Author's note:

This is my first ever attempt writing AiW, so please don't hate me if this turns out quite awful.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland or anything in it. (Oh, bugger!) You wouldn't believe me if I said I did, would you?

1. The Birds of Sorrow

Will Darcy sighed slightly; maybe painting portraits wasn't worth it. He did love it, but at times like this… Pursing his lips slightly, he eyed the young mother and her child. Painting the mother wouldn't be a problem; she was a classic beauty with smooth, clear facials. No, what concerned Will was the daughter. She had vivid orange hair that seemed to go every possible direction (and possibly some others as well) at once. Her eyes were a glowing, bright green, and there was a slight gap betwixt her two front teeth. Painting her could be a problem. Nevertheless, she was, if not a beauty, at least a ´pretty.´ Little Isabel seemed to always be happy, lighting a whole room in her joy. The mother, however, was solemn, and often had a misty look in her eyes, as if in deep thought. Yes, Alice Kingsleigh was indeed a curious creature.

Isabel looked at her mother, or, more specifically, her hair. A bird of sorrow was still nesting there, the awful things. They were horrid and had scary black eyes that were cold. Eyes weren't supposed to look like that; eyes should be warm and caring, like Will's.

Or like father's.

She had never met her father, but surely he would have the good sense of having the right kind of eyes, Isabel was sure of it. Black eyes meant a black heart, heaved by too much pain and anger.

When she was taken out for walks, Isabel often found it amusing to look at peoples eyes, to see if they were black. If that was the case, she smiled at them, hoping it might send a little light into the darkness.

The bird nesting in Alice's hair gave up a shrill scream of agony and stirred affrightedly.

"Are you sad, mummy?" Isabel lisped cautiously.

Alice jumped; apparently she had been deep down her thoughts again. "No, sweetie, I'm quite fine." The bird said differently, it cried again, a strangled cry this time. It almost sounded like sobbing.

"You were thinking of dad again." This was no question, it was a statement. Isabel could be much too grown-up at times. Then again, the next minute she could be gawping in awe at a common object. It was probably normal, considering who her father was.

"Yes Isabel. I was thinking of your father." Alice did her best to fight back the tears building up behind her eyes.

"Why don't I ever get to see him?" the daughter urged.

"I've told you already. Your father lives in a faraway place, and you are too young to go there."

"You always say that." Isabel almost cried in frustration. "I'm older now, much older."

Alice looked at the soon-to-be four-year old pouting at her. Her expression forced a smile to Alice's face. "I guess you are." she sighed. "But we cannot leave at once." How she hated to have to disappoint Isabel like this. "There are a few things I shall have to first. Do you understand?"

Isabel nodded grumpily; she could see no reason not to leave at the very same moment. Like always when sulking, she went out to the garden. Perhaps the flowers would speak to her just this once. The gardens were vast, and you'd think a little girl like Isabel easily got lost on the many paths. This was not the case. Instead, she swiftly made her way to the very midst, the place where her favourite flowers bloomed.

She knew not their names, but she called them ´Moonflowers, ´ for they looked like pieces of a shattered moon.

"Good afternoon, friends." she said, trying to sound as ladylike as she could. "How are you feeling on this fine day?" When the flowers didn't answer, she muttered "Sons of curs!" under her breath, one of her mother's favourite expressions.

The moonflowers, of course, were not bother in the least, so Isabel quickly bored of talking to them. Instead, her attention was caught by a mysterious ticking noise, pulling the girl towards its source. Being a curious child, Isabel thought not of the consequences of following a strange sound. The ticking led her towards the forest. In fact, it seemed to come from a tree, close to the forest edge.

It was a massive tree, so tall it could surely touch the sky, and wider then three grown men. There was an opening about six feet up, big enough for a small adult to push trough. Isabel climbed there and stuck her head in, still trying to find the mysterious ticking noise. It was much too dark, so Isabel leaned forwards to let some more light in the tree. To do this, she had to change her footing. Then it all went bad.

The branch she stood on was slippery, and she lost her balance, falling head first into the tree.

Curiously, the fall was a great deal longer then it should be, and there were things floating around Isabel as she fell. Had she been any other girl she would have screamed, but Isabel never felt a reason to scream or cry over a little tumble, and this was no exception, no matter if the fall was much taller then usually.

A slight thud informed Isabel that she had reached the end. The new surroundings consisted of several doors in various sizes and shapes. Settling for an orange door with a piece of cloth tied around the handle. Isabel reached out a hand, gently pushed it open and stepped out into a haze of a swirling blue mist.

"I think I like it here." Isabel said thoughtfully to herself.

"How delightful." A pair of turquoise eyes appeared in the mist, accompanied by a wide grin. "Tell me, what do you call yourself?"

"Isabel. You don't happen to have any idea where I am, do you?"

"Well," said the grin, slowly expanding to a tabby cat. "I should say you are here, unless, of course, you are, in fact, there."

"And if I'm in neither?"

"Then you must be with the Hare and Hatter. You'd love it there, they're mad, both of them. Come quick, we must find you."

Quite content with this, Isabel followed the strange, flying cat. The Hare and the Hatter, that sounded nice, she decided. It sounded like a place she would like to be at. After all, she loved hats.

Isabel was not impressed at all. Sure, the Hare was raving mad, but the Hatter was a big disappointment. He was mad, but it was the wrong kind of it, a cold, angry madness. The kind of mad you only found in someone who had lost everything and more. He was even loosing colour! His hair was turning a dull parsnip colour, the original orange colour could only be vaguely hinted, and his eyes were a muddy green. All the rest was plainly different shades of grey.

"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?" Isabel didn't know why she said this, but it seemed to be the worst possible thing to say.

The Hatter's eyes flamed orange and the circles underneath his eyes turned almost black. He yelled at Isabel in some language she did not know of, but, it sounded much like swears. Isabel was hasty to hide behind the trembling Hare, clutching a spoon for protection. A saviour, a white dormouse, stormed out of a somewhat cracked teapot, swinging a hatpin as her sword.

"'Atter! Calm down!" she cried.

With a jump, Hatter stopped his rant, and his eyes faded to grey.

"So sorry…" he whispered, a pronounced lisp sneaking into his voice.

"Look what you've done, ye great lump!" the mouse scolded. "Now 'is eyes 're grey, too."

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't know." Isabel stuttered apologizing.

A golden tear escaped Hatter's eyes and snaked its way down his pale cheek. He sighed shakily. "Still missing." he whispered. "Still gone."

"Who's missing? What's gone?" Isabel placed her small hand on his.

"Alice. That's who's missing, that's what's gone."

Hatter looked so devastated in his loss. Isabel smiled at him and assured him that they would find Alice, no matter what.

Author's note:

Well, that's the first chapter. Anyone stupid enough to have read this will be rewarded with a cookie if they leave a review.