Author's Note: Well, first of all, editing is a miracle pill for stories. When I first wrote this chapter, it was seven pages long on Word. After editing, it grew to eleven pages. My characters no longer know how to shut up, and it both delights and vexes me.
This chapter ended up being about 75 percent flat-out rewritten. I wasn't very happy with this chapter the first time around, so I knew it would be vigorously edited when the time came, but I wasn't quite expecting this much rewriting. However, it made the chapter a lot better, and I actually like it now, so I suppose that much rewriting ended up being a good thing.
The rewrite of this chapter did a lot to redeem Alice in my eyes. As I mentioned several times in Book One, Alice has never really been my favorite character, and I usually find it really difficult to write from her perspective [which I think is a case of Regina making me biased]. However, this chapter did a lot to make me like Alice. Granted, I'm probably gonna hate her again in the next chapter. But for now, I quite enjoy her scene, and I'm glad I rewrote it.
Disclaimer: Yes, the reference to Tea in Alice's scene is the SyFy Alice kind of Tea. This is not the last time you will be seeing me playing with the idea of Tea.
Special Thanks: Thanks to my lovely beta Thirteen Thorns for looking this chapter over for me and assuring me that yes, a bit of passivity is fine. I feel like a lot of her job in Book Two is going to involve being my cheerleader and assuring me that yes, everyone is in character. She's brilliant at that, so thanks a million!
The study chamber of the White Queen was a room incongruous to the overall color scheme and design of the palace. With the heavily carved, dark wood of the furniture, the hundreds of books that crowded shelves that stretched from high vaulted ceiling to floor, and the dark red carpeting underfoot, the study hardly seemed like a chosen abode for the delicate, ethereal High Queen of Underland. And yet here she sat, a blur of white, gauze, pearls and diamonds floating amongst the somber darkness of her study. She leaned back in her seat, her hands hanging limply off the arms of the chair as her gaze unfocused.
Alice had contacted Mirana by Looking Glass that morning, to inform her of Tarrant and Regina's departure from the Cerulean Castle for Iplam. When Mirana asked why Alice hadn't gone with them, Alice had merely said that she had work to do.
"I have neglected my duties for far longer than I should have," she had said. "I nearly drove Witzend to ruin, I can't let that happen again."
Mirana admired Alice's determination to restore her kingdom, truly. Witzend had fallen into disarray, and as Queen it was Alice's responsibility to fix the damage she had done. After eighteen years, it was good to see Alice finally getting back to her duties.
But Mirana knew how much Tarrant and Regina had been looking forward to this Hogmanay. They had been meaning to enact the sacred Rite to restart the Song of the Hightopps, perhaps the single most momentous occasion in Tarrant's life since his wedding to Alice and the birth of his daughter. Mirana couldn't imagine how Tarrant must be feeling right now, to know that he wouldn't be restarting the Music after all- and because of His Alice's refusal to go to Iplam. Mirana sighed unhappily. She loved Alice, she did, but she wasn't blind to her former Champion's faults. Alice could be quite heedless of others' thoughts and emotions; careless, even. This was especially true when Alice's own thoughts and emotions were in a tangled muddle. Her unintended insensitivity sometimes led her to hurt those she loved best; her interlude with Tarrant on her bedroom balcony on the eve of the Frabjous Day was a good example. It was entirely possible, and in this case likely, that Alice's self-centered focus on her past failures as a Queen, a wife, and a mother was impeding the very process of re-establishing said family.
However, this was not a problem that Mirana could involve herself in. The Hightopps' dysfunctional family relations would solve themselves, with a little help from Time and a pinch of Luck. As much as Mirana ached for all three of them, they would have to sort themselves out. Even if it wasn't inappropriate for Mirana to try to mediate a private domestic matter, she had other problems on her plate at the moment.
As much as she loved the Hightopps, even their problems weren't more important than the fate of the Oraculum.
Time moved strangely in Underland; everyone knew this. However, despite the whimsical, meandering nature of Time, no one in Underland was immortal, not even Absolem. The Butterfly had been in existence for longer than Mirana could remember; from her mother's stories, Absolem had been a Caterpillar before her great-great-grandmother was on the throne. However, a fortnight ago Absolem had announced that today, on Ilduci Day, he would Fade Away.
