"So… are you a real hatter? Or is it just a title?" I said as I staggered next to Hatter. We had been walking for… Well, I didn't actually know how long we had been walking. As soon as we started our trek to Hatter's camp, my arm began throbbing painfully. When he had finally gotten tired of my moaning, Hatter allowed me to drink from the bottle until I felt better.

In reality, my arm had stopped hurting a while ago, but the burning of the alcohol was intoxicating. It allowed me to escape from my troubles for a while, to forget whatever obstacles blocked my path. I think he knew that I was lying about the pain in my arm to keep drinking from the bottle, but he seemed amused by my behavior. A few times, he had tried to steal the bottle back from me, but I always pouted my lips at him and jerked it out of his grasp.

"I don't really know who I was before I came to Wonderland," he said. He spoke curiously, with his eyebrows knitted together as he looked at the clouds passing overhead. "It was so long ago, eventually the memories slip away. So, I don't know if I was a hatter professionally, but I can make a hat whenever the urge strikes me."

This made me smile at him wonkily. "You…you should make me a hat sometime," I said. My footsteps became farther apart. I had trouble seeing in a straight line. Curious…perhaps having more of that wonderful drink would make me feel better. I gulped down another mouthful. I hardly noticed the burn anymore.

"You should put down that bottle sometime," the Hatter said, eying me wearily.

"But it makes me feel good!" I protested. "Right in here!" I had planned on patting my chest over my heart, but I ended up jabbing myself in the throat. I coughed and stumbled, the bottle falling from my grasp. Hatter somehow managed to keep both me and the bottle from hitting the ground.

"Alright, no more drink for you," he said, helping me back to my feet.

"No! Boo!" I said, waving my arms around wildly, trying to snatch the bottle back.

"Listen, Alice," he said. "I just think you should take a short break, eh? How's that sound?"

I pouted. The bottle made me feel good! Why'd he try to take it away from me? Suddenly, I realized something. I didn't have a hat. "Where's my hat?" I said, crestfallen. I back away from Hatter and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You promised me a hat!" I said angrily.

He scoffed. "I did no such thing."

I exhaled, my nostrils flaring. "You didn't? Hmm… We'll have to fix that. You, Hatter," I said, swaying in place, "will make me a hat. And you know what? I want you to make me a fez." I smiled at the sky. It was so beautiful, soft and blue. "Fezzes are…blue," I added thoughtfully.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "What?"

I looked at him innocently. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

He just sighed and took a swig from his bottle. "You are going to be a major pain in the arse, Alice. A major pain," he said.

I sniffed, and we continued talking. I swaggered up next to him, my arms swinging lazily at my side. I eyed him curiously. His pale, angular face was turned away from me, his mismatched eyes focused on the path ahead. I poked a curious finger at his cheek. He flinched away from my touch and gave me an annoyed look. "What?" he said.

"You said that you didn't remember anything before Wonderland," I said.

"And?"

"Did you have a life before? Were you from somewhere else?" I asked.

"Did I not say that I didn't remember?" he snapped. I looked up at him, hurt. Finally, he sighed. "Yes," he said. "Truth is, everybody was from somewhere else before Wonderland. We all live our lives wherever we were, and then we're suddenly dragged down here. Understand this, Alice – the more time passes down here, the less you remember about your old life. At a point, Wonderland is all you know, and you can never go back." He turned his gaze back to the path. "I've been in Wonderland for as long as I can remember. I have no idea who I was before. All that I have left are my hats."

I patted him on the back. "Poor, poor Hatter," I said. "Tell you what, when I find a way out of here, I'm taking you with. You can come live with me in my manor, and you'll make a different hat for me every day," I promised.

He slowed his pace, gave me a good long look, and burst out laughing.

"What?" I said.

"Never make promises you can't keep, doll," he gasped between his chortles, "especially while you're down here."

"But why is that funny?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He didn't answer my question, but only met my gaze with a smile. "I could really use I nice cup of tea right now," he said.

I scoffed and shoved passed him, my steps uneven and shaky. I heard him catch up to me, still laughing, but we did not speak again for some time. Finally, he stopped in his tracks and motioned for me to do the same.

"What? What is it?" I asked.

He stopped laughing, but the smile remained on his face. "We're here," he said. He then continued forward, with me staggering behind him. The trees cleared out, and we came to another clearing. Three different tents made from what looked like patterned bedsheets were arranged around the open space, and a long, rectangular tea table was stationed at the center. A long, lace tablecloth covered the wooden surface, and an assortment of pastry plates and china dishes sat on top.

