When I burst through the woods and into the village, the fray seems to have shifted off to my left. I follow the sounds, hiding behind buildings and moving as quickly as I can.
A pirate rushes past me, his sword held high as he chases a Lost Boy. It’s Cecco. I can see the glint of his earrings as he yells.
More Lost Boys run by me, and I press my back against the wall of a tiny cottage. They don’t look back at me, not when they’re running for their lives.
“Run, cowards!” Bill Jukes lumbers past me, blood streaking down the back of his head.
A Lost Boy staggers only a few feet away from me, falling to his knees as he gasps for breath. It’s stupid, but I pity him. He didn’t choose this. Peter chose it for him.
I move toward him slowly, but then I see another familiar shape. Widow.
She stalks around to the Lost Boy’s front. “This is it for you, lad. Godspeed on your travels.” She ends him with a quick stab to his heart, and he falls forward, not a sound uttered.
“Widow.” I stumble toward her.
“Moira!” She stows her sword and runs to me, catching me before I fall. “We’ve been all over this blasted island looking for you.” She hugs me so tightly I wonder if my ribs might break.
“Peter had me.” I lean on her as she guides me around the house I was hiding behind. “And then I escaped. The Guardians have taken care of me.” I have to catch my breath, fatigue wearing on me. This sort of tired—the kind that goes all the way to my marrow—is crushing. Not only because it hurts, but because I know my vigor was stolen from me.
I pull up short. “Promise me something.”
“What?” She eyes a Lost Boy who runs into the trees to our left with a pirate hot on his heels.
“If Peter’s shadow gets its hands on me again, kill me before it can take me.”
“Kill you?” She shakes her head and drapes one of my arms over her shoulders, her wings tickling along my skin. “If I were to do that, Hook would hang me from the mizzenmast like a puppet on strings. No, thank you.”
“I mean it.” I trip over nothing in particular, and Widow takes on more of my weight.
“I know you do.” Her voice is softer now. “But it won’t come to that.”
“His shadow can’t be killed. It’s like smoke.”
“Anythingcan be killed.” She says it with such authority that I begin to wonder about all the things she’s killed since taking up the pirate life.
“Moira!” Shiner runs up, her arm bloody.
“I’m all right,” I announce, but Shiner ignores it and loops my other arm over her shoulder. “You look like shit.”
“You’re the one who’s bleeding.” I stop trying to support myself as much and, instead, lean on both of them.
They seem to handle my weight with ease as we pass through the village, only stopping to check on injured Guardians.
Valinx lies outside the kitchen, a hand at his stomach. “Moira.” His voice is reedy and thin.
Shiner ducks from beneath my arm and rushes to him, dropping to her knees. “How bad is it?”
“Could be worse.” Valinx sighs.
When Shiner grabs his wrist and lifts his hand from the wound, she puts it back quickly and places her own hand over his.
Widow lowers me to the ground beside him, and I stare at the blood that still rushes from between his fingers.
“Don’t go.” I take his other hand.
“I was hoping to fatten you up before I took my leave.” He smiles weakly. “You need a good cook to set you to rights.”
“You’re an amazing cook, and you aren’t going anywhere.” I squeeze his fingers. He becomes fuzzy in my haze of tears. “I’m ready to be fattened up, all right?”