Mirana had thought that Absolem should prefer to Fade quietly, isolated in his beloved mushroom patch. However, Absolem had been quick to correct Mirana. As High Queen, he was charging her with the protection of the Oraculum until the new Keeper had Formed. Therefore, Absolem would arrive in her study that evening, to explain the process by which a new Keeper would be Formed from his Fading. She expected him at any moment.
With a sigh that seemed to come from her very soul, Mirana reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a small hookah, preparing it for Absolem just the way he liked it. She could hardly imagine an Underland without Absolem there to guide it. He had always been the wisest and best of advisers, even if he was a little condescending. Even if they did have a new Keeper, it wouldn't be Absolem, and Mirana mourned the pending demise of her friend. However, she knew full well that no one and nothing could stop Death. He would come for all of them, eventually; Mirana only hoped that he would be gentle with their Absolem, that after so many years of turmoil and unrest, the Butterfly would finally find Peace.
At that moment, a bright spot of blue carrying a large parchment scroll flitted through the open balcony doors and flew towards her, lightly landing on the desk and setting the Oraculum before her.
"Hello, dear friend," Mirana murmured. "Are you alright?"
"Of course, silly girl," Absolem replied sedately, taking up the hookah mouthpiece.
"Absolem?" Mirana asked. "How does it work? Your Fading, I mean. I have looked in the Histories, and the only reference I can find states that as one Keeper falls, another shall rise."
For a moment, the Butterfly didn't answer; he merely blew smoke rings. When he deemed that he had enough smoke around him, he began to speak.
"Legend tells us that the first Keeper did not have a physical Oraculum," he said. "Rather, it was the Oraculum. This Oracle was neither male nor female, but at the same time, it was both. As such, it held all the knowledge of both sexes… all Knowledge was within its head. It was a wise and true Oracle, but as time went on, its powers of foresight were abused by Kings who wanted to advance their own powers. The Oracle had long resided in the palace of the High King or Queen, but as Men grew more corrupt, the Oracle withdrew to the Garden of Flowers, and only the pure of heart and those with pure intent could find it."
Silence reigned for a moment as Absolem thoughtfully pulled a few more drags from his hookah. Exhaling the smoke with a satisfied sigh, he continued his tale.
"When the Time came for the Oracle to Fade, it made the decision that never again would an Oracle hold so much Knowledge. Instead, the Oracle would split itself in two. One gender would become the Keeper, and the knowledge of the other gender would be contained within a vessel of a different kind- the Oraculum. Keeper and Oraculum would have to work together in order to serve as Oracle, in order to prevent corrupt rulers from simply taking the Oraculum for themselves. Thus it has been ever since. With every Keeper's Fading, the genders of Keeper and Oracle are reversed. The next Keeper will be female, and the Oraculum Itself will change, both in form and in imparted knowledge. Masculine knowledge will be contained within the Oraculum, and what form it will take, I do not know."
Silence fell again as Absolem let Mirana absorb this knowledge. When she indicated that she was ready, Absolem continued.
"The process itself is not unlike a phoenix's death," he said contemplatively. "I carry the seed of the next Keeper within my body, although what form she will take, I know not. When I Fade, she will remain. The Oraculum itself will disintegrate, and will not take its new form until she has emerged. No form of magic or persuasion will be able to hurry the process along."
Mirana nodded slowly. "What will we do without the Oraculum to guide us?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Underland will look to you," Absolem replied. "I will allow you one last look at the Oraculum, as far into the future as the Day the Keeper reaches maturity and creates the new Oracle."
"I understand, Absolem," Mirana replied, bowing her head. "How do I care for the Keeper?"
"The Seed must be kept warm," Absolem replied. "Once she has… hatched, for lack of a better term… she will be self-sufficient. But until then, constant warmth and light."
"Of course," Mirana said. "I will see to it myself."
"In that case, unroll the Oraculum," he said, giving her permission to open the compendium.
The scroll rolled open, one end of the Oracle unfurling itself quite a ways. Mirana bit her lower lip, slightly worried about how many Days seemed to pass between tonight and the Day when the Keeper would return to Underland. With a deep breath, Mirana leaned over the scroll, examining each Day's activities.
What she saw would have caused her to pale, if she could indeed grow any paler than she already was. Her dark eyes opened wide in alarm, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
"No. Oh, no, not again," she breathed.
"It must come to pass, Mirana," Absolem said sagely. "I have conferred with the Cheshire Cat and his protégé on this matter, and they have both confirmed what the Oraculum says. This is the only way."
