"I'm all right, really," she settled herself onto the mattress she called her own, hugging the pillow close to her. Piko had made another pillow for Len, so he let her keep the original one now. "I just didn't expect Piko and Nero to fight, especially not about this. It's not worth fighting over."
Gumo was listening intently, gaze fixed on her as she spoke her opinion. He had just asked her how she felt about the fight, and about going to the Red Indian territory with Len. In all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to go now. Nero and Len's warnings about the journey did scare her somewhat. The snakes and birds and coyotes did not frighten her – but what they said about the reanimated dead in the Lost Valley of Souls struck a chord of fear deep within her heart.
"Nero's really tense at the moment, but it's the first time I saw Piko get riled up that way," Gumo shook his head wonderingly. He was sitting on Len's mattress, looking up at her as he spoke. "I never thought he would lose his temper, honestly. He's calmer than I am," he picked at a loose thread on his shirt. "It's all my fault," he suddenly sighed, "the thing that Nero brought up. Piko says it's not but I know it is. I'm the youngest, and I make the most mistakes," he pulled out the thread, snapping it and tossing it onto the cave floor. "If I had not been so stupid as to accept their gift, we wouldn't have roused the ghouls and we wouldn't have almost died. So Miku," he fixed her with a strangely hard stare, "if the Red Indians ever offer you a gift, don't accept it. I learnt the hard way."
"Wait, ghouls?" she wrapped her arms around her legs, drawing her knees up to her chin. "So there really are zombies in the Lost Valley of Souls?" she had hoped that the term 'reanimated dead' might be some kind of metaphor for something else. Zombies just sounded too unbelievable to be true. Gumo nodded, looking down at the thread he just discarded. His expression was sombre.
"The Red Indians bury their dead there. Once a year, the night after the last Hunt of the year, they capture the largest deer in their territory and set it loose into the valley to feed the dead. If that year, the prey is scarce and they cannot afford to sacrifice any meat, they send their elders and the dying to the valley," his face screwed up in disgust. "The Red Indians themselves don't personally know what happens in the valley. None of them dare to cut through it to find out, because those who do never return. They'd rather make the three day trip around the valley's edge. We all know, though. And trust me, Miku, you do not want to see any of the walking dead. The smell…"
She was disgusted too, by the idea of human sacrifice. "They just send their elders there?" she asked. "The dying? Even if they're little children? What if it's their chief who is dying, do they send the chief too?" she was used to human sacrifice being connected to evil or Satanism and all sorts of other strange, occult beliefs. Yet here, to the Red Indians, it sounded like a normal part of their lives. She shuddered, knowing she would not want to live among them. It sounded like a brutal existence.
"I don't know about that," Gumo shrugged. "They send whomever they deem too weak to survive in the plains. And those who are chosen just go, anyway. They say better a quick death, eaten by those they once knew, than to starve or freeze or be torn into by the wild beasts of the plains," he lifted his gaze, looking right at her once more. "We've had refugees, you know," he added, this time in a voice so quiet that she had to lean forward to hear him speak. "People who were chosen to be sent to the valley, who somehow eluded their captors and made their way here without being killed on the way. I don't know what happens to them, but they never stay. They can't," he sounded grim. "Those who make the journey and succeed are often ill – the elderly and the injured cannot go far, whereas some of the sickly have surprising strength of will. But we lack the supplies to help them, and I suppose they get eaten in our forests instead of in their valley," he noticed the stricken look on her face and sighed again. "That's reality in Neverland, Miku. Only the strongest can survive. We can barely afford to help ourselves, let alone help other people," he explained dully. "So let's just make the best of what we have. Better the others die than one of us – we aren't altruistic enough to save everyone who comes to our territory and begs for our help. Not even I am willing to do that."
It was the first time she heard Gumo sound so…depressing. She expected this sort of nihilistic attitude from Nero or Rei, perhaps, but never from Gumo. It was strange to see him as something other than the Lost Boys' ray of sunshine, and that really drove home just how different and dangerous the plains of the Red Indians must be. But it was too late for regrets, since Len had made his decision, and she didn't want to back out of this. She was the one who wanted to go, after all.
