Alice and Witch

Witch paced impatiently through her garden. The night blooming jasmine hid their pristine white petals 'neath their leaves, quivering a bit whenever she passed. The Century Plant, living up to his age in apparent years, unfurled his reeking black petals, giving the whole poisonous garden a foul stench. The oleanders puckered their petals, and entire mistletoe dug their way underground.

"For pity's sake, old man, close off! You'll wilt the whole garden!" Witch cried, stopping in her tracks and slapping both hands over her face to ward off the smell.

"In a moment, I'm sure I will," the Century Plant responded slowly, his deep voice cracking with age. At once flies from all about the garden made a bee-line to him as his rancid breath spread ever wider. "But first, dear lady, answer me this. Why in the name of the Four Suits are you tromping through our sanctuary like a Minotaur in his maze? This garden is barely hinged as it is. Why do you risk unsettling it?"

The Witch glared at the Century plant, her coppery-pink eyes squinting from the fume of the black bloom's putrescence. But he was right. Witch was throwing a nervous fit. Muffled through her hands, Witch's voice still came out as an impatient hiss. "She should be here by now. I've sent Hatta and the White Rabbit. I even sent that damned Cat. I can't send anyone else. Especially not…not if those three already failed somehow…"

Witch stamped her foot in frustration. The white apple trees spat their thousands of apple seeds off in every direction. Witch had to dive onto the path. Unlike apple seeds from Alice's side of the mirror, these seeds had far more than just traces of cyanide. They were veritable deadly poison darts. Two seeds tore through the Century Plant's leaves, but he shook their tattered remains unconcerned. Cyanide did little to plants like him.

Panting and heaving, Witch pulled herself up off the ground, frantically searching for holes in her limbs. Immediately the foul air made her gag.

The Century Plant took the opportunity to speak. "Your choice of escorts was uncommonly wise. The White Rabbit was the only one known to traverse the mirrors of his own free will…save Alice herself. Hatta is strong, and devoted to…the cause, let us say." The Century Plant smiled a wrinkled little knowing smile, folds of black petals pressing more folds of black petals across his ancient face. The flies ecstatically danced over the lines and folds, searching for the rotting, sulfurous carrion that his smell so resembled. "And there are few who know Wonderland so well or move through it with such impunity as the Cheshire Cat. If all of them, and Alice herself, cannot manage to make it through Wonderland just to here, then our cause is already lost."

The old black flower snapped his head down to his roots, then shot it back up. The entire poison garden rustled. Witch felt a strong sense of foreboding from the Century Plant's words. The whole of the poison garden was whispering…Someone's coming…

*Please, oh please, spirits of this accursed land, tell me that's ALICE!*

Witch dropped to her knees and immediately began scribing circles with one hand even as she kept her other hand clasped tight over her nose. She could not feel the subtle rumbles in the earth that announced someone coming, as could the roots of her sensitive garden, but she had other means of portent. Impatiently, she yanked a vial from around her neck and emptied its contents. If it turned her scrawled-out symbols red, there was trouble. If it turned blue…

Witch smiled. Her symbols glowed a faint sapphire. "Alice…"

Strange that it was so faint. With Cheshire, the White Rabbit and Hatta at her side, the ground should have been blazing. But no matter. That flickering glow was more hope than she'd had in so long…

Witch positively quivered in anticipation. They must be far off. That was the only explanation for the faint glow, and she'd have to wait. She could wait, couldn't she? She skipped along the near over-grown path, the Angel's Trumpet trumpeting in surprise as she rounded a corner, hand still clamped over her face. The Century Plant was right. Her garden was on edge. But no matter now. She ducked a shot from the spines of the Brain Fever Cactus as she dashed through their plot, two of their spines sticking into the face of a very annoyed Nightshade.

Then she heard it, that scuttling. It sounded…

It sounded like her couch.