"But the Oraculum is blank," Mirana argued. "They're just… gone. How can we safeguard them if we can't see them?"
"They must safeguard each other, silly girl," Absolem chided her. "Away from the distractions of Underland, they will grow and change, or they will be discarded. Once they leave the Oraculum's sight, they are no longer your concern."
"Yes, Absolem," Mirana murmured, though she still sounded distressed.
"And now, it is Time," he said, flitting down to the desk. "Fairfarren, Mirana."
"Fairfarren, dear friend," she whispered. "Thank you… for… oh, for everything."
The Butterfly drew a deep drag of the hookah smoke, and exhaled it slowly, guiding it around his body. When he was cocooned in the smoke, he emitted a tiny sigh. The smoke cleared away with the disruption of his breath, and Absolem was Gone. All that remained was a tiny, round glowing mass of… Something. Gently, Mirana picked it up, marveling at the lovely shades of blue and green that swirled within the… was it an egg? A seed?
"Hello, Keeper," she murmured. "Welcome to Underland."
Mirana started as a fizzling, crackling popping sound issued from the rolled-up Oraculum. In dismay, Mirana silently watched as the scroll began to smoke, the wrinkled, well-used parchment blackening and curling in on itself as the entire Oracle went up in flames. Within moments, the Oraculum had been consumed, not even a sprinkle of ash remaining.
"Well," she said shakily. "That's that, then."
Mirana returned her attention to the Seed, trying to block out the sudden feelings of vulnerability and exposure. Fates, she had depended upon the Oraculum so much, both during her exile under Iracebeth and during her tenure as Queen. To know that she no longer had an eye on the future, that she was flying as blind as everyone else, was frightening.
Shaking her head gently, Mirana plucked a small, soft pillow from one of the delicate chairs that sat before her desk. Laying the pillow on her desk under the light of her lamp, Mirana set the Orb on the pillow.
"I realize this is a rather crude sort of incubator," she softly addressed the Seed. "But I hope you find it acceptable until I can arrange to have a new protective encasement made for you."
"You realize you're bound to that Egg."
Mirana gasped in surprise, turning just in time to see a wisp of smoke transform into the Cheshire Cat.
"Cheshire," Mirana sighed in relief. "I didn't know you'd be coming."
"Care for that Egg will rest solely with you," the Cat continued, as if Mirana hadn't spoken. "You won't be able to leave it, not for a moment. You will have to tend to its comfort day and night, until it hatches."
Mirana frowned. "Absolem didn't mention that. He said only constant heat and light."
"And you must provide for that," Cheshire grinned. "The lamps turn off, you know. The servants don't know what the Egg is. How do you know they won't accidentally throw it away?"
"Oh dear," Mirana sighed, instantly seeing the implications of what the Cat was saying.
He was right; the Seed was small and vulnerable. The slightest breeze could be enough to send it tumbling off the pillow, to be smashed on the hard floor below. The lamp could tire and decide to turn itself off. A million things could go wrong between now and the moment the Seed hatched, and Mirana was the only thing standing between the Seed and utter disaster.
"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to protect it," Mirana said thoughtfully, before looking up at the Cat. "Where is Witzend?"
"Waiting," Cheshire replied lazily, examining his claws. "I've told her that there's nothing she can do to prevent it, but she said that won't stop her from watching it. I don't see what good it'll do."
"She loves Regina, Cheshire," Mirana replied. "It's natural that she should worry for her." A sudden thought made the Queen pause. "Chess… can you see coming Days, even if the Oraculum has vanished?"
"Of course," the Cat replied. "The Oracle is nothing more than a mouthpiece for Time. Just because said mouth is gone doesn't mean the voice behind it has vanished."
Mirana sighed in relief. "Then you can see what's coming."
"Of course not," the Cat scoffed. "We see only possibility. Every time any of you change your mind, all the world changes again. That's why I don't bother looking anymore, you people are horribly indecisive."
"Oh," Mirana sighed, her shoulders visibly slumping. "So there are no assurances for the coming Days."
"There are never assurances in anything, Mirana," the Cat replied, almost gently. "However, you may have the comfort of knowing that my meddling grandkitten is determined to make it all turn out favorably."
"I am sure she will strive as much as her mistress," Mirana replied, smiling to herself.
"Indeed," the Cat said dryly.
