Chapter II: So Lost, So Helpless…
Mallymkun was still crying when she reached the tea table outside the windmill. Thackery had taken her into his windmill and cleaned her up at the sink, washing off all the bird blood and Cheshire Cat saliva from her skirt, blouse, and apron. He had been surprisingly quiet at it, almost sane. Tarrant did not help; needless to say, he was not pleased when he heard the dormouse say the words, "Chessur…he hurt me…Tarrant…", in a trembling, quivering voice. He had set off into the woods, cursing wildly in Outlandish, eyes like molten fire. Mally didn't even try to stop him. He returned soon, much calmer, but his eyes were still rimmed in red. Once the gore and fluid had been cleaned from her clothes, she cried herself to sleep.
An awful lot of tears, as she hadn't cried at all for quite a long time.
The next day after, she refused to leave her home. When the March Hare tried to coax her out with a spoon, he was stuck in the paw with the pin-sword for his troubles. The dormouse did not exit the tea pot she called a house for anything, not to eat, not to drink, not to talk…
The following day, after being (calmly) asked by the Hatter to come out, she complied, claiming she was very hungry after having not eaten at all the day before. That day was relatively normal, although the dormouse was quiet and reserved.
One thing one must know about Mallymkun: she was NEVER reserved. Needless to say, her silence puzzled and worried the other two party-goers.
"Whatcha kin is th' matter?" whispered Thackery Earwicket to Tarrant Hightopp.
"I'm not sure," answered the Mad Hatter, eyes now baby blue. "Her muchness just seems to have…gone…"
On the fourth day, she asked Tarrant if she could go to the burbling brook. She liked it there; the quiet mumblings of the water to itself calmed her, and the coolness of the brook water relaxed her mind. Tarrant was nearly stupefied by her question, and the yellow flecks in his neon green irises showed it: Mallymkun had never, NEVER EVER, asked him for permission to do ANYTHING before.
It was now official: something was very wrong with Mallymkun. Still, if she wanted to go relax…
"Certainly," he had answered, faking a smile. "But don't be late for tea!"
"Tea!" blurted out the March Hare, flinging a loaf of bread into the air and laughing wildly. Mally smiled at them both and nodded, and then left without a word.
She stopped at the bank of the brook and sat down, staring into the whispering current. She sighed deeply.
"Chessur…"
Why had he hurt her? Was it because she had found him eating? If so, why, still?
Maybe he wanted to eat her? Was that what it was all about? Was he afraid that when she saw him devour the bird, after tormenting it no less, that she would see that? Was that all she was to him? A TOY? The thought sickened her.
He'd been so possessive of her…so fond of that pet name he knew she hated…so protective of her from other cats...perhaps she really was just a toy to him. A plaything. A snack he was saving for later. Along with the Hare and the Hatter, he had been the one to dry her tears on the Horunvendush day. He had shown her magic no one else had time for. Was it all a lie? His soothing words, his promises of friendship? Had it all been a ploy?
And when he got tired of her…would she end up like the blue bird? Battered, broken, bleeding…in short, dead? Would she, too, become his dinner? He'd eaten many other dormice; he'd told her so. He often joked about making her a meal…had they REALLY been jokes?
She sighed again and placed her paws in the water. She closed her eyes and scooped up some water, brought it to her lips, and took a drink. When she opened her eyes again, she was more than a little startled to see the very same Cheshire Cat that haunted her thoughts reflected in the water.
He was standing right behind her.
She whirled around fast…too fast, in fact. She fell on her backside and stared up, eyes wide, heart pounding, for once in her little lifetime forgetting about the pin-sword at her waist. He looked back into her eyes, his expression blank. Unreadable.
For a long time, nothing happened. The burbling of the brook was all that could be heard.
"Will you please move away just a bit?" asked the cat at last, in a flat voice. "I'd like a drink of water."
Mally nodded slowly, gulped, and stood up, backing up hastily.
"Thank you," growled Chessur, his face still a blank page to her, and bent down, lapping up the water with his long, pink tongue.
Again, there was silence.
"Why are you here?" asked Mally, her fear slowly giving way to anger. How could he show himself to her again, after what he'd done to her? HER, whom he had sworn to protect after he'd abandoned all others? How could he…
The Cheshire Cat made no reply. He didn't even look at her.
"I'm not going to forgive you, if that's why you're here. You hurt me. Badly."
The cat glanced at her quickly with those brilliant, blue-green eyes, and then returned his gaze to the brook.
"Have you nothing to say?" snarled Mally, her temper rising the longer the feline remained silent. Chess stopped drinking and licked his lips before wiping them with the back of one smoky paw. Mally couldn't help but notice the lack of blood on his claws and fur. Not even a speck remained. The cat cleaned up carefully.
"Only this," said Chessur, dryly. "I want you to know that I regret hurting you with all of my heart. I never would have done such a thing under different circumstances. Suffice it to say I wasn't in a very…" he cleared his throat. "Civilized state of mind. I know very well you won't forgive me now, if ever, at least not readily…but I am sorry. This is all."
Mally could have sworn she felt her blood boiling.
"You guddlers scut," she growled. The cat looked at her with some alarm.
"'Sorry?' Is that the best that you can do? Is that all the great Chessur the Cheshire Cat can come up with? 'Sorry?' You could've KILLED me! You were going to EAT ME! And all you can say is that you're 'SORRY?'"
"Mally, please…"
The pin-sword was an inch from his nose.
"NEVER. CALL ME. MALLY. AGAIN! Only my FRIENDS call me Mally!"
The cat cringed.
Well, he thought cynically. That stung.
"…Ms. Dormouse," he tried, patiently. "Please, hear me out…I am nothing if not your friend…"
"THEN YOU ARE NOTHING!"
Chessur's heart felt like it had snapped in half. He sighed and turned away, ears dipped and pupils perfectly circular.
"I'll be in touch," he said softly, slowly. "But, if you wish never to see me again, that is easily arranged."
This brought Mally back into reality, and her fury dissipated.
"Chessur, no. I…I…"
The cat lifted a paw in silence. He swallowed, and, in a broken voice, spoke two words with a finality the dormouse hoped she'd never hear:
"Fairfarren…dormousey."
SWOOMPH. Chess evaporated.
For a few seconds, Mally just stood there, stunned. Then it dawned on her: Chess was gone. Really, truly gone…
"Chessur? Chessur!" she called out. "Chessur, come back! Please, come back! Chess…I'm sorry…come back!"
But the cat did not reappear. Mally felt her pin-sword fall from her hands and dropped to her knees, her head hung down.
"Chess…please, come back…I need you here…"
Still no cat. She sighed, and that sigh became a sob.
"I'm Alone in the Universe…so Alone in the Universe…"