The red divan poked out from under the Oleander hedge, making its weary way to her. Clearly it had traveled far. The little table scuttled dutifully behind, Hatter's teapot resting prominently atop it. But Witch saw only Alice, her pale form draped from shoulder to black boot in a satiny-sapphire dress that Witch would have wept to have the chest to fill out. Her form was curled about Hatta's distinctive white jacket. Something was wrong with the way she lay, pain evident on her fitfully sleeping face, tears soaking one of the sleeves. My but she was pale. Witch took in the waxed cheeks, the labored breathing, the sheer exhaustion in the poor girl's every feature.

She'd been poisoned. Clearly.

The divan stopped in front of Witch, then sagged, its clawed toes spreading gratefully against the ground. Witch traced her fingers lovingly against one of the arms of the divan, and bid the table set its top aside. She tapped her shoulder for the shadow-creature to sit atop it. But she never took her eyes from the sleeping Alice. The way the poor girl's fingers worked that jacket, the tightness in her shoulders…even now moving was difficult for her.

She was given Stone's Brew. Every painful contortion of the sleeping girl proclaimed the truth of it to the knowing eyes of Witch. Painful and awful, Stone's Brew was usually used to keep something still long enough to dispatch it or flee. It was one of the many potions she'd given Hatta to help him on his journey.

Witch's stomach turned sharply. Something had gone terribly wrong. But that was the nature of Hell—er—Wonderland. That's what this girl called this place. That's what all who stood against the wretch of the Queen of Hearts called it, because that's what they longed for it to be. It would never be safe, they all knew. But a place of more wonder than terror…now that was something to fight for.

Quickly, Witch reached into one of the thousands of pouches that hung from the woven rope belt slung about her hips. Her jostling rattled the little shadow-creature, but he seemed accustom to the way Witch moved, and managed his hold. Witch produced an amber vial, checked its clarity, then nodded to herself in satisfaction. She gingerly sat on the edge of the divan and lifted Alice's head into her lap. The poison garden rustled. Witch paid no heed. This time, she knew whose coming made it rustle.

The Griffon poked his curious beak out of the Oleanders. Witch looked up long enough to shoot him a look that brooked no interruption. The Griffon, no coward, just caught himself before stepping back. It was, after all, unwise to cross a witch, but his great pride would not allow him to stand down too obviously. Curious though he was at the new arrival to their sanctuary, he kept his silence and only watched.

Sensing the tightness in Witch's shoulders, the shadow creature hopped from her shoulder to the Griffon's back. The view was just as good.

Witch took no notice. She unstoppered the vial slowly, carefully, and tipped it delicately against Alice's lips. The pained sleeper moaned at being jostled, but did not wake. Witch rested one hand against her forehead, and emptied the contents of the vial into Alice's mouth with the other. The garden stilled to silence.

Alice choked, and Witch held her head gently but firmly. Alice's eyes fluttered open, and Witch caught her breath.

So long ago, she'd seen Alice. Her brilliant, inquisitive blue eyes were almost annoying then, but became enthralling in all too short a time. That was when Alice was a child.

Now, Alice the woman lay here, her eyes a deeper, haunted sapphire. Even her hair had darkened, and her skin had paled to almost sickly. She was the bright flame she'd been as a child, but brilliant blue and concentrated to a piercing starlight in an inky field. Those sapphire depths finally locked onto Witch's own eyes, and Witch dared not breathe.

Alice took in the platinum hair, short and a bit wild. Some bits were a bit longer than others, she noted slowly, her mind not sure if she were still in her tortured dreams. But the white ends of the hair curled just so…it was clearly a girl (no, a woman, Alice thought) but she had the hair one would find on the bust of a roman emperor, though more wild. Slowly, Alice took in the piercings on the ears, then the markings on the face. Clearly, the woman before her must be a gypsy or some such, for she had never seen so many colorful markings on a woman. Were they tattoos? The woman's neck was slung with a plethora of necklaces, all of them with totems or vials. Alice could make no sense of it. Her bare, golden arms, too, were covered in tattoos and strange bands and jewelry. Alice realized she must be in this woman's lap. She could not make out the woman's eyes, for the morning light was behind the woman's head. Morning? Was it morning?

"Am I dead?" Alice asked.

