Page 99 of Lost in the Never Woods

Wendy stood there, frozen on the spot. Standing in the snow, staring at her fallen brothers, her entire body began to quake.

The sound of feet stomping through the woods made Wendy jump, shaking her from her trance. She looked around frantically before running behind a set of trees standing closely together. She crawled under the large shrubs at their base.

Nana ran frantically back and forth between John and Michael, her tail tucked between her legs.

A man in a bright red plaid flannel jacket stumbled into the clearing. He wore a fur-lined hunter’s hat. A rifle was slung over his back. His back was to Wendy, but she could see a beer bottle gripped in his hand.

Nana placed herself square between the man and John and Michael. Sweet Nana, usually so gentle and doting, bared her teeth and growled.

“Nana?” the man asked. His voice was familiar, confused. “’ Ey, get outta here,” he slurred, kicking up snow at Nana. Nana flinched but refused to move. With snapping jaws, she began to bark fiercely.

“HEY!” the man shouted this time. He stuck his beer bottle in the snow and removed the rifle from his shoulder.

Terror locked up every muscle in Wendy’s body.

But he aimed it into the sky and shot off another round. The shell spun through the air and fell to the snow.

Nana recoiled and bolted out of the clearing.

“Dumb dog,” the man grumbled, hitching the gun back ontohis shoulder as Nana ran away. “Gonna get yourself shot runnin’ ’round like that.” With a large hand, he swiped the hat off his head.

Cold shock crashed over Wendy, robbing her of breath.

Mr. Davies wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his red plaid flannel. “What’ve we got,” he mumbled to himself as he walked up to the old tree.

He stopped suddenly. John’s and Michael’s bodies lay slumped on the ground before him.

Mr. Davies fell to his knees. “No! No, no, no!” His voice was much clearer now, pitched with horror. He shook John and Michael, but they didn’t stir. He muttered to himself as he looked around wildly.

Wendy hunkered lower in her hiding spot, stuffing her hands against her mouth to stifle herself.

Mr. Davies struggled to his feet and, tripping over himself, ran back in the direction he had come from.

When the footsteps faded, Wendy crawled out from her hiding spot and rushed to her brothers. “John, Michael!” She collapsed beside them and shook them as hard as she could. “Wake up!” she pleaded. “Please, wake up!” Wendy doubled over. Her body shook with violent sobs. The cold, hard ground pressed painfully into her knees.

Wendy had never felt so powerless. Saliva pooled in her mouth and she thought she might vomit from the sheer horror of reliving her younger self weeping over the bodies of her dead brothers. She felt the urge to run away, to pull back and refuse to let herself see the rest, but there was more noise in the underbrush.

Peter descended through the trees, swiftly flying down to land a few feet from where Wendy cowered. It was the same version of Peter that she’d seen in her memories of Neverland. A young boy with wild auburn hair, dressed in clothes made of thick leaves.

He saw Wendy crying over the bodies of her brothers and froze. “Wendy?” he said.

Wendy looked up, tears streaming down her face. Recognition struck her in her heart, desperation quick on its heels. “Peter, help, please help!” she begged through sobs.

Peter slowly moved to Wendy’s side, his eyes wide and bright. He looked at John and Michael. Gently, he shook his head. “Wendy, I’m so sorry…”

“Please, help them, Peter!” she cried.

“I can’t, Wendy. I have to take them with me,” he said, his expression pained.

Wendy sobbed harder. Her voice cracked. “No, you can’t! You can’t take John and Michael away!”

The sound of approaching footsteps made her and Peter look up again.

Wendy began to panic. “He’s coming back! Please don’t leave me here alone. You have to take me with you! Please, Peter!”

Wendy saw the mournful look on Peter’s face. He took her hand, and everything plunged into blackness.

Grief was sharp and all-consuming. Wendy lay curled on her side. The image of her brothers lying in the snow, red pooling on white, burned through her mind. They had fallen at the base of the tree. That was why her subconscious kept reminding her, making her hands draw it with such urgency. It was trying to make her remember, and Wendy saw now why she’d fought so hard against it. She had been hiding from it, but she couldn’t escape being haunted, and now she feared she never would.