I follow Salt around the perimeter of Cove Beach, dodging low hanging branches and skirting the tropical thicket, and find myself appreciating just how well Salt knows the terrain.

I suppose he does live here and he is a pirate after all.

My heart is still racing from our narrow escape. Hook's glaring eyes are burned in the back of my mind. He is not pleased with our getaway. I do not envy those left behind with him on the battered planks of the Jolly Roger.

I do not relish in what's happened to Cannonball Cove. The scale of destruction was –is –overwhelming. I'm still choking back the thick smoke-filled air.

"Thank you," I blurt.

"Aye. That was a close shave," Salt says, nodding.

I picture us cornered and trapped in the hallway outside his bedchamber. I picture Hook's ravenous eyes. "It was. Too close," I agree.

"We should be safe this way. The pirates never stray this far from the Nest. Not on land anyway. Plus, the riots could last a full day before anyone comes looking for us." Salt keeps walking.

I still hear the unmistakable echo of cannon fire in the distance.

"So it's Pan you're after?" Salt asks, interested. "Should've known when I found you running away from Neverwood."

"Yes, it's Pan."

"And he's got your brothers? Or is that just what you told Hook?" He presses.

"He does. For six years," I say through gritted teeth.

"Wish you told me sooner, but I can still assist you. If you want," Salt offers. "Not like I can go back –not just yet."

"I feel so guilty," I admit. "About Hook and putting you at risk. The Marooners–"

"–Are safe at sea. It's not the first time Hook's thrown me out," Salt smirks. "Always brings me back."

I wonder if the Marooner and Jolly Roger crews play games like the Lost Boys and Indians. Perhaps all the pirates do. Could it be true that no one was ever in real danger?

No.

The bodies I stepped over –the pirates Salt slayed in our escape –they were real. Maybe it's true Hook would never harm his own son, but still Salt escaped with me –for me.

I owe him.

The air grows humid as we trek further into the tiki trees. I find myself in the midst of a mini tropical rainforest. Salt halts abruptly, fanning his hand out to stop me.

"We can rest here. Regroup." Salt looks up.

We're standing at the base of a towering Strangler Fig. Its many roots stretching up its side like wooden veins. Wild banana trees envelop us with an intoxicating bouquet. My stomach lurches.

"Regroup. Good. You have a plan then?" I look up at Salt, frowning.

"Mermaid Lagoon. We'll be safe there tonight. We can travel to the Wood –to your brothers –at first light," Salt explains.

I think of his earlier offer to help with Pan.

"Have you met Pan?"

"There's not a soul on the island's not met Peter Pan," Salt utters. There's an almost bitter note in his voice, but mixed with a confused reverence that I do not quite understand. Something tells me Salt doesn't either.

"Everyone knows him," I say, nodding. Of course everyone knows Peter Pan. This is bloody Neverland after all! "What do you make of him?"

"Of Pan?" Salt's eyebrow arcs. "What do you make of the sea? Of the moon and its changing tides?"

"He's still volatile then?"

"Unpredictable at best," Salt laughs. "I suppose I believed us friends once. A long time ago."

"I didn't know Pan befriended pirates," I frown.

"Well," Salt smiles. "We had a common enemy."

I picture a younger Salt, even though I know he would have been the same age he is now, battling Hook side by side with Pan and the Lost Boys. Perhaps Salt had many adventures with Pan.

Salt cracks open a coconut and pours its water into a palm leaf. He hands me the verdant funnel and starts shucking the white flesh from inside the shell. Shade and sun dance across his face as a warm breeze ruffles the leaves above us.

After a stretch of silence, I decide I can no longer put off asking the question.

"So you're Hook's son?" I glance sideways.

Salt's dark waves spill over his forehead as he nods. "I am."

I suppose I do see the resemblance. The skin, the hair color, the hooded eyes. As much as I hate to admit it –Hook still retains vestiges of forgotten handsomeness, even now. It's the same handsomeness I see in Salt now.

"How are you –I mean –You're so old –I mean –Captain Hook didn't have a son last time." I falter on my wording.

"How did I grow up, you mean?" Salt asks, tilting his head. His smile let's me relax.

I nod.

"You're right that I was not on Neverland during your last visit six years ago," Salt begins.

I prepare myself for a well-rehearsed story, but his voice staggers ever so slightly. It catches. And I wonder if he's ever had to explain his existence before. I wonder how many other damsels he's whisked away from Neverland's pirates.

"I'll tell you as much as I know and I'm sorry it won't be everything. Captain Hook and a select number of his men leave Neverland once a year in search for women. My mother being one. Time doesn't pass here you see, so a woman cannot carry a child."