"Hello!" Hatter called out, strutting into the clearing. "Hare? Mousie? I'm back!"

Two figures emerged from a tent and began to march toward Hatter angrily. It took me a bit to realize only one of them was human. The other was an incredibly large hare. He was skinny and was covered in coarse, patchy brown fur. He wore a raggedy, dark red trench coat that covered most of his body, and he walked on his hind legs. The human was a girl, who looked to be around Hatter's age, but was nearly a head shorter than him. She had wild brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. Her skin was tan and freckled. She, too, wore a trench coat, but hers was oversized, brown, and ragged. Underneath her coat, I could see a baby blue shirt and ratty brown pants. A broad leather belt was strapped around her waist, with a long, silver rapier tucked into it.

As they neared us, Hatter's grin widened, and he spread his arms out in welcome. "Hello, my friends! How have you been?"

The girl answered by striding up to the Hatter, throwing her arms around him, and planting her lips on his.

I took an unsteady step back, slightly put off. This was not what I was expecting.

The girl spent a good few second like that. Once she broke away, she took a step back and looked at the Hatter up and down. Then she backhanded him across the face.

Hatter staggered back, rubbing his cheek. "Mousie!" he exclaimed.

"Where the hell have you been?" she snapped. Her voice was high-pitched, but forceful and ferocious. "'Oh, I'll just be out for a bit, maybe collect some herbs'! Collecting herbs my arse! You were gone the whole night! Do you know how worried I was? You could've been torn apart by a pack of Bandersnatches, or eaten up by those wild huntsmen!" She spoke without a pause for breath, and Hatter had to interrupt her to get her to stop.

"Relax, Mousie," he said, his voice soothing. He used that same soothing voice on me, I thought with a bit of hurt. "I did come across a Bandersnatch, but it was a loner." At this, the girl's eyes widened furiously. "I took care of myself," Hatter insisted. He placed his hands on her shoulders. At this small but intimate action, I felt something unpleasant swell up in my chest. Sadness, and…jealousy?

The girl still looked upset. She jerked her head in my direction. "Who's she?" she asked stiffly.

"Oh!" said the Hatter. He turned to me uncomfortably. "Mousie, this is Alice. I met her in the wood. Alice, meet Doormouse."

Doormouse eyed me with disdain. She sniffed. "She's drunk," she said, then she eyed my right arm, which hung limply at my side. "And injured," she added.

"I found her like that," Hatter said. "She was about to get eaten by that Bandersnatch I was talking about." Hearing him talk about me, as if I wasn't there or couldn't hear him, it made me mad.

"Not just that!" I said. "I also fell down a hole and…and I was reading Man and Nature, and Rabbit was late!" I struggled to collect my thoughts. The memories were cluttered in my mind, and fell out of my mouth in a fuddle. I couldn't think straight, everything seemed to fuse and twist together.

Doormouse didn't seem satisfied with my muddled explanation. She turned back to Hatter angrily. "See? Drunk."

He looked sheepish. "I gave her a bit of drink for the pain. I was hoping we could get some tea."

"Tea?" I looked at the hare, a little bewildered. It was the first time he talked. "You disappear for an entire night and come back with a drunken, weak little girl and expect us to waste precious tea on her? To that I say, keep dreaming you sodding looney!" I tried not to be too surprised at the fact that the hare just insulted me. Giant cat-monsters could try to kill you and rabbits could carry pocket watches. Why couldn't hares talk?

Hatter rounded on the hare, anger flashing in his multicolored eyes. "Oh, you're calling me looney?" he said, his voice rising. "That's rich, coming from the guy who tried to wear a tea kettle as a helmet during battle!"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't spiked the bloody tea –"

"Oh, piss off you half-baked rodent –"

"Will you two just shut up?" Doormouse snapped. Hatter turned and opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted, "Hatter, I swear if you say a single word, I will rip out your eyeballs and squash them into jelly for my morning toast."

"She ain't joking," Hare put in.

Doormouse turned on him, exasperated. "Hare, just…get the bloody tea." Hare's jaw dropped in disbelief, but he turned and walked towards the tea table without a word.

I gazed up at Doormouse and tried to look sincere, though I fear that I failed in my drunken state. "Th-thank you, Doormouse," I slurred.

