Upon closer inspection, however, the little girls are dressed up in costumes reminiscent of queen chess-pieces -- one in white, and the other in red. And upon even closer inspection, it's quite clear that these aren't really little girls so much as kittens (or Kittens, as one might write in Wonderland) -- one black (dressed in red, with pink ribbons), and one white (dressed in white, accented with sky-blue ribbons). And upon yet closer inspection, their "dolls" look rather like over-sized chess pieces, but with cloth costumes and floppy limbs.

A strong breeze tousles the branches, and the kittens let out startled "mews" as they struggle to hold onto their crowns, and not spill any of the not-imaginary tea. The leaves seem to whisper into the ears of the travelers, "Here are two Queens. One is always Naughty, and one is always Nice. Any true child of Wonderland should know which is which." Words spoken in Wonderland seem to have a certain emphasis wherein you can just tell when things like "Naughty" or "Nice" are Capitalized and thus imbued with Added Meaning.

(GM Note: Map of the Looking-Glass Lands: here. Current location is marked as the Hill of Surveying.)

"Goodness gracious! How preciously adorable!" exclaims Ace as he catches sight of the kittens dressed up in queens' clothes. The reporter gives Griffin a look. "We should get a picture of this, I'm sure it will greatly improve the Social Section. If Her Mewjesties will permit, of course."

"They are adorable, don't you think, Integra?" Griffin asides to his niece and begins to unload his camera gear.

"The cuter it is, the more deadly it is," Harrison whispers to Ace, reminding him to not get enamored of 'cute'. "And didn't you just hear the whisper? One of them is decidedly catty..."

The breeze stills, and the Kittens help each other get their crowns back on properly, and straighten out their bows. They then at once notice that they have visitors, and look at them with wide kitten eyes.

There's an awkward moment as Ace, Harrison and Griffin exchange meaningful glances, perhaps wordlessly arguing over the matter of just who should be going about introductions.

The reporter clears his throat, noticing the kittens are looking his way. "But I'm forgetting my manners. Good day, I have the honor to be the Ace of Spades, Your Mewjesties, assisting..." He glances toward the rabbit, motioning him forward to smooth over any accidental lese majesty.

The Kittens shift their attention toward the Hare, following Ace's visual cue. Either that, or maybe, being little cats, they are naturally inclined toward staring at rabbits, even especially large ones.

Harrison steps forward and clears his throat. "A purrfectly lovely day, your Majesties," he hare recites in a rather formal tone, coupled with a deep bow. "I hope that our ill-mannered appearance has not disrupted your amewsing party and that you will find it within your hearts to forgive us. I am Haigha, also called March, the March Hare if you have perhaps heard of me. This chap at my side is Ace; he may look gruff, but I assure you he has a heart of turnips. Behind me is the sharp-eyed Griffon; expert in capturing images and memories of all things."

Integra bashfully hides behind Griffin, and though she'd been curiously snatching looks at the Kittens, she ducks her head back behind him when the introductions turn to her uncle.

The White Kitten sets down the teapot, and claps her little hands (paws?) together. "Mew! You are just in time for tea! You should join us!"

"Heart of--" The reporter is momentarily taken aback, then jibes at Harrison, "If that don't beet all! I might have to get a little par-snippy at you."

Griffin bows to the Kittens while setting up the tripod, using his wings to help hide Integra. "Tea sounds lovely," he squawks.

The Black Kitten mews, and, sounding just as sweet in tone, looks to Griffin, "Tea? Mightn't you have something more important to tend to?" The White Kitten elbows her. The Black Kitten elbows back. This could get out of paw very quickly.

"But of course. It was proper saladutations, old flat-top," Harrsion remarks, grinning quite the buck-toothed grin. "And do not worry, the Griffon will tend to immortalizing your memory soon! You have to be kind to him you see ... bit of a birdbrain; easily distracted," he says to the kittens while taping his nose for emphasis.

"The sound of it will sustain me as I work," Griffin claims, as he begins to set up the camera.

At the reminder of the photograph, the Kittens immediately stop their tousling, and hastily straighten out their dresses and groom their paws fiercely. Mustn't have a patch of fur out of place!

Ace adds, "You might think me a little snooty, but that's only because you're so short, you mistake my natural lofty bearing for turn-upping my nose at you," to Harrison. "Perhaps we should treat you to some of the fungi to be found around hereabouts, it might give you a new purr-spective on life." He considers the argument between kittens. Hmm. "Smile for the birdy!" he suggests.

"Mew!" The Kittens put on their best toothy kitten-grins. Whether this is cute or disturbing on a little cat-face is an exercise for the observer to work out.

Once the camera is arranged. the Gryphon's head vanishes beneath the camera's cowl.. and many hmmming and hawwing noises ensue, as the creature's talons keep adjusting the iris controls back and forth. "A challenge, this, to capture them both together," Griffin notes. "One would be shadow, or one washed out, depending on the adjustments. Who needs to look their best the most?"

Harrison rubs his face. "That was the worst think he could ask them," the hare mutters to Ace.

"Well, just keep in mind if you slight one, they're bound to give eating you a good try," Achilles whispers to Griffin. "Do your best, there's a good fellow."

"Oh, she needs all the help she can get, the Naughty thing!" both Kittens mew in unison, each pointing at the other.

The Gryphon's solution is to set up the flashpan to add more contrast. "Well, I could always do two individual portraits," he notes.

"But a picture of the two together would offer so much cont--" Achilles's eye (singular) falls upon Integra. "Actually, I wonder if Your Mewjesties would consent to permitting the photographer's niece to join you at the table? She would bring out both your shades to their very best."

"If I were to sit in the light, and she were to sit in the shade," the Black Kitten offers, "then we should both be perfectly grey!" "Nonsense!" the White Kitten mews, but then suddenly cuts herself off. "Niece?"

Harrison points towards Griffin's wings. "Behind him; she is very shy," the hare claims.

"I'm not sure a Pawn should be next to two Queens," Griffin notes, referring to Integra's honorary rank.

"But what could be more educational or natural for a pawn than to sit at the paws of two of the Looking Glass's finest?" suggests Achilles.

"What do you think, Integra?" Griffin asks quietly of the girl. "Is there anything about the Kittens that worries you?"

"And who are we to presume?" Harrison adds, "Why not let the Majesties see her and decide for themselves."

Integra whispers to Griffin, "They're my age, I'm sure of it. And I'm wearing this silly Pawn dress, and they have those beautiful Queen costumes! I feel so ... so ... so silly! Plus, they're kittens. But they're people. How you do act to a kitten-person? Do you dangle string? Or would that be rude?"

"Good questions, to be sure," Griffin notes. "But in moments of uncertainty, best to fall back on Proper Manners and Etiquette. Besides, you have your own pony, while they just have dolls."

"Oh do join us!" the White Kitten mews, clapping her paws, and leaning slightly to one side, though that isn't far enough for her to actually see Integra any better.

Achilles, not being able to overhear the whisper, only Griffin's louder speech, whispers to Harrison, "Oh, now they'll want ponies of their own. Or they might take it into their head to confiscate hers."

The Black Kitten brightens momentarily, then frowns. "Mightn't this be a bad idea?" she mews. "What if one of us is Naughty?"

The White Kitten pokes the Black. "One of us is Naughty. But you'll mind your manners."

