Page 4 of Wondrous

Alice’s Traveling Tea Shop would be my reason.

For now. Who knew what the future held? The possibilities were as endless as Wonderland itself. Perhaps I would find a place to park my tea shop and build a cottage out of apple seeds and pine cones, as a friend of the Hare’s had done. Perhaps I would spend more time learning teacup magic from the Hatter. The freedom to not know what the future held, to know it only as a house with infinite doors, where I could experiment, and make mistakes, and learn or fail to learn, made me almost sick with delight. It was the greatest gift anyone could have, and Wonderland had given it to me. My own world never could.

“It would be very strange if you were to leave, and never come back,” the Hare said, which I understood was his way of saying I will miss you very much. “Even if you do insist on throwing everything into chaos with your foolish ideas. Imagine wanting a birthday party!”

I suppressed a laugh. I had turned eighteen last week, and I had indeed insisted on marking the occasion with a party. The Hatter and the Hare had been utterly perplexed, no matter how many times I explained the concept, and while I’d gotten my party in the end, it had been a somber, bleak affair, more appropriate for a funeral, with everyone dressed in black and the lanterns all fitted with gray shades. The Hare would only serenade us with dirges, some of which were so mournful we were all wiping away tears at one point or another.

Still—I had loved it. I had never known a more perfect birthday party.

The Hare leaned his head on my shoulder, and I patted his head. There had been a time when I had shuddered at the feeling of those warm human hairs, but now I loved him as well as I loved the Hatter, and felt a little sad for him. I wondered if he would ever remember whatever it was that he’d lost.

The Hare drew back, gazing at me with his whiteless eyes, and I had the sense that he’d guessed what I was thinking. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with the Hare.

“You’re certain about this?” he said. I knew he wasn’t talking about my tea shop.

“I’m not going back this time.” I said it as a statement of fact, for my decision had been made long ago. I was now so accustomed to it that it felt like a physical part of me, like a mole or a fingernail. I didn’t fit in my world. But I could fit here. I would fit here.

My hand tightened on my teacup.

“I know how you feel,” the Hare murmured sleepily. “Sometimes you must choose between a rock and a whirlpool—by which I mean, you can shatter or you can spin.”

A moment went by, and I wondered if he would elaborate—the Hare was often making cryptic remarks like that. But he only began to snore. I felt a rush of gladness that I could be here to help the Hare in his old age—and the Hatter, too. Even in Wonderland, no one lived forever. Every story came to an end.

I sipped my tea and gazed into the forest. I had never thought much about endings when I first visited Wonderland—the idea had been a distant and unpleasant one, a dark cloud on a faraway horizon. Now it made me more determined than fearful. When I was white-haired like the Hare, I wanted to know that I’d had grand adventures, even if they were only grand in my eyes.

In the distance came the haunting call of a jubjub bird. Eventually, my hedgehogs began to return, trundling up the streambank. They did not look much like hedgehogs from where I stood, for they had leaves and flowers pierced on their spines, and resembled small moving flowerpots.

“Good boy!” I congratulated the first hedgehog to reach me. He was Hogarth, the largest of the prickle, and moved with a lumbering gait.

Hogarth sat patiently while I removed what he’d gathered—mostly leaves and berries from the tickling tree, which fruited at this time of year and added a lovely spicy aftertaste to tea. The berries were also good for jam, if a bit seedy.

The next hedgehog, Hogwash, had also found a grove of tickling trees, while the ragged-looking hedgehog trundling along just behind her, Hoggard—who was always squabbling with the others and getting her quills pulled out in minor scraps—bore leaves of whispering ivy. I removed everything carefully, trying not to prick myself in the process, and added it to my basket.

During my many visits to Wonderland, I had made it a priority to rescue hedgehogs from the Queen of Hearts. It wasn’t difficult, for the Queen was always walloping the poor creatures with too much enthusiasm during her croquet games and sending them into the bushes. And so it was that I often found a befuddled hedgehog staggering about if I went skulking around the castle grounds at night. I would take it back to the Hare’s house and feed it ground-up beetles in milk. I always left a croquet ball in the hedgehog’s place, so the Queen now had more croquet balls than hedgehogs. She did not appear to notice a difference, since her soldiers rearranged the field to ensure she always won either way.

“Four—five,” I counted as Hedgewitch and Pigsty made their appearance. The last of my hedgehogs—Pigmy, who was also the smallest—trotted out of the forest a minute later, and I finished, “Six! Well done, all of you. We shall leave the Hatter and Hare well supplied while we’re away.”

I let the hedgehogs into their hutch and fed them their usual supper of dried aphids. Hedgehogs—at least the hedgehogs of Wonderland—were not difficult to train. I had only needed to let them sniff the Hatter’s assortment of tea leaves and tea flowers a few times a day, rewarding them with apple slices when they trundled up to the jars of their own accord, before they were marching off into the woods to gather the teas themselves.

I had at first thought to show them where to go, but I had quickly found that the little creatures could sniff out tea much better than I could. Some would vanish for days at a time, returning from unknown corners of the Tulgey Wood or the Queen’s gardens with unusual delicacies speared on their backs. The poor things seemed eager to prove themselves, and no wonder, since the only life they had known before was being walloped back and forth by flamingos all day.

Hedgewitch, who as my favorite of the prickle was used to special privileges, marched up to the bars of the hutch and stuck her snout through.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I didn’t forget about you.”

I tucked Hedgewitch into the pocket of my dress. After turning round three times, she curled up and went to sleep.

I gave the dark wall of trees another look, though perhaps I should not have lingered. A forest looks more frightening after dark, and also more itself, as if the cheerful greens and birdsong it wore all day were only a mask. I had never ventured far into the Tulgey Wood—for good reason; jabberwocks lived there, after all, with their sharp claws and insatiable appetites, as well as bandersnatches and other dangerous beasts.

And yet I had always yearned to explore it. It seemed impossible not to wish to explore a place as strange and beautiful as Wonderland, to dig my toes into every inch. It would be like peering into the window of the most marvelous of candy shops and then thinking, No, not for me—I don’t wish to sample anything, not even those ruby-red gumdrops.

I woke the Hare and helped him to his feet, and he grumbled at me that he did not need my help and could walk just fine on his own, thank you very much. Still, he leaned on my arm as I guided him to his burrow. Then I made my way to my attic room, intending to enjoy my last night in a proper bed for some time.

Chapter 2

I set off early the next morning, before the Hare was awake. He had informed me that he would under no circumstances bestir himself before his usual rising time of a quarter to noon and that if I insisted on marching off into the Tulgey Wood alone, I could do it without his blessing. Which I knew meant that the Hare did not wish for us to see him cry. I had noticed him sniffling to himself at yesterday’s tea party and muttering complaints about the wind getting in his eyes.

So after giving one last hug to the Hatter—who did not mind crying in front of anyone, and left a great damp spot on my shoulder from sobbing into it—I hoisted the hedgehogs into the cart, where they could nap amongst the teacups and straw, and clambered up into the seat.