hi! i'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter, so here's another for you. i'll answer user reviews privately, but guest reviewer ab asked how old they were, so i'll answer that here. maura is thirteen, frankie is ten, and tommy is seven. as for the nutcracker, well...you'll soon see ;)

would a dramatis personae (that is, cast list) help anyone? i don't think it's hard to see who everyone is, but maybe that's because i know things that you don't know yet. let me know, and enjoy! (sorry this got posted twice, my finger slipped!)


It was the first bong of midnight that woke Maura.

She jolted in her seat, hazel eyes frightened but alert. Though the parlor was now dark, all the colors seemed eerily vivid as Maura looked around. The fir tree that had seemed so jolly earlier, beribboned and studded with brightly-colored ornaments, now loomed threateningly in the corner. And Maura shivered slightly, as the final embers of the once-roaring fire sputtered and died out. The only light in the room came from the moon, which glinted off the snow to send refracted beams of luminescence through the big picture window.

The twelve deep chimes came slowly from the grandfather clock, and Maura felt as if each one were louder than the one before it. She glanced across the room to see a shaft of moonlight reflect off the large glass clock face, and then she blinked sharply. The painted piece behind the glass cover was a face as well. Maura had thought, when she was younger, that he was the grandfather the clock was named for, and referred to him as such. Of course, now she knew better, but she still affectionately patted Grandfather Tick-Tock when she passed him by. But his face – which had always remained fixed with a light, wizened smile – just moved. He'd winked at Maura!

She shook her head. "It must be the hour, playing tricks on me," she murmured. She untucked her feet from beneath her, and made to rise. "There are too many shadows down here. I'll feel better in the nursery."

Just then, she realized that her nutcracker was no longer nestled in the crook of her arm. She gasped quietly and shot to her feet, looking all around the dim space for her injured doll. He was not under her chair, nor tucked into the cushion – Maura knew he couldn't have gotten as far as the hearth, or under the tree, so she was baffled. It wasn't as if he could've gotten up and walked away – was it?

"Nutcracker?" she called out tentatively. "Nutcracker, darling?"

"Foolish, impudent child!"

Maura started at the voice. It was faint, so quiet she almost wasn't sure she'd heard it at all.

"Unhand me, Mouse!" There was another voice, and this one sounded almost…familiar? "If you want to fight, fight fairly!"

"You always were so inclined to justice," the first voice sneered. Maura looked around, but couldn't see anyone or anything. "How disappointing."

The soft sound of tiny claws scratching against the hardwood floors made Maura look down, and she stifled a gasp behind her hand. There was her Nutcracker, sword drawn, and a – a mouse! The mouse was wearing a crown, and he had a long, jeweled staff in his hand. There were other mice (his army?) flanked behind him, as if preparing for battle. And Maura's Nutcracker – arm still in its makeshift ribbon sling – was all alone. So, when the Mouse King lunged at the nutcracker, Maura saw red.

"You stay away from him!" she shrieked, stamping her foot so hard it sent shockwaves through the floorboards and his soldiers tumbling to the ground.

But the Mouse King merely chuckled. "Him? Stupid girl, do you honestly—"

"You leave him to me, Maura," the nutcracker rasped seriously.

Maura stood stunned for a moment, and then asked, "How do you know my name?"

Meanwhile, the Mouse King got a snide, scheming smirk on his face. "Your nutcracker cares about you, evidently," he sneered. "Silly girl stands far too tall, so instead, make her small!" As he chanted, a sickly red glow enveloped Maura, and she felt her altitude shift drastically. She couldn't see at all, and there was a sharp pain in her ribs like everything inside her was constricting. When she finally regained her senses, she was staring straight into the warm, dark eyes of her nutcracker.

"Nutcracker?" she asked dazedly, still not sure what had happened.

"Oh, Maura, I'm so sorry," the nutcracker whispered. "Change her back!" she ordered the mouse.

"Oh no, she's far much more fun this way!" the mouse laughed.

"Change her back," Nutcracker hissed. "Change her back, and I'll – I'll come with you," the nutcracker said in defeat.

"A tempting offer," the Mouse King mused. Then he shook his head. "But it's too late for that. No, now the two of you can return to the kingdom with me – there's a cell in the dungeon with your names on it."

The nutcracker's eyes narrowed, and he leveled his sword at the king's throat. "Don't count on it, Mouse," Nutcracker said darkly.

"Guards!" the Mouse King cried out. "Take it away!"

He began to direct his army with his staff, like a conductor would use a baton. Maura was horrified to see that he almost looked gleeful at the idea of manhandling her poor nutcracker. She felt sick, and knew that she had to do something. Though the nutcracker fought valiantly, he was still just one against many. So, as discreetly as she could, she began to unwind the ribbon around her right ankle, and slid the slipper off her foot. She wrapped the ends of the satin ties around her hand, making a fist, and snuck up behind the Mouse King.

"Leave him alone!"

Maura swung her makeshift weapon around, creating momentum, and whacked the mouse solidly on the back of the head. He stumbled forward, his crown slipping off and clattering to the floor. As he sank to his knees, stunned, his soldiers rushed to his aid, and Nutcracker was left alone.