"Whomever is Nicest can have their portrait taken by themselves afterwards," Griffin offers.

"hm, does not what the white kitten say imply she may be the Naughty one. And if this is looking glass .. opposites. white is black and black is white," the hare points out to Ace in whisper.

Achilles whispers back, "It's all a matter of your purr-spective on things. But all you have to do is to ask them who the other person would say is the Naughty one."

Integra checks to make she's presentable as best she can, in the Pawn dress she acquired at the White Knight's Manor. She at last comes out from behind Griffin, with her faithful nightmare-rocking-pony companion and the rolling toybox in tow.

Griffin checks that the sparker is working, then loads the powder into the flashpan and holds it aloft while the rest of him ducks onto the camera cowl to view the inverted scene before loading a plate. "Now, when you're all ready, look at the camera and say 'Please' for me."

"Though if you suppose the Nice one always speaks the truth whereas the Naughty one seeks to color the truth, I suspect the White Kitten is the Nice one," Achilles concludes, still whispering to Harrison. "Why does it matter, again?"

"Well, they might do something Naughty to Integra, of course. What that is ... uhm," the Hare notes, then shrugs.

After some quiet girly introductions and comparisons of costumes and toys (ponies and dolls and tea sets), the Kittens and the Little Girl finally get settled in. After some sorting out, the Kittens switch places: The Black Kitten sits the furthest on the right, catching more sunlight, while the White Kitten is furthest to the left, so that her fur won't be quite so blinding white (at least in theory -- no, they don't both turn perfectly grey), and then Integra is in the middle. The pony is a bit off to the side, but since it's mostly dark, it seems that the Little Girls/Kittens have worked out that it should be over in the light. There's surprisingly little talking in the whole exchange -- just mostly giggles.

"Everyone look at me and say 'Please,'" Griffin repeats once the girls have sorted themselves out, and bobs the flashpan a bit to get their attention.

Girl and Kittens settle down, watching the flashpan attentively (the Kittens ESPECIALLY so, what with the bobbing).

Once everything is set, Griffin opens the iris and triggers the flash. FLASH

The reporter headlines as Griffin takes the picture, "Nice, Naughty, and Niece. Integra pauses to reflect between the paws of these lovely feline queens before beginning her epic journey to the Eighth Square. A thrilling tale of adventure and wonder, brought to you by the Daily News!"

"Oh! You are going to the Eighth Square?" the White Kitten asks. "Here! You must have some of this special tea! It is specially brewed and will help you reach your destiny!" She gestures to the teapot.

At the encouragement of the White Kitten, Integra starts pouring out cups of tea.

"It will? What, exactly, is in it that makes it special?" Harrison asks. He even moves a bit closer so his twitching nose can smell the tea.

The Black Kitten sputters. "M-mightn't ... not ... I ..." She furrows her brow fiercely, but can't seem to form a coherent sentence, waving her paws around frantically.

"It has a special Medicine in it," the White Kitten happily mews, "which will grant you access to the Banquet Hall in the Eighth Square. Without it, you cannot reach your Coronation!"

"YES!" the Black Kitten mews fiercely. "It is helpful MEDICINE that will ABSOLUTELY NOT HARM YOU OR KILL YOU or do ANYTHING THE LEAST BIT DISAGREEABLE in ANY WAY!"

"We are not nobles, it would not be proper if we were to drink that tea," Harrison says, "We are just simple folk. But the honor of being offered it is appreciated..."

Achilles pauses. He gives Harrison a significant look. Maybe I was wrong to assume that Naughty means they absolutely cannot tell the truth.

The White Kitten balks, and pokes at the Black Kitten. "You ... you ..." She turns to the others. "She's not playing by the rules! She should be disagreeing with me! No matter which of us is Naughty or Nice, we should be disagreeing on that, don't you understand? Now we need to start all over."

"It's only proper for the Queens to drink first," Griffin comments from under the 'dark room' of the camera's cowl.

"Dear White queen-kitten," Harrison says, all smiles. "Which of you would the black queen-kitten say is the naughty one?"

"The Black Kitten would say that I am the Naughty one, of course," the White Kitten asserts. "That is, unless she's going to break the rules again, which completely throws a spanner into the works."

"That's the Naughty one for you, running about, turning rules upside down," says Achilles with a grin. "My, this is very strong stuff. Perhaps too heady for the likes of mere cards like myself."

"Yes it is!" the White Kitten agrees. "I mean ... wait! That's not fair! She's Naughty. That's a special sort of naughty. Can't you hear the way I'm saying it?"

The White Kitten says, "Well, for one thing, she simply cannot make a true statement. She can only say things that are not true, or simply have no truth in them to be untrue."

"Oh, so like how she just said the Tea was perfectly safe for us ... means it would in fact kill us?" Harrison asks, still all smiles.

Achilles waves Griffin closer and whispers to the griffin, "This is no ordinary tea. It may well be some sort of potent medicine that does what the White Kitten says. Now follow the logic with me, old friend. If the White Queen were the Naughty one and offering Integra a poison, the Black Queen would be Nice and tell us that this was in fact harmful. Since this was not in fact what happened..."

"The tea has medicine in it," the White Kitten says. "But didn't you hear her also call it medicine? She's Naughty. She should be disagreeing with me, not agreeing."

"They're supposed to contradict one another though," Griffin notes through the heavy cloth. "We need to ask the Red Queen Kitten something like.. oh.. is her companion white-furred or not.."

"There is a very simple solution ... the White Kitten can drink the tea first," Harrison suggests.

"It's likely that it will do what the White Kitten says, but that the Black Kitten has shaded it in a way that, knowing that we suspect her of being Naughty, we will interpret it in an unfavorable way," Achilles points out to Griffin. "In other words, while it might have its desired effect, it might also have a toxic effect. For instance, it might change her into a cat."

"Would it be so horrible to be a cat?" Hasrrison points out. "I'm stuck as a hare."

The card points out, "That might be one way to make Integra a queen. But knowing that the Naughty one cannot tell the strict truth, why don't you ask your question?"

The Black Kitten sighs quietly, petting at the mane of Integra's toy rocking-pony.

Integra, for her part, is sitting ramrod straight, hands folded, not touching a thing, her gaze bouncing between Ace, Harrison, and toward Uncle Paisley. She hasn't touched the tea, and seems alarmed at the prospect of even touching the cups or pot at this point.

"I may have a way," Griffin notes, and comes out from under the cowl with a tintype plate in claw. "Awrk! The picture is done," he says, and approaches the table to show it to the Kittens. "Now, cameras can be tricky. So just to make sure, can you each point to your own likeness in the photo and tell me if it is really you?"

The White Kitten volunteers, "The tea allows a visitor from the Real World to reach the Banquet Hall of the Eighth Square, which is otherwise unreachable. It is there that she may become a Queen."

The Black Kitten, meanwhile, is distracted by the photo. "Mightn't you phrase that question a little more carefully?" she mews at last to Griffin.

"Please point to your portrait, and tell me that it is indeed that of yourself," Griffin clarifies.

The Black Kitten points to the image of a Black Kitten in the photograph, and says, quite clearly, "No." Her ears blush fiercely.

Achilles pets the poor blushing kitten. "There, there, it's all right, being Naughty all the time is quite challenging, and sometimes one needs a break."