She just sighed. "Sit down, Alice, before you hurt yourself," she said. I nodded and staggered over to a seat at the tea table. I took my seat at the edge of the table. Hare was preparing some tea across from me. At least, I thought he was preparing tea. Once he had gotten the water boiling, it looked like he just grabbed random objects from the table and through them in the pot. Cakes, strange-looking flowers and plants, forks and spoons… It didn't seem he was particularly finical as to what qualified as tea.

Finally, when he seemed satisfied with the mixture, he poured some of the light brown liquid into a petite china teacup that was decorated with painted roses. "There you go," he said, handing me the cup. "It's best if you drink it straight up, no cream or sugar."

I looked down at the mixture and sniffed it. It smelled…well, it smelled like regular black tea. "Go on," the hare urged. I glanced up at him, shrugged my shoulders, and took a sip.

I nearly choked in astonishment. It tasted just like the tea back home! I always liked my cup with lots of sugar and a touch of cream, but the familiar taste of the rich, smoky liquid filled my mind with comfort. Warmth spread through my body, clearing the fog from my mind and easing the pain in my arm. Before I knew it, the cup was drained, and the aching of my limb was almost nonexistent.

I lowered the delicate porcelain from my lips. "Now, let's have a look at that owie, eh?" said the hare. I held out my arm for him to inspect and started. The wound had almost entirely disappeared. All that remained was a long, ragged scar that was crusted with dried blood and a slight discoloration of the skin. Hare pressed down on the line with a small paw, and I winced when pain twisted in the area. "Not completely healed," he noted. He gave me a small smile (strange sight, seeing a large hare smile at you) and patted the wound gently. "Just give it time. It'll be OK."

"How… How did it do that?" I asked in wonder.

To this, the hare looked confused (again, curious image). "What do you mean how did it do that? It's tea – that's what tea does," he said.

I shook my head. "Well, we don't have that kind of tea where I'm from."

"Really?" he asked. I nodded. "Sounds painfully dull."

"Hare," a voice said from behind me. I turned to see Hatter walking towards us. From his expression, his conversation with Doormouse hadn't ended well. "Time to say goodnight to our guest. The sun will be down soon."

"Really? The day passed by quickly," I remarked.

He nodded. "Indeed. Yesterday was longer by at least a couple of hours," he said. I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it. He continued, "Doormouse agreed to let you stay with us for a while, 'till we've decided how to get you back home. We've got some spare bedsheets; I'm going to set up your tent if you want to come."

In reality, I had little to no interest in watching someone set up a tent, but I enjoyed the hatter's company, and would have appreciated a quiet conversation with him, alone. I stood up, suddenly sober, and nodded my thanks to Hare. He returned my nod, but glared at Hatter until we were a good distance away. I considered myself lucky that he didn't share his hostility towards Hatter with me. Obviously, he and Hatter had some sort of unresolved conflict, and I did not wish to become involved.

When Hatter settled on an unoccupied section of the clearing, he began his work. I watched with mild curiosity as his slim fingers worked diligently at tying knots and shoving spikes into the dirt. Finally, I mustered up the courage to ask him, "So… Are you and her…you know, together?"

He paused briefly in his work to give me a quick glance. "Who, Mousie? Well, yes. What of it?" he asked.

My spirits lessened a tad at his confirmation, but I tried to cover it. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." There was a short silence before I spoke again. "Have you two been together for long?" I asked.

He sighed. "What's this about, Alice?" he asked, exasperated. I said nothing, but looked down at my feet with a bit of shame. Hatter sighed again and answered at last. "Yes. At least, I think so." He struggled to find the right words. "I don't really remember, but…I think she came with me." At my confused expression, he elaborated, "What I mean is, I think I knew her before Wonderland. She's been with me for as long as I can remember, so eventually we just…got together."

"Ah," I said, trying not to show my chagrin in my voice. Of course. I'd been foolish to assume that Hatter didn't have anyone. He stood up then, dusting his hands.

"There," he said, eying the fully-assembled tent. The sheets had a pink-and-green floral pattern on top of a creamy white background. I fingered the fabric delicately. It was as soft as down. "That should hold up. Will you be OK for the night?" he asked, turning towards me.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I'll be fine," I assured him. The fading light made me look at the western sky. As the glowing orange orb sunk slowly behind the pine trees, bright colors were painted throughout the sky. Fierce orange, burning red and passionate fuchsia burst across the horizon with more beauty than I had ever seen anywhere in England. "How will I survive here?" I murmured.

