The sun shone brightly as enormous puffy clouds drifted through the endless blue sky. Birds sang, lush green leaves on tall trees rustled, and hills rolled for miles. The emerald grass was soft, and flowers bloomed vibrantly, chatting occasionally with someone as they passed by their beds. Houses made from stone, hard working people, and trees towering hundreds of feet above their heads covered the vast area. Witzend. Tarrant smiled at what he saw. He hadn't seen such a wonderful dream in years. Immediately shifting it into a lucid dream, he headed towards the people he had longed to see for years. On his way, he was stopped mid stride by three children, each of their faces dripping with worry.
"What's wrong, children?" He bent down to meet them at eye's level, patting one of them on the shoulder.
"Our sister is trapped!" .The one in the middle said. The hatter stood up, a stern look crossing his face.
"Where?!" He asked, forgetting his previous goal.
"In the treacle well, we have to hurry!"
"I'll be right behind you, show me the way!" He ordered them sternly.
Treacle wells were known to easily drown the ones that managed to fall into them. The three children led Tarrant through a patch of trees, down a steep hill, and into a meadow. In the middle of which, stood a large well. They ran up to the well, the children calling for their sister.
"I'm alright! I've found the bucket! Haha, good thing wood floats!" They heard a voice echo from the bottom of the well.
"It won't be floating for long." Tarrant concluded, examining the scene.
The rope holding onto the bucket had snapped. He thought for a few moments, before coming up with a plan.
"Girls. Go find a large spool of fabric. Return as quickly as you can!" The two girls nodded, and ran back towards the village.
"I'm going to get you out of there, okay?! Don't worry, miss!" He yelled down into the well, his Scottish accent clear.
"Thank you, sir!" She yelled back, her voice trembling. "But I don't think I can hold on much longer...!"
"Just try! Help is coming!" He replied, catching a glimpse of her submerged body.
The treacle was up to her shoulders. She could drown if she let go of that bucket. Panicking, the hatter ran his fingers through his hair, and fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat.
"Come on, girls... Hurry..." He thought to himself.
He caught a glimpse of the girls in the wood, holding a large spool of wool. They tied a few knots in it, and round the hatter's arm securely. They made it so that Tarrant was the bucket, and the fabric was the rope. They set it up, and brought some adults with them so they could lower him down to grab hold of her. He carefully stepped over the edge, his feet skidding against the sticky walls. He was slowly lowered, until he could almost see the girl's form. When he got closer to the bottom, he gasped. The girl had sunk, drowned in treacle. The only thing on the surface of the syrup was her hat; it's large plume dripping with black treacle.
Tarant jolted up in bed in a cold sweat. He breathed heavily, pressing his hands to his face. After a few moments, he moved his legs off the side of the bed, crossing over to the window. He moved the tattered curtains from the thin glass. His gaze averted onto the distant Tulgey Wood, and moved from there onto the twinkling tea-trays and golden moon. He sighed, his eyes shifting into a light violet. He moved across the room, towards the door, and quietly made his way down a short staircase and into a small kitchen. Arriving at the sink, he reached for a tea kettle. Moving dozens of tea-things out of the way, he filled it up with water from the tap and set it over a fireplace in the neighboring room. He took out a match box from a drawer in the kitchen, and lit up the fire. He sat silently at a small table next to the fireplace, watching the flames dance as the water started to roll. Before the water could splash out, he took it off of the fire and poured it straight into a teacup. Setting it down on the table in front of him to let the tea steep and cool, he continued to watch the fire.
"It's like Alice." He thought to himself. "The rage of the flames... they're like her courage... The sparks are her curiosity... And the cracks the fire makes in the wood are her muchness." He chuckled at his thoughts.
Indeed, he missed the girl. It had been over a year since she had defeated the Jabberwocky and left for the Upperlands. After that time, the entirety of Underland suffered. The land itself was mourning her absence. The cherry blossoms of Marmoreal did not blossom at their fullest. The waves of the distant ocean did not crash as they used to. The sun shone weakly, and the days were long and boring. Even the flowers weren't as talkative as they usually were. Though the depression was short-lived; as everyone helped everyone become happy again. As the people accepted that their savior was not there to stay, the land became happier. And almost everything returned to the way it was before the Red Queen took the throne. Almost everything. Tarant shook his head. It was impossible. Nothing could be done to bring back what he and many people once loved... Witzend... It was thriving. Wonderful. The absolute best lied in the West... And it was gone. Just as he realized that he was breaking his teacup, a knock was heard at the front door of the old windmill. He stood, wondering who could be at his door this late at night.
"Could it be Thackery? Maybe he forgot something..." He thought as he opened the door.
He looked around, only to see McTwisp.
"I'm sorry for intruding so late at night, Tarrant. But I was making a trip for the Queen, when I heard a horrible screaming coming from Tulgey Wood. Could you come and help me investigate?"
"Of course, Nivins. I'll be out quickly."
The hatter threw on a heavy coat, shoes and his hat before heading out with McTwisp. They ran through the night, their feet shaking the earth below them. The moon was high, and the long, twisted shadows of the Tulgey Wood cast onto the ground. As they got deeper into the forest, a thick fog danced around them. Mushrooms towered over them as well as ancient trees. There was no path. Just a thick, dense, forest, brimming with fog and echoing with the screams of a young girl. Tarrant let McTwisp sit on his shoulder as he navigated towards the blood boiling screams for help. They grew closer, and closer, until they were in calling distance of the girl.
"Hello?!" The rabbit responded, hoping the girl could hear him.
"Where are you?!" Tarrant called, praying for an answer.
A few moments passed, until the girl's screams turned into sobs.
"Oh thank heavens..." They heard a quiet sniffle before she continued.
"I've fallen into a well, I reckon!"
Tarrant froze, his dream coming back to him. He shook it off, his heart pounding.
"Is there anything in there with you?" He called, trying to find the well, clearing fog with his hands as he searched and listened for the girl.
"Treacle, I think... But I'm caught in the bucket!" She yelled.
Tarrant looked up from the ground, to see a large well. He and McTwisp ran towards it, examining the rope and structure.
"Alright, we've found you. Don't move." He called down the dark well, the bucket nowhere to be seen.
"Whatever you say, sir!" She responded, sobbing lightly.
Tarrant looked over to McTwisp, before carefully pulling on the rope.
"It's moving!" She called.
"Good, good... Don't move." He responded, pulling harder on the rope, until he caught a glimpse of her shadow. He continued to pull, until the entirety of the girl was visible. He tied the rope to the structure of the well, and held out a hand to lift the girl out. She grabbed onto it, and he pulled her out, both of them slamming onto the ground. She cringed in pain, trying to move away from Tarrant as she spoke.
"I'm sorry!" She sobbed, trying her hardest to push herself away from him.
"Don't worry, miss... I'm just glad we got you out of there in time." He carefully stood up. "You can't walk, can you?" He added, looking down at her.
"I don't think so..." She replied, her voice still trembling.
A cloud moved out of the way of the moon, illuminating the woods, as well as the girl. Tarrant's heart skipped a beat, and his eyes swirled with color when he saw the girl's features. Long... Beautiful curls of scarlet... Her face; it was porcelain. The colors surrounding her eyes were those resembling a peacock's tail... And her lips were red as the blood dripping from her thin, fragile frame. She wore a long, colorful skirt with a matching blouse, sullied with dirt, treacle and blood. Her shoes were missing... Yet atop her head was a black d'orsay, with a large peacock plume, dripping with black treacle.