Rocket and Mctwisp had travelled far in the Tulgey Wood. They were almost at the rim of the forest, taking the safest route during day. Since everything else is active, they had to move with caution and double check the decisions they’ve made.

Rocket didn’t fully trust Mctwisp and because of that, they walked with a gap between them with the white rabbit leading the way ahead and the raccoon some distance behind. The wounds were still fresh from what the white rabbit had done and the contempt was much fresher. What made Rocket bit back was his sole purpose in retrieving his friend.

A bell chimed in the distance—back at the clockwork town and the white rabbit reacted alertly. His ears perked to the direction and thereafter he took a gold pocket watch to check the time. Rocket halted behind and waited for whatever Mctwisp had to say.

“The forest is shifting,” Mctwisp said and looked around him. “We must keep close or else we get separated and without me, you’ll be lost.”

Rocket hesitated but didn’t question the white rabbit’s suggestion. He followed obediently.

They climbed one of the dead trees in the forest and the moment they seated at a tree branch, the earth beneath them rumbled. The mist began to flow like violent waves ebbing back and forth yet maintained its fluid grace. Motion began and the sensation felt like that of a moving vehicle. It couldn’t be mistaken.

The landscape creaked and underneath them was a clear sound of turning clogs. Metal against metal, the screech of its turn was agonizing to hear. The way the land shifted resembled the movement of a titan long slumbering. It was over before Rocket could ask anything else.

Mctwisp jumped from the tree branch and patted dirt off the apron of his tunic. Thereafter he scanned the environment, checking his pocket watch once and then resumed to walk ahead.

Rocket jumped off the tree branch and followed behind, taking his gun in front of him for display. “So this happens often?” he asked.

Mctwisp looked over his shoulder for a quick moment before replying. “It does. None of us know why so don’t bother asking.”

“This is the fanciest prison I’ve ever been to,” Rocket remarked sarcastically, “and possibly the most difficult I’ll ever escape at.”

“Escaping is as simple as building a clock,” Mctwisp said, “However without materials, it would be impossible.”

“Did you really have to use a clock as an example?” Rocket returned.

“I had nothing else to compare. Clocks are quite abundant here.” Mctwisp stopped before numerous signs that split the path in outward directions. “Peculiar…” Mctwisp added.

Rocket’s ears perked up and then he looked at the signs. He endeavored to read them, “Marm-moreal?” he voiced out, “J-jabberwoah-cky?”

“It’s Marmoreal,” Mctwisp corrected, “and Jabberwocky. If you’re planning on taking one of the routes, choose Marmoreal.” The white rabbit took out his clock and lifted it above head as if it worked as a navigation map or so. He shook it when he failed to decipher whatever he was trying to understand and analyzed it once more.

Rocket waited patiently, placing his gun at rest on top of his shoulder. He tapped one foot to an imaginary beat and looked around all the funny signs. He was surprised when he read the mad tea party embarked on one of the signs and had a path that lead towards the place. Then he was reminded that the forest had just shifted and that his sense of direction was confused.

“Did we just get farther from where we’re headed?” Rocket asked impatiently.

“I’m afraid to say yes,” Mctwisp replied, “We’ve been set off course when the land changed. It’ll take us all day to arrive at Salazen Grum by now.”

Rocket kicked dirt on the ground. “Shoot!” he cursed. “Don’t you have anything we could ride on?”

Mctwisp nodded a displeasing no as he looked at his pocket watch.

Rocket became curious. “What are you looking at that clock for?” he walked toward Mctwisp and pulled the rabbit’s arm in his direction so he could look at the ticking device. The clock wasn’t just an ordinary clock. It was a navigation map as well.

“Alice made it for me so I wouldn’t lose my way,” Mctwisp said with a hint of pleasure and disgust in his voice. “Given that I’m the white rabbit, I’m supposed to always know where I am and where to go.”

Rocket didn’t care about what Mctwisp was saying. He just peered at the small clock, trying to understand how the map worked but he hadn’t the slightest idea.

“I don’t know what the map is saying,” Rocket admitted.

Mctwisp showed him. “This clock doesn’t follow real time,” he said, “It follows the Tulgey Wood. Underneath us, if you noticed earlier is giant clockwork. You could say that this whole forest is a handless clock.”

“I get it,” Rocket interjected, “Just skip to the part where you tell me how the clock works as a map.”

Mctwisp got back to the pocket watch, “The twelve numbers here are landmarks. This clock only possesses one hand and wherever that hand points at is the closest landmark from here.” He gestured to the area where the signs split.

Rocket stared at the one hand of the clock that pointed to the number one. He asked, “What’s the closest landmark then?”