"With us," Hatter answered with a reassuring smile. Before, his smile would have exhilarated me, but now I only gave him a small, sad look and climbed into my tent.

What was I doing? Where was I going? What was happening to me?

I plodded through the forest, completely drained. The hunter's dagger was tucked into the ribbon tied around my waist, and I carried the bow and quiver on my back. After collecting the two arrows in the clearing, I had a total of 13 in the brown, cloth quiver.

Was this a punishment? Had I committed some past sin? Had God decided that I was deserving of this torture?

I had abandoned my one remaining shoe back in the clearing and traded it for one of the hunter's leather boots. They were a bit big on me, but after stuffing some bloody cloth into the toes, I could fit into them well.

I was a killer, a murderer. One could argue that my first kill had been in self-defense, but not the second. I had him pinned to the ground. I had heard his pleas for mercy, and what had I done? I had stabbed him in the throat and robbed his corpse.

I looked down at my ruined dress. At this point, it no longer resembled the cute, blue frock that Mum had sewn for me. What remained was torn, bloodied, and painted with mud. No doubt my hair was beyond saving. I remembered how it shown whenever Mother brushed it out, how the golden locks gleamed in the sunlight. Now, I shuddered at how I must appear.

Though my arm was no longer broken, I don't think I had ever been in more pain. I was a murderer, far from home, and nobody knew where I was. I had been attacked twice in the past 24 hours, once by a creature that I was almost certain didn't exist. I had stabbed and tortured people, robbed their bodies, and slept against the belly of a dead animal. In just the past day, how much had I changed? What had I become?

I didn't even know if I was Alice anymore.

A noise made me whirl around, drawing my dagger, but nothing was there. Oh, what had I planned on doing anyway? I had no idea how to use a knife!

Says the girl who stabbed three living creatures to death, I thought sardonically. I looked around. I was truly alone. Not even any man-eating monsters or cannibalistic hunters accompanied me in my directionless trek. I might as well practice with my newly-acquired weapons.

I removed the bow from my back and drew an arrow from the quiver. Notching it with shaking fingers, I pulled back the string and chose my target – the center of a broad tree trunk. Then, I fired.

The arrow struck the base of a tree about 1 meter to the right of my target. The shaft slapped against the rough bark and snapped in two. A furious cry escaped my lips before I could stop myself. My frustrated snarl echoed through the woods, causing birds to caw and fly from their trees. By God! I sounded like an animal!

I flared my nostrils and walked over to inspect the splintered remains of the arrow. How could I miss the target this much? I sighed and backed away to my original position, shaking my head. I notched another arrow and released my hold on the string. This time, the arrow flew to the left and whooshed farther into the woods, out of sight. I tried to keep from roaring, but it required more effort than it should have.

I continued my attempts for what felt like hours. I continuously adjusted my stance, fiddled with the string, and examined the distance between me and the tree. I tried to imitate the hold on the arrow that the hunter had, but my memory was faint. I hadn't been concentrating on how he held the bow at the time, rather how I was going to get out of the situation alive.

This went on well into the night, and soon the sun came up from the east, and it was the next day. I had gone the entire night without sleep. My limbs were trembling and my eyes were surely bloodshot, but I dared no discontinue my practice until I had gotten one good shot in.

I sighed and lowered the bow. Arrows were strewn across the forest floor, several of them broken. I counted that only 9 of the original 13 remained intact. I reached into the quiver for another arrow, but realized it was empty. With another heavyhearted sigh, I walked towards the area where most of the arrows had fallen. I gathered up the ones that weren't broken and returned to my spot. I paused before notching the next arrow, and changed my position.

This stance was with my feet shoulder-width apart, with me standing perpendicular to the shooting line. I notched the arrow and drew my arm back, but adjusted my grip and so that I was holding the arrow between my index and middle finger, with my ring finger helping to hold the string. I tried to align the bow better with the target. After taking a long, deep breath, I fired.

The changed alignment of the bow caused the string to slap against the exposed flesh of my wrist as soon as I released it. I cried out, dropped the bow, and bent over, holding my throbbing wrist to my chest. I bit my lip and looked at what was surely another failed attempt at a shot and gasped. My stinging wrist momentarily forgotten, I quickly walked towards the tree to better look at the arrow.

I had hit the tree, and the arrow had landed head first, only about 15 centimeters from the target.

I laughed giddily. Perhaps I was not doomed to die in this strange land, after all.