Witch finally let out her breath, and laughed heartily in relief. "Thank the Spades you're not!" Witch laughed. "Though if you were, then I suppose I am too, and that means we're in the same boat either way, doesn't' it?" She winked at Alice.

Alice finally caught the color of this strange woman's eye as her laughter made her shift. They were mercilessly pink with hints of copper, rimmed in solid black. Alice would have thought her Albino, save for the golden-brown skin. Her eyes widened, completely intrigued. It was only when the woman winked at her that Alice realized the impropriety of lying there in her lap. And something about that wink…

Alice sat up, gingerly at first. But she soon realized her limbs no longer hurt. "Oh blessed teacups! The pain's gone!"

Sitting next to her on the divan, Witch smiled, but it didn't last. "I can only imagine. You were, after all, poisoned."

The Griffon cried out in anger. He could keep silent no longer. "POISONED?"

Alice gasped in surprise, but recognized him instantly. "Griffon! Oh-oh…is it really you?" Alice hopped off the divan and dashed up to him, carelessly flinging her arms around the truly dangerous creature. The Griffon's surprise didn't show on his permanently hawk-scowling features, but his lion paws worked the ground nervously. Griffons did not get hugs.

Witch felt a little crushed. Was Alice not happy to see her, too? Of course not. How could she be. So much had changed. And Witch was not who she used to be.

Witch stood up a little awkwardly. The garden seemed to sigh in the light morning breeze, as if it, too, had been holding its breath. It was then the Witch realized the heavy stench had finally faded. Old Man Century must have finally closed off.

Alice stood back from Griffon for a moment, still obviously pleased. "Oh, my oh my! Is the Mock Turtle here as well?" she asked, looking about the garden for the first time.

The strange flowers, the overgrown rampage of plant growth and the predominance of spines on said plants seemed to have just dawned on Alice. Her brow furrowed.

"The Mock Turtle was taken long ago by the Queen of Hearts. Chances are his head rolled and the rest of him became turtle soup." The Griffon ruffled his great wings, but looked Alice dead on with his beady black eyes.

Alice blanched. The Griffon was not so poetic as he used to be. He was…changed. "Oh," she replied, rather at a loss for words. "Oh…"

"Come, Alice. We must make haste to the tower. It's time we made our plans," Witch said, beckoning to her.

Alice rather liked the feel of this woman. She suddenly realized the platinum-haired woman looked rather sad. But, still, Alice was supposed to be at the Duchess's home…

"Sorry, but I must get to the Duchess. It's where the divan was going to take me…" Alice started.

Witch cut her off, stamping her foot in agitation. "MORONS!" she yelled. She whirled on Alice. The White Apples made another try at peppering them with seeds, but Witch was too far at this point. Alice started in surprise.

"You mean to tell me that the name they used was Duchess and not Witch?" she asked, hands firmly on her hips. Seeing Alice's shocked, confused face, Witch threw her hands up. "Of COURSE they did. Old fools and their old habits! Who says we don't age here, I ask you? They must be doddering by now." Witch paced. A few massive toadstools let off a burst of spores, momentarily clouding the air. "OH FOR THE LOVE OF TRINKLE! KNOCK IT OFF!" Witch admonished the poison garden.

Alice coughed. "Is it always so sensitive to your moods?" she asked.

"MY moods?" Witch asked, then paused, a bit taken aback. "Can't just be my moods…it's a sensitive garden, is all. Anyway, don't breathe the spores. I cured one poison, but goodness only knows how much more abuse your frail body can take."

Alice glared at Witch, though she clapped the Mad Hatter's jacket to her face. Frail? Well, she supposed she was, at least right now, but this strange woman didn't have to be so blunt about it.

Witch rolled her eyes at Alice's petulant eyes from behind Hatta's jacket. "Come on, let's get out of this. Couch, Treader, you two stay put and rest. Griffon, check the perimeter." Witch turned on her heel and took long strides back through the garden, her many layers of skirts swishing about her bare feet and her ankles tinkling softly with strange little charms.