The White Kitten, all smiles, points to the image of a White Kitten in the photograph, and says, quite clearly, "Yes!" She raises her chin, closes her eyes and gives a "So there!" nod toward the Black Kitten. "Now, hurry and drink up your tea, before that Naughty Kitten does something else to ruin your chance!"

The White Kitten interjects, "Of course it will change Integra! For the better! So she can enter the Eighth Square!"

"Oh my," Griffin notes at the Naughty one's reply. "How will it change her, exactly?" he asks the White Kitten.

"I ... I cannot say," the White Kitten says. "But it's for the better! And she will be able to become a Queen!"

"Will it harm Integra?" Harrison asks the Black Kitten, then actually reaches over and tries to scratch her cheek gently.

The Black Kitten opens her mouth and then closes it again, at a glare from the White Kitten. "Mightn't that be a matter of-- OOF!"

"No QUESTIONS!" the White Kitten hisses in the Black Kitten's ear. "You're being so very ... OOOO!"

It's also Harrison's turn to take a cup and sniff it, to try and guess what it smells like. "IF Integra drank it, could its effects be undone later?" he asks both of the kittens.

"Perhaps we need a little fortifying to face the new day," Achilles suggests. "Integra, perhaps you and your Uncle Griffin might unpack the cooking equipment and fix us up some treacle tarts, and some for the Kittens as well? I'd gladly contribute an extra portion of treacle toward their share."

The White Kitten blinks. "Oh. Well, she wouldn't want the effects to be undone," she mews.

"And did Alice drink tea like this?" Griffin asks, before turning to the cooking gear.

"So if Integra drank it, it would kill her, or otherwise change her permanently," Harrison whispers to Ace and Griffin.

"The Real World comment worries me," Griffin notes. "We had to change ourselves to fit in, but Integra didn't. Nor did Alice. I think this would change her into a Wonderland Creature of some sort."

The two Kittens lean over and exchange whispers behind Integra's back. Integra's eyes are wide, and she looks up to Griffin with an expression that seems to positively cry out, "Help me, Uncle! I don't know what to do!"

"Come help me with the tarts, Integra," Griffin says to give Integra an excuse to leave the Kittens for a moment.

The White Kitten returns from her mini-conference with the Black Kitten and nods firmly. "Alice certainly had tea like this! Oh, wait--" She launches a glare at the Black Kitten.

Achilles nods to Griffin. "It's simply a matter of whether you want a kitten for your niece or not. I think she'd be adorable, but then I have never quite understood the attractions parents have to little squalling babies, while I admire the independence of cats."

Harrison takes a teacup and sniffs the tea. "Would it be bad if one of us drank it?" the hare asks and gestures to Ace and Griffin, then himself.

The White Kitten moves to reach out for Integra, then says, "It would be splendid if you drank it! Here, give it a try!"

While assembling the stove, Griffin frowns beakily. "We have a problem," he notes to the others. "Integra is a target of the Queen's forces, for being a Little Girl. If she were a Wonderland creature, then she'd be disguised, but.. well, she'd be a Wonderland creature."

The Black Kitten starts to meow something, but then stops before she gets anything out. She looks very perplexed, and wipes at her eyes with one paw.

Griffin also leans over the table and gives the tea a sniff, although he may be checking for more than just aroma..

Harrison makes a face. "If I drank this, would it change me permanently?" he asks.

Achilles says to Griffin and Harrison, "As I said, it's just a matter of whether you mind having a kitten for a niece."

"Hmmm, it definitely a tea meant for cats," Griffin concludes. "I think it would definitely be bad for Integra to drink. It was rather Naughty of the White Kitten to offer it you know."

The reporter points out, "Cats don't think being a cat like themselves is bad, so it may have been Nice from her point of view."

"Yes," the White Kitten says to Harrison, hastily, raising her voice. "It would change you permanently, but in a GOOD way. Not that you'd get to become a Queen, because, after all, that would just be silly."

"It would not have made Integra into a cat," Griffin notes dourly. "It's quite poisonous to little girls."

Harrison's nose twitches, then he puts the teacup back down. "No, I don't think this tea is meant for a Hare," he concludes. He then eyes the White Kitten for a moment, then laughs, "And I've already had my fill of wearing a dress, anyway."

The White Kitten stands up and stomps her little kitten feet (or hind-paws) while fuming at Griffin. "You're looking at it all wrong!"

"Yes," Griffin notes. "It's from a Pathy plant. A pathy if fine for cats, but not for people."

Then Harrison gets it. "A-heh. a Pathy. Apathy. That explains why for a moment I didn't care how it smelled," the Hare says with a smirk.

"Well... it makes them Apathetic of course," Griffin notes. "Extremely so. To the point of not caring to eat, drink or eventually even breathe."

The reporter scratches behind one ear. (this yields the odd viewpoint of a card briefly sticking his hand into his head, a la the Suicide Jack) "Perhaps we'd better ask them to start their little game of Who's Naughty, Who's Nice over then. It seems rather stressful on the poor Black Kitten to have to lie all the time when she'd rather be helping us."

"You won't be afraid anymore!" the White Kitten protests. "You won't feel sorrow! And you'll be able to reach the Eighth Square! You'll reach your destiny, and you can join Queen Alice. Don't you understand?"

"Queen Alice had to die to return here. I think the White Kitten is suggesting that Integra would have to do the same," Griffin notes.

"Perhaps you could suggest we start over as we serve the tarts," Achilles murmurs to the other two.

The Black Kitten gets up and wraps her arms around the White Kitten, holding her back, shushing her quietly. The White Kitten starts to sob. "This isn't the way it's supposed to go! Queen Alice will be so angry."

"We just want to find her," Griffin notes, as he bakes tarts on.. a camp stove.. somehow.. with Integra's help.

Achilles looks sad at the kittens, and offers them pettings. "There, there, your Mewjesties. A bird's sense of smell is most a-cute, and you two are definitely most cute, so it's not surprising that your advice and his came into conflict. And well, Integra is his niece."

The Kittens, despite all the drama, seem terribly distracted, curious about just how Griffin is managing to bake something over there where they can't quite see.

Achilles apologizes to Griffin in the meantime, "It's a good thing that beak of yours sniffed out the truth. It would have been a terrible thing if your niece had gotten a bad case of a-pathy."

"Once upon a time," Griffin notes, "nobody had pots or pans to cook in. So they wrapped everything in dough and set it on the fire, inventing pies. Since tarts are dough, they are therefore self-baking by nature, via circular logic, which depends on pi of course, and thus is perfectly normal for the Looking Glass lands, don't you think?"

"Ohhhhh," the Kittens mew in unison, evidently impressed at Griffin's mastery of the arts of Wonderland Field Gourmancy.

The card blinks. He looks at Harrison. "That's an interesting tan-gent," he suggests, referring to the golden-colored hare.

Despite the attempted poisoning, the travelers are amazingly good sports about the whole thing. (It helps, perhaps, that the miscreants are Kittens AND Little Girls of a sort, after all, which makes it harder to hold much against them.) Griffin uses up his entire stock of treacle (with Ace donating a little from his own stash), and, through the wonders of Field Gourmancy, somehow manages to turn it into some tarts. Treacle tarts are just as invigorating as ordinary treacle, but far less messy to consume when you have nice dresses and fur and feathers and much of anything else to be concerned about.

