Chapter 3: Chapter 3
"Twinkle, twinkle, little dream
How I wonder what you seam
Up above the world you soar
Like the raven, nevar more
Twinkle, twinkle, little dream
How I wonder what you seam..."
She walked carefully along the the path, minding the large roots that jutted up along the leaf covered ground. She didn't know where the path led but she continued to sing the lullaby, her broken voice wavering over the higher notes. Her dark eyes searched the trees above, searching for the telltale sign of the raven who was showing her the way.
"Twinkle, twinkle..." She paused in mid-step, her eyes sweeping the branches and leaves of the forest that surrounded her. Her voice trailed off as she felt the first crippling of fear make its way up along her spine. She had lost the ebony bird along the path somewhere. Where could it have gone?
"Little dream... Nevar more..." She closed her eyes against the sight of the darkening shadows that were growing around the trees. Her heart began to race and the fear began to wrap itself around her heart in little tight coils. "No shadows... please..."
She felt a mist of cold air brush along the back of her neck and she squeezed her eyes, her gloved hands reaching out to brush the trunk of the nearest tree. "How, now... Where are you Raven? Keep the shadows away..."
"Oh, you'll find no shadows here my dear."
Helen opened her eyes and looked around, trying to catch the sight of the owner of the voice that spoke. She saw no one around the path or behind the trees. She looked up into the branches, searching until she noticed a pair of luminous, green cat eyes floating above a wide, sharp toothed grin. There was no body attached to the eyes and smile. Yet they remained floating there above the branch of the tree she leaned against.
The grin began to rotate above the eyes before the eyes followed suit, watching the young woman with interest. "Are you lost?" His voice, for it indeed sounded like a male, was deep and it bore a seductive tone to it as the eyes and the grin floated down around her, a swirl of silvery smoke appearing and revealing the face of cat, its fur a silvery gray with a streaking of aquamarine blue. His grin reached from ear to ear, the rest of his body appearing from silver smoke while his tail curled around to brush against the marred flesh of her cheek.
Helen's eyes searched the cat, as if trying to find any signs of the shadows she feared. When she found nothing, her dark eyes glanced up the pathway as she shook her head. "Lost? No... Helen... I'm Helen..." She frowned lightly as she looked at the cat. "Are you looking for Lost? I saw No One on the path... They might know where Lost has gone..."
The cat's smile grew at that, his tail twitching with delight as he floated around Helen. "Ah, I'll be sure to find them then..." He turned over and stretched, his sharp nails a little too close to her cheek. She did not flinch. "Are you looking for something? You seem to be searching in earnest."
Helen's breath caught as the cat's nails lightly pricked her marred cheek, a tiny sting issuing from the feel of the claws. "The Raven knows my reflection... It writes of a dream weaver and dances on the top of the mountains with the stars..."
The cat paused at this and turned right-side-up, his bright green eyes studying the woman Helen with keen curiosity. "The Raven? I have not seen a Raven come through here." He turned his gaze down to the woman's feet, where the lack of her shadow was quite prominent in even this dark wood. "Your reflection has not either." He looked at her, his grin growing wider. "I can take you to the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, they might know about your Raven. Do you know the way?"
"March Hare? Mad Hatter?" Helen studied the cat, her dark eyes flicking between his own. "Why? The Raven is a like a writing desk... How is the question, not why..."
The cat chuckled at this as he floated away, the tip of his bushy tail brushing against her tangled mane of dark curls. "You'll might what to explain that to Tarrant, he has been pondering the answer to that for quite some time. Come on then, I'll show you the way."
"Thank you Chessur." Helen's voice was distant, her cracked tone wavering over the cat's name.
The cat paused at this and looked back at her, his curiosity peaking. "Have we met before?"
"The shadows are dancing... Nevar more," Helen replied in turn, pushing off the tree as she shook her head. "Watch the shadows... they are there..."
"Hm..." The cat's grin turned thoughtful as the woman brushed passed him, the sight of the burned flesh on her olive toned arms striking a cord with him. He said nothing more as he faded from sight and reappeared on the path ahead of her. "You said you are Helen?"
"I'm mad..." she said in a whisper, her gloved hands held out in front of her, feeling for the air. "Mad... That's what they say... Mad Helen..."
