Wendy’s hands shook so fiercely that the metal handle of the lantern clattered. Peter frowned at it. She gripped it tighter in an attempt to stop the shaking. The strain made the dry, cracked skin of her knuckles sting.

Peter continued leading the way through the woods. His bare feet easily traversed rocks and tree roots. “I mean, lions, quicksand, nasty-tasting medicine: Those are all valid things to be afraid of,” he said, leaping onto a fallen tree, his arms out at his sides as he walked along it. He seemed perfectly at home. “But the dark?” he asked. Peter jumped down and fell back into step next to Wendy. “Really?” There was a teasing note in his voice as he ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch.

Wendy only needed to dip her head a bit to clear the same branch.

She scowled at him. Her sense of pride tried to bubble its way to the surface through the sour fear in her belly. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” Wendy said, correcting her previous statement. “I’m cautious of what’s in the dark that I can’t see.” She lifted the lantern a bit higher in an attempt to get a better view of the woods ahead. Her shadow caught her eye as it walked along the tree to their right, unaccompanied. Peter’s shadow was still nowhere in sight. It was just so … odd. “Something that could hurt me,” she mumbled, more to herself than Peter. The cut on her leg ached, and it was hard to keep branches and leaves in the underbrush from slapping it.

Peter stopped walking and stared at her for a moment, his head tilted to the side. It reminded her of her old dog, Nana, when Wendy used to speak to her—confused and trying to understand. It was an innocent and kind of stupid expression. Despite present circumstances, Wendy felt a laugh rise in her throat.

But then Peter started walking again. “I think people are more frightening than the dark,” he said. “A person can stand right in front of you and be dangerous without you even knowing it.”

His back continued to retreat into the darkness, but Wendy remained where she stood. That was … surprisingly insightful.

Jogging a bit to catch up, Wendy fell into step next to Peter. Against all logic, she felt better being in the woods with him by her side. It was almost like he emitted his own light that kept the darkness of the woods at bay.

“So that’s what you’re afraid of?” Wendy asked. “People?”

“What?” Peter snorted and gave a fierce shake of his head. “No. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. What a childish response. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” she insisted.

“Everyone but me,” Peter corrected.

She fought the urge to give him a shove.