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“All clear. However-”
“So, I can go wherever I like undetected?” She gives the slightest incline to her head and I bat her out of my way. Rushing over to the Hatter’s workstation, I gather up all of the material offcuts and bundle them into my arms.
“The twins will still be able to scent you-” Chels says in the background but it’s too late; I’ve already stopped listening. Ducking behind a tall stack of boxes, out of sight from the thin netted curtains over the main windows, I throw the materials high into the air and snap my eyes shut.
Show me the beast.
My limbs contort, shrinking and spasming as I lose two feet in height. Material rains over me, clinging to my body and pulling tight around the grey fur that spawns there. My nose lengths and twitches, a pair of ears popping through the blonde hair I retain. Although, to my credit, I make sure to smooth it down and twist into perfectly set curls that Stan can use as a slip and slide when he gets bored. Chels watches on keenly, until the material has settled and I give her a spin of my dress.
“Well, what do you think?” I ask. In the reflection of her huge eyes, I can see the black patches smeared across my beady eyes, the white whiskers fanning from my cream nose. Ringed stripes circle my petite face and when I smile, it’s all sharp, tiny teeth.
“A raccoon was your go-to?” Chels drawls, as if she’s not massively impressed. I nod, stepping out of the discarded rags and threads in my chunky wedges.
“Raccoons are my spirit animal. Cute but feral,” I shrug my little shoulders. Drawing the slender claws I now have for fingers over my arms, I shudder at how good it feels. I’m definitely scheduling in a decent back scratch for later. Through the netted curtains, I see the float has just passed, followed by the rest of the playing cards. Two rows of a Jack, Queen and King to finish the parade and permit the crowd to bundle along after them. It’s showtime.
“I think I’ll hang back from this particular mission, for when you get yourself killed. Someone will need to make sure your affairs are in order,” Chels twirls over to an open notepad on the floor. Her tail swoops up a pen. “What would you like them to be?” I stop halfway to the door, tapping an elongated nail on my chin.
“Ensure the porn site I set up in college is continues to run - Chicks on Dicks. Chipping away at my family’s money and providing the world with jerk material is my legacy.” Bopping the rest of the way to the door, a sharp scratch behind my left ear makes me pause. Stan hops onto my shoulder, and then to my paw. His large eyes stare up at me, the twitch of his whiskers mirroring my own. I sigh, pulling him close for a nose bump. He’s right – this isn’t his fight. Placing him on the floor, he runs into Chels’ body and snuggles into her hind leg. Two lonely souls finding solace in each other – I admire that.
Straightening and puffing out my furry chest in a lace sweetheart neckline, I slip through the main door and join the parade. Huddled with the rest of the foxes and badgers, we jog to keep up with the float, twisting through the streets until a raised stage becomes visible.
“Did you hear what the grapevine said?” a red panda growls to my left, her voice thick with anger.
“I spoke to it this morning whilst at the wishing well. I can’t believe he’s dead!” a stalk replies, keeping her beak low. I lean into their small group to listen closer.
“It was his own stupid fault,” another scoffs. Intrigued, I slow my pace to keep in step with them. A squawking voice joins to ask what’s happening and the rest rush to shush her.
“The King of Diamonds has been murdered.” A round of gasps follows. “Apparently he was trying to avoid the men’s curse by disguising himself as the March Hare and hid inside his own maze.”
“He didn’t hide well enough! Someone decapitated him with his own guillotine.”
“He always was a paranoid man, but it’s still treason. Someone must pay with their own head!” They fall into hushed aggravation and I balk. Swallowing thickly, I push on by. Remaining hunched, I worm through the crowd towards a concrete fountain in the center of the clearing, only stepping on one hedgehog along the way.
What kind of stupid asshole would disguise themselves as an animal in the first place? Looking down at my clawed hands, I roll my beady eyes. Well really, the King ruled a kingdom – he, at least, should have known better. And he did try to behead me first. What was I supposed do? Lay down and die when I’m a woman on a mission? What’s done is done and I’ll just add this indiscretion to the lengthy list of why everyone around here wants to kill me.
Stretching high and featuring a statue of a salmon jumping upstream, I stand on the fountain’s edge to see the Queen ascending her podium, a golden crown posed on her delicate head. Tweed holds her hand to aid her on the steps, joining her side at the top. His stance is wide, hands clasped before him like a guard. Yet her lingering touches around his steel chest plate suggest otherwise. I growl a raccoon-worthy snarl.
“Ladies and Fur-Folk!” she smiles her heart painted lips behind a microphone stand and the crowd erupts in applause. “Thank you for hosting me on the second anniversary of the Frabjous Day! We shall all party like royalty today, rejoicing in our recent history.
“With your support and faith, I was able to fulfill my destiny, ridding this land of one traitorous queen and banishing another in the same, joyous day! It was you, the people, who chose to put me in sole power of Wonderlust. And for that, I thank you. May you enjoy a day of festivities and laughter with your loved ones!”
The next round of cheering is so forceful, I wobble on my wedges by the fountain’s edge. Flats would have been much more suitable but I’d wanted to fit in, for once. Brushing down the monotone dress, incredibly similar to the Queen’s, I brace myself against the fountains second tier. The pool in which the salmon is trying to flee, helpfully giving me the perfect cover from Tweed’s shrewd gaze. I don’t know what I expected, but he’s just as tense and broody as usual, scanning the crowd. For me? That’s probably wishful thinking.
The Queen clears her throat and the cheers lessen, every creature around me hanging on bated breath for her next words.
“Before the celebrations begin, I must share some worrying news. As you are all aware, the Alice has returned,” she lowers her head and I twitch. Gripping the edge of the fountain tighter, I summon all of my strength to not freak out here. Trigger word or not, I must. Stay. Calm. Yet the raccoon’s savage nature thrums within me. My eye starts to tick, quickly followed by my cheek.
Not here, Mal. Not now.
Shuddering, eyes closed tight, I hop to the ground and push my way back through the crowd blind. One hand outstretched to shove creatures aside, the other clamped over my head to hold in whatever sound is about to burst free of my jaws. Something between a screech and a howl, I reckon. Through the speakers, the Queen’s voice continues on, oblivious of the rat in their midst. Ahh dammit, I should have transformed into a rat.
“A new prophecy has awakened with the rise of the last Caterpillar. It is imperative, if you should run into this induvial, to call for the champion. He will deliver her to the Red Castle, where we can begin returning Wonderlust to what it once was.” I peer back through the heads to see her patting Tweed’s chest plate, and this time, there’s no cheer. Silence echoes through the clearing, somehow seeming louder. Either these women don’t like or trust Tweed, but I don’t have time to stand around wondering how to board the hatred bus. If the Queen is bothered by the frosty response to her ‘Champion’ her smile doesn’t show it.
“After Alice’s sacrifice, your men shall be returned!” This time, there’s no stopping the eruption of praise, or my outburst. Diving free of the throng and into the nearest alleyway, the roars behind cover my own, a full flip-out taking hold of my tiny limbs. Two trashcans become my victims, my heels bashing them into the brick wall behind. Grabbing the lids, I smash them either side of my head, like a defective mechanical monkey.
Bang, bang, bang.
Agony explodes at my temples, a scattered scream rattling from my snout. With each bash, my tiny teeth chatter together and a further cringe is drawn out of me. Still, the instant headache is welcome over the urge to scratch my own flesh from my bones. I hate that word. That name and every blonde cliché that follows it like a bad smell. I’m not that girl. I’m a badass bitch who carves her own future, creates her own destiny.
