Into the Woods

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Before they’d left the clearing, Chess had appeared and was mildly annoyed. Once again he had apparently been searching the forest for hours (which was saying something for one whose evaporating skills were legend) and had gotten agitated at not finding them sooner. The Outlander told him of their plans to meet up with his associates that evening, and Chess in turn updated them on the White Army’s progress. There hadn’t been much further time for pleasantries, so they’d said their goodbyes and parted ways again.

For Alice and the Hatter, the relatively short journey back to Farowen was awkward but quiet. Beneath her fingers, his body tensed at her every touch. Each bump in the road created the worst kind of torture.

This frustration aside, they reached the village without incident.

At this time of night, the streets were primarily empty, but regardless, they kept to shadows while trailing their way to the inn. It was the same one the Alice’s former instigator had mentioned.

They crept along the darkest edge of the building bordering a side street and peered in through a pair of smoky, glass windows. Inside several people sat around at tables drinking, playing games and talking. A merry fire burned wildly in a large hearth.

The innkeeper, a handsome Outlander woman named Mae Tavley, was busy shuffling a few overly-inebriated patrons out the front door. Alice kept her eyes on the scene before her, but voiced a question that had been pressing on her mind.

“These people we’re meeting, can we trust them?”

He tore his gaze away from the glass and looked at her, brows knit. “Yeh should’nae trust anyone. All are potentially spies here.”

Alice turned to look at him. “I trust you.”

The sound of someone objecting to their premature objection was heard around the corner. Beside her, the Hatter looked as if he wanted to say something further, but opted to frown instead and nodded once in reply.

He instructed her to go inside and said he would follow shortly.

She spun around. “You’re not coming in with me?”

He was already crossing the damp street ahead and responded by flicking his hands wildly at the tavern, before darting off again for more shadows.

Alice gaped at his disappearing form and turned back to face the inn, shaking her head. The innkeeper was still giving a stern lecture to the rowdy young men she’d tossed out. Alice slipped by and quietly entered the darkened establishment.

She waited against a wall, getting her bearings and taking careful stock of the people present. Chess was supposed to be meeting with them tonight at some point. This thought twisted a wry grin from her lips. If she were barely allowed to enter their town, what sort of welcome would an evaporating Cheshire Cat receive?

Immediately, the noise had died down, and she belatedly realised that nearly every person in the tavern was staring at her. After a beat, she nodded in a way she hoped was friendly. Mentally, however, she cursed the Hatter. How was she supposed to know who to meet and who to avoid?

There was a spot open further in the room next to a table where a man sat shrouded in darkness near the bar. Seeing no other available options, she wended her way through the crowd towards it. Several patrons she passed ceased whatever activity he or she had been engaged in to gawk at her. Clearly she was out of place.

Fortunately, Alice was accustomed to being the odd one out, so she set her jaw and held her head up and went on; even when one older man tried to trip her which was completely uncalled for in her opinion.

Eventually, the tavern’s din returned to what it had been pre-Alice, and she attempted to blend in as much as possible. Out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw the man in the darkened corner shift, and she reminded herself to keep half an eye on him just in case. Those who kept to shadows usually had something to hide.

The lady innkeeper finally returned from her reprimanding to the laughter and applause of several patrons who had apparently witnessed the event that had caused her to lose her temper in the first place. Alice got a good look at her. She was an attractive woman with a sharp jaw, deep-set brown eyes and a strong nose. And while she looked like a person to not suffer fools, when she smiled, her eyes lit up with a kind warmth.

She quickly spied Alice and did a small double-take before approaching her.

“An’ what is it yeh’ll be needin’, lass?” She wiped her hands on the towel that hung at her waist and cautiously regarded the Champion; and her finely tailored Marmoreal garments.

Alice had just opened her mouth to reply when she was interrupted.

“Och, Mae, yeh need ta be more discriminatin’.”

Alice’s hackles rose. She knew that voice.

The older woman turned with a raised eyebrow and shook her finger as a warning.

“Watch yehrself nauw, or yeh’ll be tossed out next, Dunagh. Don’ thin’ I don’ know yeh weren’ involved wi’tha’ lot ehrlier.”