Of course, when it comes to having tea, the travelers only partake of what the dolls are having -- that is, imaginary tea. Pathy-cary tea may be fine for Kittens, as they can always use a bit of moderation of their natural over-abundance of Curiosity, but it's not so great for much of anyone else, and the White Kitten has at least for the moment given up on pushing the matter.

The view from the Hill of Surveying is breathtaking, even for the weirdness of Wonderland in general. The Looking-Glass Lands spread out -- but somehow it does not seem to be the entire world of chess squares that the /original/ Alice reported seeing. Rather, the domain has been broken up into a great chess-board of alternating squares of red-leafed forests, and white-grassed fields, divided by little hedge-rows running north/south, and little brooks flowing from west to east.

Within the squares that would normally serve as the starting points for the pieces in a game of chess, there are gigantic structures that have been fashioned to resemble such pieces -- apparently intended for some sort of function rather than just giant statues. (It's also highly improbable -- even by Wonderland standards -- that they're ever intended to move.) Along the line of White Pawns stretching out east and west from this square, there is a great wall, but it has fallen into disrepair, wholly collapsed in parts such that an entire army would have little difficulty marching right through.

By comparison, the distant structures of the Red Chessmen, though indistinct with the bluish/purplish haze of distance, appear to be well-maintained -- with the sole exception of where there should be a structure to correspond to that of the Red Queen. There, the great structure has been reduced to ruin more completely than any other structure on the board. Surely that would be the place where the Eighth Square would have been, according to the original Alice's journey.

To re-trace Alice's path, it appears that there is a steep run down the hill, and a leap over a brook, then there is what looks like a ridiculously short rail line that spans the length of only a single square, taking one through the third rank and into the fourth. There, the railway disappears into a thick and red-leafed wood, only opening up again into a white-fielded square. This field square is odd in that the thin brook that divides most squares has widened into something more like a lake that occupies at least half of the square, with a large town built on its banks; it must surely be the town of Riverside, which the heroes visited not all that long ago.

"So, how did you come to meet Queen Alice?" asks Achilles of the Kittens, taking notes. "I wouldn't think that she'd get along with a pair of lovely Queens like yourselves, as she doesn't seem to like competition." He tries to get a sense of whether the Kittens are likely to turn them in, or go on their own way, after their little tea party.

Beyond Riverside, by way of ferry, it's into the woods again, though a road makes the way easier, until one reaches the field at the base of the great Red Pawn Wall. Beyond that, there should be a great Queen's Tower, but only ruined remains are visible on the hill. Between the intact King's Tower and the ruins of the Queen, a road rises into the great red Chessman City of Faith -- and beyond that the Chessboard Fields give way to farmlands and forests and fields in no particular arrangement, until one reaches the shores of the Endless Sea.

"It looks like the train runs right through the forest that makes you forget," Griffin notes. "Red King's square.. think that is where the Kings are being held?"

"I'd thought the Red King was being held in Looking Glass House," speculates Achilles.

"There are far more Queens than Kings or kingdoms in Wonderland," the White Kitten nonchalantly says, in between nibbles on tea cakes (which she promised had no medicine, poison or magic in them, and which the Black Kitten insisted most certainly DID on all counts). "Of course, there are even fewer Kings these days. I don't think there's a single kingdom with an actual King in charge."

"Mightn't they call them Queendoms then?" the Black Kitten offers. This earns an indignant "don't be SILLY!" look from the White Kitten.

"Oh, where are the lands with all the Rabbits and Hares?" Harrison asks curiously. "I haven't actually seen many of my kind as of late."

"I was thinking of the White King," Griffin notes. "We weren't able to confirm that the Red King was in the house. Not by sight, anyway."

The newspaper reporter uses the age-old technique of petting the kittens to make them more amenable to sharing information, trying to get some more information about Queen Alice from them, and the Eighth Square, which the White Kitten insisted was unreachable. He smiles at the Black Kitten. Such a sweet girl she is!

The White Kitten is first to answer Harrison's question. Of the two, she is the more talkative. "Oh, you'll find Rabbits and Hares in abundance in the lands of the Monarchy of Hearts, and especially in the Village of Animals. Other than yourself, I've rarely seen any here in the Looking-Glass Lands -- but then, Animals can be found most anywhere. We're proof of that enough! But, do you know? I heard that there's a Rabbit who lives in the moon, making potions out of the green cheese."

The Black Kitten gives the White Kitten a sidelong glance. "Now, that's what I heard," the White Kitten insists under the other's gaze. "There's nothing untruthful about that. I just don't know whether or not it's so."

"Oh, her! Yes, we saw her briefly while in the Hallway of Doors," Harrison claims. To the others he whispers, "I asked because I want to know places I can disappear in, if required."

Achilles confides to Harrison and Griffin, "I don't think we need to worry about the kittens running off to Queen Alice to tell her where we're heading, but just to be safe, perhaps we should concoct a plausible alternate route."

"The Eighth Square may be technically unreachable if the Queen's Tower is destroyed, and that's where one goes to be crowned a Queen," Griffin notes.

The Kittens both look at Harrison with extreme curiosity. Clearly they haven't had enough tea.

"Don't you know? You should believe in impossible things. Didn't Alice once claim her father believed in seven impossible things before breakfast?" Harrison points out.

Achilles nods sagaciously. "Have you been to Eighth Square?" he inquires curiously of the Kittens. "What was it like?"

The Kittens nod soberly to Harrison. "Oh!" the White Kitten observes. "The White Queen is very good at that sort of thing, as well!"

"If Alice is in the City of Faith.. well, that says it all, belief-wise, doesn't it?" Griffin offers.

The Black Kitten starts to talk, but spends too long carefully considering her words, before the White Kitten jumps in again with, "Oh, yes! It's a banquet-hall! It's a place of ... oh ... SO many things! Just be sure not to be introduced to the pudding, or you shan't get any. Not without injuring it terribly, that is."

"Now that Queen Alice has come," the Black Kitten adds, "there are coronations of new Queens there ALL THE TIME."

The card reporter considers this. "She lives in the City of Charity, so you might think she'd be helpful," he says, glancing over to the looming city walls behind them. "It seems worth a try!"

Achilles nibbles on his treacle tart. "My compliments to the chefs," he says, nodding to Griffin and Integra.

The Black Kitten asides, "The railway that runs from here to the Wood of No Names won't take you anywhere else, just so you know."

"Well, I know where I think we should go next," Harrison notes before resuming his tart-meal.

"Do you know if the White Queen is seeing guests?" Griffin asks.. and boggles a bit at the Black Kitten's remark - which suggests the railway may go places it doesn't appear to.

The White Kitten shakes her head. "The White Queen has never been much for rule, it's said. The Unicorn and the Lion are her advisors, but they are fairly well running things these days, until the White King returns."

"She may at least have a notion as to the whereabouts of the White King though," Griffin notes. "Should we visit Her Majesty while we're close, or press on? What was your notion for a destination, March?"

"The Unicorn and the Lion, eh? You could say they run things, if by which you mean the lion chased the unicorn all around the town," Achilles quips, borrowing an old nursery rhyme. "But would you vote for them with bits of white bread, brown, or plum cake?"

"I vote to visit the White Queen. After all, I am messenger to the White King and it is my duty to help if he is in danger," March points out, playing his 'role' as it where.

