THIRTY

MOTHER DOVE can’t die! Prilla thought. I have to save her! I have to try! Belief saves fairies. Maybe belief can save Mother Dove. Prilla imagined herself in a tunnel. The mainland was at the far end. It had to be!

She flew along.

And there she was, at the carousel, flying from one child to the next, shouting above the organ music. “Clap to save Mother Dove! Clap if you believe in Never Land! Clap so the fairies can fly!” She saw two children clap, and then she was gone.

She was in a school auditorium where a play was being performed. She flew from row to row. “Clap to save Mother Dove! Clap to save Never Land!”

She was in a sandbox. “Clap to keep Peter Pan young!” She flew to the swings. “Clap to save Mother Dove!” She flew to the seesaw. “Clap to save Never Land!”

Back on the beach, the egg began to spin, faster and faster. Mother Dove was still gasping her last gasp.

Prilla was at a birthday party, hovering above the birthday candles. “Clap to save Mother Dove! Clap for Never Land!”

The egg shimmered as it spun. The fairies heard a high whistle. Rani and Vidia heard the crackle of Kyto’s flame.

Prilla flew over a line of children watching a parade. “Clap for Mother Dove! Clap for fairies!”

Mother Dove began to shimmer.

Prilla zoomed from home to home, shouting, “Clap! Clap! Clap for Mother Dove! Clap! Clap!”

Clap! if you’re reading this. Clap for Mother Dove! Clap for Never Land! Clap for Prilla! Clap!

The fairies heard a faint rustle. The sound grew to a roar. Was it what they thought?

It was! Children were clapping!

The fairies began to shout, “Clap! Clap! Clap for Mother Dove! Clap! Clap!”

The glorious roar grew. Thousands of children clapped. And thousands more.

In the egg, the gob of Kyto’s spit dissolved and vanished.

A shudder ran through Never Land.

The clapping stopped, and Prilla returned.

There was Mother Dove, as plump and healthy as she’d been before the hurricane. There was the egg, the good egg, the egg as Kyto should have re-created it, still holding the barest trace of a shimmer.

Prilla blinked, astonished. Then she laughed and turned a cartwheel.

With her wings, Mother Dove cleared sand around the egg. When she was satisfied, she settled herself on top of it.

A warm breeze blew along the beach.

Captain Hook straightened and tossed his table-leg cane overboard.

The Never bear bent his knee experimentally. Why, it was fine!

Peter Pan looked up. The ceiling of the underground home was far above his head. He wasn’t growing up! He swore he never would.

The golden hawk rose higher than he’d ever flown before. He spotted a four-leaf clover in the meadow below. He’d never felt better.

On the beach, Mother Dove turned to Tink. “Thank you, Tink. I’ll never forget that you cared for me and stood by me through the long, quiet hours. Those were the worst, weren’t they?”

Tink nodded.

“You’re my champion, Tink.”

“We all thank you, Tink,” Ree said.

Prilla wondered if Mother Dove was going to thank her.

“Vidia,” Mother Dove said, “thank you for going on the quest. I see you’ve come back unchanged. What a pity.”

“Darling, if you really want to thank me, you’ll let me pluck a feather or two.”

Mother Dove raised her head and whistled, then said, “Rani, Rani. Your poor—”

“—wings.”

No one had noticed before, but now Ree cried out, and the other fairies gasped at Rani’s empty back.

Rani threw her arms around Mother Dove’s neck and sobbed. Then she straightened and said, “I’d do it again.”

“I know. I—”

“—know. I swam, Mother Dove. I swam with a mermaid.”

She turned to Ree. “I promised to give her a magic wand. I had to, or she wouldn’t give me her comb.”

Ree wondered how they’d keep the promise, but she refused to think about it now.

The fairies heard the beating of wings and looked up in alarm. But it was only another dove, who landed next to Mother Dove.

The two exchanged greetings. Mother Dove said, “This is Brother Dove, Rani. He’ll be your wings from now on.”

“Oh!” Rani was weeping again.

“Climb on.” Brother Dove extended a wing for her to walk up.

She did and sat, her legs clamped around his neck.

He chuckled. “I won’t let you fall.” He rose into the air.

Rani felt as safe as she did flying with her own wings. And she’d never felt flight like this before, so powerful and fast. Oh, so fast! And so high! The fairies were mere specks on the sand below. The ocean was a rich blue, striped with wavy lines of white foam. It was her ocean now. She could play and swim in it and perhaps meet another mermaid.

Brother Dove descended in gradual circles. The fairies applauded as Rani dismounted.

“Whistle when you want me, and I’ll come.” Brother Dove flew off down the beach.

“And now… ” Mother Dove spread her wings and gathered Prilla in.

Prilla felt the softness of Mother Dove’s feathers. She inhaled Mother Dove’s warm, sweet scent.

Mother Dove released her. Prilla sneezed and smiled dazedly.

“Only Kyto could make the egg whole again,” Mother Dove said. “But he contaminated it, and we needed you to make it right. It was a lucky day when you arrived in Never Land.” She faced everyone. “Prilla has a new fairy talent. She is our first mainland-visiting clapping-talent fairy.”

“Oh. Oh, my!” Prilla thought, I have a talent after all! I haven’t been doing anything wrong!

Mother Dove added, “For now, you’re the only one in your talent, Prilla. It may be lonely sometimes.”

Prilla nodded. So she’d go on being lonely. But it would still be better now that she had a talent.

The fairies were silent. Then Tink said, “Prilla can be an honorary pots-and-pans fairy. We’d be proud to have her.”

Prilla turned to Tink in surprise and saw Tink’s dimples.

Rani said, “Prilla can be an honorary water-talent fairy. I’ll teach her some tricks.”

“Thank you, Rani.” Prilla was afraid she was going to cry.

Silence fell again.

Then Terence said, “Prilla can be an honorary dust fairy.”

Dulcie said, “We’d love for Prilla to be an honorary baker.”

Now all the fairies were chiming in, making Prilla a member of their talents.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Prilla wept and turned a dozen somersaults. A dozen cartwheels.

Mother Dove started to tremble. She smiled, utterly happy, and said, “The Molt has begun.”