"My, but she's pushy!" Alice complained through the muffle of the jacket. The Griffon snorted. "Just wait 'til she gets going! Especially now that you're here…" At this, he turned and made his way back through the Oleander.

Alice wasn't sure where she was, or what the tower was, or who this wild woman was, but she had no other choice. If she wanted to get to the Duchess…or the Witch….or whomever, this woman was the only one who'd help her.

She grabbed her jacket from the couch and tossed both hers and Hatter's over her arm, then chased after the strange woman. She couldn't help but notice how the garden bustled about the woman as she passed, but seemed to hardly notice Alice. Just 'sensitive' indeed! The garden was all but an extension of that woman! How could she not notice?

And yet…something about the woman's impatience, her authority, even her sweetness when Alice first awoke…it was almost familiar. But Alice was sure she'd recognize any denizen of Wonderland. After all, even when they changed, as the Caterpillar had, their faces were undeniable. This woman's face was new to her, she was sure.

It was then that the tower loomed into view.

Perhaps it had once been attached to some great castle that had long ago crumbled, and only the force of will of the tower itself kept it aloft. Wound tight with vines of somber gray and fiery amber, it was truly a sight to behold. The very top was open to the sky, with archer's windows all down its side. Considering that, at least from this side, it was also surrounded by this strange and forbidding garden, Alice imagined that it was highly defendable. She immediately approved of it.

Witch was standing impatiently at the massive portcullis. "Come quick now. I've not checked the mirrors. If there are more, I'll have to get them settled."

Alice stopped in her tracks. Mirrors? Hatter had mentioned the Duchess's mirrors…perhaps she was at the Duchess's home! But what if they were the mirrors that let in the Jabbermen…

Witch saw her hesitation. "I know it's not easy to see those that've just got here, Alice, but sooner or later you'll have to. Elsewise how will you be any help?" Witch held Alice's gaze steady, though her leg shook with impatience.

Alice felt she'd been put in place. She set her shoulders, absolutely certain that whatever she saw would terrify her. She was even more certain that seeing Jabbermen would be a relief to seeing 'those that've just got here.' The strange lady had to be talking about the patients that were…pushed…through the mirrors. Then she remembered how Hatter had thought that this was how Alice had come back and forth to Wonderland. "You know, erm…" Alice faltered for a name, but continued. "I've never been through those mirrors before. I've only been through…er…Faelyn's mirrors."

Alice wasn't sure why she'd just blurted out what might be important information to a stranger. She just felt so strongly that she must not disappoint the strange lady.

Witch stopped short, eyes bugging a bit. "Well THAT explains a lot!" she cried, clapping her hands together, then bending in a fit of laughter. "It's a wonder we had such a hard time tracing you, if you've never even been to Kazaan!"

Alice's face went cold. "That's not what I said."

Witch choked on her laughter. This girl's glare could freeze the heart. All the color that had come into Alice's face from the walk to the tower was gone, and she stood there, a pale statue with just enough hate to make you wonder she didn't just cut you down where you stood. But it wasn't Witch that inspired Alice's hate, of that she was sure. This was the hatred they all felt for Kazaan, magnified and focused through that singular sapphire gaze. Witch nodded in approval. "My mistake."

Up through the winding staircase she led Alice, only Alice's footsteps resounding in the cold tower. Witch's bare feet made no sound. No two stairs were the same height, width or breadth. It was all Alice could do not to tumble back down the stairs. This little fortress was impregnable in the oddest ways. They passed a few closed doors of various color, all cast in a different shade of marble or granite. Alice imagined they must be impossible to move.

Finally they came to a landing of some kind, though they were clearly nowhere near the top of the tower. Alice stopped. It was completely caged in, and there were skeletons all about the place.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Alice. It's been many years since Dr. Aranmula dared send one of his orderlies through here."

