Tiger Lily sent my boots to be cleaned and dried overnight. I pull them on now and they look almost new. I twist my hair into a plait and secure it with my ribbon. I look almost good as new.

Salt greets me outside my teepee, his shirtless and casual stance a testament to our comfort with each other.

"Morning," I mumble, still stretching.

"To you too. Sleep well?" Salt asks.

"Not bad. The flat cot beats a beach," I say, shrugging.

His eyes flash with humor and I wonder if he's thinking about our time in his cabin –entwined in each other's arms and basking in each other's warmth.

"Are you ready?" He asks, more serious now.

"I am," I affirm.

Salt pulls the peasant tunic over his head and tucks it into his leather pants. His waist still seems oddly empty without his sword and pistol. The way his dark waves spill onto his shoulders is a life form of its own.

Somehow looking at Salt in the morning light makes me hopeful again.

Tiger Lily brings a small basket of fruits and dried meat. I take it appreciatively, but my stomach is too taut with nerves to even consider eating right now. Instead I take a swig of the mead.

Big Sky is waiting for us at the mouth of Indian Trail. We cross the last bit of flat pathway to the spot in front of the west entrance to Neverwood. A bow rests at his side and a basket of arrows hangs on his back; only the bright feathers of the fletching peak out the top.

"Golden Grove is due east," Big Sky says without preamble. "We will make the journey by midday."

"So soon!" I exclaim. "Only east? Have you been there before?"

Big Sky's heavily lidded eyes slide down to mine. He nods. "I have visited the faery hollow on occasion."

"Its location is known by many, but few have found it." Tiger Lily jumps in. I know she saw my doubting frown. "It is at the three-head junction."

Salt releases his breath beside me. I gather he's heard of this junction place.

"Where the wood meets the mountain and where together they greet the falls." Big Sky speaks without looking at me. His head is staring straight up into the sky.

"The junction is where Neverwood reaches the base of Neverpeak Mountain at the very edge of Devil Falls." Tiger Lily elaborates.

Devil Falls is a new name to me but already I know it does not sound like a place I want to visit. It's definitely not a place I would expect to find the famous faery dwelling.

It's midday by the time we reach the outskirts of the faeries' dwelling. I can tell not by seeing any sign of a three-way junction, but by the way the light shifts. It changes from sun to pure gold –sparkling, shimmering gold.

Big Sky ushers us forward, across an arched wooden bridge with stone pillars. We cross the trickling stream that flows from Devil Falls. I can see it in the distance –a tall rocky mountain with an outcropping of caves. I've never seen a waterfall so magnificent.

The entire ground –the tall grass, pebbled brook, and wildflower-lined lane –is gilded in shining pixie dust. You could mine it from every inch of the hollow. Golden Grove.

"This is where we leave you." Tiger Lily's voice breaks my gilded trance.

"Thank you for everything," I tell her.

"We are with you," she smiles, her eyes sympathetic.

I regret the animosity I once harbored for her and wonder why I ever thought her anything but kind.

"You will find the faeries down that path," Big Sky says, indicating the brightest of lanes that winds out of view.

"Right," Salt nods. "Thanks."

Big Sky shifts the bow to his opposite shoulder to shake hands with Salt.

Tiger Lily leads them from the hollow.

I watch their backs for a moment, appreciating the way the gold glimmer dances on Tiger Lily's ebony hair. Even the yellow and purple wildflowers cannot compare.

"Should we, you know, make a plan?" Salt asks.

I swivel, meeting his grin. "Plan?"

"The last time we were on the island –in the forest –it didn't go over so well," Salt says, exasperated.

"We are nowhere near Time Trap Forest. Besides," I say, crossing my arms. "I know Neverwood like the back of my hand."

"Alright then. A plan for what we'll say. A plan to be prepared. United." Salt nods.

"United, right." I agree.

We begin to move down the lane in the direction Big Sky indicated. My eyes sting with the gold light, more blinding than any sun I've ever seen.

"I think I –Er –should do the talking," I admit, shrugging.

"As you're an expert on faeries?" Salt questions. "I've lived here for two years! I've crossed my fair share of faeries."

"I don't doubt that." I roll my eyes and trudge on. "But as I'm the expert on Pan, I want to be the one to ask them how to rid this island of him once and for all."

"You are a stubborn one, Darling, but you make a strong case." Salt let's me move ahead.

