The Tweedles dressed themselves of finer garments as to replace the previous ones they have worn which was damaged from the tragedy. They weren’t fully recovered yet but they were mobile and that was enough. Frabjous day impended and they need to be ready no matter the cost.

The white rabbit watched languidly as the twins prepared each other, telling one another what they could make and should make from the resources in Alice’s lab they were yet to discover.

“Brother, we should make a bomb that sets out an electrical field,” said Tweedle Dum as he patched up his twin brother.

“We’re yet to find out if such a thing could be made, brother,” replied Tweedle Dee, patting dust off his brother’s shoulder.

While the twins were getting ready, Mctwisp sat silently on the bed, looking at his hands. It’s happening—the rebellion he always wanted—yet somehow he felt void. Freedom could be theirs to take should they succeed however his yearning seemed to have lessened—vanished albeit not completely.

It could be that because he’s lost two of his team. One, he lost because of a false accusation and another he lost because of his selfishness. In a way, he’s already lost Mallymkun as well since the dormouse no longer sees him as Buck Rabbit. And he doubts that he could also be Nivens Mctwisp. The real Nivens Mctwisp, the white rabbit thought, who was he?

Days only seemed to pass just to erase more of what he once was. It didn’t replace his entirety. It just keeps on stealing it until he was no longer someone anybody knows. Nor anybody wants. He became just a white rabbit called Mctwisp whom everybody hates.

It is ironic how something that made everybody hate him was the very thing they were now pushing for. All it took was for a soul to be taken for everybody to see that they need to fight back. Mctwisp agreed on what Rocket told the mad trio—that if they were really Cheshire’s friends, they should help in any way they can regardless of the risks.

Should Cheshire have succeeded, they would still bear the guilt that they did nothing to earn their freedom. They would have to live knowing that they sacrificed one for the many. In a way, that was still what’s happening. Cheshire may have failed in accomplishing the entire task but it took him his life to make everybody else fight the oppressor.

When the twins were about to leave, Mctwisp finally got up from the bed and scurried towards the duo.

“On the Frabjous day…” Mctwisp trailed off, “If we fail to retrieve the stone, everything will repeat?” he asked.

Tweedle Dum looked down at the rabbit, “Aye.”

“As it was written,” Tweedle Dee added, “The next time it repeats, it would follow the previous flows so we shouldn’t mess this opportunity up or else we be damned.”

“You mean to say… the dead will be resurrected?” Mctwisp asked again.

“Indeed,” Tweedle Dum answered.

Tweedle Dee bridged, “Only to die again.”

“Unless the outsider acts impulsively,” Tweedle Dum finished.

Mctwisp fell to silence as he pondered long.

The twins asked in unison, “Why?”

Mctwisp shook the thought away. “It’s nothing…” he scurried back to the bed and buried himself underneath the covers.

He hoped that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

***

When the tides are low, the swamp becomes a marsh. Underneath its waters were thick roots of trees that arched above ground, refusing to have itself buried underneath the squelching mire. Moss blanketed the trunks of most trees and overlapped the arches like hanging curtains. Vines flourished every tree branch, scarfing the trees and dangled on the path like murky tassels. Every once in a while, the wind howls ominously, deceiving outsiders of a predator nonexistent.

Camouflaged with the trees were planks nailed horizontally on its trunks. One above the other, the planks led upward as if it were purposely placed there for whoever’s use. And hiding inside the curtain of leaves were settlements of treehouses connected by rope-bridges and long planks. The settlement was vast but it was quiet. The treehouses were numerous and massive yet there were few beings to actually fill them up.

Four lookout stations were at the edge of the settlement. Thin, metallic wires travelled from one station to the main building, attached on bells which served as the alarm for whatever was coming. One ring meant an outsider was approaching, two rings meant invaders and three rings meant Alice.

The leader of the settlement sat with forlorn silence inside the main building. The years were written in the folds of his skin, making him look always gruff and droopy. His eyes have vanished under the wrinkles of his face giving him a perpetual-focused look while idle. He was troubled inside just as how he looked on the outside.

His once lively settlement became quiet because of a gamble he made with the white queen. Mirana of Marmoreal promised him his people’s freedom if they could take one of Alice’s laboratory stationed at the west of Wonderland. He made an agreement with Mirana and it cost him the lives of his people. He was able to retrieve the lab but the freedom, not so.

Escaping Wonderland was already freedom. He remembered one of his pups telling him. God, he regretted not believing his son. And now, he lost them forever.

One of the bells rung thrice and the leader turned his head in an instant at the sound. At once, younger looking version of the leader marched inside the main building.

“Father, a spacecraft approaches,” he panicked, “What are we to do?”

For a moment, the father of the younger figure panicked as well but he managed to make a decision. “Spy at it from the trees,” his gruffer voice spoke. “And ambush the squadron that approaches.”

***

Where Mirana and the others were headed definitely had no spaceport or at least hard ground they could actually use to land their spacecraft. Everywhere in eyes’ reach was a canvas of bogs and quicksand.

