Notice: GASP! A chapter without a song! Well, as always, read and review, man fairamis! Enjoy! And now…
Chapter IV: Playing Masquerade
Mallymkun was not happy. Not at all. The tum-tum tree felt her fury with every scratch it was inflicted with from her pin-sword.
"Idiotic…slurvish…dumb…foolish…"
Mallymkun had been saying this over and over and over again as she swung her blade about wildly. Having woken up that morning, she needed to vent her fury. If Tarrant or Thackery saw her like this, they would be even more worried than they already were.
She didn't want them worried. Especially not Tarrant. He and the Hare were crazy enough, she didn't want to completely snap their minds. Besides, she didn't need their worry. She could handle it.
Couldn't she?
Who cared? All she knew was that, right now, she was very, VERY angry. Angry at herself.
She'd never been angry at herself before.
The scene replayed over and over: Chess finding her at the brook, his apology…and her rage, the rage that, in essence, killed the cat. She'd exploded at him, and now he'd never come back. She was used to not seeing him all the time…but to never see him again, and all because of her beastly temper, was too much.
She had every right to be angry with him, of course. He HAD tried to kill her. It wasn't the first time, though; their first meeting in particular hadn't been very pleasant. But once they became friends, both had tried – and, for the most part, succeeded – at forgetting the past and moving on. And, on the Horunvendush Day, after abandoning her and many others, he came back and swore to protect her – if only her – and see to it nothing would harm her if he could help it.
And then HE hurt her himself.
But he had also regretted it! (Another slice in the bark.) He'd told her he regretted it, he'd asked for her forgiveness, although he had also known better than to expect it from her then. He'd apologized! He'd practically begged her to allow him to remain her friend, and what did she say to him?
She sighed.
"He isn't nothing. He's everything."
She knew why he'd hurt her. He'd said it.
I wasn't in a very…civilized state of mind.
So calm. So placid. So softly-spoken in his confession. And for some reason, that had only made her angrier at the time. But was he really to blame? In a way, he was; a Cheshire Cat cannot change its stripes. He was still a predator, still a carnivore, still an enemy of many animals.
But he was also Chessur. Her friend. And, now, perhaps even more…
She had been pacing, and stopped, sheathing her blade. She spoke the words that had once needed to be spoken, and came too late.
"I love him…"
The thought was somewhat sickening. But, at the same time, it warmed her like the feeling of his large, furry, and – dare she think it – beautiful body and tail wrapped about her frame, like a snake around a rabbit, but without the unspoken threat. She sighed again, this time fondly, as she remembered that feeling. His purring…his heartbeat…his warmth…his smile…to any other rodent in her position, the idea of being that close to the cat was a mortifying thought. To her, though…it was bliss. He would be there, she knew for sure now, to dry her tears. To comfort her. To support her in the face of adversary.
This sickened her, also, because she knew that he'd never do so now. If he had ever even wanted her…THAT way before, as his love and mate, until time ended, he wouldn't want her now.
And, when she thought about it, he probably never did. Cheshire Cats were rare, but there were, doubtless, females ripe for the picking that would swan over a cat like Chessur. He was rather big – and not in a bad way – for a cat, and that would appeal to any female.
It both frightened her and also appealed to her. HER.
But how could he love HER? He was a cat. She was a dormouse. They were lucky to be friends, and now they weren't even that. How could a feline ever fall in love with its prey? She figured that, at least now, if she ever confessed love to him, he'd be disgusted by her. She'd never have him. A tiny dormouse would never be a proper mate for him. He'd sooner take Tarrant's hat…and, more than likely, he'd sooner make her his midnight snack than his bride. (Well, now he would, anyway…)
The thoughts she had so depressed her, she wasn't even aware of the presence behind her crawling out from behind a tree.
"Excuse me, but are you all right?"
Mally snapped around, whipping out her pin-sword again. A dark gray dormouse – a male, she guessed – stood before her, an expression of surprise and confusion on his whiskery face. It wore a blue suit and derby hat with a purple hatband. He paused before straightening out the blue bow tie about his thin neck and smiling slightly.
"Well," he said, his voice so soft it pained her ears. "If you didn't like me asking, you only had to say so."
Mallymkun eyed the newcomer doubtfully. She sheathed her sword. The second dormouse didn't seem very threatening…
"No, it's fine," she said, a bit peevishly. "You just startled me, is all."
