In the beginning, when the world was nothing but wisps and streams of lazy dreams that had yet to take the form of solid ideas, there was nothing substantial or lasting to be seen.
Except for the cat.
The cat was only there because she loved Dinah so very dearly and did not wish for a handsome young tomcat to come and sweep her away, much in the way that young women would always have to leave someday. So amidst her half-understandings and whimsies and ponderings she put an icon for all male cats, duly noting that, if they were locked away, her Dinah might stay with her forevermore.
The cat that was left soon found himself forgotten, as all the half-finished dreams in that world quickly were. However, unlike the other pale wraiths that would fade to nothing as soon as their maker turned away, he stayed. It was her love of Dinah that kept him rooted to the world, her adoration for the kitten that sent pure energy running through his veins and questions running through his mind. For the cat was curious, of course; what kind of cat could not be curious?
He would walk amongst the other musings from time to time, asking his serious questions again and again:
"Who am I, please?"
"Might you be a friend? I would like one very much."
"Do you, perhaps, know the way towards Home?"
They were pressing questions, but he worked to keep them polite, expressing the hope that kind words and smiles (for he smiled, of course; who wouldn't?) would give him the answers he so keenly craved.
The other dreams never did reply, wrapped up in their own stories and scenarios as they were. So he would continue on, tail dragging in the dust, wondering aloud what approach he might try next.
Time wrought more bitter strains in the cat, as he learned how the others never would change and how he alone seemed to be awake; Time wrought him sarcastic and cunning, one who would keep what little information he had gleaned to himself, not bothering to share with the meaningless figures that sprang to life around him. Time was a mysterious fellow, but silent in his work; the two would pass each other by, not even bothering to exchange pleasantries as they went about their business.
Time brought about other changes as well, though, ones more pleasing to the eye. The dreams that shaped the land grew more colorful, and the ponderings that formed their plots would seem almost complex enough to fool the cat into thinking them real. Some lasted for longer than had ever seemed possible before, like the Royal Family, all angular as they were- but even those were inconsistent, mutating into different forms as the seconds ticked by and necessities changed.
And through it all wandered the cat, a sharp and world-weary grin always pasted to his face, rarely interacting, simply there. He grew intelligent and mysterious alongside Time, he sharpened his wit enough to question the world he lived in. But questioning did nothing at all, when no one would answer; the world simply continued at its usual hectic pace, never looking the same from one instant to the next.
It took a dark and muffled night for the situation to change.
It took a nameless fear, boiling over the land and wiping almost all of the lovely, pretty things away.
It took a nightmare with a name to bring the subconscious haven- the Underland- to life.
Readers are loved greatly. Reviewers are loved even more (especially when they bring constructive criticism to the table)! This could potentially go in a million different directions right now, so please let me know what you'd most like to see from early Underland.