Looking at the piles of bones, Alice could understand why. She looked at the strange woman, and wondered if she'd been the one to end their lives. Seeing the way the woman kicked a femur out of her way to unlock the gate, Alice didn't doubt it. Death did not ruffle this woman's feathers. And by all accounts, she ruled a massive poisonous garden. This was a woman to be reckoned with. Despite Alice's misgivings, her admiration for this woman only grew. She felt a slight regret that she'd not been here when the orderlies were dispatched. She tried not to revel so much in the thought of killing those despicable excuses for humans herself. What would Hatter think, after all?

*And just why the hell do I care about that?* a particularly furious part of her mind asked. Alice immediately shoved that to the back of her mind. There was no way she could cope with those thoughts right now.

Witch looked around the platform, then walked straight to a huge, ornate mirror. It made Alice shake. She wondered, if she touched it, would it be the same cold, awful, tremor-riddled wall she'd felt back in Kazaan? The wall they'd flattened her against, bound and gagged, time and time again, letting it rip at her soul, unable to go through…

Alice began to laugh. It was a strangled, awful sound.

"How funny! How very funny! All those years, I'd just wanted to come back to wonderland. And there was that Doctor Aranmula, trying so hard to grant me my wish! Killing me, over and over. We were both trying so hard to get me here. Hatter, the White Rabbit, Cheshire, the Duchess…everyone trying to get me here. Day after day, Doctor Aranmula was trying to grant our wish!" Alice doubled over in gales of rickety laughter.

Witch shivered involuntarily. She was used to psychotic laughter. Everyone in Wonderland was. For some reason, she never expected to hear it from sweet little Alice. She could scarcely stand to hear it from her at all. But what was she saying? "Alice, the Doctor tried to push you through the mirror? And the priest was there? I don't understand…why didn't it work?"

Alice sat on the floor gracelessly, snapping an entire foot of a skeleton to dust when her rump hit the stone floor. "How in blazes should I know? He's not a man to give up lightly though, I'll tell you!"

Witch laughed, too. "Obviously!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the piles of bones everywhere. The two women cackled mercilessly, wildly.

Witch wiped her eyes. "Still, it's a good thing he failed. You would not want to lose your body. It's not the same, even after you get it back. And losing it twice…"

Alice's face fell, sanity rushing back all too fast. Pieces started to click together in her mind. "You got your body back…" she asked.

Witch nodded jerkily. "They found me. Here in Wonderland. They hunted me down and found me. It wasn't hard. I was in the Queen's court, after all, and happy to do anything I was told. I also happened to house this mirror in my cottage at the time. It wasn't until I saw the orderlies that I struggled. But they had me. It took three days…three days, I think, to get me back into my body. Hard to tell." Witch picked up a skull that already had a few teeth smashed out and just looked at it. She looked at it a long time, as though she recognized it. The morbid piece of ex-humanity seemed to brighten her mood.

"But, why did they take you back through the mirror? Why are they sending people here in the first place?"

"I have my theories," Witch shrugged, tracing the jaw of the skeleton with a bronzed finger. "It probably started as a very convenient way to keep Dr. Aranmula's looney farm filled. If the patient becomes catatonic, families don't want them back. It's such a bore to care for them, you know? And that's what our bodies are, there in Kazaan. Aranmula caters to the wealthy and the easily embarrassed…those who will pay top dollar for a place to hide embarrassing family members."

Alice shook with quiet rage. Clarice and Aranmula were a match made in Hell.

"But there was one…interesting side effect. We never aged." Witch cocked her head to the side, as though that little bit still puzzled her. "Our bodies, lying there in that awful asylum, stayed youthful and fresh." Witch snorted humorlessly.

" Aranmula is nothing if not entrepreneurial. Why not cater to the wealthy, mad people who would never be put in his asylum against their will? He could offer them immortality…at a price. At a few prices. Hatter thinks that's where the Red and White King and Queen must have come from. Simple, really." Witch grabbed the femur she'd kicked aside earlier. Unapologetically, Witch tossed the skull up in the air and slammed the femur into it. The skull sailed across the room, then shattered to pieces against the ornate mirror.

"I've tried destroying it, by the way," Witch said, nodding at the mirror. "Impossible. Even with my magic."

Alice looked the woman up and down. "Are you the Witch, then?" she asked.

