“Who were they anyway?” Alice asked, finally starting to catch a moment of clarity. “Why were they chasing you? Was that thing—those monsters, trying to kill you?”

“Oh, hmm. That was the Card Army. They’re always chasing after me. They’re nothing to worry about though.” He didn’t stutter, there was no hint of a fluctuation, exaggeration or lie.  A trace of remembrance tickled her mind. This was something she remembered hearing about a lifetime ago, but the memories weren’t readily accessible. Probably the police or something similar Alice wagered with herself. But why were they after him? What were those beasts? He didn’t offer any more details and Alice didn’t ask. Feeling awkward and out of place; it wasn’t her position to pry. Not anymore at least.

Another feeling swelled inside her heart. She couldn’t place it. She turned the emotion over carefully, examining the hurt in her chest as if it were a delicate creature harmed by the events that caused it. Careless, is what she thought at that moment and the emotion clicked into place. She felt her face turn fiery red as her blood began to boil. He didn’t care!?  His life was in danger! He put her life in danger! And he couldn’t even give a reason. She opened her mouth to say something.

“I’m thinking the portal didn’t work at first but did later because it was too complex of a request,” Mad started as the two continued to follow the stream while Alice readied her complaints. His steps were musical and rhythmic. His pace took on a bit of a dance while he raised his arms with the tune played in his head. “One, I asked you to imagine home,” he held up a finger, “which is a very complex place to imagine. Our home in Wonderland is much too grand.” He flashed a second finger, “two, on the other hand, home. Home is where? Do you know? Where has it been for you? The mortal world? I’m sure you must have had a home. So, home here, home there? Where could home be?”

Alice stopped; she looked back down at the path they walked. Her gaze followed their invisible steps, and halted, downcast on her own feet. She’d forgotten in all the chaos that she had only one shoe on. The pain began to radiate in the bare one. Burning, stinging pain. Sharp as she pressed it firmly in place.

She felt pain. She could have died. She felt joy and embarrassment, arousal and anger all in the last few moments of reentering Wonderland.

Sickness engulfed her throat, bobbed with emotions all but welled up. Overwhelming and visceral. 

Home? Where would home be for her now? He was right; it was far too complex of a question. When she thought back to that exact moment, nothing had come to mind. Her imagination had been black, blank, barren, and that was why she got them into that cave. Nothingness. She craved it.

“I think you’re right,” Alice muttered softly. “I don’t have a home. I can’t imagine one. It’s why I can’t use imagination.” She looked up, the music Mad had made with his steps stopped. He turned to face her only a few paces ahead, his eyes fell over her. Briefly, there was a flash of sadness, rolled with seriousness, walled up behind his rousing green eyes.

And just like that, Alice’s emotions simmered away, bubbled and dissipated into the morning haze.

He did care.

As soon as that glimmer of earnestness expressed itself across his face, it was gone. Taking a few long strides he instantly stood right in front of her. She staggered back, but before she could move away, she was whisked back up into the air. His long, slender arms wrapped completely around her body, trapping her arms by her side. He grappled her into a tight hug and squeezed her enough to crack her back with a loud chorus of POP! POPPOPOPOP! 

“An alignment! We just need to stretch you out to get the imagination flowing again!” he exclaimed and put her back down. She kneeled over, hands on her knees as the wind sucked from her body tried to fight its way back into her lungs. A wave of nausea grappled her stomach. “Feel better?” He asks with pride in his voice.

“Not at all,” Alice said grumpily with a glare that went unnoticed as a new wave of nausea made her want to vomit all over the grass.

“Well, that won’t do. That won’t do at all,” a melodic, disembodied voice sang through the surrounding trees.

“Who said that?” Alice asked, paranoid. The previous excitement from before left trails of anxiety etched onto her nerves.

“I know, how ridiculous,” the voice continued, followed by a cacophony of laughter that sang in sync with one another; like the ringing of a bell.

“Ugh. Oh no,” Mad muttered in annoyance. “What’s your bright idea then?” Exasperation radiated from his voice as he placed one hand on his hip and spoke out to the air.

