“Pirates?” She said the word without even thinking.

Peter caught the apple out of the air and stared at Wendy. The intense look in his eyes made Wendy shift uncomfortably.

After being found in the woods, Wendy remembered, she’d had nightmares for months about being chased by a pirate captain, cloaked in bright red with a black beard, who always wielded a silver pistol. She would wake up in the middle of the night sobbing until her mother could coax her down.

Had that pirate been the bad thought that had chased her in Neverland?

Finally, Peter cleared his throat. “Yeah, like pirates.” He slowly turned the apple over and over in his hands as he spoke. “The sword is how I protect the lost kids and keep those manifestations of their bad thoughts at bay.”

“Can you turn it into something else?” Wendy wondered, picturing the glowing sword again. “Like a net?”

“I mean, I could.” Peter’s lips curled into a grin. “But a sword is just so much cooler.”

A surprised laugh bubbled in Wendy’s throat.

“And way more fun,” he added.

Wendy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, okay.”

“Pixie dust is my magic,” Peter continued, getting back on point. “It’s how I fly, how I take care of the lost kids, how I stay young—” Peter looked down at himself. “Or used to, anyway.” His shoulders slumped. “I can feel myself getting weaker, like my magic is just draining out of me, you know?” Peter set down the apple and approached Wendy. “Getting rid of that stuff that was trying to take you used up a lot. If we don’t get my shadow back soon, I have no idea what will happen, but it won’t be good.”

Wendy exhaled a deep sigh. She knew this was a problem, but she had no idea how to fix it.

Peter stared at her with his big eyes, as if waiting for her to come up with a solution to fix all their problems, but how could she do that? She could barely understand what he was telling her to begin with and she could barely take care of herself. She couldn’t help her brothers, so how was she supposed to help him?

Wendy stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Here, let me clean that,” she said, holding up the damp cloth. At least the cut was something she could fix.

Peter squinted at her and leaned away.

“It’s not going to hurt, you big baby,” she said with mild exasperation.

“I’m not a baby,” Peter grumbled petulantly, but he remained still.

Wendy did her best to ignore the flutter of nerves through her entire body, being this close to him. Was there anyone else in the world who’d found out their imaginary friend was real?