I grin, unable to resist. That's when I see the first sign of life –movement by the gilt bushes.

"I saw it too," Salt whispers.

In ten more yards we come up to the edge of a circular clearing lined with tall spindly but ancient-looking trees. A spherical lake occupies the exact center of the grove. A hundred pixies zoom in and out of sight –some leisurely and lazily and some too fast too see. It takes me a minute to realize the soft wind I hear is really all their wings fluttering.

A bunch of faeries skim the lake's surface, twirling upside down and admiring their reflections. An orange-winged faery floats on an oversized banana palm leaf. Another ten climb the trunk of the tree nearest to us.

"Visitors." An azure faery flies over to us, hovering in front of our faces.

"Oh, hello," I say. Salt shakes his head, uneasy.

"We have been expecting you," the faery says. "I am Dewdrop."

"Expecting us?" Why am I not surprised to hear this?

Of course the mysteriously omniscient faeries would have heard everything by now.

"I will lead you to the Grove Council," Dewdrop says, fluttering past us. A trail of sapphire crystals dissipates in her wake.

Golden Grove's aroma is intoxicating and incapacitating. An unknown and unwarranted feeling of harmony surges through me. I wonder if this is a side effect of inhaling so much pixie dust.

The Council is a series of cracked stone pillars erect in the middle of the clearing. At least 20 faeries are already buzzing around the pillars' tops when we arrive with Dewdrop.

"The Grove Council will have your audience now," Dewdrop says. "Thorne is the Elder. The oldest faery on Neverland."

I look up at the pillars, now cracked and covered in a fluffy moss. Their ornate carving still boasts grand beauty. The center column is the tallest and the first one occupied by a snow-white faery. Even from this distance I can see the wrinkles lining his frail face. I've never seen an old faery before.

Well, I've only ever seen one.

Salt smiles mindlessly around at the glowing pixies.

"We know why you have come today," Thorne says, sagacious.

"Then you know what I seek," I speak, taking a step closer. All pretense is lost.

"We know," he nods, solemn. "You seek an answer never before sought."

"I do," I nod. Salt nods beside me. "I want to capture Peter Pan."

"Peter Pan is Neverland." Thorne clasps his hands together on top the peeling stone.

"He is," I admit. "And I was told of his story and how he came to be. How he stays. How he grows stronger."

Bile boils inside me. How much do the faeries know of the Culling? How have they let it continue? So much for being protectors of the realm!

"To rid this island of Peter Pan would be for it to cease to exist." The faery next to Thorne peers down at us.

A flurry of agreement breaks out among the faery spectators.

"Wisteria speaks the truth," Thorne says, indicating the faery beside him. I study the lavender radiance of her opened wings and the way it mimics her purple hair.

"Surly, there's a way. A loophole or a–"

"There is a way," Wisteria utters.

"Yes!" I exclaim, triumphant. "What is it? Anything –tell us and we will do it."

"It is risky and there may be a price to pay that is yet unknown." Thorne takes a deep breath. "You cannot kill Peter Pan, nor can you banish him from the island. You must instead contain him in the same way he contains others."

"Contain him," I repeat, nodding. Yes. The way Pan bounds other souls to him –keeping them here. If we bound his soul, then he would be forced to stay. He could never leave again –could never cultivate lost souls again.

"How?" Salt asks for me. "How do we contain him?"

"There is an energy, a dark and volatile energy. It glows green in envy of all free souls," Wisteria says.

"The energy. I know it. I've seen it!" I shout, stepping closer still. Some of the nearest faeries fly back in surprise.

Thorne merely nods.

"This energy is what Pan uses to latch souls to his?" Salt furrows his brow.

"It is dark magic –one we know all too well. Dark magic from a fallen faery," Thorne tells us. The notes in his voice edge towards disgust.

Dark magic? Fallen faery? Evil pixie dust?

"But Pan has it. It's kept on Skull Rock," I say, thinking back to that night. I can still see Rabb carrying the lantern swirling with the lustrous energy. It was like liquid pixie dust. "We can't get to it," I pout, crestfallen.

"Perhaps you can create an illusion. One worthy of Peter Pan's attention," Thorne says.

A trick! Can you even deceive a deceiver?

"And get Pan to use it against himself?" Salt whistles through his teeth, the incredulity audible.

"There is a faery among our number who once grew close to Peter Pan. We believe they can help your cause," Thorne says.

"Tinker Bell," I whisper.