She heard the sound of vines being brushed aside and turned around, already knowing who would walk into the cave – Len came in, holding the vines up, barely distinguishable from the shadows save for the glint of his blond hair as the orange firelight outside reflected off each strand. "Gumo," Len sounded tired, "don't let what Nero said affect you too badly. Piko and I know that it wasn't your fault," Gumo glanced up at Len, and since he was looking away from her she could not see the expression on his face. He nodded, rising from the mattress and making his way out of the cave. His posture was stiff, and she guessed that Len's words didn't help much – Nero's remarks must have made him feel terrible about himself. As she watched him leave, a thought suddenly occurred to her.
"Gumo, wait!" she called out, tossing the pillow she held aside and clambering off the bed. He paused, halfway out of the cave already, and ducked back into the room, giving her a quizzical look. She swallowed. "I almost forgot…what happened between you and Rei earlier, after Piko and I ran away?" she could not help but cringe when she said those words. It made them sound so cowardly. But true to what Nero mentioned, Gumo looked perfectly fine. He blinked, startled by her question, and awkwardly reached up to run his fingers through his hair – and then, in the dim orange glow of the campfire light, she saw a small scratch. No, not just one but a few, criss-crossing up his arms like a faint red web. She had not noticed them earlier while they were outside because she had been busy telling her story and listening to the others discuss. "Did you get hurt?" she asked in concern, indicating the scratches.
"Oh, these little things?" Gumo glanced at the scratches too, bringing his arm down and squinting at the wounds in confusion. "I don't even know how they got there, really. Must have accidentally scratched myself in my sleep," he laughed. "Nothing happened! I struggled a little with Rei but he eventually calmed down, and neither of us were injured. Don't worry yourself about us," he flicked his fringe back, grinning in the manner she was so used to – the despondent Gumo she saw just moments ago appeared to be completely gone. But she frowned, finding his words suspicious.
"I know people can scratch themselves in their sleep, but this is too much – and your other arm!" she grabbed the other hand as he tried to subtly edge out of the room. She could feel the little bumps and ridges of the scratches that marred his skin. "What were you doing Gumo, clawing yourself in your sleep?" she demanded. She couldn't decide if it would be good or bad, finding out that his scratches were a result of his fight with Rei. It was good that the only injuries he had were these, he would probably heal in a day or two. But knowing that he got hurt because of her…
Len walked over to her then, grabbing hold of Gumo's wrist, his fingers just centimetres away from hers. He stared hard at her, the blue eyes that seemed almost black in the dim light narrowed in warning. She swallowed, wondering if she ought to be stubborn and continue clinging on to her friend – for Gumo was the only Lost Boy she was willing to acknowledge as a true friend – but after a few more seconds of this stalemate, she ducked her head and let go. There was something about Len which screamed alpha male, and since she lived under his protection, she could not defy his will – at least not to his face. "Gumo moves around very often in his sleep," Len said, tone even, "and it's not the first time he's been injured this way. It's perfectly normal," he turned to Gumo, who eagerly nodded in agreement. Miku didn't want to argue with them over this, so she simply walked away.
"Go back to your room, get some rest," Len murmured to Gumo, "and when you wake up, let Nero know of our decision. I don't want anyone else telling him, since you're the only one who took his side. Rei and Piko should be able to keep him in check even without my presence, but I'd rather be safe than sorry…you understand me, don't you?" the green haired boy made a sound of assent, glancing back at Miku, who had gone back to her bed, either ignoring or pretending to ignore the both of them.
"Will she be all right in the plains, Len?" he asked, and he sounded very scared. Len paused. It was instinctive, of course, to reassure Gumo that everything would be okay, but the way Gumo looked at him seemed to say that he didn't want blind reassurance, nor did he crave pointless comfort. And he would not appreciate it if Len were to lie to him. It struck him then, just how much his youngest Lost Boy had grown. This whole time he had been the child. Perhaps Miku did bring some good to them – Gumo appeared to be more…mature now. Though Len didn't know if that was the right word to use.
"She'll be as all right as her training allows," he finally answered, not knowing what else to say. They both knew that it would be a lie to say she would be perfectly safe. But he didn't want Gumo to just prepare himself for the worst. There was always a chance, no matter how minimal, that she would make it in the end. "And you know that I would do my very best to keep her alive. I have tried to give all of you the space to grow, to learn how to defend yourselves, and I will do the same for her."
