothers scared in some dark room together, or Alex alone and crying in the woods, or the little girl, Ashley, being tormented by the shadow, and a new wave of guilt would consume her.

But Peter remained, holding on to her and occasionally speaking softly in her ear, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find the missing kids. We’ll figure this out. Wendy, it will be okay.”

Eventually, the crying subsided into intermittent hiccups. Maybe she had finally cried out all the tears left in her, or her body just didn’t have the strength to keep it up. Every sob and ache drained Wendy of her energy to fight. The very air seemed to be weighing on her shoulders. She was exhausted and defeated.

The only comfort was the radiating warmth of Peter as she huddled against him. When she finally pulled back, the front of his shirt was soaked with her tears and snot. She rubbed her nose off on the back of her hand and tried to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Her eyes stung. Everything was blurry. Her whole body ached with grief.

“Let’s get out of here,” Peter said gently. He tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s getting late. We don’t want to run into the search crews…”

Wendy could only nod in agreement as she wiped her nose on her arm. She started to follow Peter, fingers lacing with his, but as she left the clearing, Wendy couldn’t help sparing one last look at the tree.