The White Kitten nods to Achilles as if he were being perfectly serious. "They spend as often fighting each other for the crown, as actually helping out. But what does it matter? Ever since the Red conquered the White...." She sighs dejectedly. The Black Kitten reaches over and pat-pats her on the shoulder consolingly.

Achilles leans toward Harrison and queries quietly, "Should we perhaps ask the kittens if they'd like to come along? Otherwise, they'll likely continue to enjoy tea here."

Harrison shrugs. "If you like. With the tea they drink, they may not care to move," March points out.

The White Kitten pokes the Black one. "We're going to get into trouble if you keep trying to help -- I mean, not-help them. Or do I mean help? OH! I'm getting a headache! I need more tea."

Achilles looks surprised. "But wherever would she be, if not in the City of Charity?" He frowns thoughtfully.

"If she is awaiting the King, perhaps she's next door in the King's Square?" Griffin suggests.

"The White Queen just hasn't been herself as of late," the White Kitten mews sadly.

"Ah, I was wondering if things had changed since Alice's original visit here," Griffin notes. "And apparently they have not. We've already met the White Queen."

Achilles, observing the Black Kitten's strange facial contortion-- why, it's almost as if the kitten was trying to look like a sheep! -- looks curious at the Griffin. "Why, how's that?"

"And she did help ... then you had to go wander off, get lost, then drive me insane. I still have the urge to beat you about the head with a teapot," March notes.

"In Alice's story, the White Queen accompanies Alice as far as Riverside.. and then turns into a Sheep, if you'll recall," Griffin points out.

The Black Kitten looks sour, then reaches over and SNATCHES the teapot from Harrison ... then, smiling, hands it right back to him. She looks to the White Kitten with a "That's MY job!" look. Or, given that it's the Black Kitten, perhaps it's a "That's NOT my job!" look.

That fact seems to have eluded Achilles's mind until this time. "Why-- somehow I had forgotten that," he exclaims to Griffin. "How interesting. But we might have an interesting time of finding her again."

Harrison debates clobbering Griffin again with the teapot, but seems to satisfy his urges by simply pouring some tea on Griffin's left foot.

"Awrk!" Griffin squawks and hops away, shaking his foot before it can got apathetic on him.

Integra looks frightfully torn between being horrified for her uncle, or laughing at his antics! She settles for whipping a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and rushing over to help dry off his foot.

Looking smug, March puts the teapot back on the table. "Why, I've discovered a way to get him to leave," he quips. "Nothing quite like brewing up new torments, I must say."

Achilles laughs. "As I said, you've always had an urge to brain him with a teapot. Well, then. We'll leave Your Mewjesties to your tea, unless you've a fancy to come along with us," he suggests.

"I don't see that I deserved that, for saving us the time of searching about," Griffin complains.

"Oh, we'll be perfectly fine here," the White Kitten insists. The Black Kitten, however, shifts a bit where she's seated on the picnic cloth, making uncomfortable glances around.

Achilles considers this. He suggests to Harrison, "Perhaps you might have some luck persuading them to find someplace safer to stay... Queen Alice isn't likely to be the most forgiving of monarches. In fact you might suggest she's so far out the other side of Naughty as to have become Nasty."

The White Kitten looks thoughtful, then amends, "Oh. I suppose you're right. I should be fine, I suppose, since I tried to do what I was supposed to, and it's hardly my fault if you failed the test, but she will no doubt be in trouble for being so very, very Naughty, above and beyond what was expected of her. And I might be considered Naughty by association. Oh dear. Are you QUITE sure you don't want some tea? It's not too late."

"Or why don't the two of you go find a safer place to be, away from her eyes?" March suggests. "The White Knight may be able to help. Or maybe even the White Queen. You chould help out in her shop."

Achilles adds, "We'll take the tea along with us, then you can tell Queen Alice you saw us take some tea. It's hardly your fault that 'take' can be heard two different ways. Or more."

"That is true. We could take some. Maybe we left before we could drink any. Plus, Beaknose might be able to use it for something," March suggests.

The White Kitten squeals and claps her hands at Achilles's cleverness. "Oh yes! Please do take it all!" The Black Kitten rummages around in the picnic basket, and produces a small tin of Pathy-Cary Tea Leaves, which she hands over to the Gryphon.

"Still, there's no need to make yourself too handy to Queen Alice," suggests Achilles as he hefts the teapot, keeping it away from Harrison's clutches so as to leave Griffin some measure of brains.

"Queen Alice is in some secret place," the White Kitten insists. "It's not in either Kingdom, that much I'm sure of, but her subjects do her bidding for her, and take messages, and they're authorized to show her displeasure on her behalf. I suppose they would have to know where to find her."

"Not in either Kingdom, eh?" Griffin ponders. "Sounds like one of the halfway places then."

"Well, having experienced several of her minions, I would definitely suggest being out of sight, out of mind," Achilles says with a frown as he packs the teapot away into his travel bag. "They seem a little... careless of the damage they do to Wonderland's denizens, let alone that they've perpetuated against the Real World's."

"Indeed. I would rather keep away from them, myself, unless we have some powerful allies," March agrees,

"I suppose we won't need to take the railway," the Black Kitten suggests, as she digs around in the picnic basket some more.

Griffin packs away the cooking gear and camera, preparing to move on. "I'm curious about the train now," he notes.

The card gives the kittens another pat apiece, using both hands. "Well, then, 'tis time we were off. Best of luck to you Queens."

Achilles whispers to Harrison and Griffin, "Start off going south, then round the hill to the north where the train tracks start? Or go straight north and rely on the Black Kitten to distract the White Kitten?"

The Kittens mew appreciatively. The Black Kitten and White Kitten whisper to each other, and then they each reach up and untie the ribbons from their hair -- one pink, one blue -- and they walk over to Integra. "This won't help you at all," the Black Kitten asserts. "You can choose whether you think pink or blue looks better!" the White Kitten adds.

"It's just a loan," the Black Kitten says. "Only one or the other will do," the White Kitten adds. "This shade of pink would clash terribly with the blue."

Integra ponders. "I do very much like pink," she confesses, "but blue would go much better if I were to put on my new blue dress. And either would look nice with my Pawn dress."

Griffin turns his head this way and that, looking at the ribbons.. "Well, blue does match your attire better," he concedes to Integra.

Achilles nods approvingly. He whispers to Harrison, "Fortunately we gentlemen rarely have to worry about such subtleties. It's black, white, and earth tones for us men of the soil."

Integra nods and smiles to her uncle. "Thank you so much, both of you!" she says to the Kittens, apparently haven completely forgotten about that poison incident now. "But I think I will go with the blue. And, please, it is SUCH a nice shade of pink! I think they would be equally lovely. If only I had a pink dress with me!"

At last, the Little Girl chooses the blue. The White Kitten beams appreciatively at this. The Black Kitten just puts her own pink ribbon back in her hair (fur?), and then both of the Kittens help Integra to wear the ribbon in her hair, with a nice big bow in the back.

The bow looks very Nice on Integra. Her Pawn dress looks even shinier with the nice blue accent.

"How adorable! It's too bad you can't take a picture so quickly as all that," exclaims Achilles to Griffin.

At last, it's time to end the little picnic, and to move along. The Kittens get their picnic basket packed back up, and at some point, the White Kitten has gotten out a blue ribbon (just not the SAME one) to replace the one she gave to Integra as a gift.