"Quick, grab my hand!" the nutcracker hissed, stretching out wooden fingers for Maura to grab onto. "Hurry!"

Her shoe still twisted around her right hand, Maura reached out with her left, and ran along behind her new friend. They passed under a small archway – a mousehole, Maura mused later – into a tunnel, and came out on the other side to find a lush landscape of fragrant fruit trees and thick, full grasses.

"Oh," Maura breathed, awestruck. "What is this place?"

"Welcome to my home," Nutcracker said, a hint of melancholy in his tone. "This is Trimountaine, land of the Mouse King."

"It's so…beautiful!" Maura exclaimed. "But how – where did it all come from? Has it been in our mousehole this whole time?"

The nutcracker chuckled. "No, Maura. Mouseholes and anthills and other little creature-made fissures are merely gateways. Trimountaine exists outside of the boundaries of your reality."

"How do you know that?"

"I was told, by another doll in the toy shop your godfather bought me from."

Maura was skeptical, but nodded anyway. Then she frowned. "If Trimountaine is your home, then why were you in a toy shop?"

The nutcracker was silent for a long time, and Maura was afraid that he hadn't heard her query – or worse, that she'd offended him somehow. But then Nutcracker spoke. "I wasn't always a nutcracker," he said quietly. "I left Trimountaine to seek out assistance, but of course, you humans don't particularly care for toys wandering around by themselves."

"What made you think that my world would be able to cure you?"

"When I was young, I was told stories of a Sugarplum Princess. She would be smart, and just, and loyal, and her good magic would be strong enough to reverse any curse. Of course, the legend tells that she lives in Marzipan Manor on the Isle of Divinity, which lies across the Sea of Storms. But I have to believe that she exists, because if she doesn't…" The nutcracker trailed off, and Maura swallowed a sigh. Poor Nutcracker, she thought.

Maura wanted to take his mind of their predicament, so she asked, "Where exactly are we, now? And where do we need to go?"

Nutcracker snapped back into his soldier persona. "Well, we're in Mincemeat Meadow," he said, gesturing at the multicolored field they stood in. "There's a pomander grove a few meters west."

Maura looked in that direction, and gasped. "Pomanders grow on trees?"

"Of course they do," Nutcracker laughed. "Where did you think they came from, the ground?"

"No, of course not!" Maura flushed. "I just – well, I always thought Cook made them. They're just oranges with cloves, you know," she said haughtily.

Nutcracker snorted quietly, but didn't say anything else about the matter. "Past this glade is Gingerbread Village. I had some compatriots before I left, but I'm sure they're all scattered now. That was nearly a year ago, and even then the Mouse King endeavored to rid Trimountaine of anyone who opposed his rule."

"That's awful!" Maura cried. "That Mouse King is horrid!"

"I agree," Nutcracker nodded solemnly. "But Trimountaine was once a peaceful and happy land. The King and Queen were well-loved by their people, and they ruled with a fair hand. The Mouse was the real king's advisor, but he soon grew greedy, and overthrew the kingdom after the birth of their daughter, the Princess."

"What happened to her? Is she alright?" Maura asked worriedly.

The nutcracker sighed. "The Mouse King raised her to rule in his image, and so she was a very spoiled and cruel princess. Then, on her sixteenth birthday, she discovered that the Mouse had not adopted her as he'd claimed, but that he had usurped the reign of her true parents and she had been taken as an heir. They fought, and he destroyed her."

"Oh, no!"

Nutcracker looked at Maura curiously. "Oh no?" he asked.

Maura had tears in her eyes. "Well, it wasn't the Princess' fault! She wasn't taught correctly; she didn't know any better than what the Mouse King had told her! Surely, the people cannot blame her for her actions when she was treated this way!"

"Our actions exemplify our character," Nutcracker replied evenly. "Even if she was indoctrinated, the choices were hers to make."

"That's horrible," Maura disagreed. "You're just as bad as the rest of them! If she were still here, I would support her no matter what!"

With that, Maura stamped her foot and stalked away from the nutcracker. He shook his head slowly, but a small grin curved his wooden mouth.

"Maura, wait!" he called after her.

"I am waiting," she muttered petulantly. "I don't know where to go."

The nutcracker reached out for her hand, and after a glower, Maura gave it.

"Come along, then," Nutcracker said gently. "We'll start in the village. If we can't find anyone there, they'll probably have a haven past the bogs."

"And then on to Divinity?"

Nutcracker looked surprised. "Well, I—"

"If that's where the Sugarplum Princess is, I think we ought to make that our goal!"

"So…" Nutcracker trailed off. "You believe me? That she exists?"

"I'm in a magical fairy world that I got to through a mousehole in the baseboard, and I'm currently only a fraction of my natural size," Maura ribbed good-naturedly. "If that can be true, why not this? And, if I am in a dream – at least I'm with you."

The nutcracker was speechless, and it took a sharp tug from Maura to get them traveling down the path to Gingerbread Village.