A weapon? Such a task seemed intimidating. She pushed herself down to the wall of weapons, where the dangerous instruments sat. Wendy frowned as she looked at a huge silver sword, its hilt the open mouth of a dragon. She could hardly see herself swinging away with this sword, let alone any sword. She didn’t even know the first thing about holding a sword. She pulled herself hand over hand toward the end of the line of weapons, carefully placing her fingers in between the thick branches that surrounded the Nest. When she reached the end of the line, she turned back with a sigh. Nothing. She pulled herself backward over the line of weapons, deciding that maybe nothing was a better option than something that would make her look, at best, quite idiotic. Her hands came to rest on an enormous golden bow, easily the largest weapon of the bunch. She was smiling at the thought of lugging this behemoth anywhere when something winked at her in the filtered light of the Nest, nestled in a thick tangle of branches behind the ostentatious bow.
Wendy’s nimble fingers—the fingers of a piano player—skillfully untangled the bramble around the winking metal, thorny branches scraping under her nails. Finally, they reached into a leafy cluster and pulled out a petite dagger with an ivory handle. Intricate carvings marked the sides of the handle: ships at sea, tossed about by the waves; trees curled into patterned wings; a sun and moon connected by whorls of wind on opposite sides of the pommel. A small blue gemstone, the shape and size of a feather, marked the center of the hilt. The stone seemed to have a great depth to its blue, as if it were a portal to the deepest part of the sea. Wendy loved it immediately, turning it over in her hands, marveling at how it fit perfectly in her palm, how light and lovely it was. She blinked twice. Though it couldn’t be possible, she was sure that for a moment she saw the leafy cluster that had once held the dagger give a shudder and curl back into itself. She looked again. Everything was still. Perhaps she had seen it because she was moving, slowly floating upward, which was what happened when she let go of anything grounding her. Shyly, unsure of where exactly one put a dagger, she tucked it into the waistband of her pants and prayed that she wouldn’t accidentally stab herself. Even now, with the blade cool against her skin, Wendy felt like an imposter. She was not a warrior, or even a boy. Everything about holding this dagger was reminding her that she was a well-mannered lady who had no place here, and yet—she would rather be nowhere else. For a reason she couldn’t fully explain to herself, she knew the dagger was her secret. Perhaps it was the thrill of a potential adventure working its way into her mind, thread by tiny thread. She felt a whoosh of air pass below her, and then Peter was beside her, pulling her down from the top of the Nest, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Shall we?”
She nodded. With that, the redheaded boy brought both hands up to his mouth and crowed at the top of his lungs. The Lost Boys all began circling around him, like a swarm of crows fluttering around a tree.
“It’s time to leave the Nest!” he yelled, and then he signaled above him with both hands.
Wendy’s breath caught in her throat as the canopy high above the Nest slowly began to inch open, pulled open by the willing hands of about a dozen Pips, each one tethering themselves to it with thick pieces of rope that attached to rusty pulleys above. The canopy separated in the center, cracking open like an egg, light exploding through the branches as the cloudy sky poured in above them. Peter looked down at Wendy and winked before shooting up into the sky. “Okay, Lost Boys, let’s FLY!” With that command, fifty Lost Boys fluttered out into the open air in a rush of mad energy, birds released from a cage. John zoomed past Wendy without a second look as she struggled to keep up with the boys trailing into the sky, Peter the head of his flock. Wendy frowned and with great focus increased her speed, finally catching up to Peter, who was at a standstill, his eyes on the troops below him.
“John, Oxley: do you have your baker’s dozen?”
John nodded with a confidence that Wendy could see was shaky at best. Her brother was nervous. As he should be.
“Take your boys, then. Remember what we planned: first the sky, then down against the sea once you are within eyesight. The clouds should hide you well. When you push against the ships, use a gentle hand, like you’re touching a lady, boys!” Wendy blushed. Peter affectionately ruffled the hair of one of the Lost Boys, who positively glowed with the attention. “I look forward to many great stories of puking pirates. If we do the job right on our end, Hook’s pirates won’t even know that they were robbed until we are already gone. Perhaps they will think Blackbeard’s ghost took their liquor!”
The boys broke into rowdy laughter. It occurred to a silent, nervous Wendy that this was a lot of work to steal some wine. Peter saluted John and Oxley, tapping his feet together as he rose into the air.
“All righty, boys, you have my blessing! See you on the other side of Neverland!”
With that command, John’s group began to circle and rise slowly to the north, flying swiftly away from Peter’s group—and John away from Wendy’s protection. As she watched her brother’s form fade slowly into the mist, she felt a painful tug in her chest but dismissed it as an overabundance of childlike sentimentality.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WENDY TURNED BACK, finding Peter beside her. He brushed her hair away from her ear.
“He’ll be fine. It’s just a silly game, Wendy. There is no need to fear. It’s time for our great adventure to begin! Are you ready?”