Peter blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Should we stop by the hunting shack and get you another pair?” she asked. “You won’t be able to go back to it after today.” Which was another distressing thought. Another problem on their ever-growing list that needed a solution.
“I don’t have any more shoes that fit.” Peter still didn’t seem very worried. “I could try looking around the neighborhood for a pair,” he considered.
“No,” Wendy said firmly. “No stealing. The last thing we need is someone seeing you steal a pair of tennis shoes off their back porch.” Wendy racked her brain, trying to come up with a solution. The idea of taking Peter to go shopping for new shoes felt ridiculous. She couldn’t even picture him standing in the middle of a Fred Meyer. It’d be like seeing Bigfoot in a hipster café: wrong and laughable. “My dad has some old tennis shoes lying around you could try on?” They were probably too big, but at this rate, Peter would fit them fine in a matter of days. It gave her little comfort.
Peter nodded in agreement. His eyebrows pinched together. He looked bothered by something, but he didn’t say anything, and Wendy thought it best not to ask. There was tension in the air and heaviness between them.
Maybe he knew what she was thinking already.
Wendy spent so much time thinking about how all of this was affecting her, she hadn’t spent much time considering how Peter felt. It must be frightening, to be so far from his home, and alone. Except for Wendy, but she doubted that brought Peter much comfort. It must have been wearing on him to be holding the safety of all those kids on his shoulders. Not to mention, to be so unsure of his own fate. It made her chest ache to think about him going through that alone. How had she let herself get so caught up in her own nightmares that she didn’t consider what this was doing to him? Looking at him now, the effects seemed clear on his face, in the dark circles under his eyes and the way the corners of his lips tugged down when he wasn’t paying attention.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to tell him that it would be okay and they would figure it out. But would he hear the doubt in her voice? Wendy chewed on her bottom lip. What did Peter have to keep the darkness away? After they got out of these woods, she would figure out how to keep him safe.
They crossed the first trail, which was just some gravel on hard dirt, pounded into place by logging trucks. The creek was a short hike past that, and they followed it downstream, sloping deeper into the woods. She started trailing closer to Peter again, but, this time, she was more careful not to step on him. The woods were vast. Even with a guided plan, it was a lot of ground to cover. Not to mention, the terrain became rough, which slowed Wendy and their progress.
The farther they went, the quieter the woods became. There were no more birds chirping or chipmunks scrabbling their claws against trees as they chased one another. The only sound left was the bubbling of water in the creek.
“Do you miss Neverland?” Wendy asked, wanting to break the eerie quiet.
Peter tilted his head back, looking up into the boughs of the trees as he considered her question. “Sort of. It’s a lot nicer there,” he said. “I miss the beaches, playing games with the lost kids, being able to spend all day just lounging in a hammock by the waterfall,” he said in a far-off tone with a sigh.
“That definitely sounds better than trudging through the woods, looking for your shadow with me,” Wendy agreed with an airy laugh. “How terribly dull Oregon must be in comparison to Neverland.”
“It’s not that bad. Being here has its perks.” He nudged his shoulder into Wendy’s. She pressed her lips together as they threatened to quirk into a smile. “What I really miss is being able to fly. This body”—he looked down at himself—“just feels weird.”
Wendy trained her eyes on Peter’s face, actively keeping herself from taking inventory. Again.
“What do you think started all of this in the first place?” she asked. “Losing your magic and growing up, I mean?”
“I don’t really know,” Peter confessed. “I just assume the shadow did it, but it did only start when you came to Neverland with me…” He squinted, giving Wendy a curious look. “This has something to do with you, but I’m not sure what.”
“Do you have a plan?” Wendy asked. “For when we find it? How are we going to…” Wendy struggled to find the right word. “Stick it back on?”