A KIND OF MAGIC ↝ Killian Jones

⇒ CHAPTER THREE

  THE PLAN WAS to spot Pan's lair — which sounded just insane to Wilma, who still hadn't entirely grasped the reality where Peter Pan was the villain and Captain Hook was at least trying to be the hero — from a ridge, but instead of succeeding, they had come face to face with a letdown, as it was impossible to spot from within the outgrown Dark Jungle, which was, apparently, as lovely and pleasant as it sounded. Afterwards, the group had made camp and settled in for the night in the belief that it was already too dark to carry on, and attempts to find their way around would only end with someone getting lost — and with Wilhelmina being the clumsy type, she feared that someone would be her, which was the simple reason behind her enthusiasm when Killian suggested stopping.

  That, and the fact that she was thoroughly exhausted. Tired from not only the trekking around the island, but the constant venturing and facing trouble after trouble, Wilma had fallen asleep quickly, although it took her some time to get used to sleeping somewhere else than the rather uncomforable mattresses at Granny's inn. But this setting wasn't half-bad — her head rested on David's lap whilst he made sure she could sleep safely, and even bothered to hum a classic The Clash song to make it easier for Wilma to fall asleep, which she eventually did, with the taste of rum lingering on her tongue.

  Killian had insisted that it guaranteed a peaceful slumber and sweet dreams, and although Wilma had merely chuckled and doubted the amount of truth behind his words and that mischievous smirk, the woman had agreed to take a swig before closing her eyes and getting ready for those promised good dreams.

  But instead of finding herself in some wondrous dreamland, what she dreamed of was, in fact, quite unsettling, and almost too vivid.

  The feeling of hard ground, with the occasional stone or branch mixed within, was rough against Wilma's feet — so rough, the first look she directed anywhere in that dream was towards her chilly toes only to realize she was barefoot in the woods. The surroundings were unfamiliar, but the humid, hot air wasn't, and neither were the rare, but recognizable sounds that Wilma remembered hearing on their trek around Neverland, and once she considered the possibility, the world around her came to life and appeared exactly like it had been before falling asleep. She was in Neverland, for sure, she was even wearing the same clothes and her hair was in those same, tortured curls that had long ago lost their enthusiastic bounce, but one thing was different — she was alone. Looking around, she came to the conclusion that despite standing amidst their camp, her friends were nowhere to be seen, and an attempt to call out Killian, David, Snow, Regina or Emma were all useless and a waste of her echoing voice.

  Something was definitely off, and perhaps that was enough to make her somewhere in the deep nooks of her mind realize that she was dreaming, but it didn't stop her from taking a step further between the tall, green trees. The island seemed like some ghost town version of Neverland, with no signs of life to be seen, and instead of feeling her heart beat in her chest, all Wilma could feel was hollow space as if something was missing. It was downright chilling, terrifying, but confident in that it was only a dream, Wilma continued to wander into the jungle and looked around curiously to spot anything out of the ordinary.

  It was then that she first heard her name being called from deeper within the tricky jungle that seemed to be impossible to see into, impossible to solve or not get lost in.

  "Wilma, I'm here!", a somewhat familiar voice called out, echoing in all directions, but instead of being capable of recognizing the man speaking, Wilma became overwhelmed with confusion and fear. She had no time to even react, aside from stopping dead in her tracks and trying to locate the voice, when it had already spoken from behind her, repeating her name to hold her attention in a tight grasp — and so far, it was a complete success.