"Mad Helen?" The cat laughed appreciatively, floating along side her as he studied her. "Well, you couldn't have wandered into a better place. We're all mad here."
"Witzend... at the end of Witzend," she said, ignoring the cat as she walked up the path. "How, now..."
The cat laughed at this, all ready feeling a liking to the strange woman who had wandered into Tulgey Wood.
.oOo.
The wood thinned as the path led the woman and the cat to a clearing. The sky appeared to be on the edge of dusk though Helen was quite sure the sun had been shining when she had left the Mirrored Asylum. How long had she been walking through the forest? Had the hours turned backward or forward? She was not sure and she didn't think much of it as Chessur led her down the path. Ther clearing ahead bore a simple home with a windmill atop of it, the blades turning lazily in the passing wind. It looked as if it had been rebuilt, there was fresh paint and new wood that stood out against the old.
In front of the wind mill home, a long table was set. Perhaps maybe it might have been a series of tables, covered by one big table cloth. It was hard to tell from this vantage point. On top of the cloth, various sizes and colors of tea pots, cups, spoons, sugar dishes, and just about everything needed for a large tea party, rested. Some looked new, some looked dirty, some bore tea and some were empty. There were three figures seated at this table. One was a hare, a very frazzled hare that was staring at a spoon as if he had never seen such a one like it. A dormouse dressed in breeches, the color of the breeches appearing to be a faded pink. Was the dormouse a lady? A lady mouse in breeches, how quaint...
As Helen neared the long table (or tables as it were), the cat floating behind her with an expectant grin on his face, her dark eyes fell on the first human she had seen since she had started her adventure through the mirror. A man sat at the head of the table, a large tattered top hat sitting on top of a mop of shockingly orange hair that stuck out at odd angles. Bushy, orange eye brows rested above a pair of lime green eyes, one pupil appearing larger than the other. His chalky, pale skin was smooth and completely free of any scars or blemishes. His clothes were an odd assortment of styles that seemed to come from every era of English fashion imaginable, combining into an outfit that spoke of madness. There was a sizzling energy that seemed to spark from his very being. Helen felt an instant and maddening awe at the sight of this Hatter and she sighed, feeling as much as ease as she had when she first followed raven. "How, now..."
At the sound of her voice, the tea party came to a sudden halt. The sound of music, old time music that might have been from the 1920's, scratched to a sudden silence. Helen had not noticed the music and she looked around, wondering where it might have come from. She spotted an old time record player some distance from the table. Had it been charmed to stop playing? Was it alive? Helen wondered these things and couldn't keep the smile from appearing at these thoughts.
The Mad Hatter's eyes narrowed as he studied the newcomer, the sight of Chessur floating beside her a most unusual one, even in this place. "And what, pray tell, has the cat dragged in this time?" His voice was soft, a gentle hint of a lisp could be heard though it did not detract from the magnetic and maddening gaze of his eyes. His teeth were yellowed, a slight gap between his two front teeth revealing the cause of his lisp.
Chessur laughed, flipping around as he decided to curl his bushy tail around the woman's neck. The tip brushed against the puckered flesh of her right cheek, brushing away the dark tangles to reveal that the marred flesh reached all the away up the right side of her face. The corner of her right eye was pulled slightly, the marred flesh stopping just short of her scalp. "I've done no such dragging. As you can plainly see, she is standing of her own accord."
"A cord... a string..." Helen said, pulling on the hem of her white robe, now covered in dirt with bits of leaves clinging to the fabric. Her stained white gloves clung to the hem lightly, her dark eyes searching her slippered feet. "'Weave a dream,' the Raven cries, 'Weave a dream, the seams do need a cord, a string..." She paused at this and stared at the March Hare. "Have you tea for my aching feet? It's been such a long walk and I must heat them."
"Tea?" The Hare looked up at the woman and, without warning, flung an empty tea cup straight at her head. The Cheshire Cat faded from view at the sight of the cup, leaving dear Helen to fend for herself.
Helen smiled and ducked, the tea cup flying over her head and disappearing into the brush behind her. She straightened and sighed, looking suddenly happier. "Thank you, my feet feel so much better..." She blinked and stared at the Hatter. "Have you any sugar? Must scrub my hands you know, can never do to come to a party and not scrub one's own hands."
The Dormouse stared at the woman, her tail twitching lightly as she studied her. "She's raving mad, she is."