“Come over here children, and let’s talk,” the voice continued. Alice looked to Mad for guidance, and like a reluctant child about to be lectured, he stomped his foot. With his arms crossed, he paced towards the direction the voices emanated from. Alice followed him meekly, one step behind. Curiosity plagued her mind over who could put Mad in such a foul mood when in comparison, the people who were out to murder had him giddy only moments ago.

The two of them came upon a flower field that was nestled tightly between a ring of trees. The light cascaded down onto them from the canopy above, creating a light, billowing glow across the land. The flowers were glistening and reflecting from the fresh dew that had pooled on their leaves and petals.

“Wow, they’re so pretty,” Alice proclaimed as she walked into the field, the flowers reaching and tickling her at her waist.

“They’re annoying,” Mad pouted under his breath.

“EXCUSE ME!” a loud booming voice startled the two of them. Alice’s eyes scanned in desperation, trying to find the source of the unexpected outburst.

“Maddox Heidegen! You know better! How very rude of you.”

“Very rude. Very rude. Very rude,” a line of voices one after another mimicked the leading voice, surrounding the two entirely.

“And you, Alice!” the main voice called with poison lacing each syllable. Alice jumped again, unable to detect the location of it.

“Watch where you’re going, you lumbering girl! Like a baby elephant who doesn’t know how to walk. Have some grace for Tortunous’ sake.”

“Correct! Be mindful of where you’re stepping; you might be stomping something beautiful and fragile,” a softer voice interjected. Empathetic, yet filled with indignation and self-righteousness. Alice finally homed in on those disjoined voices, looking down to find two flowers nestled together, standing tall and proud. One had purple petals, the other was white, each beautiful in their uniqueness.

“We’re fragile, you know,” the kind voice rang from the purple flower. Long and tall, with several tough blossoms hanging from its stem. The petals gathered in a certain way that when examined, it made an obvious face. The eyes slanted towards her, filled with judgment; they were merely stamens—collectors of pollen—yet they were filled with so much emotion.

“Talking flowers?” Alice asked, her voice singing with curiosity.

“Pft,” Mad pursed his lips and spat, exasperated over the sight, “more like gossiping flowers. Only good for judging.”

“Gossip!” The offended tone rang out from the white flower. Its face formed in its golden center, “No, no, no, dear child. Not gossip, we are all around. So, we hear all and know all. Everywhere you walk in the world, as long as there are roots, there’s a plant listening.”

“Nosy,” Mad chimed in, with a matter-of-fact nuance.

“Eavesdroppers,” Alice followed suit dryly.

“It’s not gossip if it’s public information,” the purple flower defended.

Mad turned to Alice, inching closer to her ear, whispering, “The flowers, trees, and all the plants know everything that’s going on in Wonderland. They’re always in other people’s business.” The tickle of his warm breath sent pleasant chills down Alice’s body.

“My grandmas like that too,” Alice responded back with a whisper, leaning closer into Mad’s bubble. Their shoulders touched and stayed together comfortably.

A hushed chuckle escaped his lips, “They love talking to one another, but it's usually hard to get them to talk to us.”

“Enough of that gibberish boy! We can’t help but listen when you’re all stomping around, screaming like a lunatic, with no grace and poise!” the white flower crossed two of her leaves, sulking at the disdainful comments.

“Exactly,” the purple one chimed back in. “You people have no capability of relaxing. Swaying with the breeze, soaking in the warm sunlight, that’s the meaning of life. Instead, it’s always screaming, and crying, explosions and fires that hurt us. It’s never peaceful with your lot. Bouncing around and running left and right. You all take living way too seriously.”

“We did catch your blunder though,” the white one peeked up slyly. She he held one of her leaves toward her center where a small gap between the small yellow florets separated ever so slightly; it formed the shape of a mouth. “How utterly embarrassing for you. It was quite a shock! We all couldn’t help but gasp.”

“Me?” Alice asked, confused, suddenly being picked on by the flowers. Only now did she break contact with Mad, feeling all too aware of her body. Made to feel self-conscious because of flowers! How absurd!

“Oh, darling, don’t be so hard on her,” the purple one retaliated. Slightly swaying her leaves, she patted the other one’s makeshift shoulder. “She can’t help it; she’s a mortal, remember. They’re built differently than the people of Wonderland.”