"Okay, let's try this," suggests Achilles quietly to the others as the kittens fuss over the Little Girl. "The pony will leave rather obvious tracks in the ground... So if we go south at first, then I pick up the horse, they'll have no idea which way we went. From there, we'll sneak around the side of the hill to the north, heading for the railroad."

There are tearful farewells between Integra and the Kittens, and promises to either Write Often, or NOT Write Often (depending on the Kitten), never mind exactly how this is supposed to be accomplished. The Black Kitten adjusts Integra's bow such that it sticks up like a pair of ears behind her head, and the White Kitten instructs her to trace some lines on her cheeks, and then declares her an Honorary Kitten. Integra, for her part, teaches the Kittens how to do a Cat's Cradle (oh, they are SO interested!) and how to play hopscotch (using pebbles instead of chalk and pavement), and a few other things, in order to be able to declare them Honorary Little Girls. Yes, best friends forever ... until the next attempted poisoning, anyway.

And so, the travelers follow Ace's plan -- Harrison proving especially adept and well-adapted to sneaking around in these woods -- circling back around such that even though the Kittens are apparently headed the same way, they avoid being spotted on the way.

Griffin keeps a careful watch on Integra as well, to make sure she isn't starting to purr or mew or grow a tail.

According to Integra (after consulting with the Kittens on how to and how NOT to do this), there's a special trick to getting onto the railway without actually having to buy a ticket. All you need to do is to get a good running start down the hill, while it's still indecisive about whether it's still a mountain or going back to being just a normal little rise in the woods, and then just before it's settled on the matter, you make a little hop, skip, and JUMP over the brook --

Passenger Car
A perfectly normal and somewhat drab and well-worn passenger car rattles along the railway. On each side of the central aisle are booths sitting, facing each other, with a little folding table that can be settled down to play cards or such, or have drinks, or folded up for a bit more legroom. Gas lamps sway in the middle of the aisle, while the countryside whisks by outside. A Gentleman's room is located to the fore of the car, while the Ladies have two separate areas -- a dressing room, and a "wash" room for those other matters. The remaining corner is occupied by a heater, individual to each car. Doors at the far front and rear open out onto the covered area where only the conductor is allowed to deal with the hassle of moving from car to car.

"I suppose that makes us train jumpers," whispers Achilles to the others. "Now all we need are those sticks and handkerchiefs to tie to them to make them bindles."

"Hopefully a ticket-taker won't come by and ask us for stubs. That will be awkward to explain," March notes. "I'm not comfortable breaking rules like this; it just seems wrong..."

After a period of disorientation, the travelers are able to make some more sense of their surroundings. The hillside is gone, as is the brook. Memories are muddled as to how exactly they got to this point, much like the transition between the garden of Living Flowers and the Hill of Surveying. Not that getting about Wonderland is all that sensible in the first place, but so far retracing the original Alice's journey seems to be particularly disjointed when moving from site to site.

The card reporter glances up and down the corridor. "Then you'd better keep a lookout for ticket takers so we can keep a step ahead of them," he suggests. "I have no idea if they're forgiving of people who, ah, neglected to purchase a ticket. Though if you draw it out until we're passing into the Woods..."

Although there certainly wasn't any ticket-office to pass through, each of the travelers finds that within a coat pocket, vest pocket, or some other suitable place where such a thing would be tucked away, there is in fact a railway ticket -- and a rather large one at that, as if it was made for someone with PARTICULARLY bad eyesight.

"Sir, just where did you get that ridiculously huge ticket?" March finally asks of the Card once Ace had turned just so. He checks his own pocket, then has to wonder where he got one! "I think I'm going to have a headache," he grumbles.

Integra leans over. "Psst! Check your pockets! I found them in my apron, and gave you each one while you were still looking dizzy, in case the conductor stopped by. The Kittens told me I could do that because the tickets are worthless. Or because they're priceless. Or something like that. I don't quite understand how it's supposed to work."

"I worry about the woods," Griffin admits. "If I eat March while forgetting myself, please forgive me." He adjusts his spectacles to try and read his own ticket.

Achilles looks surprised, then fishes his own ticket out to scrutinize it. "Complimentary tickets, perhaps?"

The large type doesn't help in the least. The letters squiggle around and dodge and practically dance, avoiding any attempt at close scrutiny, let alone actually reading them. It's not as if Wonderland has been bereft of all reading material up to this point, but this feature does feel particularly dream-like.

There are a few other passengers scattered around the car, but a great many of the seats are empty. By the soft snores, it sounds like most everyone is asleep. Most everyone is human as well, in what would be perfectly normal garb for traveling in an English train -- save for that strange man who is wearing clothes and a hat made entirely of layers of newspaper (and he's reading one, too), and then a goat with spectacles (who is eating his own newspaper).

"Ah, maybe this is what the Black Kitten meant," Griffin suggests. "We could end up someplace else, if lose our train of thought.."

"Well, this may give credence to your claims of 'Wonderland navigation being geometry with imaginary numbers'," says Achilles at last to Griffin, tucking his ticket back in his pocket. "So do we want to go all the way to the end of the line in the Wood of No Names? Or take a detour?"

The scenery whipping by is just a hazy blur. It might be ocean. It might be busy streets. It could be hilly forested countryside. The only common theme seems to be that at some point, a bright sunshine-filled day has been exchanged for starry night.

"We do need to get to Riverside eventually if we want to talk to the Sheepkeeper again," Griffin notes.. and pulls down the window shade. "Who knows where the Dreamliner Express will take us otherwise - or if we'd all get to the same destination. Maybe the other passengers are right in sleeping through it all."

"Buck up, we've come this far, we'll get where we need to go. At least this stretch of country isn't full of natives who want to shoot us," encourages Achilles to the others.

As the travelers talk and even think, there's a strange buzzing sensation at the periphery of thought, as if there were a chorus of voices making commentary (like the chorus of a classical play) on everything -- and disparaging commentary at that, if a bit nonsensical. Fortunately, it's easy enough to shut out, and it just seems to blur into the noise of the wheels on the rails and the knock of hitting each little join between the segments as it rolls.

"They may want to stab us, eat us, or maybe roast us in a big pot, but at least they're not Habba Jibbas," asserts Achilles. "And that's worth a thousand pounds."

A thousand. When Achilles says that word, it seems to have a certain resonance to it.

The wise old Goat leans out from his chair, paper hanging from his mouth. "Did someone say something about eating?" Munch, munch.

"You are a paper man, newspaper man," Griffin reminds Achilles. "Don't tempt the goat."

The reporter glances toward one of the other windows that still has night sky outside. "Y'know... I wonder if we can get off on the underside of the Looking Glass Lands," he surmises. "Or maybe that's where we are. It was daytime where we left, it's night here. It'd make sense!" Achilles edges away a bit. "No, the newspaper man is down the aisle a bit."

For a moment, Achilles experiences a dizzying sensation, and he feels light, as if the train just went down a hill very sharply in a way that trains generally do not. However, the sensation quickly passes, and all seems right and level again.

The card looks around. "Did you feel something?" he asks of the others in his section.

Across the aisle, the rocking-pony appears to have a booth entirely to itself. It rocks back and forth with the motion of the train. It doesn't evidence having felt anything, either.