Samlin Dunagh feigned surprise and placed his grimy hands over the place one typically had a heart.

“Tha lads jus’ go’ a bit riled up’s all. Nauw this one,” he directed his attention back to Alice. She narrowed her eyes. “This one is real trouble.” He advanced and dragged his gaze down Alice’s form, lingering at her chest.

Mae Tavley turned back to face Alice warily. “S’tha true, lass?”

Alice retained control and shook her head, keeping her own eyes on Dunagh. “No, ma’am.”

Mae nodded and turned back to face the drunken accuser. “Why don’ yeh go back o’er to yehr corner there an’ hush.”

A few men chuckled appreciatively and waited for Samlin’s response. For them, the night was turning out to be one full of amusements.

“Oh no,” he said enthusiastically, a malicious grin upon his lips. “I stan’ by wha’ I said. This one’s lookin’ ta make mischief.” He twirled a small pocket knife about his fingers and leered.

Alice discreetly placed a hand on her dagger, and out of the corner of her eye, the stranger in the dark twitched. Across the room, for the briefest of moments she even thought she saw the swish of a faded, bandy tail….

The tavern suddenly went silent for the second time that night, and everyone grew tense. A heartbeat later a blade was at Samlin Dunagh’s throat, and a pair of red eyes materialised behind the man.

He froze.

Tarrant Hightopp’s lips curled back into a grimace and he pressed the blade menacingly into the other man’s flesh.

“Is it mischief yeh wan’?” His voice made Alice shiver, and she was serenely grateful not to be on the receiving end of his ire. “Keep goin’ and yeh’ve go’ it.”

The atmosphere was thick enough to be stifling as Samlin Dunagh weighed his options. His hands were splayed open innocently and eventually he relaxed with a soft chuckle.

The innkeeper had finally had enough and she grabbed the younger man by the cuff of his torn shirt and jerked him away from Hightopp.

“Not in mine,” she growled, tossing the Hatter an equally dirty look.

The gathered patrons erupted into laughter, and Samlin looked like a scolded child being led away by his mother.

Mae tossed him, albeit more gently than the previous men, out the door. “Sleep it off, lad.”

When she turned back, everyone abruptly quieted a third time, and she threw her hands to the ceiling. “Go on, yeh sods, an’ mind yehr ale!”

They did.

The Hatter cast Alice a cursory glance, then one behind her. She glared at him and was about to ask where he’d gone when he broke out into a toothy smile and pivoted, throwing his arms open wide.

Several women had gathered nearby and at this they squealed with delight and sighed his name. He strode to the door and suddenly held it open for, Alice blanched, the healer, Lilas Thistle.

Alice’s jaw dropped.

Lilas automatically reached for the arm he offered her, and acknowledged everyone present with an air of contented self-importance.

Several patrons with nervous expressions actually got up and left, but those that stayed welcomed Hightopp cheerfully and made a space for him at a large table near the hearth.

Alice was dumbstruck and more than a little hurt for reasons she wasn’t entirely comfortable with exploring yet.

Mae had left Alice and returned with a silver pitcher of something that made the group near the hearth cheer and hold out their mugs. Across the room, she watched as her friend, the one who moments earlier had, at several occasions, worried her with his uncharacteristic introverted persona, morphed into some kind of… drinking… flirtatious… scoundrel.

At her small table, Alice suddenly felt more alone than ever before. None of this made sense. And that was really saying something.

At the table, Hightopp sat at the head, not once looking at her, with Lilas preening at his side. Several other women were fawning and tittering about him on his other side, making sure his flagon was constantly full. Further on, several men were laughing, or talking with their heads together and gesturing rudely.

She watched this paltry scene and waited for him to make some kind of sign or acknowledgement, anything, to invite her over – but there was nothing. She was simply baffled and very seriously considered leaving; but first, she pinched herself.

“No other reason,” she muttered to herself angrily. Nothing happened. She pinched herself again.

The innkeeper appeared once more and gave Alice an appraising look.

“Ev’rythin’ tha’ Outlander does is wi’purpose,” she said pointedly and sat a mug of something warm down onto the polished table top.

Alice blinked and looked up to her with surprise.

The woman nodded and turned back to serve her customers at the counter.

