A/N: I'm sorry to break my schedule, y'all, but I'm going to be taking a very short hiatus. Hopefully, I'll only be skipping one or two weeks. I'm just feeling a little burnt out working on this fic for so long, and while I've been working on it I've simultaneously developed only about a zillion other ideas. I'm just going to work on a couple one-shots or two-or-three-bits, reinspire myself, charge my batteries, and then get started on this one fresh. ^_^ So, if you haven't already, PLEASE ADD THIS FIC TO YOUR STORY ALERTS! So many of you have, I can't TELL you how thrilled that makes me! ^_^ I love you all SO MUCH! I'd hate for any of you to miss what's coming up, I've got answers for all your questions just sitting inside of my head.... bwa ha ha...
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The morning arrived sooner than Hatter felt possible. Upon waking, he frowned at the unfamiliar sensation of cold air on his leg, which had slipped out some time overnight to hang off the side of the bed. He grimaced and curled his legs back up beneath him, lest it be exposed to the elements now drifting in from his open floor hatch.
Hatter jolted instantly awake with a sudden flood of realization, looking now at the hatch with a renewed sense of alarm buzzing all the way to his fingertips. He had closed that hatch before going to bed last night, he knew it. And here was Alice, sleeping right here next to him. Who else would have—
Charlie poked his head up through the gap, at first facing the wrong way but turning around to find Hatter, awake. Charlie's face lit up.
"Splendid!" he said with a grin. "It's about time, I was just about to come and alert you two. I do not like to repeat myself, but you two are quite the laziest of advent—"
"Charlie," Hatter mumbled, rubbing a hand over his two-days-unshaven face and wincing. Alice stirred at his side, and Hatter sent her a quick mental apology for waking her up… but honestly, if he had to be awoken by Charlie at some godforsaken hour, than she should share in his pain. "What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock in the morning!" Charlie told him cheerfully. "Rise and shine, my good man! We have work to do! Tally ho and whatnot!" He chuckled and his head disappeared back down the hatch like an overexcited prairie dog.
"You'd think it was Christmas," Alice mumbled blurrily into the crook of her elbow, flung across her face as if to shield her from the day. Hatter groaned in agreement and flopped back into his pillow.
"Huzzah!" he could hear Charlie yell gleefully in the distance. "Rations!"
...
Alice felt almost sad to leave the teashop, it had become so familiar in the days they'd been there – but once she felt the sun on her face, got an eyeful of the blue sky above, and could feel the cool air prickling the hairs on her now sling-less arm, she couldn't help but grin and tighten her arms around Hatter's waist.
"Happy to be out?" he asked with a wry smile.
"You have no idea." Alice rested her chin on his shoulder as they rode out of the city, trying to ignore the dark green line of trees in the distance that marked the beginning of the Wood. Instead, she looked out at the tall grasses bordering the Lake, the bunches of flowers dotting the landscape with riots of violently clashing colors. She actually did a double-take upon noticing a weeping willow that actually had water dripping off its leaves, even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
As they approached the Wood, Charlie looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes with a gloved hand. His moustache twisted in thought and he readjusted their course so that they broke through the perfect line of trees on a diagonal… completely ignoring the well-beaten path that began two feet away.
"Er, Charlie?" Alice asked nervously. "We're not taking that path?"
"Believe you me, Lady Alice," he told her, tapping his nose knowledgeably. "The path is not always the safest way through danger. For goodness' sakes, I've lived my whole life off the beaten path!"
He chortled and spurred on Guinevere, completely missing Hatter's look of mild panic. Alice patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.
They rode deeper into the Wood, sometimes enjoying being bathed by dappled sunlight and accompanied by the chirping of birds Alice could hear but not see, no matter how intensely she searched the treetops. At other times they would suddenly and without warning enter parts of the Wood so dark that they had to tie their horses together with a rope so they wouldn't get separated. And through most of it, she and Hatter talked about everything and nothing at all just to pass the time, the drone of Charlie's "Heeeeeey, nonny nonny…" providing a familiar counterpoint to their conversations.
"We're not getting a puppy."
"Oh, come on!" Hatter said in a voice that was very near to a whine. "Just a mutt? We could adopt one, like from one of the shelters you told me about in your world."
"We're not getting a puppy."
"I would take care of it, even. You know I would."
"We have enough big, brown eyes in our apartment, thank you very much. We are not getting a puppy."
"We could name it Spade!"
"Hatter, we are not getting a puppy!" But by now she was holding back a laugh even as she said it. Hatter twisted around to look at her and grinned. She rolled her eyes, still smiling against her will. "No!" she affirmed.
They rode for awhile in silence. Alice pursed her lips.