Chessur laughed, a delicious sound that escaped past a wide, grin that floated beside Helen's head. "She is a Mad Helen... searching for a Raven..." His chuckle was dark as he reappeared, his tail once more curling around her neck. "She is mad for her Raven..." Chessur toyed with the woman's tangled hair, a claw curling round and round a single lock. His large, green eyes turned to the Mad Hatter and his grin grew wider. "Have you seen one come through here Tarrant? Any sign at all?"
"I saw a spoon," said the March Hare, his ear twitching as he poured himself some tea. "A spoon that ran away to find a desk."
The Mad Hatter stared at the strange woman, taking in the sight of her white robe, her white pajama pants and shirt. He took in the sight of the gloves stained with black ink that covered the burned flesh of her arms. She was swaying from side to side, humming a lullaby that sounded similar to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat.
He stood up from his chair and climbed on top of the table. He walked the length of the series of tables, stepping on dishes and cups, kicking aside tea trays and pots, much to the outrage of the Hare and the Mouse. He ignored them and continued to walk, the hems of his pants much too high and revealing mismatched socks, one blue and one red. His shoes landed on two tea cups, breaking them to several pieces. He didn't appear to notice or care as he stepped down on the chair that rested at the end of the long series of tables and continued to walk until he stood in front of the woman.
She paused in her humming, having noticed the Hatter staring at her with intense green eyes. He was taller that her, made even more so with the hat, but she didn't say anything in response to him. They stared at one another for a moment and then the Hatter leaned forward, his bushy, orange eye brows coming together. "Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
Helen blinked, silent for a moment before she smiled and sighed. "Dark quills," she said, her smile fading slightly. "Nevar more..."
The frown on the Hatter's face eased somewhat, caught slightly off guard by the answer.
"She's nearly as mad as Thackery," said the Dormouse, her eyes turning to look at the March Hare, who was staring into his cup with a glazed look in his eyes.
The Hatter said nothing, his gaze moving from Helen to the cat, who was still floating beside her with a large grin on his face. His electric eyes turned back to the woman and he smiled, a maddening smile that would have scared a normal person straight from the clearing. "Have a chair."
"There's no room," said the Dormouse as she stared daggers at the strange woman.
"No room," said Helen in agreement and gave a single nod. "Dirty cups and no time to wash."
"We're late for tea!" The Hare cried, his ragged long ears perking up as he hopped up and moved to a new place at the table. "Move down! Move down! Move down!"
Places were moved and the Hatter took Helen by the hand, pulling her over to an empty chair that bore a clean cup. "Sit and have some tea." He offered her the chair and she sat down without complaint, a dreamy smile on her lips. She was happy, there were no shadows here...
"Does she know Alice?" The Hare asked, pouring himself some tea, not noticing that the cup had a gaping hole on the bottom of it and was now spilling across the table.
Helen blinked and straightened her shoulders, her gloved hands reaching out to brush the stained table cloth. "Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves and the mome raths outgrabe..." She sang this in a broken voice. The tune would have been a dancing melody, rather cheerful, if she did not sound so haunted and her eyes were not wide and distant. The tune was strange and yet terribly familiar, though the Hatter could not place where he had heard the tune from. She closed her eyes and shook her head, "Nevar more... Little Dream... Up above and down below, never sideways but to and fro."
Chessur appeared beside Helen, his grin ever present and growing by the moment. "I like this one, Tarrant. She reminds me of someone I had known... Or will know..." He trailed off and yawned, floating down to sit in the empty chair next to her. "She knows No One you know, passed them on the path in Tulgey Wood. It seems someone had taken her reflection."
The Hatter said nothing, he was studying the woman with interest and a thoughtful look had appeared on his pale face. There was something going on here with this Mad Helen, something that seemed to be of great importance. He noticed that when she held out her gloved hand to grab a cup of tea, the light that lingered from the frozen, setting sun had shown down over her arm. There was no shadow cast upon the table...
"How, now... No shadows please..." Helen looked at the Hatter and a sad look swept across her features, the first sign of clarity appearing in her dark eyes since she had arrived. "He stole my reflection..."
"He?" The Hatter repeated but the look was gone as quickly as it had come, the dreamy smile sliding across her lips as she lightly sipped her tea.