"I know," Gumo lowered his gaze. "I just can't help but worry. Nero is right, you know. I don't think she's ready. None of us think she's ready, not even Rei or Piko. They didn't agree to her going because they thought she would be able to survive by herself. They wanted her to grow, like you want us to – but is this really the right way? Won't it be far too dangerous?" Gumo exhaled, rubbing his hand tiredly across his eyes. "I mean, I respect your decision, Len, but I really wonder how you arrived at this choice. Anyone else would have been better to bring, even me," he muttered.
Len patted Gumo's shoulder in an attempt to comfort – he was bad at cheering people up. Len could lead and command, but comforting and reassuring was something that Piko was better at. "I believe that Rei and Piko are right in some sense. She is too sheltered," he glanced at the girl, who was now curled up in bed, perhaps resting – though he doubted she was really sleeping. She was too curious for her own good, she would no doubt be trying to listen in. "This experience will do her some good. Then perhaps," he raised his voice slightly for her benefit, "she will know that we do not exaggerate when we speak of the dangers here and she will stop trying to sneak away by herself."
"I can hear everything you're saying, raised voice or not," came the muffled words from the bed, and reluctantly, Gumo smiled. The figure on the bed turned around and placed the pillow over her head, and Len gave Gumo a little push out of his room. The boy stumbled past the vines hanging over the entrance and left, but not without turning around and giving him a final wish of good fortune.
Len had never believed in coincidence, or luck. Luck rarely played a factor in his decisions. But when Gumo wished him, so sincerely, good luck for the journey ahead, a sudden cold chill ran down his spine, and he shuddered, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. An ill omen? But that was ridiculous – to believe in omens and superstitions. Maybe he was just cold or tired, and he ought to get some sleep before they set off in the morning. Eyeing his bed, then glancing at Miku, who was probably still awake, he decided that he would prepare for their trip after he woke up.
"Is that all?" Miku stared at the little satchel Len was carrying. Len raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why she seemed so hesitant. Of course she was – the others all made it sound like the journey would take days. Len's satchel was so small that it could only contain…she didn't know exactly what it could possibly contain, because his satchel was about the size of two hands.
"Why would we need anything else?" he wanted to know. He patted the little satchel, looking satisfied. "This is all we need to show our peaceful intentions. As long as we bring this satchel to Silver Winds, their soothsayer, we will be allowed to stay. I know she has been looking for this for a long, long time," he patted the satchel fondly again. She stared at him. This was definitely the first time she saw someone setting off on a journey without food, or at least something to drink from.
"I don't know, maybe a bottle or something?" she asked, almost sarcastically. Len's eyes narrowed as he picked up on her incredulity, and she swallowed, suddenly recalling that Len was the person who would keep her safe during their trip through the plains. She was sure that he wouldn't just abandon her and leave her to die – he was the leader, after all – but maybe it would be better not to offend him, in case he really decided to let her 'experience the realities of the world' and make her kill a deer and eat it or something. Miku still absolutely refused to have anything to do with deer.
"Why would we need a bottle?" he asked, shaking his head. "We'll probably reach their territory by tomorrow morning, tomorrow evening if we decide to rest the first day. There's no need for water during such a short journey," he said dismissively. It was her turn to shake her head now – Len and the Lost Boys may not be mere mortals, as she somewhat suspected, but she still was, and if she went without water for so long, she was bound to get dehydrated. He seemed to realise this shortly after brushing her comment off, and he passed the satchel to her, telling her to wait while he went off elsewhere.
She slung the satchel over her shoulder so she wouldn't have to keep carrying it, wondering if the Lost Boys had water bottles. Come to think of it, she never really saw them drinking anything at all, and whenever they felt thirsty they just went to the nearest river and drank from there. Perhaps Len was expecting her to do the same thing, which she could do if they were just going to stay in their own territory, where there were plenty of rivers and streams. But if the plains had no water source, then she would be in trouble, especially since they were probably going to hike for quite some time.
The satchel she carried was remarkably light, even considering its size. It almost seemed empty. But it couldn't possibly be empty, since Len said that whatever was inside was sought after by Silver Winds, the soothsayer they were travelling to meet. She was tempted to open the satchel and see for herself the contents, and she told herself that Len had not prevented her from opening the bag, so technically she would not be doing anything wrong. But as her fingers crept towards the clasp, a sudden feeling of coldness radiated up her fingers, so cold that it almost burnt, and with a soft cry she whipped her hand away from the clasp, staring down at it in disbelief. What was inside this bag?
