To think it all started with a clumsy tumble.
Well, really it was all because of that otter!
Misty picked herself up off the ground, brushing the grass, dust, and brambles from her skirt. Nothing seemed broken at least, so perhaps she wasn’t entirely unlucky, especially since she’d landed on a bed of soft moss, though a glance over her shoulder confirmed that yes, she’d fallen more than a few meters, and yes, it was a sheer climb back up the rabbit hole she’d tripped into.
“I’m in for quite the scolding from Lorina once I find my way back home. And poor Dinah! She’ll be missing me terribly!” Hugging her arms to herself, Misty wished her faithful tabby cat was with her now in this strange underground place. How on earth had the rabbit hole ended up so far down? Best to start moving and look for a way out among the twisting roots and strange, checker-patterened stones. One step, then two. The raccoon straightened her back and attempted to project confidence like her older sister.
“Is that a piano turned upside-down? And what on earth is that tree doing growing bluebells? I don’t think I hit my head in that fall, but if I did, maybe some of the sense fell out. Where did that otter go anyhow?”
Ahead beneath the shadowed boughs of a gnarled tree that reminded her of a chair, a flash of white fur decked with crimson darted deeper into the bizarre landscape.
“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important panel!”
Misty rushed after the fleeting figure, lifting up her skirt so as not to have a second nasty fall. She’d never seen an otter move so quick! “Excuse me, Mr. Otter! Can you help me? Goodness, you’d think his tail was on fire!”
The otter’s red waistcoat flashed, a swirl of white fur marking the mustelid’s movement. Misty tried to follow, but her eyes couldn’t seem to track him between the curling boughs and oddly shaped shadows.
“I’m late, I’m late! My panel starts soon, I can’t find the room, and what’s more the elevator broke!” The voice was fading into the distance, she was losing ground, and her breath! She really ought to do more cardio.
“Panel, elevator? What do you mean? Excuse me!”
“Oh, no time, no time! The flowers wilted and now all is tilted! I’m late!”
“Wait, please! Don’t leave me here alone!”
Her side ached. Gasping, Misty stumbled to a halt against a curved root. The surface shrunk away from her touch, and she let out an undignified shriek as she slipped onto her rump, bouncing off the oddly spongy root and onto the thick moss coating the ground. Glaring into the twisting foliage, Misty shook her paw. “You’re a rotter, not an otter!”
Her insult fell on an empty forest.
Despair clenched in her chest, an icy claw gripping her heart. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! She was a capable girl, wasn’t she? Wherever she’d ended up, she’d find her way out, otter or no otter! There must be other people here, so someone could give her directions. After a few deep, calming breaths, Misty stood and tried to get some kind of bearings. No way to tell which direction North lay, though sunlight seemed to trickle in from somewhere. Suppose she just picked a direction and started walking. Everywhere was somewhere, and eventually she’d get somewhere more worth being than here.
Her nose twitched, scenting the air. Moss, loam, pine… a hint of floral scent. The further she walked, the more the twisting roots spread out, making room for other curious foliage. There, a bush that looked like a tuba! A set of shrubs in the shape of top-hats! And over there, that flower… Why, it had a clock inside! Misty paused to take a closer look. Its stem was shriveled, the petaled head drooping. “Poor thing. I bet you need some water and sunlight, don’t you?”
Was this the flower the otter had meant? Strange, the clock didn’t have the usual numbers. Both hands pointed to Now. One point said, Later. Others said things like, Soon, Eventually, and Long Ago.
The raccoon scratched her chin. “What good is a clock that just says, ‘Now?’ anyway? Maybe it’s stopped. Would a bit of water make it run again?”
“Lost something?”
Misty jumped, spinning around at the sound of the voice. No one. Her heart pounding, she scanned the shadows for movement, her nose quivering for any scent. Something lingered, something… feline?
“Who’s there?”
“A better question, who isn’t somewhere? Is that you?”
“I rather think I’m somewhere very strange, but that doesn’t answer my question! Who are you?”
A gleam caught her eye from the hanging limb of a tree shaped like a teapot. A toothy grin winked into existence, fang by fang, two luminous yellow eyes appearing over it. A twitching, striped tail was next, pink and purple fur fluffed out. Then two pointed ears, and finally the rest of the feline, the cat lounging on the tree without a care in the world. It blinked at her, slow and content.
“Why, Cheshire, of course! If you’re asking me, that is. If you ask someone else, they may give a different answer. But if you ask me, asking someone else about me isn’t much of a way to get to know me, is it?”
Well, she could manage a cat, even if this one spoke differently from most of the cats she knew. No reason not to be polite, as the feline seemed at least willing to chat. “No, that seems like poor manners to gossip. How do you do, Cheshire?”
“I do like any cat, lissome, pilose, abstruse!” Leaning down from the bough, Cheshire stage-whispered, “After all, you ought not imagine yourself to be naught other than what others imagine you ought not to be.”