Beyond, Lilas murmured something in the Hatter’s ear, and several laughed at his scandalized blush. The dark-haired beauty then produced a glass phial and poured it into his flagon. Alice tensed, hoping he’d seen that, and sat up in her seat. Lilas then raised the mug to his lips, and with a come-hither stare that made Alice’s blood boil, he opened his lips to receive the liquid.

Alice wanted to throw something.

Instead she threw back her chair and stood up, ready to march out and damn any and all consequences that followed. She wasn’t quite sure what he was playing at, but she wouldn’t subject herself to this spectacle any longer.

A pair of arms encircled her waist before she could complete this grand idea, and she was roughly plopped down onto the lap of the man who had been seated behind her in the shadows.

“Easy, lass,” he crooned with a pleasantly deep, slightly roughened voice. “Ther’s no need ta be tha’ way. If it’s comp’neh yeh wan’, yeh’v go’it wi’me.”

Alice whirled and prepared to slap this presumptuous lech, but he caught her wrist easily in his much larger hand.

He smiled a charming, apologetic grin, and the hood of his green cloak fell fully away, exposing a handsome man with sandy blond hair. With a start, Alice recognized it from the one on the man who had been with the Hatter earlier that day. She calmed only minimally.

“We’ve met, haven’t we.” It sounded more accusatory than she’d intended, but considering the circumstances in which she’d found herself, he was lucky she hadn’t said something entirely less polite.

From across the room, the Hatter watched the scene with hooded eyes.

The man holding Alice nodded rakishly and bowed his chin. “Aye. Not formally, o’cours’, but we’ve been in tha other’s presence if tha’s what yeh mean.”

He raised one hand from her waist and presented it to Alice. “Name’s Allander Longbow. At yehr service.”

She took it. “Alice,” she said curtly. Her eyes widened when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles sensuously.

For a moment, she forgot herself, but then hastily jerked her hand free.

He leaned back and grinned. His bright blue eyes twinkled playfully as he contemplated the young woman still on his lap.

She remembered this and gracelessly scrambled out of his hold. Her cheeks flushed.

Allander chuckled and slid her chair closer to his and stood for her to sit the way a proper gentleman might. A proper gentleman who was also in the habit of abducting young ladies and settling them on his lap as a means of introduction, that is.

“Nauw wha’ has tha’ rogue o’er there go’ tha’ I don’, eh?” he nodded in his friend’s direction, ignoring the glare directed at him as a result, and smiled genially at Alice.

She sniffed and folded her arm across her chest. Allander laughed.

“Jealousy befits yeh, Champion.”

Her eyes quickly scanned the nearby patrons lest they were overheard, and she sat back down, slightly annoyed.

“You know who I am?”

Allander nodded with a lopsided grin. “Aye. But let’s ge’ back ta how charmin’ yeh look with yehr pink cheeks an’ pouty lips.” He boldly raked Alice’s form with his eyes. “A blonde lass is always my downfall,” he murmured wistfully.

Alice stared, not entirely sure what to make of this man, but couldn’t deny she was flattered against her will. He was obviously here at the Hatter’s request, but given that he’d said to trust no one, she kept her guard up. Also, lecherous frivolity aside, at least now she had someone to talk to. This thought prompted her to glance at the other end of the bar where a raucous peal of laughter filled the room, and the Hatter was gesticulating wildly.

“Before now, I wouldn’t have expected you to be the sort Hatter would take up with.”

His grin remained firmly in place.

“There’s tha’ fire.” He glanced down to her untouched drink and sniffed it. Groaning, he quickly set it back down with a splash. “Wha’s this she’s set ya? Mae!” he shouted to the bar, mock-offended. “A round’a spinolker, if ya please, my darlin’.”

The harried woman nodded and turned away.

Allander turned back to face Alice, grinning that insufferably charming grin, and she was slightly mortified to feel herself blush.

“Why Hightopp’s choosin’ ta take up wi’tha’ lot while yehr here is beyon’ me, love.”

Alice spluttered, her temper rising, and glared at the table. “He can do anything he likes. We,” she stammered, “we’re not, he’s simply,” she grit her teeth and took a breath. “That is, we aren’t attached. Friends.”