"My apologies, madam," said the dormouse in his soft voice, bowing just a little. He smiled at her in a manner that seemed to ooze friendliness. "And, unless I'm so direly mistaken you'd skewer me with that blade, you are Mallymkun?"
"I still may!" growled Mally, once again suspicious, fingers brushing the hilt of her pin-sword. "How do you know my name?"
"Now, there's no need for hostility," said the blue-suited dormouse. "Besides which, every self-respecting rodent in Underland knows about the great Mallymkun, the only dormouse in the Underland Underground Resistance, who killed the terrible Jub-Jub Bird with the help of the Bloodhound, Bayard."
Mally released her sword's hilt, but said nothing for a time.
"What's your name?" she finally inquired of the gray dormouse, still wary.
"Russehc," said the dormouse, bowing again. "Now and always at your service, madam."
Mally couldn't help it. She smiled, although just slightly.
"You seem like the right gentleman, don't you?"
"I try to be so in the presence of a lady, and especially one of such reputation as yours," replied the male, tipping his hat with a charming grin.
"You know, a cat lives around here," said Mallymkun, wondering if perhaps this dormouse was just another fool, stunned by her beauty. It was rare to find a dormouse with her sense of adventure and, at her worst, slight amount of bloodlust. The only exceptions were the guards she herself trained for the White Queen, and they saw her as their teacher, not a potential mate.
The other rodent seemed to be unfazed by the information. In fact, he smiled wider.
"Yes, I know. We've met. He seemed quite pleasant, for a feline. If he wasn't looking to put my flesh and blood in his belly, I might have come to like him. I escaped by biting his knuckle."
Mally smirked. If she ever did see Chess again, she'd give him a good teasing about this. To her knowledge, she was the only dormouse to have escaped the cat. The rest he'd let go or eaten. (Mostly eaten.)
"I like you," she said in a more friendly tone of voice. "Where are you from?"
"I'm from around here, actually. I live in a hole about seventeen yards along the bank of the burbling brook. You know the spot?"
"I know where the brook is, if that's what you mean. I go there often."
"Perhaps I'll see you sometime, then," said Russehc. "Fairfarren, Ms. Mallymkun."
Russehc tipped his hat again with a nod of his head and a flashing smile and turned away.
"Wait!"
Russehc looked surprised anew by Mallymkun's call. Mallymkun was surprised herself.
Whatever did I do that for?
"Yes?"
"Um…uh…" faltered Mally, and then, flatly said. "I like your hat."
"Why, thank you!" smiled the other dormouse, looking very proud. "I bought from a member of the Hightopp Clan itself, just before the Horunvendush Day. I treasure it dearly. Sussen, I think was her name…"
"You knew Sussen Hightopp?"
"Well…as a customer. I never knew any Hightopp personally, but I did find their skills quite lovely."
"Have…did you ever know…Tarrant Hightopp?"
"No, can't say I did," said Russehc, after thinking for a moment. "Isn't he the one who defeated the Knave of Hearts on the Frabjous Day?"
"Yes! He and I are dear friends."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that at least one Hightopp did survive! I was certain the report of one defeating Illosovic Stayne the Knave was just a myth…perhaps I'll ask him if I can buy a hat, sometime! Well, goodbye!"
The gray mouse turned again.
"Wait!"
"Yes, madam?"
"Er…would you…like some lunch?"
The dormouse stopped cold. He gazed at Mallymkun intently.
"I'd be honored to share lunch with you," he said in a smooth and humble voice.
Mally smiled.
"Follow me. I think I can introduce you to Mr. Tarrant Hightopp, if you'd care to take tea with us."
The dormouse's eyes twinkled.
"As I said, I'd be honored. Lead the way, madam."
Mally smiled and lead the way. Her smile faded as she turned her back to the male.
Why did I invite him to tea? she thought, baffled by her uncharacteristically instant liking to the newcomer. She'd never been so trusting so fast unless she was introduced to someone by a friend. (And even then, she didn't like them all that quickly, if at all.) Still, she scampered off, waving a paw to indicate to the other dormouse that he should follow her.
As she never turned around, she never saw Russehc's grin widen as he followed her.
Instead of the shovel or axe blade shaped teeth of most other rodents, he instead had in his mouth two rows of long, sharp fangs.
All according to plan, he thought.