Misty cocked her head. “I beg your pardon? I’m pretty sure I only imagine myself as… myself! Although there was that one time I dreamed of being a liopleurodon. That was rather strange.”
Cheshire hummed. “All dreams end up here one way or the other.” That striped tail curled, pointing at the flower as the cat lazed on the bough. “As for that flower, time is a terrible thing to waste, don’t you think? How should we ever know it’s tomorrow if it’s always today? Or perhaps it’s still yesterday and we simply haven’t realized it yet? Then again I once knew a dodo perpetually stuck in last Thursday. If it were me, I’d much prefer the present, so long as it isn’t a leap year. They always tire me out with all the jumping around.”
Did everyone here make a point to be confusing? Misty put her paws on her hips. “Well, I can’t say I can make much sense of that! Pardon me, Cheshire, but did you happen to see a white otter run past here?”
“He went that way.”
Cheshire crossed both arms, a clawed fingertip extended left and right. The tail formed an arrow pointing a third direction.
Politeness was going to be difficult to maintain, it seemed. “Come again? Which way exactly?”
“Hmm?”
“The otter.”
“Which otter?”
Misty stomped her foot. “The white otter!”
More humming. “Oh no one is odder than anyone else down here, white, black, blue, or purple.”
“Oh, this is maddening! You’re being rather confusing!”
“We’re all mad here! But if I were you and you were me, I’d try asking the Mad Hatter rather than a cat in a tree! No one is odder, so you’re sure to find at least some otters.” The cat’s body faded from sight, only that cheeky grin and the eyes remaining.
Trying to ignore the feline’s apparent lack of regard for the laws of physics, Misty shook her head. “Mad Hatter? I’m not certain I like the sound of that.” A sigh escaped the beleaguered raccoon. “Please, I am rather lost. Couldn’t you give me some sort of directions? I’m trying to find my way home.”
A flick of a striped tail—the branch shook, and Cheshire’s mocking tone came from behind her. “Here! There! Turn! Twist! Up! Up! Down! Down! Left! Right! Left! Right! How are those for a start?”
Shaking her head, Misty threw up her paws. “Nevermind, I suppose I’ll find my own way then. Goodbye, Cheshire.” Deciding left was as good a direction as any, she set off in a huff.
“The red queen knows the way home, but it might cost you more than you’re willing to lose.”
Pausing, the raccoon looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing at the cat, who now hung from their tail like a monkey, that cheeky grin gleaming at her from the shadows.
“And where might I find this red queen?”
“Why, in the rose garden, naturally! But do mind the thorns.” Cheshire flipped upright atop the branch and strolled away, the cat’s striped body vanishing slowly from tailtip to ears. A lilting tune rose in its wake, Misty’s ears twitching at the odd lyrics.
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves… Did gyre and gimbal in the wabe. All mimsy, were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe…”
Too late, she realized she still lacked any tangible information. “Wait! You haven’t told me where to find the… Oh bother. I suppose I’m on my own. Again. No matter. I’ll find my way to this rose garden one way or another, though I’d dearly like to have a map.”
“A map? A nap? How about a gingersnap?”
Misty jumped at this new outburst, spinning about to face a beaver in a purple suit standing between a pair of arching roots, wearing a truly outlandish green tophat and a garish pink bow-tie. The beaver grinned and waved, then tipped their hat, revealing a teapot balanced on their head beneath.
“Oh! Excuse me!” Misty offered a polite nod in return. It never hurt to be polite, at least until the situation called for something else. “Hmm, would you be the Hatter, by chance?”
The beaver bowed. “Not by chance, by fact! And so long as we’re fast-talking facts, come, hurry and scurry! It’s your unbirthday tea party! You don’t want to miss it, come celebrate with the misfits!” Gesturing, like a theater usher, the beaver indicated she should follow through the woods.
Paws on her hips, she fixed the beaver with a stern look. “This isn’t one of those… what do they call them? Investment opportunities, is it?”
“Invest? Suggest? Contest! What an excellent idea! A cake eating contest! The perfect thing to have at a tea party! Come along, the March Hare and Dormouse await us!” The beaver clapped their paws, thick tail smacking the mossy ground. Before Misty could question the assertion, the rodent turned about face and began skipping away, forcing her to follow or be left on her own once more.
“Well, I suppose a bit of tea and cake couldn’t hurt. Do you happen to have Earl Grey?” Misty hurried after her strange host. If nothing else, perhaps she might learn more about the red queen.
“We have pink and blue and green! All the best flavors. There’s T and E and A. We’ll try them all today! It won’t take long unless you’re wrong, but then you’re here to stay!”
Misty sighed. “Oh dear… what am I getting myself into now?”
Follow along with Misty’s adventures as part of our con game! Water the clock flowers hidden around the con and scan the clues to find the next parts of the story. Make sure to join us for the opening and closing ceremonies to see the first and last chapters acted out!