At this, the other man’s eyebrows rose. “Is tha’ so nauw?” The devilish gleam in his eyes grew brighter and he leaned in close. “Then he won’ be upset when I steal yeh from him.”

She rolled her eyes and cast a withering glance at him despite a fleeting sense of excitement that most certainly was not related to her wanting to get even at Hatter’s gross abuse of her person.

“I’m not a thing to be stolen,” she said with bite, and looked up as Mae returned with their drinks.

“Take it easy wi’tha,” she warned, gesturing to the drink. “An’ you min’ yehr manners,” she said to him.

“I always do,” he said with a pout.

“Are yeh hungry?” the innkeeper asked Alice.

Alice realised that she hadn’t eaten much of anything yet today and she nodded in response.

“Mae here makes th’finest stew this side o’Witzend.”

“Stew?” Alice said, suddenly ravenous.

“Mock turtle,” Allander said seriously.

Alice gasped.

Mae laughed and flicked the man on his shoulder. “How is it yehr eyes aren’ brown?”

Allander wrapped a friendly arm around her waist and tugged her over to him. “Arris’ll be along soon,” he said, taunting.

Alice was intrigued to see a spot of colour warm the woman’s cheeks before brushing his grabby arms away and walking off with a smile.

“Who?” she asked.

He shrugged and lifted his flagon. “A toast, my blonde lass.”

Alice raised her own mug and sniffed its contents carefully. “What is this?”

“Mae also makes th’best brew this side o’ Witzend. One sip will remove tha chill an’ cure all what ails yeh.” He winked at her.

She very much doubted this, but raised it to her lips. Another round of laughter grated against her nerves, and rather than taking a sip, she swallowed a large, burning gulpful. And then coughed.

Allander barked with laughter and patted her on the back. “Look a’tha’!” he called to the men around him, who were also watching the unfamiliar girl choke down their beloved ale with amusement.

Ignoring them, she caught her breath and shivered. Then the most amazing feeling of warmth travelled up from her belly, spreading all throughout her limbs and face, and instantly she relaxed back into her chair.

Allander tipped his glass to her again and took another healthy swig.

“Mam’s milk it is.”

Blessedly her mind cleared of all worry and hurt feelings to be happily replaced by good cheer and an overwhelming sense of… friendliness.

A daffy grin spread out upon her lips, and she blinked calmly at her new acquaintance. Somewhere in the midst of this sparkly haze a small voice at the back of her mind called out reminding her to maintain her wits. Alice nodded seriously. It simply wouldn’t do to let herself become incapacitated when serious work was to be done. At least by her way of thinking.

“An’ there he goes,” Allander said, looking up with a sly smirk.

Bemused, she turned in her seat to see what the nice man was talking about, and her fuzzy buzz melted away. Lilas was leading a non-protesting Hatter up a set up staircase to the floor above; by the hand.

A heartbeat later the mug filled with spinolker was at her lips, and she downed two more large gulpfuls.

Allander sat up, alarmed now, and lowered the flagon back to the table. “Tha nigh’ is still young, ease up.” He flicked his eyes to the ceiling. “He’ll be back.”

Alice slumped in her chair, the grin that had returned contrasted oddly against her furrowed brows. For a moment, she forgot about Allander, and the small voice (who was getting smaller by the minute) was arguing with an angry voice (who was growing by the minute), and both were being listened to by the friendly voice who was only happy to be part of the crowd.

“What do you know about her?” Alice said quietly, peering up at Allander.

He shrugged and linked his hands across his stomach. “She’s a frien’ o’Hightopp’s.”

Alice glared and made some sort of choking noise.

He chuckled and leaned closer. “Some say she’s a witch.”

The small voice in her mind suggested that perhaps she should burst upstairs under the pretense of rescuing him; while the angry one rationalized that he got what he deserved if ill befell him. The happy part said, ‘More spinolker!’

She indulged the latter, and then everyone in her mind went quiet again.

“And how’re we doin’, luvvy?” Mae asked, laying a bowl of stew down and sitting at their little table with a flourish.

“Halfway through her first mug,” he said with an air of pride.

Mae blanched and checked the flagon herself. “S’only been ten minutes, what are yeh thinkin’ of Longbow?”

