April, week 4; 4 months after The Start of The End.

“Get him in treatment, he’s going critical!”

“Where’s my second IV?!”

“Flatline! Get me 2 doses of epinephrine!”

All around The Clinic doctors flew in a frenzied blur. The building had devolved into chaos, with patients piled on every surface. The Golden Stag and Silver Doe stood helplessly in the lobby, watching as the sick flooded in. Both wore lab coats over their regular attire, as well as medical gloves and filtered masks. No one was taking any chances.

The disease had struck rapidly, without warning. It was an epidemiologist’s nightmare; highly contagious, and asymptomatic until it was too late. The people called it “The Weeping Plague”; its only visible symptom was uncontrollable tears. Originally doctors thought this was the transmission method, but the illness kept mutating. The Clinic had overflowed in a week and a half; no containment methods stopped it.

“How many?” The Stag asked wearily.

“We passed 300 this morning.” The Doe replied “The transmission rate is increasing. Doctor’s think it’ll hit a thousand by end of day tomorrow.”

“The Does?”

“We’ve had a few cases so far, but managed to quarantine them before they spread.”

The Stag nodded weakly. Similar reports had come from the Owls and Guardians. Rapid quarantine had prevented spread to their warriors, but it was only a matter of time. The disease spread too fast to be tracked, and changed too rapidly for study. The realm couldn’t keep up.

“Of all the times for The Rabbit to be late.”

A doctor fell to the floor nearby, and The Stag rushed to help them. They moved as if in a trance, zombie-like in the face of their exhaustion. Without acknowledging The Stag they rushed to their next patient, who had gone catatonic.

“Couriers on the path!” A Guardian rushed in, wearing full tactical gear and a filtered mask. “They bear Wonderland’s banner.”

“Did they bring them?” The Stag asked.

“500 doses.” The Guardian responded “Plus additional supplies.”

The Stag rushed out of the clinic, followed closely by The Guardian and Silver Doe. They shed their coats and medical supplies as they left, tossing them into a waste bin by the entrance. Passing more patients they rushed down a small game trail, before emerging in The Court.

“That trail isn’t marked” The Guardian said.

“The realm has many secrets.” The Doe replied “Be careful, or you’ll get lost in them.”

Walking quickily, the three moved to the center of the clearing. The Court was almost completely empty, locked down in response to the plague. Banners hung loosely on the trees, while the flowers below were in full bloom. The Throne rippled slightly, bathed in the reflections of golden flags. It was beautiful and elegant, defying the unrelenting sickness. At the entrance to The Court The Stag saw two guardians watching over the main trail. There was a glint, and he glanced up; an additional cluster of Does hid in the trees, their silver arrows glimmering. The realm was on edge; desperate for help, but not blind in their need.

A horn sounded from the trees, and a group of figures appeared at the trailhead. The Guardians crossed their spears to block them, looking towards The Stag.

“Couriers from Wonderland,” The Guardian on the left called out “bearing supplies and support from the Queen”

The Stag took a brief look at the group, carefully observing each member. There were six in total, four of which wore military uniforms. The soldiers were covered in bulletproof armor, their faces hidden behind masks of red. Between them were two motorized wagons carrying a multitude of boxes and equipment. The majority of the containers were also red, with “MEDICAL” printed on all sides. One of the soldiers carried a remote, which appeared to be controlling the wagons.

With them was a woman dressed casually, wearing a lab coat over a light T-shirt and jeans. She was middle aged, moving in a harried manner with a concerned look on her face. The biomedical specialist, sent to ensure the doses were administered properly.

With a grimace, The Stag noted the final member of the party was The White Rabbit.

“Bring them forward!” The Stag called. The Guardians parted their spears, and the group crossed the clearing. Three Guardians walked with them, carrying assault rifles. They stopped 10 feet in front of The Stag, and bowed slightly.

“Sire-” The Rabbit began.

“The gear has been inspected?” The Stag interrupted, addressing the nearest Guardian.

“Yes sir.” The Guardian responded “The owls have given their seal.”