Witch laughed. "Yes, Alice. I'm Witch."

"I didn't meet you last time I was here. It's a shame. I think we would have got on well…" Alice trailed off. Did she imagine it, or was there a moment of some emotion flickering over Witch's face? "Still, they sent you back here again…why?"

Witch shrugged, bothered. "I was the only successful experiment that I know of. Everyone else died when they tried to reunite the soul on this side of the mirror with the body on that side. So they finally sent me back here again, trying to study what made me a success. This way, they could make the process easier for the wealthy who wanted to leave their bodies young, then return to them later."

Alice was horrified. "But…how many…how could they…"

Witch looked surprised. "How could they? Well, the doctor and the priest in particular have no conscience. I'm sure you know."

Alice said nothing.

"And what's the death of a few catatonics in an asylum anyway? So long as they chose their candidates well. Urchins who'd 'disappeared', like me. Children whose death would come as a relief to their families, like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum."

Alice cried out. "But…but they were just little boys! So strange, so…"

Alice jumped up, pacing in fury. She marched over to the pile of bones and began furiously stomping them with her feet. "Viscious—Filthy—Awful—Sick—BASTARDS!" she screamed. Shards, dust, and bits of rotted flesh still clinging to bone flew out from under the heel of her boot. Witch just watched.

"HOW COULD YOU?" she finally screamed at the scattered pile, angry tears burning down her face. The skulls just grinned back.

Alice sniffled, her passion spent. "And what of the Cook?" She dare not ask about the Duchess again, lest she incur the ire of Witch.

Witch watched Alice a moment longer. The Cook. She sighed, her shoulders heavy with sadness. "Beheaded by the Queen not too long after you left. She needed someone to punish for your defiance. The Cheshire Cat or the Duchess were obvious choices, but she wasn't allowed to touch the Duchess, and the Cheshire Cat was too slippery."

"Oh. Oh, dear," Alice whispered, her hands flying to her soaked cheeks. She hiccuped. "I never meant to cause…any of that…I never really…" Alice thought she might be sick.

But Witch cut her off sternly. "See here, Alice. A knee-high child cannot control the raving, murderous Queen. You toppled the entire deck once, nearly ripped the reign of the Queen of Hearts from her grasping hands right there. What you did was marvelous, strange, and accidental."

Witch was pacing now, running her hands through her short locks in agitation. "And it was more than any of us has had the sanity to do in….so long. It's one of the many reasons we tried so hard to get you back."

Witch's coppery pink eyes searched about the room, as though trying to find something on hand to help explain. But the bones and the mirror were little help.

Alice only watched. She kept her bile in check, grateful for Witch's words. The silence stretched a bit, then she finally managed to whisper, "You keep saying 'we'. How many are there of you, trying to…erm…topple the Queen of Hearts?"

"Topple? That's a nice way to put it. I'd like to break her fat neck, just below that third chin." Witch retorted.

Alice couldn't help it. She giggled. The Queen did have a few spare chins…

Witch smiled back at the sapphire girl. Something about her smile made Alice uncomfortably intrigued.

"Well, besides you, there's Hatta, Cheshire Cat, the White Rabbit, the Griffon, all the garden here…well…save for those snobby little roses."

Alice laughed again. She remembered the rose. She'd called Alice a weed. *Cheeky bitch.* Alice thought, rather gracelessly.

"Then there's the Bumble Bee, and perhaps the Lion and the Unicorn...though we doubt they'll get on well enough to help us. The White King would be a great help, if he ever gets over the loss of the White Queen."

"What about the White Knight?" Alice asked.

"Hmm…don't know him. Don't even know if he's alive or dead or changed. Never can tell, here." Witch sighed, scratching the back of her neck. "In any case, there's always more coming!" Witch grinned lopsided, looking hopeful.

Alice decided Witch was rather like a tomboy. A very lovely, exotic kind of tomboy.