Alice pulled the flagon back to her and wrapped her hands around it protectively. Allander burst out with another round of laughter.

“See tha’? She approves.”

Mae studied the young woman closely. “Why isn’ she dancing on top o’this table then? For a first timer, she’s had enough ta be halfway out o’her silks by nauw.”

“We’ll get there,” he sighed dreamily.

Mae snapped her hand towel at him and rolled her eyes.

“Hightopp’s missin’,” he said, keeping an eye on Alice, who was slowly sinking further into her seat.

Mae turned around to look at the table near the hearth and saw that not only was he gone, but so was his curly-haired companion, her younger sister.

“I suppose he run off wi’Li’, has he?” She sighed and looked back to the odd girl who was fighting all reactions to her personal store of spinolker. “Poor thing. Tough though, eh?”

Longbow nodded. “Wha’ is he thinkin’ of comin’ here like this? Ou’ o’his mad mind.”

Alice, who had been contemplating what it would be like to swim around in her drink, tried to keep up with what they were saying around a spoonful of delicious beef stew.

“Search me,” Mae said. “But I’m betting somethin’s gon’ta happen.” She nodded at Alice. “’Specially nauw tha’ this one’s here.”

Suddenly Alice understood what they were talking about, and belatedly she realized that Mae was also part of the ‘circle.’

“A plan,” she whispered, leaning on the table. She went quiet again and felt confused. There was something she was supposed to doing, she was sure… only she couldn’t remember what. ‘Think, Alice,’ she thought.

“Go on,” Mae said.

Allander glared at an old man who had been eavesdropping. “Here nauw,” he said, breaking up Alice’s concentration. “Now’s for drinkin’ an’ bein’ merry. Let’s just wait for Hightopp ta show his disgraceful hide firs’.”

At this point, another man, younger than Allander but striking in his resemblance, approached the table. Allander clapped him on the back, and pulled up a seat. Mae unconsciously brushed a wisp of chestnut hair from her eyes and attempted to hide a grin.

“Evenin’ all,” the younger man said. “Mae,” he added silkily.

Alice sat up in her seat, although she really didn’t want to as it felt much nicer to simply lean on something. She shook her head to chase away the cobwebs, and nodded to the newcomer.

“And this is?” he asked.

“Our Champion,” Allander muttered with a wink.

The young man, introduced as Arris Longbow, Allander’s younger brother, peered at Alice with intrigue. Mae quickly explained the spinolker. Arris instantly shot his brother a look filled with reproach.

Allander raised his palms in feigned innocence. “Why d’yeh assume it was me?”

They both stared at him.

“Alrigh’ I had motives,” he admitted sheepishly and went back to gazing at Alice happily while they waited.

The younger Longbow took a moment to look around the room. “Where’s Tarrant?”

Alice snapped back into the present at the mention of his name and she frowned. “Upstairs.” she said a little more loudly than necessary.

Arris and Mae exchanged a glance, and then Allander steered the conversation to something neutral as they waited for the shifty Mad Hatter to return.

A memory poked Alice in the brain, and she sat up suddenly and threw an accusatory look at Allander. “Your daughter tried to shoot me with an arrow!”

Arris and Allander both looked at her with surprise.

“Sorry?” Arris asked, confused.

“She means Bryn,” he explained. “She’s our niece, and aye, she did.”

“Niece? Why would you train your niece to shoot people they don’t know?” The idea was simply absurd. Children should be frolicking happily, perhaps playing pretend with bows and arrows. Actually killing however… it was just obscene.

The brother’s faces both shadowed over with a trace of sadness and Arris looked away.

“Because if she does’nae, someone else will.”

Alice paused to consider this.

Arris quietly added, “Her mother, our sister, was the trusting sort.”

“And tha’s exactleh wha’ go’ her killed.”

The brothers were quiet a moment, and Mae filled their glasses with drink. Alice’s fuzzy Alice brain eventually worked out what they had said. Stayne had killed their sister. This was why the Hatter chose them. They wanted revenge on the disgraced knave just as he did.

A sullen mood settled over the table. Mae got up to tend her customer’s, the brothers stared into their mugs, and Alice went back to cursing the Hatter for making them wait.



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