“The Tweedles…” Mctwisp murmured as if an idea had just struck him. “The twins!” he said excitedly, “T-they have a workshop. Perhaps we could borrow a vehicle.”

“Well that’s settled then,” Rocket strapped his bazooka on his back, “Let’s go.”

Towards the path where the signs read ‘The Tweedles” Rocket and Mctwisp made their way.

***

The Tweedles are the taletellers of Wonderland. They kept the secrets Alice couldn’t keep track on. Supposedly, Alice recorded everything about the world she had created and kept it in a tome which the twins now possessed.

There were many tales about Alice and some of those tales were so great that the people no longer believed in them. However, Tweedle Dum, the taleteller of the past could confirm what was real and what was not. And Tweedle Dee, the taleteller of the future was bound to keep quiet forever until the right time.

At the end of the path in the Tulgey wood stood an old shack. It had a roof of galvanized steel, rustic from time and had rubber tires resting above to keep the wind from blowing it away. There was a small lot that confined piles of junk everywhere leaving only a small space where visitors could use to get in and out from the workshop.

There was the echo of metal clanging against each other as the sound of steel being sharpened dominated the area. Sparks of light casting shadows displayed by the door-less entrance of the shack and inside toiled a fat man welding iron.

He had a mask covering his face with a welder in one hand and an unfinished contraption before him. Not far away from where he worked toiled an identical fat man, hammering iron from another contraption.

Mctwisp had to yell by the doorway just to catch the attention of the twins.

“Tweedles!” Mctwisp knocked albeit his hand made no sound against the thick metal frame.

The twins looked at him at the same time and the one welding took his mask off. “Mctwisp,” he said and looked at his wrist watch, “It’s still not that time of the day.” It was revealed that he had a deep Irish accent when he spoke a longer sentence and Rocket never realized that he’s the only that spoke differently from the rest. He noticed that the others had a defect in pronouncing A’s and R’s. The first twin continued, “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

The other one nodded but didn’t say anything. Before Mctwisp could add, the first twin had spoken again. “And who’s the lad with you?”

“Never mind who I am, big guy,” Rocket said, “We’re at the mercy of time here so I’m just gonna skip whitey’s chitchat and demand a vehicle we could use to get to Slithery Grim.”

“Salazen Grum,” Mctwisp corrected in a cough.

The first twin looked at Rocket with a puzzled face and then put his mask back on, proceeding to weld. “Not with that attitude, no.”

“Okay, I tried talking,” Rocket unstrapped his bazooka and aimed it at the first twin.

Mctwisp cut in between, pushing Rocket’s weapon aside but failed to disarm the raccoon. The first twin stopped welding and simply looked at Rocket’s direction before taking out a weapon of his own.

“Tough li’ fellow now, are we?” he said, “Are you challenging me?”

“It won’t be a challenge, believe me,” Rocket said, “You’d be down on your fat ass if you don’t give us what we came here for.”

The first twin chuckled, “Is that so, lad? Well, let us see who will be landing on his rump first.” He went at the back to a gigantic crate and pulled out a weapon of his own design. It was similar to a bazooka but with parts pulled from God knows where. It had an unstable technology which made it more difficult but judging by its appearance and the pattern, Rocket could tell that it had a limit whilst his bazooka does not.

Mctwisp cowered in a corner at the workshop, watching the duo that aimed guns directly in each other’s face. Rocket charged up his bazooka for an ion blast and the first twin activated his steamy weapon. Before both could release any projectiles though, the second twin stopped his brother from shooting.

The second twin placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and simply looked at him with a nodding head. Thereafter, the first twin withdrew his gun and threw it back inside the crate. Mctwisp felt relieved while Rocket was confused.

The twins spent a little time on their own and both the rabbit and the raccoon listened to the faint, one-sided conversation since the first twin was the only one that could talk… so far as Rocket understood.

After a while, the twins faced Rocket and Mctwisp and invited them somewhere they needed to go.

“Mctwisp,” the first twin said, “Convince your friend to come with us first and then we’ll give you our fastest vehicle.”

“Can I not come with you?” Mctwisp asked.

“You should just wait here,” he said, “All of our resources, you could take and use.”

There was excitement in Mctwisp’s face but not enough to light him up completely.

“Only while your friend is with us,” the first twin added, “and I recommend you begin making weapons. You’re gonna need it.”

“You know I’m just right here,” Rocket joined in on the conversation. “And I prefer just stealing your vehicle than going with you.”

“Don’t be stubborn, lad,” the first twin was calm and no longer aggressive than just seconds ago and somehow his change of demeanor convinced Rocket to change his mind although he really was in a hurry to rescue the Cheshire cat.

He strapped his bazooka. “Fine.”

“Follow me.”