"It would be best that you don't know the contents," Len called out, returning from wherever he went just now. He tossed a wooden flask to her, and much to her own surprise, she caught it – she had never been good with catching things and her reflexes were hardly stellar. Nero's training, though rough and brutal and – in her personal opinion – extremely unfeeling, seemed to be doing its work. Len noted her success with surprise. "I thought you would drop that," he said matter-of-factly, ignore her look of insult. "But it's good, you proved me wrong. You're getting better, Miku," he added, and the feeling of discontent was replaced by something that was almost happiness. She had just been complimented, after all, on something she was never particularly good at in the past.
He held out his hand, and she returned the satchel, glad to be away from the thing which almost froze her. She decided that whatever was inside that bag, though mysterious, was probably quite terrible and she didn't want it near her anymore. He took hold of the satchel comfortably, and she eyed his fingers as they dangled near the clasp – was he really unaffected by the burning cold she had felt radiating from the metal? The skin of her fingers tingled, still remembering how it felt like to be both cold and hot at the same time, and she held her wooden flask a little tighter, finding comfort in the smooth wood. The wood was at the perfect temperature, and it wouldn't freeze her to death.
She turned the flask over in her hands, studying it closely. It had to be Piko's handicraft – the wood was polished to a high sheen, and he had somehow managed to replicate the same little ridges around the top of actual bottles using wood, allowing a cap to be screwed on and off the flask. The cap of the flask was made of wood too, and it could be unscrewed to become a cup if she wanted. She shook the flask and heard the sound of liquid sloshing away inside. "Piko made this?" she asked, genuinely awed. She knew that Piko was good with wood, but she always thought he focused on things like furniture and training dummies – necessities for their survival. She didn't think that he could make something so…small. And the excellent craftsmanship showed itself in just how smooth the flask was.
"He's good with his hands," Len answered, sounding less than interested. "That was one of his little handicrafts, some time ago. I brought him a thermos flask and he vowed that he would be able to create one of his own using nothing but wood. It looks the part, but whether it can maintain the temperature of liquids the same way a thermos can…well, you can be his guinea pig and determine that for yourself. Besides, having warm water to drink instead of cold won't kill you," he added.
That was true, though she wished he didn't say it in such a flippant way. "Shall we go then?" she asked, gripping the flask tightly. It was so smooth that she feared it would just slip out of her fingers and break on impact with the ground; if that happened she most probably wouldn't have any water to drink until they reached the Red Indian base camp. He nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to enter the portal to the outside world first. She took a deep breath and went in, by now used to the eerie feeling of floating in space as she left the den, going back up to the surface of Neverland.
Before long, she was clambering out of the tree trunk and into sunshine, feeling the weak rays of the sun caress her face. It was nice to see daylight for once, though her new nocturnal schedule meant that even the weakest rays of light blinded her momentarily. She blinked rapidly, getting used to the sudden brightness, and felt Len touch her shoulder as she waited for her vision to go back to normal. Right now, there were black spots floating in front of her face. "When you're better, let me know and we'll make the trip. I want to avoid going into where the masters are, so we have to make haste. We're taking the long road out to their territory," he explained, patting her awkwardly then shifting away from her. She didn't know whether she found his awkwardness amusing or irritating, and just settled for remaining silent until she could move. Her eyes were adjusting, slowly but surely.
"I'm good," she said a few seconds later. Len nodded, then set off throughout the forest, and she followed him readily. She remembered the last time she walked with Len alone in the forest was when he sent her to die in that cave, and that ominous thought made her wonder if perhaps, she would have to face an ordeal again, this time with Len. Perhaps she would have yet another near-death experience. There seemed to be no shortage of such occurrences in Neverland. She was almost getting used to it, the number of times she almost died every time she went out of the den.
They trekked in silence for quite a while. She was bored of course, listening to nothing but the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling – she only now realised how rarely she heard the songs of birds in Neverland, since whenever she went out at night she could hear nothing but owls and crickets. Her gaze focused on the little brown satchel bag Len was carrying as it bounced up and down in front of her, tempting her to reach forward and open it. But she wasn't that stupid. The clasp itself was enough of a warning – she had almost touched it, and felt pain when she did. What would happen if she opened the bag itself? Miku was curious about everything here since it was all so new, but she was not reckless, and she was definitely not stupid. She would not do anything to risk her own life.
