This panicked Gwen. Rosemary alone in the imploding jungle, diving into the structurally unsound underground home? Her youthful magic might serve her as protection enough, but Gwen didn't want to take that chance with her little sister's wellbeing. Besides, she had something left underground.
As Peter forced the bucket into Gwen's hands, she objected, “No, I'll go check the underground home.” She handed the bucket to Rosemary, who struggled to hold the awkward pail, until she realized she could hold it much easier if she flew. “You go out to the shore, Rose, and don't get into trouble on the way there.”
“Okay,” Rosemary agreed, happy to have simple instructions. Oblivious to her own safety, Rosemary needed direction from her big sister.
“Alright,” Peter said, “But don't let anyone else lay a hand on that Never Tree sprig. Everything depends on it now.”
“I know,” Rosemary told him, but Gwen didn't see how she could know. “You can trust me.”
“I know,” Peter answered. “Gwen and I will meet you out there in a few minutes. Hollyhock will go with you.” He shooed the little fairy after Rosemary. Hollyhock, with some reluctance, accompanied Rosemary and the precious Never Tree branch. Gwen watched her little sister fly off, the girl's hair flouncing at her shoulders and her jumper flouncing at her knees. For an eight-year-old, Rosemary remained remarkably capable.
“The nearest tunnel should still be under the ivy, fifty paces that way,” Peter told Gwen, pointing in the opposite direction as he prepared to run. “It should be a straight shot to the underground home, and afterward you can follow the tunnels out to the lagoon, which is the closest they get to our rendezvous point. If I'm not still there, just head down the shore. Got it?”
“Yes,” Gwen answered. Her uncertainty did not stem from her role in this. “Fifty paces and under the ivy. I'll make sure no one's left—but why are you going to the mermaids?”
“They will know how to thwart the will-o-the-wisp,” Peter told her. “The last of the children on the island will be wound into its labyrinth. If there's any hope of rescuing Sal and the others, the mermaids will know. Meet me out there at the lagoon once you check the underground home, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “I'll see you on the shore soon.” She threw her arms around him, but only for a second. They didn't have time for more than a brief hug as the seconds slipped away on their dying island. She tried not to feel the painful fear in her heart that warned against letting her friend out of her sight. “Stay safe!” she told him.
“Stay lucky!” he replied, dashing off.
Once again on her own, Gwen felt a different kind of confidence than she experienced in the presence of Peter or the children. She counted her paces and tried to keep them even and natural, despite her desire to run. In the middle of a prodigious spread of ivy, she dropped to her knees and felt for a trap door. However, the children had left the tunnel entrance uncovered, and Gwen did not find it until she fell into it. With a yelp and an unflattering landing, she toppled into it. Sunlight came through the ivy, but the passage itself was dark. The luminescent flowers that should have lighted the way had dried up with the Never Tree.
Turning on her flashlight, she used it to watch ahead of her. Unable to run while hunched over in the tight tunnel, Gwen flew. Shooting like a bullet through the barrel of a gun, she raced to the underground home.
“Anyone here? It's me, Gwen!” she yelled as she flew. She hoped anyone hiding in their subterranean safe house would come forward, but once she arrived in the home she checked every room to be sure she didn't overlook anyone. “It's safe to come out. Olly, olly, oxen free!”
The lost children had deserted the home. Its ability to comfort battle-fatigued kids would have vanished as soon as the lights went out. It seemed the fairies had successfully corralled all the children out to the shore. An eerie sensation swarmed Gwen's heart as her light passed over Peter's hammock, the dress-up chest, the toadstool seats, and the painted box full of pirate gold. Everything in sight was precious, and all of it abandoned.
The Never Tree had imploded like a star that had shone for too long, and now it sucked back all the magic it had once put out into the world. All the spoils and reminders of adventures past would be swallowed up by its black hole. Gwen wanted the one real thing left underground.
Grabbing one of the tunneler's pickaxes, she ran into her room and slammed it into the wall. She didn't have her skeleton key to open the secret compartment, and it didn't need to stay a secret when it would dissolve within the hour. The drawer crumbled away, out of the sick and dying earth, allowing Gwen to reach in and pull out Jay's sketchbook. She'd promised she'd bring it back to him someday, and she feared that the infamous, nebulous someday had finally overtaken the never-ending present of Neverland.
She heard rocks falling in other rooms, and the sound of landslides burying passageways. Dirt fell like snow from the cavernous ceiling, and Gwen realized she might not have time to make it to the lagoon before the tunnels collapsed altogether. Nothing defended the island from the grown-ups' contract with reality now, and Newt and Sal's elaborate, unfortified tunnel system had no right to exist anywhere near the laws of structural engineering. The most magic
