“Of course you’re the Wendy. I found you and brought you back to Neverland so you can be our mother again. That’s the way it works.” He tilts his head again, making her think of a bird. Not pigeons this time, something sharper and cleverer, like a starling or a crow.

He’s still smiling, but it’s a hard smile. He isn’t making any sense, but she’s afraid to ask him to explain himself again, or tell him that he’s wrong – there’s no such place as Neverland, there can’t be, and he needs to take her home. She looks closer. Peter isn’t a starling at all, he’s a different bird, one with a beak hooked for hunting. A hawk, maybe. Why does she think of birds every time she looks at him? The answer is almost there, she can feel it, but every time she concentrates on it, it slips away from her.

She doesn’t want to think about what she doesn’t know. It’s too big and too frightening. If she tries hard enough, perhaps she can convince herself this is all a bad dream. Her mother and father will come for her soon and everything will go back to the way it’s supposed to be. They’ll wrap her up in a warm blanket and set her in front of the fire. Cook will make scones with clotted cream and jam for tea, and they will all listen, rapt, as she relates the story of her strange adventure.

Perhaps her mother will even bring out the special china, the set that belonged to the grandmother she never met. It will be a proper celebration, to show how happy they are that she’s home. Her mama smiling, the light her papa gets in his eyes when he’s listening to someone tell a particularly good tale. Her eyes prickle, but she forces a smile to show she isn’t afraid, and lifts her chin.

“I brought you more to drink.” Peter reaches outside the shelter to retrieve a tarnished silver cup stamped with a pattern. “It’ll make you well again, so you remember Neverland.”

He extends the cup toward her with an encouraging expression. Is this what he gave her before? It doesn’t look like medicine, and it smells sweet. Despite Peter’s claim it will make her better, she isn’t certain she wants to drink it at all. How can it help her remember a place she’s never been, a place that doesn’t even exist?