One of the Guardians to the left of the group stepped forward, producing an Envelope closed with black wax.

“Weapons?” The Stag took the envelope and broke the seal. Inside was a single sheet of paper; a detailed manifest stamped by The Guardians at the bottom.

“Confiscated”

“Send the researcher and supplies to The Clinic. The Warriors and Rabbit stay here.”

“Yes sir.” The Guardian pointed towards the trail to the settlement, and the biomedical specialist rushed towards it. Taking the remote from the soldiers, the Guardian jogged to catch up. Gears rumbled, and the wagons began to follow. The Stag skimmed through the manifest of medical supplies, tracking the two with his peripheral vision. As they disappeared into the forest, he looked up. He handed the manifest to The Silver Doe, and acknowledged The White Rabbit.

“The Woodland Realm thanks you for your help,” The Stag said “it is much needed.”

“The Queen is happy to do what she can.” The Rabbit responded “Anything to prevent further loss of life.”

“Hopefully the treatments will work.”

“Hopefully”

The two faced off for a moment. The Rabbit was especially calm this visit, lacking his bumbling nature. There was a smugness that concerned The Stag, a knowledge of the great debt owed. The power had grown imbalanced, and that was dangerous for The Realm.

“Your security has increased.” the Rabbit glanced around the court “Trouble?”

“None that we can’t handle.” The Stag replied.

The White Rabbit nodded noncommittally, before returning his gaze to The Stag “Have your people come to a decision?”

“We’re in the middle of an epidemic.” The Stag said carefully “We can’t focus on anything else.”

“So you’re refusing then.”

The Stag paused, and the tension grew.

“Have you watched someone die?” The Stag finally asked.

“What?”

“Have you watched someone die?” The Stag’s voice grew cold.

The Rabbit paused “Once or twice.”

“This plague is worse than death.” The Stag began walking forward, slowly approaching The Rabbit “It strikes without warning; contagious almost immediately, with no symptoms. In your last moments it attacks the cells of your blood, causing immeasurable pain. And as you slowly die, you can’t. Stop. Weeping.”

He stopped a foot away from The Rabbit, and leaned forward “You’ll understand if we have our hands full.”

The Rabbit stared at him with an expression of apathy. There was a pause, then something twisted. A cruelty entered his gaze, alongside sick enjoyment.

“Is that what happened to The Black Owl?” The Rabbit asked “Or is there something even worse in The Woods?”

The Stag was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. The Black Owl’s disappearance was a closely guarded secret; almost none knew. “The Black Owl is on a mission.”

“I’m sure he is.”

The White Rabbit leaned forward, placing his mouth directly besides The Stag’s ears “Your people will weep from more than illness.” He turned around with a crisp movement and began to walk out of the court, tailed by his soldiers.

“I shall inform The Queen of the decision.” He called backwards “We’ll send more shipments as soon as they’re ready.”

The Stag glanced at The Doe, whose lips were drawn with concern. They locked eyes, and they both had the same thought.

The Woodland Realm had a Mole.

AUTHORS NOTE:

FROM THE NOTES OF TABITHA GRAHAM, CHIEF OF MEDICINE FOR THE WOODLAND REALM:

Classification of mystery illness - collectively known as “The Weeping Plague” - has upgraded from ‘Outbreak’ to ‘Epidemic’. Illness remains highly contagious, and highly resistant to treatment. Vector or transmission method is unknown. Type of infecting organism is unknown. Function and cause of weeping is unknown. Incubation period is unknown, estimated at less than a week. Lethality estimate remains close to 100%. Original origin of illness and patient zero is unknown. Cause of death appears to be severe dehydration and destruction of circulatory cells. Blood samples show traces of multiple foreign organisms, which appear to disintegrate upon exposure to air. Further testing hindered by lack of available personnel and specialized equipment; recommend referral to national health agencies. Quarantine methods have proven ineffective, recommend complete individual isolation of all uninfected. [END OF NOTES]

Episode 12 takes place 6 months after The Start of The End.