Alice Croft is ten today: a good age, Mama says, and one she should savor. The beaches still aren't safe, however much Alice would like to visit them, so instead they pack for lunch and go to the river instead. Although there are other children swimming, Mama is afraid of the water and Alice can do no more than walk along the bank, picking wildflowers and stealing longing glances at the water, which looks green and cool and wonderful in the sunlight.
She ventures closer to it, just low enough that the ground becomes squishy and damp underfoot. After she goes a little further, she finds a clump of water mint and tugs off a single leaf, which she crushes between her fingers.
"There's no need for that, you know," says a reproachful voice that sounds as if it belongs to a boy, perhaps a bit older than Alice is. She looks around curiously, but there's no sign of anyone else nearby. "They'll happily smell for you if you only ask nicely," the voice continues, and Alice realizes that it's coming from much lower than she thought originally. She looks down and gasps, delighted, when she sees a large, pure-white rabbit peeking at her between two stems.
"You can talk!" she says.
"So can you," the rabbit says reasonably, hopping out from the water mint so that she can see him better. He's wearing a checkered green waistcoat with shiny pearl buttons. Alice very much wants to pet him, since his fur looks so fluffy and soft, but she knows that she wouldn't like being petted by a complete stranger, so she resists.
"I've never seen a rabbit in a waistcoat before," Alice says.
The rabbit twitches his ears. "Well, there's no call to run about undressed just because everyone else is doing it," he says. He slips a paw-sized hand into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulls out a silver pocket-watch which, from what Alice can see, has six hands instead of the usual three. "Oh, dear, if I don't leave this instant I'll be late. Do forgive me—must run—"
He bounds off in a trice and Alice hesitates for only a second before running after him; he is by far the most interesting person she has ever met. The rabbit is faster than she, but he does not go far before diving into an enormous rabbit hole, more than big enough for her to crawl into herself. She goes not more than a meter or so before the ground gives way beneath her, and she falls down the dimly-lit hole for some time before catching up with the rabbit.
"Oh, dear," he says when he sees her.
"I am sorry," Alice says. "It's just that I wondered where you were off too in such a hurry."
The rabbit sighs and withdraws a tiny bottle of greenish liquid from his other pocket, which he hands over. "Have a sip of that," he says, "or you'll be much too large when we land."
The liquid tastes a bit like toast and a bit like applesauce, and it has the very curious effect of making the rabbit grow larger and larger, until he's nearly as big as Mama. "That's a very good trick," she tells him as she hands the bottle back.
They continue to fall for a while, accompanied now by a strange collection of things; Alice plucks a prettily-carved hand-mirror from the air and admires the way the air rushing past has made her hair stand on end. "We're coming to the end of it now," the rabbit says presently, "do try to keep to the left fork—"
It's too late, however, and Alice can do nothing but wave as the hole splits in two and the rabbit is swallowed up by the left-hand tunnel. She clutches the mirror close to her chest while she falls into the much darker right fork. "I do hope," she says to the mirror, for the sound of her voice is comforting when she can't see to be certain she's still there, "that this tunnel doesn't stop anywhere dangerous."
As it happens, she lands very hard not much more than a minute afterwards. She picks herself up again and finds that she's on the banks of another river; this one is fast-moving and quite clear, so Alice can see the smooth rocks at the bottom. There are no plants along these banks, only yellowish rocks with peculiar patterns of something pale and crusty.
Alice peers around, hoping to get her bearings. This stretch of rocky ground and the river that flows through it don't last long; there is forest not too far off on either side. Upstream, she can see a crooked and very tall tower and, in the opposite direction, a vast expanse of blue which can only be the sea. Alice heads towards it, beaming, but gets no more than a few steps when she hears it: a piercing wail which rises and falls every few seconds.