"Right, well, there's no one come through yet." Witch said, dusting her skirts a bit hap-hazardly. "Hardly ever anyone coming through, but if they do come, it's always at the most inconvenient time, and I hate leaving them locked up in here. It's grim enough to have your soul ripped out, but the corpses are only comforting to those who recognize the orderlies' uniforms. Even then, some are softer about the heart than you and I." Witch cocked her head to the side, considering Alice.

"Yes," Alice agreed. "I imagine most everyone is softer about the heart than I." *Hatter would certainly agree, * she thought.

Witch noticed the dark look passing over Alice's face, but made no mention of it. Witch had a way of letting the things on hand speak for her. That breeze that came through the grated window in the wall seemed to answer approvingly. It was so well-timed and so much a part of the way everything here seemed to react to Witch, that Alice took it for an answer.

Witch took Alice by the hand and led her out of the caged platform that housed the mirror, and back down the stairs. On the floor just below, Witch stopped. She pulled one of the totems from around her neck, and unwound the cord. It looked like tiny snake, coiled and ready to strike. Witch muttered something beneath her breath, then stuck the totem to the door. Alice could see no handle, no lock. When Witch withdrew her hand, the totem stayed. Witch touched the cord of the necklace to the little totem, then stepped away from the door with the other end of the cord. She yanked on the cord and grabbed Alice's arm. "Hold on!"

Like a spring pulled too taut, the cord snapped the two women back toward the door. Alice was sure they were going to slam into the door, but she heard a slight hiss, and then they were on the other side of the door. It took Alice a moment to catch her footing, but then she lost her breath.

This room was…magnificent. Morning sun…or was it evening sun?...streamed in through the archer's window. Tables were strewn about the room and on the walls. Wait…on the walls? "How very peculiar," Alice murmured.

"Isn't it, though?" Witch said, beaming proudly. She was gathering up the string and totem.

At first, Alice thought the walls were covered in ornate tapestries. She looked closer, the truth of it making her eyes go wide. Herbs and poisonous plants and strange berries were drying all about the room, woven cleverly together and tied with died bits of string, hair and woolen yarn. Alice could make out scenes of barbaric hunting, women dancing in the moonlight, and strange creatures reveling in food and wine.

A cauldron hung over the fireplace, whispering its bubbly chorus, spewing the occasional cloud of pink or green smoke. Alice had the oddest feeling it was chuckling at her. There were candles on almost every surface, every one of them carved with some rune or strange language. Witch walked by a few, then stopped, turned around, and glared back at the candles. They begrudgingly lit themselves.

Witch rolled her eyes. "I go out for two minutes, and the candles get an attitude. The candles! That's thanks for you," she grumbled, stomping over to the cauldron and stirring. "Oh, but YOU'VE been lovely!" she praised the cauldron. "Just about perfect, aren't you!" The cauldron gurgled back shyly. Hints of cloves, citrus and nutmeg wafted over Alice.

Alice was overwhelmed. She just knew that everything in the room was alive somehow. It made her wonder. Which were the poor prisoners of Kazaan, and which were already a part of Wonderland? What was Wonderland? She shook her head. Too much. Wonderland, Witch, poor Kitty, the great mirror upstairs, that wicked Black Widow woman, nevermind the Queen of Hearts…

The Mad Hatter.

Tears were streaming down her face before she realized it. She knew she'd slept on the way here, but she was just so exhausted. Her body no longer hurt from the poison, but she suddenly felt the wear of it all. Her tantrum in the bone pile had only temporarily revived her. She longed to just collapse. Through the blur of her tears, she saw Witch approaching with a steaming bowl of some kind. It smelled of the cloves from the cauldron. Hastily, Alice wiped at her tears, embarrassed that she'd suddenly been overcome in front of Witch.

Witch set the bowl on a table on the wall nearby. The bowl didn't spill, despite being set down sideways onto the table surface. Wordlessly, she put one hand to Alice's elbow and the other to the small of her back, gently ordering her to the chair. Alice wasn't sure how she'd managed to start walking on the wall, but she didn't question it. She sat at the chair, on the wall, and watched the fire burning sideways. Witch set one of Alice's hands against the bowl, silently urging her to drink. Her hands were cool, and felt soft against Alice's tired fingers.