“You’re right, oh how silly of me to forget. No wonder her imagination ran dry. You’ve lost all your imagination then, haven’t you.” A smirk! A judgmental smirk on a truly faceless bitch!

“She can’t lose what she never had to begin with.” The two flowers elegantly cackled. A torrent, a wave of chortles, echoed in the field as the rest of nature was queued in on the joke.

Alice’s face flushed. Bullied by a bunch of flowers, what a shock!? “I could use it before while I lived here, you know,” Alice blurted. She looked to Mad for reinforcement. Caught up with emotions she continued, “We used to do things together without a problem. Like Mad said, I’m just out of practice.” Alice stammered, “I think,” she said a little bit more quietly. She began to question her sanity. Maybe she’s misremembering something. It seemed she couldn’t remember a lot of these things. The Card Army, talking flowers, portal travel, home…

Mad looked at her reassuringly, “Do you know how she can fix it?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder, drawing her back against his frame. The two sat comfortably again, side by side in the field of catty flowers.

“What an excellent point. She is a mortal, one who lived here for quite a while.” The white daisy contemplated. “Meaning mortals must have some ability to access it without leaching off it in Wonderland.”

Leaching? Alice asked herself. Not wanting to question anything more, worry grew over their snide remarks and condemnation. Thinking back, she remembered a small bit of life. Back then, she hadn’t ever questioned where imagination came from. She knew Wonderland was fueled by it. It was magic to her, but something basic like rain to them. In Wonderland, imagination was a natural part of life, everything ran on it, and part of that magical force would funnel into the mortal world. Outside of that basic knowledge, she never questioned it much. It was just a part of life, a state of being.

“A person who can’t use imagination, how low can you get. Worse than dirt if you ask me. It’s simply disgraceful. Which is why we should rectify that as soon as possible, mortal girl.” The two flowers hushed for a moment as they quickly fell lost in thought.

Alice shot Mad a look, screaming with her eyes, “these bitches,” a secret language he managed to understand. Rolling his eyes, he followed swiftly with a reassuring smile. Alice giggled.

“Well,” the purple flower started, throwing one of her leaves to what would be the hip of a human. Her other leaf rested under the floral part that formed her mouth. Standing in a way that invoked thought, the flower stayed lost in deliberation as they tried to come up with a solution. “We can assume that as a mortal, throwing her into using high-level imagination without any sort of acclimation wouldn’t work. Just like a plant, you can’t throw its roots into a pot of dirt and expect it to live.”

“It’ll need nurturing and acclimation. Otherwise, it goes into shock. You’re oh so right my dear.” The white daisy encouraged. “Why don’t you try eating something, darling? Mad.” The flower snapped her leaves. “Do you have anything for her to nourish herself with?”

Mad pulled the hat from his head and inquisitively looked inside. He first put his hand in, rummaging, unable to locate whatever it was he wanted. He dug deeper, inching in his forearm, his elbow, then eventually he was shoulder-deep into his hat. His normal-sized hat for a normal-sized head. His face lit up as he pulled his arm out and with it, a bag of cookies and sweets.

“Good enough. Human child, take a bit of Wonderland into your system and it’ll start to manifest and grow itself within you. Imagination is all around us here, it’s in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the sun rays we bathe in. So, it’s also a part of the food you people ingest. Take a small bite and see how much it incorporates back into your blood.” The white flower instructed.

Alice grabbed for the macaroon treat held up by Mad; it was pink and looked like a normal one she would have found back home. She gave it a quick sniff, verifying the accuracy of the sweet. It smelled how she would expect. Almonds with a hint of honey. A small jolt of panic filled her system, A sense of creepy crawling dread ran up her back. Tales and superstitions from home raced across her mind, filling her brain with worries.  Stories about Faye, supernatural worlds and places mortals should never wander. Words that taught lessons with strict warnings about never accepting the food offered in such situations. Myths about swallowing seeds from a pomegranate, being spirited away to another world, religious warnings about eating apples picked from a tree that followed in banishment. Those were just stories though; right? Stories though, she recalled thoughtfully, were what Wonderland inspired.

Regardless, she’d been here before. She had eaten the food here before. All before. She had once been incorporated as a part of Wonderland and was able to leave before. She grew up here and left without any problems. It had been the mortal world that trapped her.

This will be fine.