Witzend wasn't sure how long she had been sitting before the Crack; probably too long. She was beginning to feel lightheaded, but she was getting much better at sitting before the opening in the Veil for long periods of time, learning how to follow one thread of possibility from decision to decision instead of allowing herself to be buffeted and swept along by the currents of Choice.
The Cheshire Cat hadn't approved of Witzend sitting and watching the future unfold like this; he had warned that no good would come of it. Events were moving towards a fixed point, he had warned her; nothing she did or did not do would prevent this journey from happening. But Witzend didn't care. She couldn't transport herself to her mistress' side to be there as this all happened, but she absolutely would not let her mistress go through it alone. She would be watching. Even if there was nothing she could do for her mistress, she couldn't just sit there without even attempting to change events for the better.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting before the Crack. She was watching futures shift and change and be completely rewritten, but she didn't know if hours had passed, or minutes, or days; after all, Time did not exist behind the Veil. Therefore, Witzend wasn't sure if the events that she was watching had already happened, if they were happening now, or if they had yet to come to pass. Asking the Void to clarify what was happening now did absolutely no good, because on the other side of the Veil, everything was happening at once. Which was incredibly unhelpful when one was trying to determine where in one's human's timestream one was.
Wait… there! Witzend focused on a thread she had come to know very well [far more than she really wanted to, if she was being honest]. His thread had shifted; only moments ago she had been watching a different life unfolding for him. But now, something had changed. His path had deviated… where had the deviation come from? What had occurred to remove him from the Brae? There!
Witzend watched silently, not even blinking as she observed her mistress' Champion staring at the crumpled bandeau laying abandoned on the ground. Hastily, she looked away as she felt the entire thread beginning to fray; she had no desire to watch his mind unravel as his future re-knit itself. But she'd seen what she needed to; she knew what had happened, and where in Regina's timestream she was now.
Stiff from sitting still for so long, Witzend leapt off the stalagmite onto the ground, yawning and indulging in a long stretch as she cleared her mind of the sights beyond the Veil. Alright, so she knew what had happened to Regina. The next question- what was she going to do about it?
She could do nothing. That would be easiest; her grandsire was right, this was moving towards a fixed point, and no matter what she tried to do, nothing would prevent the confrontation that was coming. However, it wasn't completely a bad thing. If she did nothing, Tarrant and Dafydd would race after Regina, and all would be well.
She could go after Regina herself. That, however, would do no good at all. Regina would only turn right back around and attempt to rescue Tarrant and Dafydd, and they'd only end right back up at that fixed point again. But this time, Dafydd might not get there in time, and the confrontation would end very, very badly indeed.
She could go to Alice. Honestly, that was her least favorite option. Alice had a very pronounced talent for complicating the future, further entangling whatever situation she was put into. Besides, Alice's presence would bring further pain both to Regina and to Tarrant, and Witzend didn't want to be the reason they were put in pain. However, if Alice wasn't brought in to complicate matters, there could be no resolution… Well, blast the Flowers. Fine.
Making a disgruntled face, Witzend swished her tail, instantly transporting herself from the Cave of Certitude to the Blue Queen's private solar in the Cerulean Castle.
The Blue Queen sat at her massive desk, leaning over the parchment she was furiously writing on. Her feather quill [graciously gifted to her by Sir Uilleam] never ceased its scratching, and from the slight furrow of Alice's brow, she was totally immersed in whatever she was working on.
Witzend sniffed disdainfully. So whatever she was scribbling on, she considered this more important than going to Iplam? Had Alice stayed on her original course, this entire situation might have been resolved incredibly easily!
Still, she reminded herself, it did no good to dwell on it now. Alice had made her choices, and the future that might have happened now never would. It was gone, and this future was in its place. All Witzend could do was try to further it along.
"Alice?" Witzend meowed, announcing herself.
She waited for a moment, but Alice made no noise or any acknowledgement that she had heard Witzend. Rolling her eyes, Witzend shifted slightly, transmogrifying herself directly onto Alice's desk, right on top of the paper the Blue Queen had been working on. She couldn't help but grin as Alice yelped in alarm; well, it wasn't every day one could frighten a Champion of Underland.
"Good evening, your Majesty," Witzend mewed politely.
"Witzend, you gave me a fright," Alice sighed, one thin, wrinkled hand pressed over her heart.
