Shadow (Wendy Darling #3)(43)
“I think they just realized that you eat just like the rest of these hungry wretches.” Oxley slapped her hard on the back as he walked by her. “Peter’s waiting for you in the Teepee.”
Wendy had never heard such glad words and quickly brushed the crumbs off her lap before leaving the Table, happy to be away from prying eyes and the noises of hundreds of boys eating. She could feel John’s jealous eyes burning into her back as she ducked her head under a string of glass bottles, each rocking in the warm air as she left the Table behind.
The night was perfect and still, and she watched in silence as hundreds of wooden lanterns along the walkways lit up from within, a white light pulsing out from their broken windows. Magic. It was alive here, in small ways, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t watching. Wendy leaned her head back, taking in the evening sky, the wind that blew around her, somehow warm to the touch, like a loving caress. As she watched, Neverland spread its beautiful twilight in front of her; a sky the color of fresh thistle looked down from above, a finger trail of navy stretching across the firmament. The tangled trunks of Centermost wrapped around her, beckoning her to explore. Reaching above her, Wendy steadied her foot on a branch and began pulling herself upward toward a small hole in the branches, a tiny window to the stars. She pulled herself easily through the branches that were almost steps in their pattern, a relaxing climb. Without much effort, she made it to the top of Centermost, to a small break in the tree branches facing west. Wendy poked her head under a curtain of exotic, sharp-edged orange flowers and followed the branch outward toward the break in the leaves.
The view was worth the climb. Standing on top of the grainy texture of the tree that made Pan Island, she felt a breath catch in her throat as she looked out over not just Pan Island, but all of Neverland. The mysterious main island was quiet from here, a hulking giant slumbering on a silently pitching sea. Dark hills rose out from its watery base, impassive and beautiful, stretching miles beyond what she could see. The very dim lights of Port Duette and its small townships flickered in the shadows, the city dwarfed by the massive shadow of the mountain above it, a thin trail of smoke continually trickling out of the crest. Wendy let a surprised sob fall from her lips at the raw beauty that played out like a painting in front of her. The beauty of Neverland was almost too much, an assault on her senses, stripping all logical thought from her mind. She couldn’t help but marvel at this magical place, this dream inside of her wildest imaginings. Even the air here moved differently. It caressed with its warmth, each breath filling you with the hope of adventure. The tree swayed in the breeze, thrumming out a peaceful rhythm against her feet. Wendy gave herself over to it all, to the rich beauty and the feel of Neverland. There was so much she couldn’t remember or understand, but in that moment she knew that her heart was content, and she let the beauty soak into her skin like the sun. For a few minutes, she watched the dark horizon, and then, with a nervous heart, she turned back, happy with the knowledge that Peter was waiting for her.
The walkway between the Table and the Teepee was a long rope walkway, strung with tattered ribbons and more than a dozen hanging lanterns that danced like fireflies in the dusk, and it swayed and pitched with each step. Wendy held onto the rough frayed tassels that strung from end to end, proving, as she stumbled, to be completely useless. Her foot slipped on one of the boards, and suddenly her leg went crashing through, leaving Wendy with her shin dangling outside of the walkway, her heart hammering so loud it felt as though the entire island could hear it.
“This is so very unsafe,” she mumbled, pulling herself back. Her shin was scraped and bloody, and she rubbed it quickly, trying to make the stinging pain disappear. Out of the darkness, she felt a breath wash over her face, smelling like sugar.
“You aren’t very good at this, are you?”
The voice was female, the same voice that she had heard wailing on the wind when she had fallen asleep the night before. Wendy whipped her head around, but there was nothing there. She scrambled up to her knees and looked around. As she stared at the night sky, she noticed something filtering down toward her in the moonlight, a glittering dust falling around her like rain. It shimmered and leapt in the light, its surface that of a multifaceted mirror that gleamed as it fell, gentle as a twisting snowflake. She reached out to touch it, but when she made contact, the dust vanished, leaving no trace on her fingertips. It fell onto her hair and on her eyelashes, Wendy caught in its glimmering cylinder. A strong gush of warm wind rushed through, blowing the dust up and over the rope walkway, and slowly the splendor waned, the night silent in its absence. There was another flutter in the air, and then Wendy felt a presence just behind her right shoulder.
She had barely turned her head when something shoved her roughly to her knees. Her knees hit the wood planks with a hard slam, but she had barely registered the pain coursing through her legs when something yanked her hair back, hard. A piercing whistle sliced through the warm air, its harsh sound causing Wendy to cover her ears momentarily and curl into herself. With a final loud tweet, the whistle ended. The silence that followed was even more terrifying. Wendy cautiously raised her head. The great tree seemed to let out a breath of relief as all the lanterns on Pan Island gave a shudder and then went dark. A wave of boy groans came out of the Table, far below where she was, suspended in the middle of a walkway hundreds of feet in the air.
Wendy held perfectly still, knowing that an incorrect step in the darkness could lead her off the walkway and down into the sharp tree branches below, right into the hungry mouth of death. Moving as slowly as she dared, she leaned over to clutch at the ropes with desperation, feeling the frayed ropes in her soft hands, her heart hammering at the knowledge that something—or someone—was there with her on the bridge. She could feel it. There was another whoosh of air above her head, and then more twinkles were cascading down around her, throwing tiny refractions of light across the bridge.