It turned out the White Queen was responsible for continuously sending for Alice to return to Underland. She'd come, she'd go, she'd forget, she'd leave, and the love the land had for her let everyone forget about the family she continued to abandon. The People let her leave. I wished she would never return each time she left but it just kept happening. It was a stuttering cycle that dictated my life and I wouldn't have it any more.

So I killed the queen. Walked into her garden and poisoned that bitch with a crazy little weed I planted in her precious garden. I'm a resourceful little nut when I want to be. Of course, killing the Queen of Underland comes at a pretty heavy price. I'm on the run. There's no ending to that statement I am now forever on the run until I'm ruler of this hole, but at least I'm free of my twisted mother and sick father. He wouldn't have understood what I did.

"Coffee! Come on, let's move out!" Tweedle called and I put the ring away and began my decent. Tweedle was brother to none other than Dee and Dum, his older brothers. His whole family were essentially bald giants, but we're pretty sure there was some mix up about him at birth – he's kind of scaly with a weird green tint about him that makes me think his real family is a sort of parasite. None the less, he's a nice enough guy – maybe a little touchy when it comes to his origins and skin tone – and he learned to live life in a world much larger than he was, so he's pretty nifty too.

I dropped to the forest floor at last and ruffled his hair as I passed him, to distract him while I stole the apple from his hand. I'm the thief among us. My father's passion was tea and sugary sweets to go with it – have you ever heard of a ten year old girl stealing fruit and veg? Anything I wanted I had to steal and hide. I love him, but he is crazy.

Tweedle caught up to me, batted the back of my hand as I took it away from my face, and caught the apple mid-air. He bit down on it with a smirk and I let him have it.

"Where to now?" I asked, having been following Tweedle since narrowly escaping a Gozwingolop. Ugly things. They smell like rot and live off rot, and don't ask me how I ended up near one. The important thing is I escaped and met someone who was going to keep moving – keeping me off the radar until I found somewhere safe to hide. He didn't know what I'd done. He didn't know my real name. My portrait was everywhere but I didn't look like the girl in it. I looked healthier – less tea and cake – and I'd cut my hair, including giving myself a wonky fringe. I wore men's clothes and let people believe I was a man when they were too stupid to see I wasn't – or I was too clever to show it.

Tweedle didn't talk about my masculine attire, and in turn I didn't bring up his skin.

We'd fallen into many unwritten rules in our time together. He sang at night to the camp fire and I fell asleep listening. I packed the bags and cleaned his cooking in the morning. He led the way and I didn't drift off without him anywhere; he found it unnerving. We never washed together, and we took turns sewing all the wear and tear of our clothes together.

Then there was the game.

As we walked we called out words. Any words. We ran out of things to discuss quickly and it sort of just happened. Even in company you can feel lonely travelling, so talking gibberish helped.

The shrubs were getting thick in the forest – I pulled out my axe and he had his hatched in hand, hacking at the plant life. When he stopped, I stopped.

"I think it's thinning out." He announced and pushed on. I started grumbling to myself. Hard work made me cranky, and he'd stopped playing the game when my random words devolved into insults. On we hacked and just before I raised the axe at his neck, he broke through the shrub-wall.

It was the castle of the Red Queen. It was obvious; the diamonds, clubs, spades and heart in the structure gave it away immediately. Covered in wildlife and powerfully silent, the White Queen had allegedly destroyed the castle. Knowing the Queen, it must have been a gradual destruction she was doing, using magic to direct the trees and vines to the architecture of her sister's house. Sure, it was an effective way of making sure the place was unreachable, but it was slow. I must have cut her magic trick short with her death, allowing Tweedle and me to break through the magical wall of shrubs.

I stepped forward but Tweedle moved his arm out, his palm open towards me signalling not to move. He listened and I turned to survey what lay behind us. I had enough time to let my eyes widen before my back was on his back and we were kicked like dominos over a cliff.