The forested landscape around them did not change much, though they continued walking on and on. It made her wonder, after a while, if they were still moving throughout the forest or if they were actually stuck in some endless loop, cursed to roam the same patch of forest over and over again. It was illogical, she understood that, but after seeing that tree with the strangely bent branches for the fifth time she knew she had to voice her doubts out to Len, lest she drove herself insane wondering if she was trapped in some magical forest prison along with her leader.
"Are we actually going anywhere?" she panted, breaking the silence that had stayed stubbornly between them for – how long had it been, minutes or hours? Or perhaps even the whole day. She completely lost track of time after counting till the thousandth second. Len didn't even bother to turn back and acknowledge her as he continued brushing ferns and branches aside, clearing a path for the both of them. It was only after they made it out of this particularly tangled grove of trees did he finally stop and face her, an expression of wondering incredulity on his face. She wondered what stupid thing she had said this time. Her question was entirely legitimate – she was sure they were just looking at the same scenery over and over again, and that worried her. Maybe they were travelling in circles.
"Of course we are, don't be ridiculous," he said sharply, staring at her judgementally – at least, she felt like he was looking rather judgemental – as she opened her wooden flask, drinking yet again from her precious supply of water. "You know it's been less than an hour since we left the den, right?" he grabbed the flask from her as she lowered it from her mouth, holding it high out of her reach and entirely ignoring her protests. He stared down into the flask, shaking it and gauging how much water was left inside, and sighed. "You've drained over half of your supply already. At this rate, you'll run out of water before midday. Refill your flask if you see any stream later, all right?"
"Yes, yes, now give it back to me," she said impatiently, still thirsty. The sun's rays, which had originally seemed so weak, were practically scorching her now. Maybe it was because the leaves of the trees kept the heat down in the forest, or maybe she was just still unfit despite her horrible physical training, but whatever the reason was she couldn't stop herself from drinking water. He passed the flask back to her, watching disapprovingly as she took one final swig from the bottle. Wiping her mouth, she screwed the cap back on tightly, shaking the flask herself – the sounds of sloshing were very faint now, and she knew he was right about her running out of water soon. "And I asked, because from what I remember, we've walked past that exact same tree," she indicated the strangely deformed tree in the distance, "at least five times already. Are we just walking in circles?"
He looked at the tree she indicated as she spoke, then laughed softly, shaking his head. He seemed almost condescending, much to her annoyance. "I know the five trees you're talking about. They all look the same to the unobservant eye, but the branches are all bent at different angles and places if you look really closely. We're getting close to the Red Indian territory already, Miku. If you failed to notice while you were busy draining your flask of the only water you have, the undergrowth is thinning. It won't be much longer before we make our way out of the forest entirely. But that," his expression turned grim, "is when we will have to be careful. In the forest, we are hidden, and we cannot be caught. Out in the plains, we are exposed and vulnerable. Utmost caution will be needed when we travel there."
She understood. Looking around, she observed that what Len said was true – that the undergrowth now really was less dense than what it was like right outside their den. However, she wasn't going to admit that she had not noticed that until he pointed it out. "I knew that," she said snappishly, the heat and thirst making her a little more forceful than she usually was. The Miku who was safely tucked away in the den would not snap at Len for anything, not until she was pushed past her boundaries. Here she was tired, thirsty and hungry, and if Len was right they had only travelled for less than an hour. She wasn't sure how she would last the entire trip, but she would try her best.
"Yes, I'm sure you knew that right from the start," Len's tone was as neutral as always, which just served to annoy her even more, for some reason. It had to be the heat. "That was probably why you asked me if we were walking in circles, isn't it?" he paused for a moment to allow those words to sink in, before he whipped around and continued trekking through the forest, allowing her to stew in her own shame and embarrassment. She would just keep her mouth shut and trust him from now on, she resolved – though it was hard for her to trust and believe blindly, the same way the other Lost Boys did. The others idolised Len. But she knew that no matter what, he was a person too, someone who could make mistakes. He was not as flawless and pure as the Lost Boys believed him to be.
"You know," she started, following up on her thoughts, "I actually wonder, what will you do if the Lost Boys ever figured out the truth? That you're not some omniscient leader who knows about everything that happens in Neverland. That they were originally meant to die, and you were never a saviour. How will they react to knowing that? What do you think you'll do?" she couldn't help but be curious, and she knew she could ask – she knew she was the only one he could confide to, if he even wanted to confide at all, because she was the only person in the den who knew the truth about him.