Salt watches me hesitantly and I nod for him to continue.

"I was raised off the island but raised on tales of Neverland. I was brought up to believe –to return one day. About two years ago, when I was 17, I was brought back. Given the Marooner and a crew and welcomed home like Hook's son."

The scowl overtaking Salt's face speaks wonders. As does the resentment I hear on his tongue.

"Are the other –the Marooners –are they the same?"

"Some," Salt dips his head. "Sons of some of Hook's crew. Others were brought here other ways..."

It's the way he says here that makes me ask, "You aren't a fan of Neverland?"

"Oh it's not that. I feel a kinship with the island. I feel at home, not just because I know I'm half from here." Salt looks down. "It's just –I also remember my old home."

I know how he feels, but it's difficult to tell him that. I remember London and still miss it, but I did spend the last six years dreaming of this celestial island, desperate to find my way back here. I count the banana bunches I see on the tiny trees across the forest floor.

"I remember my mother," Salt sighs. "I brought my best memories of her with me."

"She –she couldn't come back, then?" I ask.

Salt shakes his head. "The pirates don't bring the women they impregnate. Hook told my mother just enough to pass on the stories to me. Raising me to be cultivated."

I want to ask Salt how he knew they weren't just that –stories. How he knew they were real. How he accepted the island as his home. All I can think of is my own mother.

"I remember my parents too," I say, quiet.

Salt looks at me, intense, the tanned lines of his forehead show his concern.

"Are they gone now?" He asks. I admire the way his salty hair falls into his eyes.

"Gone from me."

"Maybe we do have more in common than I thought," Salt smiles.

My heart lurches in response. I see Salt wielding a sword, a blazing look in his eyes, his V-neck unlaced. I shake this image, embarrassed.

Salt's smile reaches his eyes and I return it, knowing for certain he is more his mother's child than Hooks.

///

It's nearly sundown now. We've been on the move since midday –our rainforest reprieve shorter than I'd have liked. We reach the end of the forest, the tree-line thinning out as we reach a sandy terrain.  I look down, concentrating on the marshy ground oozing water like a sodden sponge beneath my feet.

The sun starts to sink in the sky, blazing brightly ahead of us. My clothes are stiff with the dried ocean water, my skin just as salty. I find myself longing for the inland comforts of Neverwood –for the freshwater stream and cover of the tree canopy.

"We're almost at East Edge," Salt announces.

"East Edge?" I assume he means of the island.

"The island's east end. Mermaid Lagoon is just up ahead." Salt points to the setting sun, now kissing the water's sparkling surface.

The clouds have turned into pink cotton balls floating in the blue sky.

"And there's Star Point," Salt says.

I follow his line of sight to a high cliff jettisoning out into the dark water north of Mermaid Lagoon.

"Star Point?"

"What we islanders call the Lost Boys' lookout. They wait there for Pan. Waiting to see who he brought back... to join their adventures."

"Ah, Star Point." I nod. Second Star to the Right Point.

"They're cliff-jumping now," Salt says, "Watch."

I watch and sure enough Lost Boy after Lost Boy dives from the cliff top, plummeting into the depths of the dark water. I cannot see who is who as they are nothing but dark dots against the setting sun.

I know John and Michael are there and partaking in this pastime. Their faces swim in the spot behind my eyes. It is not them I blame for them forgetting me. There is only one culpable soul.

Salt and I undulate over the coral cliffs, mirroring the graceful waves lapping against the shores of Mermaid Lagoon. The pink sandy shores sprawl and shimmer beneath us.

"We're here," Salt announces, stopping short of the water. "Mermaid Lagoon."

I sweep the turquoise lagoon, scanning for sultry mermaids and relaxing at the empty horizon. No ships. Yet.

Somewhere in the algae-covered coast across from us sits the grotto, concealed beneath folds of seaweed and tangled wrack vines. Salt's eyes follow mine.

"Been here before, have you?" Salt asks, peering sideways.

"It's where I landed," I shrug. "Well, where I fell from Shadow Pan."

"Shadow Pan? You mean you hitched a ride to Neverland on Pan's shadow?" Salt whistles through his lips, mildly impressed.

"With the help of six year-old pixie dust," I add, coy.

"Real Pixie dust? Any other surprises up your sleeve I should know about? Maybe you don't need my help after all."

"I'm the one with surprises, Salt?" I raise my brow, holding back a laugh.

Salt cracks a wry smile and shakes his head. "Call it even?"