The rip in her dress took longer with the bulky thread because she had to be more deliberate with her stitches, but when it was done, the sun was still high in the sky. Taking a chance, she offered to help with the sails. Davi instantly passed over the sail he was practicing on. Maaka looked surprised, then repeated the necessary parts of the lesson again.
As they worked and her companions became more familiar with her presence, she asked questions. She started with very general questions about how the sails were made and what theweather was normally like on the ocean this time of year. From there, she segued to asking how long it would take to reach Buala. Davi didn’t know. Maaka told her they could expect to arrive by noon tomorrow, Fortuna willing.
Having discovered what she needed to know, Wendy was happy to let Davi direct the conversation after that. He wanted to know how she knew so many stories. This eventually led to questions about her brothers. She avoided any mention of their current situation but regaled the pair with tales of the boys’ mischief over the years.
When evening rolled around, Davi invited her to eat dinner with him and the other first-shifters. She followed him to the galley she hadn’t bothered to search for and was pleased to find Rahma and her family there. Hook was nowhere to be found, which mostly pleased Wendy. An odd twinge of disappointment remained.
Adli entertained the diners with his antics. Wendy remembered her brothers doing similar things at that age. She laughed along with the others, even as her heart squeezed with worry. She made her excuses fairly early, intending to plot tomorrow’s escape.
The cat lay stretched across her cot when she returned to her cell.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she quipped as she set her lantern on its hook.
Only a minor tail-flick indicated awareness from the gray-and-orange lump of fur.
“Since you’re here, you get to play the part of listening ear.”
Wendy waited for a response but didn’t get one. As expected.
She rubbed her hands together and started pacing again. “My brothers are stuck in Neverland with a madman.”
The cat rolled over.
“We are stopping in Buala tomorrow.” Running out of room, she spun to pace the other way. “Buala isn’t a huge port, but it should have at least one representative of the naval police there.”
The only reply to this was a new position that would have impressed a contortionist as the feline decided to bathe its hind leg in a manner that mocked gravity.
Wendy blinked at the cat. “Right.” She shook out her hands. “A representative should be able to help me get to a larger station, yeah? Oooh.” Her body lurched as her feet stopped moving abruptly. “But what if George reported us as runaways?”
Faint licking sounds filled her pause.
“Would that make them more inclined to believe me, or less?”
Now that the cat wasn’t spread out as far, Wendy dropped to a seat on the end of the cot. She dropped her head in her hands.
“What am I going to do if no one believes me? And let’s be frank”—she lifted her face to address the cat—“most people love the idea of Peter Pan, but I doubt most adults still consider him a real person.”
Switching from its legs to licking a front paw and swiping it over and across one ear, the cat continued to ignore Wendy.
“And Peter himself admitted to me that no one ever lands on the island because a kitsune messes with time when that happens. He must have another faery that adjusts memories, too,” she mused.
The second ear received its share of the attention.
“I’m not sure how all that works. Or how we got to Neverland, actually.” Wendy sat up straight and frowned. “Why can’t I remember how we got there?”
She stood to pace some more. The cat protested the abrupt movement with a soft chirp.
“Why haven’t I ever wondered how we got there?!” She tugged on her hair. “Something or someone has messed with my mind! This is horrible.”
After some frenetic pacing that did nothing to slow her mind, Wendy finally stopped in the middle of the cell and took a long, deliberate breath. “I can’t change what happened, and I can’t worry about all the details I can’t fix right now.” She looked to the cat for confirmation. “Right?”
Ostensibly satisfied with its level of cleanliness, the beast stood and stretched in a full back arch.
“Right,” Wendy said to herself. “I need to focus on the first step.”
The cat hopped off the bed, wound through the bars, and trotted out the door that Wendy had left cracked when she saw it in the cell.
“Wait a minute, that door was closed this morning. How did you . . .” She trailed off. “Never mind.”
