Does John intend to bring him here, to let him see her caged in this place? What sort of man would be willing to marry her not only knowing the truth of her, but seeing it with his own eyes?

Ned. That name again. It doesn’t ring like a clear bell, signaling the morning, a bird trilling up the dawn. It falls flat, like a stone. Ned. The sound of a window shuttered against the sky.

She knows without asking that he doesn’t have hair the color of copper and flame. That he doesn’t know how to crow like a rooster. That he cannot fly. John’s words flow over her, and Wendy fails to listen. Then John leaves, promises to return soon trailing behind him. She’s left alone beneath the tree with one shattered cup only half cleaned up, and the other full of liquid gone cold.

She picks up one of the shards, lifting it to see the sunlight stream through it. How easy would it be to bury the shard in her skin? In Dr. Harrington’s skin? Could she do it?

She lets it fall. That is the way the old Wendy Darling would think, but she is going to be a new Wendy. Shouldn’t the thought make her happy? Then why is her chest so tight? Why is it so hard to breathe? She hurries across the lawn to where she’d promised to meet Mary after her brother left. Mary rises as Wendy approaches, leaving the embroidery spread across her lap to fall to the ground.

“What happened?”

“I… I’m getting married.” Wendy’s shoulders hitch. She puts her face in her hands. Her cheeks are dry, but she shakes her head in disbelief.

Mary touches her shoulder, a simple, comforting thing. She doesn’t ask what’s so terrible about the idea of marriage, and for that, Wendy is grateful.

“It means leaving this place.” Wendy speaks between muffling fingers. “But…” She shrugs. Her shoulder blades feel like wings stripped of their feathers.

“If you had your choice in leaving,” Mary asks, “where would you go? Would you go back to Neverland?”

The question startles Wendy. She lowers her hands. Once upon a time, the answer was simple, so that it was barely even a question. The word yes is on her tongue, quick as a heartbeat, but she falters. Mary waits patiently on her answer; her eyes make Wendy think of pine bark after a hard rain.