Her mother had come into the kitchen then and told her to stop pestering Cook, shooing her away despite Cook’s protests she didn’t mind. She’d peeked back in from the doorway and seen her mother and Cook with their heads leaned close together, whispering. They’d both looked sad then, in a way she didn’t know grown-ups could be, and she’d hurried away.

“Ha! I found you.” A hand closes around her arm, and she lets out a cry of surprise. “Now you have to help me find everyone else. Those are the rules.”

“Bertie?” She covers the arrowhead quickly, holding it tight.

Sweat dampens Bertie’s forehead, and he breathes heavily. That, and the way he avoids her eyes keeps her from correcting him to say that she’s it now, and he has to run and hide. He’s afraid; he doesn’t want to hunt through the dark alone, though he would never admit it, especially not to a girl. A thought strikes her then—if the game of hide and seek is still going on, who threw the projectiles?

“Have you found anyone else yet?”

“No.” Bertie looks a little bit relieved, but pushes his chest out, a bossy edge creeping into his voice. “You’re the first. Now you have to help me.”

His hand is still on her arm. There’s a dampness to his fingers, clammy fear seeping from his skin to hers. She glances behind her, but there’s no sign of whoever did the throwing. Maybe they weren’t trying to hurt her or scare her; maybe they were trying to warn her. But about what? Could there be something dangerous at the end of the path? Or something that needs protection?

“Come on.” Bertie tugs her arm insistently.

There’ll be time to unravel the mystery later. Besides, having Bertie along would only bungle things up. He’s too loud, and right now, too jumpy. His need to get away is palpable. She can feel his pulse in his fingertips, and it’s almost infectious. It makes her want to run, too.

“Okay, let’s go find the others.”

She follows him, ignoring the shivery feeling like a hand brushing across the nape of her neck, telling herself it’s for Bertie’s sake they’re leaving, not her own.

7: Let’s Play War

LET’S PLAY WAR

There’s something terrible at the center of the island.

Wendy comes to with a violent jolt, the knowledge in her mind as sure as she knew there was a boy at her daughter’s window. Her pulse beats too fast, and for a moment she’s disoriented. She wants the whole thing to have been a terrible, beautiful dream, but no—she is still here in Neverland.