A/N: Sorry, this is still a short one, even by my standards, and I hope you enjoy the new and improved version... And thepoem at the start wasn't mine originally, I just corrupted it.

Chapter 2 - Warning, May Frighten Small Children

The knave of hearts he stole some tarts

All on a summer's day

The queen of hearts she was a tart

And took him right away...

Mouse gave a kind of strangled yelp. "You…you… y y you're…."

The creature grinned wider, rearing onto its hind legs and giving the girl an exaggerated bow. In this light, the cat was not grey and black, as previously assumed, but bright silver and that dark, velvety shade of purple that was almost black until it hit the light, and Mouse always thought of as nightshade purple. "The Cheshire Cat, at your service, kitten. And you might be….?"

Mouse, without at all thinking, said, "Mouse."

Then she blinked at herself. I really just said that, didn't I? I told a cat that I was mouse. Hehe.

If it was at all physically possible, the Cat's grin got even wider. "No worries, kitten."

It laughed, an odd, almost strained, purring chuckle, "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…"

It paused, and its ear swivelled as though it had just heard something. The Grin faded slightly.

"What? What is it?" Asked Mouse, having cats of her own and therefore trusting his senses rather better than her own, and because of that, she was worried for the second time that day, and beginning to feel that this wouldn't be the last time either. She figured anything that would make the Cheshire Cat's mood darken, even a little bit, must be Pretty Damn Bad.

The feline's only reply was to begin to growl on a rising note. (If you have cats of your own, you'll know what this sounds like, but for those that don't, it sounds something like a mix between a purr and a scream).

Mouse looked at it. Its hackles were raised, and at first she thought it was merely bristling, as ordinary cats do when threatened, but when it became as tall as her shoulder while she was still sitting on the ground, she realised it was growing at a phenomenal rate. The Grin had completely gone now, and in its place was an expression that would most likely make most sensible and sane people hide behind the sofa, and it was only the knowledge that this anger was not directed at her, coupled with the fact that she was neither of this things, that kept Mouse where she was.

One of the Cat's large, usually cheerful orange eyes was now burning like a great iron-works furnace. The other turned bright neon green and pupiless, mutating through a number of rather horrible and unnatural colours beforehand. It fur was by now bristling and crackling, spitting silver and neon purple sparks, and standing on end so much like needles that mouse wouldn't of touched it had you paid her.

This was no longer merely a cheshire cat. This was The Cheshire Cat, without its illusions and glamours, without the shields and barriers that kept it looking and seeming normal (or as normal anything is in wonderland). The creature that now stood next to Mouse towered over her, five times larger than any earthly tiger, spitting and snarling at the things which had made it react in such a manner.

The next moment Mouse saw what they were.

They were the card people.

Not just the hearts, but the spades and clubs and the diamonds as well, nor was it just one pack.

It was thousands.

Mouse didn't get to see any more detail after that, because at that moment, as she was squaring up to fight, something about the size and weight of a single-bed mattress (She realized later that it was CC's tail) hit her in the stomach and threw her through the hedge.

For the second time that day, Mouse fainted.

i0i0i0i0i0i0i

When she started to come to, she was aware of voices above her, as though a bunch of people were crowded around her.

"Nothing like Alice…."

"Look at her clothes…"

"So strange…like a boy's…"

This last comment made her sit up indignantly, only to discover her arms were covered in scratches from the hedge-coils, and that her dark hair was full of hay, apparently the result of some attempt to bring her 'round. She ignored both these, and kicked at whatever was obstructing her view.

"I'm not a boy!" She yelled, finding that anger was a rather good way of getting rid of the headache that had started to build. "Just because I don't wear a..a pink frilly skirt and wear a bow on my head doesn't mean I'm not a gir…"

She trailed off, having noticed, at this point, who (or what for that matter) exactly she was speaking to.

A/N: You know the jingle, you should know what to do,

I've written, you've read, now read and review!

(Please)