He did not stop or turn back, but his steps did slow a little, as though he was thinking hard and could no longer focus solely on placing one foot before the other. "I don't know," he answered, voice a little softer than it was earlier. "But what I feel is that they are already…wondering. Ever since you showed up, and all these things happened…and that girl, the girl none of us know anything about!" the sudden agitation that rang through his words startled her. It was the first time she heard him sound anything other than calm and rational. "I know so little about whatever is going on right now. And they all expect me to know the truth about everything, to guide them to safety so we can last another year out in the wilderness. They know I don't know everything, and that…that frightens me, I can't possibly deny that. For someone who is so used to knowing everything…" his shoulders hunched slightly, a defensive position visible from behind. "For someone who is so used to knowing everything," he repeated, "learning something you don't understand is the worst kind of fear."
"We all learn things, we all go through a stage where we know nothing," it was a truth she knew the whole time she was growing up. She was the opposite of him, in fact. If Len claimed that he was used to knowing everything, then she could claim she was used to knowing absolutely nothing. But that did not stop her from trying to find out more. Knowing nothing did not mean that she would stay that way forever. "Why else do you think I ask so many questions? Sure, it's embarrassing to admit that you don't know anything, and you might lose the trust of those who believe in you if you reveal your sudden ignorance – but isn't it better to ask and know, than to keep quiet and be left forever in the dark?" she shuddered despite the warmth. "Because the dark is not a nice place to be…"
"No," he laughed, and it sounded more like a short bark than an actual sign of humour. "The dark isn't a nice place to be at all. You would know, wouldn't you? The girl who is always surrounded by shadows and darkness – the supposedly mad girl who looked down into the deepest recesses of humanity's black heart, the girl who saw the worst of her mother, but came out still knowing nothing. What do you think is more frightening, Miku?" his voice became contemplative now. "The darkness itself, the black which represents the unknown? Or the darkness that stains your heart after you enter the unknown and realise that you will never find out the truth? Because sometimes, I wonder if I can ever find out the truth."
Why was everyone suddenly becoming depressed in front of her? Though honestly, Len becoming moody wasn't much of a surprise. He always had a rather brooding air around him. Gumo had been the bigger surprise, and it actually worried her a little because that was most definitely not normal Gumo behaviour. She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Len, because she doubted he would be able to lead them safely to the Red Indian camp if he was busy wallowing in his own misery. Bringing up the issue of the unknown and the dark masters had clearly been a bad idea.
"The truth is there for those who seek it. That is what I believe, and why I persevere. I know what it's like to know nothing. And I'd rather ask questions and know things that would be better not to know, than to be kept in such a state of blindness again," hopefully, her feelings would get through to him and he would finally tell her all the things she wanted to know about the Lost Boys. "What I do when I feel overwhelmed," she suggested when her words failed to rouse any sort of response, "is that I pretend it's all a dream. It seems more manageable if everything is a dream. You can control your surroundings – you can change anything about a dream, even the truth. And in the dream world, you truly are omniscient. So I like to convince myself sometimes that everything which overwhelms me is all…just a dream."
At least, that was her escape in the years she was growing up with her drunkard mother and strict grandfather. Maybe that was why everyone thought her mad – because of her inability, when she was little, to separate the dreams from reality – to separate the tangible shadows that surrounded her from the intangible realities of life. Len laughed again, a little more genuinely than earlier, and she sighed, somewhat relieved that at least he was no longer sounding as miserable as he did before this. She wondered how much pressure was being placed on him, how terrible he had to feel, to suddenly just let all the words come pouring out like that – not to Rei, not to Piko, but to her, the Lost Child he knew the least.
"A dream, huh?" he muttered. "That sounds good, pretending it's a dream. A form of escapism, but a nice plan nevertheless," he turned to look at her, blue eyes filled with rare humour. "Sometimes, I wonder if Neverland is a dream. If you're a dream, they're a dream…if I'm a dream myself, even. Must be nice, living in a dream," he fell silent after that, and they continued their trek through the gradually thinning forest with neither of them saying another word. But the silence felt more relaxed to her, since she now knew they were actually moving and were not just stuck helplessly in the forest – and probably also because Len had let some load off his chest. But she hoped he would not remain in his dreams like she suggested forever, because she knew the repercussions of existing in one's dreams. She had lived through that.
And no matter what, no matter how pleasant a dream was, it would only be a matter of time before it morphed into a nightmare. Reality, no matter how harsh, was always better than living in a nightmare.