Oops. Witzend had forgotten that Alice was Aged; she hadn't thought about the possibility of disrupting Alice's heart. The last thing she needed was for the thing to go galumphing out of control…
"Why aren't you in Iplam with Regina?" Alice asked, reaching out to scratch behind Witzend's ears.
Witzend purred, closing her eyes in enjoyment as Alice completely distracted her from her mission. Ohhhh, this felt wonderful; she needed to spend more time with Regina, it had been ages since anyone hit that spot behind her left ear.
"Well, I can't very well be with Regina right now," she purred. "She's not in Iplam anymore."
Witzend pouted as the gentle scratching behind her ears abruptly ceased. She had been enjoying that… Grumbling to herself, Witzend began licking her paw. Well, if she wasn't going to be petted, she might as well clean herself. Absolem only knew how long she'd been busy in front of the Veil, she could probably use a good cleaning.
"What do you mean?" Alice frowned. "Are they returning home already?"
"No, Alice," Witzend said, in between licks of her right foreleg. "Neither of them will be returning for quite some time."
"What?" Alice breathed, paling.
Witzend glanced up at her mistress' mother. "Regina has been taken into the Outlands. Kidnapped."
Alice stared at Witzend for a long moment, clearly stunned into silence. Then a Look came into her eyes; a dark, ugly look that did not bode well for the kidnappers. Or for anyone else, for that matter.
"My daughter has been taken," she said, a dangerous edge in her voice.
"Yes, Majesty," Witzend nodded. "Tarrant and Dafydd are mounting a party to go into the Outlands after her as we speak."
Alice pushed back from her desk hard, nearly tipping her chair over as she shot up. She began pacing through her office, pushing her hands through her carefully arranged coiffure. Witzend remained perched on the desk, well out of range of Alice and her flying hairpins. She watched as Alice paced, muttering to herself, her eyes darting back and forth as her fingers continued to burrow into her hair. Witzend was reminded of the days Above, when Regina was still Jane and would read stories to her. Pacing as she was, Witzend could almost imagine that Alice was Lady Macbeth, being driven insane by her guilt.
That thought gave Witzend pause. Now there was one thing she hadn't considered in her plans. It had been a given, in all the possible futures, that Tarrant would go quite, quite Mad when he discovered that his daughter had been taken from him. It had even been a good possibility that Dafydd might have a breakdown of his own- a good possibility that was rapidly becoming more and more certain. But Witzend hadn't stopped to consider that Alice might relapse into Madness. A clear, focused, Champion Alice would be a lovely addition to the rescue party, but what kind of trouble might a Mad Alice cause? Would she only hinder Regina's rescue?
Well, it was too late now, Witzend supposed as Alice rushed out of her office, slamming the door behind her. She'd made her choice, and set Alice on the path that would lead her into the Outlands. What happened from here was out of Witzend's control. All she could do now was let them all go and wish them all the best of luck.
Alice stormed through the halls of her castle, blind and deaf to anything and anyone she passed. Of what importance were the servants, or the chattering courtiers? They could all go hang themselves, as far as Alice was concerned; at this point they were nothing more than impediments between Alice and her daughter. If they continued to prove themselves obstacles, Alice would simply cut them down.
She passed by the hallway that would lead her to the chamber she shared with Tarrant, instead walking down the other path in the fork. There were no doorways along this hallway, except for the one at the very end. These doors, Alice yanked open, throwing them back and smiling grimly at the loud bang that resounded through the room and the quiet hallway behind her. Without missing a beat, Alice strode to the center of the chamber, her hands already twisting behind her to remove her heavy, embroidered dress. After all, she could hardly wear the dress beneath her armor.
That she was going after her daughter was obvious; she didn't even need to think about it. The first time Regina had been taken from her, Alice had immediately gone in search of her child, and she hadn't quit the chase until Mirana announced that Regina was quite definitely out of their reach. This time, even if Mirana declared a rescue impossible, Alice would not stop. She had lost her daughter once; she would not surrender her again. Underland knew she had failed her daughter in every other way; she would not fail in this.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her hands up to rub her temples as if she could shut out the Truth. She was well aware of all the ways she had failed Regina; her failure to come to Iplam was only the latest in a long line of disappointments. Perhaps it was due to Alice's Victorian upbringing in the Above, which stunted her ability to be as emotionally open as Tarrant. Perhaps it was Regina's anger and resentment at having been abandoned in the Above. Whatever the cause, Alice had failed Regina unforgivably, and Regina had certainly not forgiven Alice for it.