"Odd. Well, I work for a newspaper, but I'm not so dedicated to my work as to be made entirely of newspaper," Achilles reflects. "I wonder what that says about the chap down the way? He is the news?"

"He's just chewing through it," Griffin notes. "The news of some papers has hardly any substance or weight after all. You'd need to eat a lot of that to sate yourself."

"Tickets! Have your tickets ready!" the conductor calls out. He walks down the aisle, scanning back and forth, occasionally peering through a microscope or a pair of binoculars, as if to be absolutely sure he hasn't missed any passengers particularly small or far away.

The reporter smirks, then glances back down the aisle. "So where are we headed, if not the Woods of No Names?"

"I vote for staying out of it," March quips as he fishes out his ticket so the inspecter can examine it.

"If you don't remember where you're headed," the conductor says, blithely checking the tickets in turn and apparently finding nothing out of order, "then you're headed the wrong way."

"What do you think?" the conductor asks, disinterested. "If you can't remember, you can't expect the world to remember it for you. Not that it matters. We're almost there." He hands the tickets back, and moves on down the line. He checks with the Goat and the Man in Paper, but doesn't disturb any of the sleeping passengers. Perhaps it would have been possible to avoid the trouble just by pretending to sleep, after all.

"We're going to Riverside," Griffin reminds everyone. "We could write that down on something."

"Well then, let's write it on our tickets," suggests Achilles, offering a small lead pencil.

Griffin looks at his ticket to find a good spot.. and sees that it already says Riverside (and includes the transfer via Coach that would take him through the Woods of No Names). "Well.. that saves on pencil lead at least.." he comments.

Indeed, the Card's ticket is just as Griffin described. In fact, that's probably what it said all along, but he just couldn't make it out in the dim lamp-light until his eyes adjusted.

"Riverside it is," March says as he checks his ticket as well. If it's not there, well, can always write it on with the pencil.

"Mm. It looks like I'm ticketed the same way," admits Achilles. He puts his pencil away.

"Huh, Riverside it is for me as well," March confirms and tucks his ticket away. "We have a transfer via coach."

The reporter looks down the hallway. Noticing that the paper man sits directly opposite the goat, he marvels to himself (silently) that the goat hasn't started in on his fellow compatriot in newspapers. But best not to draw his attention, lest we end up in the newspapers as the front page.

The train starts to jump, or perhaps leap, but -- no. It was just a bit of rattling as the train pulls up and onto a bridge crossing the next brook. Just outside, there are moonlit fields, and what looks like a giant wasp wearing a powdered wig, while insects buzz about a pond -- rocking-horseflies, snap-dragonflies, bread-and-butterflies, and so forth.

Instead of unceremoniously dropping its passengers off there (somehow), the train instead slows to a stop at a new station. "Stopping for Riverside transfer!" the conductor calls out. "Keep your tickets in hand. Mind you don't FORGET where you're going next!"

With the nearest window blocked by the shade, Ace makes out the wasp through the side window of the next seat down. "That must be the Insect Forest," he surmises. The snap-dragonflies send a shiver down his back though, causing his paper to become briefly corrugated before he straightens his spine out. "Right then, let's go find our coach."

The station is surrounded by woods, and a low fog clings to the ground, making it impossible to see just what lies ahead of the train. It does indeed seem like the train still has further to go forward, and presumably that would be for Riverside, but there is indeed a carriage house, with large and friendly signage (as if large and friendly, easily-read letters might be somehow MORE helpful for those prone to forgetfulness).

"Indeed. Don't get lost again, Griffin," March remarks as he rises to go with the others to find their transfer.

Neither the Goat nor the Man in Paper show any sign of stirring from their seats, and the sleeping passengers are still sleeping.

"I know where I'm going," Griffin claims, but also holds Integra's hand to make sure they don't get separated.

Ace cannot suppress the urge to read the headlines on the Man in Paper. He gives the Paper Man a brief perusal as he passes by.

"Another Headless Woman in Whitechapel!" screams one headline. (No, not literally. Here in Wonderland, it's important to clarify that.) "Urchin Reveals Mass Grave - GARDEN OF DEATH."

This causes Ace to blink, then hurry forward to catch up to the others. "We're in the news after all," he whispers to them, repeating the headlines he saw.

"Like I said earlier, I'm afraid we'll never really be able to leave. I'm stuck like this," March mutters as he walks.

"Have heart," Griffin squawks. "We may yet be able to undo this knot of absurdity."

"I'm not certain of that," surmises Achilles as he debarks the train. (which does not involve removing bark from it) "People's memories are hazy things... And I'm starting to wonder if somehow you can change how people remember the real world."

"Alice could do it," Griffin points out. "Remember Mr. White in the portrait, or the 'twins'?"

From another car, it looks like a couple of Kittens dressed up as Queens are disembarking as well, and heading over to the transfer station.

The card slaps Harrison on his back. "So if we're going to be passing through Riverside... Think we'll run into the Red Rose? If I recall right, she was staying at the Queen's Way Coachhouse."

"I rather hope not," March points out. "It's not like Miss Lucky is with us anymore, either."

Achilles winks. "But you might be able to use your gentlemanly charms to persuade the Red Rose to stop pursuing the poor rabbit."

"I imagine she would have moved on to continue her pursuit - or go into hiding to avoid the wrath of the Queen of Hearts," Griffin says.

Catching sight of the Kittens, Achilles tries to evaluate whether they're going to end up on the same coach.

There's the possibility of awkwardly running into each other if no effort is taken to keep out of sight. Considering the signs that claim that the coaches "comfortably seat six," there seems to be a very real risk that they could be put together for a single trip north.

The reporter considers, then motions for the others to pause a bit. "Let's let the Kittens go first," he suggests. "Ladies before gentlemen, after all. And perhaps we'll find something of interest around the station."

"We do not want to be on the same coach as those Kittens," Harrison points out. "I would rather walk to Riverside than ride with them."

"That's a little harsh, they make good company, except for the part about wanting to kill Integra with a-pathy tea," Achilles opines. "But there are too many possibilities for trouble if we wind up on the same coach in the Woods of No Names. Yes, I think that's the way of it." He surveys the station for a good tea shop, perhaps offering sandwiches.

"Shall we stop for a bite? I don't know about you but even though the treacle tarts were tasty, I'd like something a bit more substantial," suggests Achilles as he points the inn out.

"Oh!" Integra squeaks. "Look! There they are again! They must be heading the same way!" He pulls out her kerchief, and looks to be about to wave it and call out....

"Mmf!" goes Integra. All three of the adults quickly abduct her and hustle her over to the restaurant before she can make a scene. The rocking-pony quietly wobbles its way after them.

"Shh," whispers Achilles. "We want them to be able to truthfully say they don't know which way we're going. Of course Black Kitten will insist she knows, but she can tell them any which way and it won't matter because they won't believe her."

Integra blushes furiously at having not fully caught onto the plan sooner, and she nods just as furiously to indicate her ascent.

Achilles orders up a nice picnic lunch for them to share in the coach while they're there.

The Wood of ... uh ... I Forget
It's very ... uhm ... woodsy here. The leaves are very red. Or is that blue? Or green? It's one of those colors. There's this thing. It might be a road. Or it might be a waffle iron. And there's this other ... doohickey that's on it. And a carriage. There are ... things pulling it. Or maybe pushing it. And ... other stuff that I can't remember what it's called at the moment. Oh, bother!