"…Now a cat, maybe."
Hatter groaned. "I should have guessed you'd be a cat person."
"What's wrong with cats? They're independent, they don't need to go outside constantly, they're warm and cuddly—"
"Are you serious?" He asked, twisting around again to look at her disbelievingly. "Cats are not cuddly, they'll hiss and bite you as soon as look at you."
"That's not true!"
"It is true, cats are mean," he said, with a note of finality. They rode on for a bit longer, thinking.
"Now, a hedgehog, on the other hand…"
Alice's exclamation of surprise was cut short when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark, familiar-looking stone blob. She remembered that blob – when they'd trotted by earlier, she wondered out loud where a humongous rock like that could have come from when there were no mountains or cliffs nearby. Hatter had shrugged and told her it was "a Wonderland thing," which she was beginning to suspect was his response to anything he didn't know the answer to. Her good mood fizzled away, replaced by a dull, sinking feeling of uncertainty that she had become frustratingly accustomed to. "Charlie," she called ahead. "That's the same humongous boulder we passed this morning."
"Eh?" he called, his armor clanking as he twisted around in his saddle to get a good look at her. He followed the direction of her pointed finger, aimed at the boulder in question. "Oh," he said, sounding flustered. "Well, erm… look at that."
"Fantastic," Hatter muttered under his breath, reaching up to absently readjust his hat. "We've been riding around in one gigantic circle for the past three hours. Charlie—"
"Well, we must be at least near the center of the Wood, so we must be close. Or close-ish. No matter," Charlie interrupted loudly, spurring Guinevere forward. "We will not be deterred, comrades! I will simply ask for more specific directions."
"Who are we going to ask?" Alice was looking at him warily, wondering if perhaps he had finally cracked this time. They hadn't seen a single living soul all morning. Charlie continued trotting ahead, blissfully ignoring her and singing "Hey Nonny Nonny" as though they had never stopped. "Hatter?" Alice asked, looking at him curiously. He looked unexpectedly pensive – Alice had expected annoyed, resigned, exasperated, even perhaps mutinous -- but not this tense fear clearly written all over his face.
"I think I know where he's taking us," he said, twisting back around to look Alice straight in the eye. He even pointed for good measure. "Don't say a word, and don't touch a thing," he cautioned quickly, turning back around to give Pat another whap of the reins.
Alice could feel her muscles tensing up in alarm, feeding off the fight-or-flight vibes coming off of him in waves. "Hatter?"
"I think he's going to the Flower Garden," he said ominously.
Charlie turned around upon hearing this and saluted. "Quite right, Harbinger."
"Charlie, why go there?" Hatter asked. "You know how they treat outsiders—"
"Well, then," Charlie interrupted grandly. "I suppose you should consider our little band fortunate that I am not a outsider." He sniffed and curled his beard briefly around his finger with a little smile. "Well… not as such, anyway."
Hatter lifted his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You've dealt with them before?"
"At camp, you asked if I knew any shortcuts." Charlie gestured with his hand. "This is it. I had hoped not to need it, of course, but there you go. I have promised the Lady Alice that I would use all the resources at my disposal, and so I shall." He turned his back to them, swaying gently back and forth with Guinevere's stride.
Alice laid a hand on Hatter's shoulder, reclaiming his attention. "What is the Flower Garden?"
Hatter took a deep, steadying breath. "Those things are treacherous, they'll try to talk you in circles if they think you're an easy mark for it. They're experts at talking forever and saying nothing. Lures you into their trap, you see. Makes people think they're stupid and harmless. You know, it used to be they'd just call you names, insult you if you wandered in." He shook his head. "They've gotten much more aggressive since people have stopped wandering into the Wood willy-nilly. They like their privacy, see." He snuck a glance behind him to make sure Alice was still listening. She was, lips drawn in a tight line. "If they get close enough, they'll eat you whole."
She gulped. "Wait, why are we going there!"
"They're treacherous, but they ido/i know everything about the Wood," Hatter admitted. "I mean, let's face it, there are flowers everywhere, whether they can talk and eat people or no. If there was something in the Wood that wasn't supposed to be, they'd be the ones to ask."
The central parts of the Wood, it turned out, contained extravagantly large stretches of swampland. The ground made sucking, slopping, bubbling noises as they passed, humongous bubbles of swamp gas occasionally rising to the surface to pop and spray slime everywhere within radius and scaring the horses. For their part, Pat, Bill, and Guinevere picked their way through the muddy, mossy ground with obvious hesitation, periodically shaking their hooves and flanks as though trying to clean them off (with little success). They rode deeper and deeper into the forest, the sunlight dimming as they went and eventually becoming a dull, grey haze cast over the landscape. It didn't help the ambiance.