Well, not this time, Alice vowed. Alice had lost Regina once, and lost the chance to raise her baby. She would not lose the chance to become acquainted with the young woman her baby had become. Alice was sure that Regina would prefer to be rescued by her father, but she would just have to accept the fact that Alice would be there, as well.
Alice paused for a moment, checking to be sure all of her armor was on correctly. As she checked herself and strapped on her sword, she began formulating a plan. She couldn't afford to just run off helter-skelter, trusting to Underland to handle the details. She had done that many times before- as a child, as a Champion, as a mother. The last time Alice had trusted to Underland to protect those she loved, Regina had been stolen and taken Aboveground. No, this time she would not run blindly into danger. This time, her eyes were opened, and this time, she would plan.
She needed to pack a bag with supplies for a few days. Then she needed to round up Lewis and travel to Iplam as quickly as possible. She might possibly have to kill all twelve of Regina's Deuces and her Champion; obviously Dafydd hadn't done a good job of training her personal guard if they'd all failed to keep her safe. Then she needed to get into the Outlands, find Regina, and bring her home safely. Simple enough; nothing a former Champion of Underland couldn't handle.
At that thought, Alice paused, considering herself in the floor-length mirror. The face staring back at her was not the face of the young Champion she had once been; this face was wan and matured, with hair streaked grey and wrinkles in unattractive places. Underland had already declared quite unmistakably that Alice was no longer Her Champion; would She be terribly angry if Alice rushed off to act as a Champion again?
Alice frowned. She didn't care what Underland had to say. This was her daughter at risk; she was going after her child, end of story. And if Underland decided to punish her again, then so be it.
Filled with this resolve, Alice walked out of her armory. She returned to her bedchamber, staying only long enough to fill herself a knapsack with travel essentials. That done, she raced outside to the stables, freeing the Bandersnatch from his stall. The moment she had settled herself on his back, Lewis took off with an excited howl, needing only the lightest guidance from Alice before taking off for Iplam.
She lost track of time as she rode on Lewis' back. She tried to focus on his rocking gait, the power of his running, but as time went on she began to feel stifled by the weight of her armor, the rhythm of Lewis' pounding paws. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, but the darkness behind her eyelids gave her no respite; in fact it only made the stifling sensation worse.
Hot on the heels of the Stifling was the Anger; a helpless infuriation she was well acquainted with. She had spent eighteen years of her life under the sway of this Anger, furious with herself and with Tarrant, and with Underland Itself. Mirana had been dosing Alice with medicinal Teas weekly; teas specifically formulated to regulate the emotions. Under Mirana's carefully formulated program, Alice had begun to regain control over her emotions; she had begun remembering what emotions other than Anger and Guilt felt like. However, when confronted with a full, hot Anger like this… It was overwhelming, and so very easy to get lost in. And really, she saw no reason not to be Angry. Surely this was a situation where Anger was called for?
Alice thought she might have heard a bird whistle, and a guard announcing her approach to the others on the Hill. She paid the Fearail no mind; clearly, they had been utterly worthless and thus weren't worth her notice.
Similarly, she had no spare attention to notice the current condition of Hightopp Hill. The field beneath the Tor was in much better condition than it had been when Alice was a lass, thanks to the work she had ordered done by her army of Clubs. The burnt buildings had all been torn down, and the plants had begun to come back. The High House had been rebuilt, an amalgamation of Tarrant's memories of his childhood home and his ideas for improvement. The Maypole had been re-erected. It had been a lovely village once; had Alice come to Iplam with the intention to help Tarrant and Regina restart the Song, it would have been a promising beginning for their clan.
But Alice was blind to all its charms. Glaring and snarling like the beast she rode, she slipped off Lewis' back, ignoring the beast as he collapsed in a heap, panting contentedly. Once she hit the ground, Alice planted her hands on her hips while her foot tapped against the ground.
"Where is he?" she snapped, glaring at the young men who gawked at her.
Seeing her foul mood, the Fearail kept at a distance, shooing each other uneasy looks and not answering her question. In some ways, Alice Clava was just as dangerous as Tarrant Hightopp, and none of them felt like risking their heads by crossing her temper.
When no colorful Mad man came out to greet her, either happily rambling like a fool or else hard and cold and fully Outlandish, Alice lost her patience.
"TARRANT HIGHTOPP!"