Witch strode to the window and gave a sharp whistle. Even from this distance, Alice could hear rustling from the garden below. She tiredly picked up the bowl, its warm wood comforting. She sipped. It was all the flavor of a November evening. The cool citrus was the night air, the warm spices rolled over the tongue the way heat from a fireplace rolled over the skin. There were deeper flavors that filled Alice's mouth and belly like a rich meal. Was that chocolate under the cloves? Alice's eyes rolled back. Truly this was a magic brew.

"Do you always drink what you're given in Wonderland?" Hatter had asked not so long ago. *Oh, yes,* thought Alice. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks. Sadness mixed with exhaustion and relief, all piled on top of the terror and beauty that was Wonderland. *I'll drink almost anything that doesn't come from your lips, Hatter. And I'll drink anything this woman gives me,* she thought.

At least she thought she was just thinking these things to herself. Apparently not…

Witch was watching the young woman, all pale and draped in sapphire, amber hair and red-rimmed eyes. She heard her soft whispers as she drank Witch's brew. She sounded sad, yet ecstatic.

"I'll drink almost anything that doesn't come from your lips, Hatter," she heard Alice whisper. What was that all about? Something in the pit of Witch's stomach twisted. Alice had been poisoned by someone, and Witch had given Hatter the Stone's Brew herself.

"And I'll drink anything this woman gives me." Witch flushed. Clearly Alice was out of her mind with exhaustion. Even poison that had been treated with antidote wrecked the body. But Witch took the compliment. She didn't get many, up here in her tower.

There was a skittering behind the door. Witch muttered something strange at the door, and Couch came through, followed as always by the little shadow-creature, Treader. Alice watched, sniffling a bit, realizing that they must have been what Witch had whistled for. The Couch went straightaway to a spot near the edge of the room that seemed fit for him. It was all very confusing for Alice, watching from the wall at the wrong angle. Treader cozied up in front of the Couch, retrieving his table top. For the first time, Alice noticed that Hatter's cane was still on the divan…er…Couch.

"What's this, now?" Witch asked, picking it up.

"It's the Caterpillar's cane," Alice said.

"But it looks like…Jester! Did Jester become a caterpillar?" Witch asked.

"Yes. And then a butterfly," Alice smiled. Then her face fell again.

Witch watched. Clearly, much had happened on the road back from Alice's side of the mirror.

"Why do you call it Couch, when it's a divan?" Alice asked.

"It's a couch, it's a divan, it's a bed, sometimes it's an armchair. It's whatever it pleases. I call it the Couch because that's what it was when we met."

*Simple enough,* Alice decided.

The platinum-haired woman rested the cane against the side of the couch, then marched across the room to Alice. "Drink up," she commanded. Alice willingly obliged. She wanted to savor it, but clearly there was much to be done, and she shouldn't dally over her drink, no matter how heavenly. The second the last drop passed Alice's lips, Witch gently but forcefully pulled Alice up from her chair. Standing on the wall was more disorienting than sitting, especially now that most of Alice's tears were dry.

Witch led Alice down the wall, onto the floor, then over to the Couch. Alice blushed at the care she was being given, but shook her head. "I can't rest just yet. Witch, there's so much I need to tell you!"

Witch cut her off, pulling Alice down to sit next to her on the Couch. Her pink eyes hardened as she locked eyes with Alice's sapphire ones. "You can start by telling me why Hatter poisoned you."

...

A/N: WOOOW! This has been the hardest chapter so far. I have 3 chapters after this all but finished, but getting from the forest to those future chapters has my head spinning!

We've successfully moved to Mendoza, Argentina. Said our goodbyes to Buenos Aires, and now we're enjoying the bodegas here next to the Andes mountains. Next week we'll be traveling in Chile for a couple of days. I hope we stay in Mendoza at least 6 months. It's so hard to keep up with my writing when I move around so much.

Love to all my serial reviewers! I'll be spending some of the weekend just responding to reviews.

-Snapps

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