"Hmm... What do they make roast beef sandwiches from in Wonderland?" wonders Achilles as he unpacks his sandwich. "It must be difficult to find a cow that won't object to being eaten by... by..." He pauses. The sandwich has no name. It must be okay to eat! The others in the coach are treated to the sight of the sandwich becoming mysteriously two-dimensional as if he were eating a drawing of a sandwich.

Our heroes somehow end up on the next coach heading for ... somewhere. Oh yes! Their TICKETS! They say "Riverside." Now, which way is that? With any luck, it would be the way they're already headed. Fortunately, there are no twists or turns or intersections. Also, the driver can pretty easily just follow the ruts even while he's constantly struggling to remember who he is, what these things are in front of him, what that big, really big thing is that is up there above this other thing the wagon is rolling on, and so forth. One could go crazy exploring just how many things one could forget.

Along the way, there were these ... bandits? Well, they were dressed in red and green rags, looking as if they were set to hide in the woods, but had quite FORGOTTEN to do so, and perhaps what they were even supposed to be doing here, and were in the midst of quite a loud argument as the coach went by. "It says right here on my arm! Only ... I forgot how to read it...."

Fortunately, the realm of forgetfulness isn't so extreme that the travelers forget that they packed a lunch. The scent and their own hunger clues them in well enough, and they figure out the rest, even though it takes some effort to match up the lunches and the names written on them with the names written on the notes that everyone is holding. (Fortunately, they haven't forgotten how to read. Perhaps it takes a special sort of person to be that badly off when passing through here.)

The reporter offers around the basket of picnic victuals to the others. "I'm not quite certain what these are called, but they are quite tasty, I assure you."

The Little Girl tries to feed some of her food to the rocking-pony. It doesn't seem to be very hungry. She shrugs. More for herself, of course.

The Gryphon.. tries pecking at a sandwich. He isn't having the best of luck figuring out how to eat it.

The reporter seems happy enough to sit back and let the countryside go by, though some inner worry keeps him glancing outside the window and making sure the view has changed. It may not have a name, but if he sees the same thing three times in a row, he might have a good reason to suspect they're going around in circles.

Another carriage comes down the other way. The driver instinctively pulls out of the ruts to make way for it. As the other carriage rolls by, heading south, there's a beautiful red Rose riding in the cabin with a few Chessmen. She doesn't look the least bit familiar, and she looks at the other coach with only the same blank and uncomprehending curiosity she has for the trees and sky.

"An N!" the Little Girl suddenly exclaims. "It's coming back to me! My starts with an N!"

"I wonder what.." the Gryphon starts to say, and then loses his train of thought. "Nnnnn?"

The card (obviously a member of the clan of Spades) frowns at this. He jots a note down. Carriage seen. Red rose, Chessmen. "Now, we see that carriage again, I'll know we're going around in circles," he tells the others.

"Yes! Those are feet!" the Little Girl squeals. "I wonder if this means we're getting to ... uhm ... somewhere?"

"River," the Gryphon squawks. "Yes, River. I hope it isn't.. too.. wet. Can I swim?" he asks, and moves his wings about a bit to see if they are really flippers.

The reporter peers out the window again. "Trees, trees, and more trees. Hmm. They are all trees but they're subtly different. It would be easier if they would wear little pieces of paper like this one so that we could tell them apart." He frowns. "Aitch... Why am I getting the feeling I'm named something that begins with an H?"

The Little Girl returns to experimenting with her name. "Ennn. Nuuh. Niiii. Knees? Oh! I'm your knees!" She looks to the Gryphon. "No, that doesn't seem right. You already have knees."

"Or is that you that's named something beginning with H?" wonders the card to the rabbit, frowning. "I'm fairly certain we know each other well."

"I have this ... picture," the Gryphon notes, showing the print he found in his coat pocket, showing them all as children (sans Integra) of course. "I'm.. uh.. flowers. Flowers? Something.. flowery."

Up ahead, the trees part way, as the road widens for a bridge going over a short brook. Beyond it, the road cuts through white fields, and at some point, that big glowing shiny thing has popped back up into the sky. The brighter one, that is. Aha. SUN. And up much further, smokestacks and the highest rooftops of a distant town can be seen poking up over the tall grass.

The card frowns, then peers out the window again. Well, more trees. "Flowery? Are you sure you don't mean herb-ary?" he says with a grin, recalling a pun on the griffin's name. What was it.. It'll come to mind soon enough.

The fog burns away with the rising morning sun, as the coach at last crosses the bridge. Suddenly, there's a bright shout from above. "Coachman!" the man driving the carriage shouts. "I'm the COACHMAN!" He begins laughing as if this is the greatest thing in the world.

"Paisley," the Gryphon decides. "Yes, Paisley, and.. Integra. You're my niece Integra. Thank goodness!" He looks at the photo. "For a moment I thought we might be a band of kidnappers.."

March rubs the side of his head. "Harrison. Right. Harrison March. Also Haigha, and no, I don't have a cold; that's just what they call me," the hare comments.

"Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules," sings Achilles. "Of Hector and Lysander and such great names as these, but of all the world's great heroes, there's none that can compare with a march, march, march, march, march, march to the British Rifle Brigade..." He pauses. "Achilles! Yes, that's my name," he says, blinking a bit stunnedly.

The reporter reviews his notes. "My God, what kind of stupefying magic did those woods exert over us? I cannot believe I just wrote down 'tree' a hundred times... Hang on, what's this-- a carriage with a red rose?"

Achilles shakes his head, clearing it. "I'd guess that the Red Rose decided to take her men to the south... Perhaps she's going to the Hill of Surveying, to get a better view of where Miss Lucky might be hiding," he says with a frown. "I hope your friend's keeping a low profile, Harrison."

The Red Rose, upon further recollection (without the haze of the woods) is familiar after all. It seems that while one is in the Wood of No Names, one forgets names, and meanings that go along with them (for instance, in Alice's adventures, the Deer forgetting that it should be afraid of a Little Girl), but once beyond the borders, those memories remain, with their renewed context.

"Well.. I suppose we shant be running into either lady here in town then," Griffin notes.

"Well, we're almost to Riverside. I'm guessing we're going to pay the Sheepkeeper a little visit, and get our bearings before we continue on?" asks Achilles. "We might be able to ditch a few of the heavier items we've accumulated too."

At last, the signs up ahead make it abundantly clear that the town they're arriving at is Riverside, and the coachman did not somehow manage to get the vehicle accidentally turned about in the process. This time, however, it feels more like early autumn, and there isn't so much as a patch of snow on the ground.

"I guess? I'm not sure of the value of visiting the queen-in-Exile now," March admits and shrugs. "We're still no closer to finding a way to stop Queen Alice, and all the news from our world we see paints us more and more as crazy mass-murderers. Frankly, I don't see any hope whatsoever at this point."

"Knowing now that she's the White Queen, she should be able to tell us more about Alice, and how to stop her," expostulates Achilles. "Somewhere in all this madness is the key to her strange powers. All we need to know is whether it's a place we need to go, or a thing we have to smash... Or even if it's something innate to her, and if killing her will stop the insanity."

"You didn't drink of any of that tea did you?" Griffin asks March. "We've still got the Hatter to put to rest, and free from this madness at least. We have a job to do, do or die, storm that hill for Queen and Country!"