Page 19 of Wondrous

“Froggy!” I exclaimed. “My voice is not froggy.”

“Only in certain lights,” the Hare said.

They had turned a corner on the path and come into sight, and I ran to greet them, half tripping over my feet. I hugged the Hatter first and then threw my arms around the Hare, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“And you brought my tea shop,” I exclaimed, stroking the wagon. “And my hedgehogs!” I patted Hedgewitch, who had poked her head out of the straw. She squeaked with delight and bit me.

“Of course,” the Hatter said, still looking pleased with himself from the hug. The Hatter didn’t get many hugs from people, or even handshakes, perhaps due to the fact that he often looked disheveled, his jacket front wet from tea and his doublet sprinkled with biscuit crumbs. He also had a tendency to jab people accidentally with hatpins if they got too close.

“Old Nag here brought the cart back to the house, hedgehogs and all,” he said, patting the thin air where a horse’s head might have been. “She’s still just as reliable as she was before she—ah!”

He drew his hand back, blood welling from a shallow scratch.

“You still think that’s Nag?” I said dubiously.

“Who else would it be?” the Hatter said. “I imagine that becoming a ghost is enough to put anyone in a mood. Isn’t that right, dear?”

The thing pulling the cart gave no response, but I thought I heard a faint scraping sound, as of claws being sharpened against stone.

“It looks like your head is still attached,” the Hatter said, rubbing his hands nervously and eyeing my neck as if this status were liable to change at a second’s notice. “When that soldier sent word that you were being taken to the Queen of Hearts, we were worried we might be too late. We came to plead your case.”

“And what case might that be?” I said.

“Every case under the sun,” he replied with absolute conviction.

I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s very kind of you. But I wasn’t brought here to be put on trial again.”

I gave them an accounting of all that had happened. After I told them about the prophecy, I stopped, awaiting dramatic gasps, but they just stood there, as if expecting more to the story.

“Don’t tell me you heard about the White Queen’s prophecy,” I said with a groan. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The prophecy,” the Hatter said thoughtfully. “The prophecy…Yes, I’ve heard a few of the White Queen’s prophecies, over the years. There was that one about the yeast, how everyone’s tea buns would fall flat if they ever baked an uneven number. Then there was the one about Wednesday switching places with Thursday—or was it the other way round? And, yes, the prophecy about you, Alice, and how you would save Wonderland from total destruction. Oh, and the one about it being an especially dewy November.”

“Of course we heard about the prophecy,” the Hare said, rolling his eyes.

“He’s rolling his eyes!” the Hatter said. “Well, one can’t expect a hare to care about the end of the world, I suppose.” This in spite of the fact that he seemed only mildly concerned himself.

“I only rolled my eyes because the prophecy is wrong. The Queen of Hearts thinks the White Queen said that a small blue Alice would save Wonderland. But she really said a small blue chalice.”

“What!” I exclaimed at the same moment the Hatter said, “She did not!”

“She absolutely did,” the Hare said. “I had it from one of the daisies. He was there.”

“Oh, the daisies don’t know blue from polka dot. All the soldiers say the prophecy was about Alice.”

“Those are the Queen’s men,” the Hare said. “They have to say that. The Queen heard it wrong, but she’ll cut off your head if you try to correct her. That’s what happened to the daisies.”

“The prophecy certainly makes more sense with chalice instead of Alice,” I said, mulling it over. “There’s nothing particularly special about children named Alice who happen to be dressed in blue, but a chalice sounds like the sort of thing that might have an enchantment on it.” I paused. “What is a chalice, anyhow?”

“Sort of a teacup that puts on airs,” the Hatter said. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“But I have to worry about it,” I cried. “Though it doesn’t much matter if the prophecy said chalice or Alice. The Queen of Hearts is convinced it’s the latter, which means I have to find these mock dragons, or I’ll be kicked out.”

Despair rose within me again. For the briefest of moments, I regretted not taking Alex and Maria up on their offer—the quest before me was a terrifying one, but at least if I’d said yes I’d have company.

You don’t need company, I told myself firmly. Certainly not the company of anyone from Upland.

At that, an idea nudged at me—a strange and not altogether comforting idea. But still far better than anything I’d come up with so far, mainly because I hadn’t come up with anything else.