Eventually, Alice spotted bright pinpricks of color in the distance that grew steadily larger as they approached. "Is that it?" she indicated with a nod of her head. Hatter nodded and looked like he was going to caution her again, but Alice interrupted him, repeating back his "don't speak, don't touch" warnings with an uncanny impersonation of his accent that made Charlie snicker but Hatter grimace.
Nevertheless, Alice did find herself at rather a loss for words upon approaching the giant flowerbed. If she looked straight ahead of her, it looked like any other part of the forest, except perhaps a bit paler shade of green. The stalks were big enough around to pass as small trees, the heads of the flowers themselves sitting nearly ten feet tall. Each flower's petals were tightly curled in, like a bud, making it impossible for Alice to guess at their true size. She poked Hatter in the side.
"Why are they all closed up?" she whispered.
"I think they're asleep," Hatter answered, also keeping his voice low. Alice redirected her attention to Charlie's loud dismount of his horse, armor clanking as he stumbled toward the stalk of the nearest flower. It had a bright red bulb at the top where its petals were tucked in, and its leaves were black at the tip. Alice could feel her muscles tense up with Charlie's every step, unconsciously preparing to fight or flee upon the first hint of danger.
Charlie looked as though he were about to knock on one of their stalks, but reclaimed his hand just in time. He held his hands carefully behind his back and cleared his throat gently instead. "Excuse me," he said. One or two of the flower's petals began to unfurl. "Good afternoon, ladies! My name is Charles Eustace Fotheringay LeMalf—"
"Excuuuuuuuse me!" screeched a voice with an extremely prominent Southern accent. Alice's eyes snapped up, suddenly riveted on the bright yellow center of a red flower with petals the approximate length and thickness of baseball bats. The flower had a face, right there in front of her, with squinty eyes, big round cheeks and a mouth currently twisted in annoyance. "What ARE y'all doin' here? Wakin' me up, bangin' around wit'cha armor 'n all? Can'tcha see I 's a'sleepin'?"
As she spoke, other flowers began to awaken, unfurling their petals and looking around for the noisy culprit. "I say," said a sunflower with a posh Victorian-sounding lilt, gesturing at Charlie with a curled tendril. "Look how the little seedling has grown since he was last here! And so shiny."
"Probably non-recyclable," said a baby blue dandelion poof in a patch of its (presumably) brothers and sisters all nodding in agreement. "He'll be sitting here on our roots until Time forgot, not even with common courtesy to decompose. I'm telling you girls, times have changed. Why, when I was just a patch—"
They all groaned. "Oh, don't start that again," said the sunflower. "You think everything is non-recyclable. He looks completely organic to me."
"And look at his companions!" Alice turned to look at an orange sunburst with bright red lips, feeling like her head was spinning trying to follow so many voices. "Such floppy leaf work, I have never seen…"
"That front one's got all the markings of a real pansy," rumbled a gruff, New-York-accented voice from a clump of daisies, although Alice couldn't identify the individual speaker. Hatter straightened up in his seat, affronted ("Oi!"), but Charlie just coughed loudly, settling down the din of voices somewhat.
"Pardon me," he huffed, "but we didn't come here to be insulted!"
"Well, we didn't come here to be woken up by some crazy ol' coot in a tin can!" retorted the red baseball-bat flower. "'S flat rude, 's what it is! Didn't yo' mama grow you proper?"
"I'm simply seeking directions," Charlie asked calmly. Alice noted how careful he was to not engage any of the flowers in direct conversation. "There was a fire in the area, and we're trying to locate its source. Would you be so kind as to point us in its direction?"
The whole garden became eerily silent. If it hadn't been for the electricity of the tension in the air, Alice might have thought they had all gone back to sleep, they were so still.
"You're looking for that?" said the blue dandelion. "On purpose?"
"No, he's certainly not," said the Victorian sunflower. "He couldn't be. We simply won't let him!"
A rumbling of agreement swept over the garden like a wave, at first ominously quiet… but already Pat and Bill were starting to fidget and shy away, snorting anxiously and struggling against Hatter's calming noises and tight hold on the reins in their attempt to make a quick exit. Even Charlie looked frightened as he hurriedly mounted Guinevere, already backing away. The flowers' voices grew in both volume and intensity, encouraged by panic, their voices now yelling in a cacophony of unintelligible threats and screeches.
"Retreat!" Charlie moaned, and Hatter kept right on his tail as they galloped hurriedly away, white-knuckled and breathing hard. Alice would chastise herself for this moment later, but she couldn't resist turning around to get one last look at the garden of flowers… their irises now stretching open to reveal tiny, numerous, glistening teeth.
...