“I’m afraid there’s nowhere we could land on, my queen,” Tarrant said while he looked outside the glass pane.

Iracebeth had been keener. She looked at the navigation map of the spaceship and searched for anywhere they could possibly land. The crappy thing was flickering and she had to punch her fist by its metal side just to have it working.

“Five miles east of here,” Iracebeth said, “Just by the rim of the swamp.”

Mirana was hesitant. “If we land there, we would have to walk all the way back here.”

Mallymkun scurried in front of the white queen, offering an idea. “We could drop you here while Tarrant and I keep an eye on the ship. Just tell us how much time you’ll need and we’ll come pick you up.”

The queens looked at each other and both agreed.

“Since I have a debt with this old friend, talking him into joining us might take a while,” Mirana said, “I’ll try my best.”

Tarrant flew the ship as close to the ground as possible and the queens got down with the assistance of a rope. Mud squelched on their landing and splashed on their gowns on their first strides in the marsh. Not even halfway to the woodland, the red queen became impatient.

“Supposed you could have had Tarrant land us closer to the rim of those trees,” Iracebeth said as she took lethargic steps on the mud. For every step she took, the mud devoured her feet and she had to put in great effort in pulling it out just for it to be swallowed again. Her gown did so much less than just constrict her movements.

“If I had Tarrant land us closer, we might alarm the settlement,” Mirana replied. She too, wasn’t doing a very good job in traversing the muddy path and suffered just as much as her sister but unlike Iracebeth, Mirana maintained her gliding grace.

Iracebeth had lost her patience when she stepped on deep mud and lost her shoe when she pulled her foot out. Her face flushed red from anger and she flailed her arms in the air. She redirected her anger to her dress, ripping the gown that only slowed her in moving. The fabric screeched as Iracebeth pulled off all the layers but one and after that, she felt relieved. She also moved much more freely against the mires with less weight she carried.

“Sister, I suggest you do as I did,” Iracebeth now looked at Mirana who was behind her.

“Nonsense, sister,” Mirana kept her composure albeit it was difficult when she was being dragged down by her enormous gown. “This gown has a fine fabric—I’m not afraid to say the best fabric and I’m not going to give it up.”

Iracebeth rolled her eyes. “It’s already a bloody mess,” Iracebeth pointed at the white gown that turned dark brown. “And if you don’t want to do it for your convenience, do it for mine. I’m already walking ahead of you and I don’t even know where we’re supposed to go.”

“Just ahead,” Mirana was stubborn. “I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“Or you could lead the way.” Iracebeth walked back to Mirana and clutched her sister’s gown.

“Racy, what are you doing?” Mirana tried saving her gown but she failed.

The fabric was torn noisily, its rip echoing to the sky and Mirana’s voice—much louder than the gown’s cry.

“It’s enough, sister, I could move freely,” Mirana lied but Iracebeth kept on going.

The red queen only stopped when she left one layer for her sister. “Now you feel much lighter,” Iracebeth said.

Mirana only looked at the fabric of her gown, turning dark brown as it sank under the puddles. “Well… I’ve got plenty of gowns back in Marmoreal,” she tried to sound positive but the loss of her previous gown was still apparent in her tone. “But now I have one less.”

“It’s not all that bad,” Iracebeth gazed at the torn cloths with her sister, “This one I’m wearing is my last one. The rest was vaporized. Now lead the way.”

When the queens arrived at the woody area, Mirana immediately began scanning the trunks of the trees, parting moss where it covered most. Iracebeth spent the next few moments questioning her sister on what she was doing.

“It’s a ladder,” Mirana retorted, “Planks nailed on trunks. Find them and we find the way above.”

“Above?” Iracebeth’s brows scrunched. She looked high above her but couldn’t make up anything that was up there but the leaves of the trees. She peered harder and then something swift flew past her.

If it weren’t for her fast reflexes, an arrow would have pierced through her skull. Though she hadn’t fought in years, her instincts were just as sharp.

“Ambush!” Iracebeth shouted the moment the image of the arrow dug deep in a trunk registered inside her head.

At Iracebeth’s warning, Mirana kept her guard up as well, sensing danger in every possible direction.

“Let’s watch each other’s backs,” Mirana commanded and ran to her sister.

Iracebeth ran the same direction but before they could meet, they were distracted by enemies each requiring them to fend for themselves. Between the queens landed two cyborgs from above. One was armed with an axe and the other, a bow.

“Compatriots of Alice, be gone,” said the one with the axe.

“Or pay with your lives,” said the other with the bow.

Mirana stepped back and tried to converse the conflict away. “Allies,” she began, “We are no henchmen of Alice. We came here to negotiate with your leader.”

The one with the bow replied but kept his gaze on Iracebeth. “Liesss…” his voice was hissy like that of a snake much like his eyes which pupils were dilated slits.

“I am Mirana of Marmoreal,” the white queen introduced herself, “and I am allies with your leader.”

Iracebeth joined in, “And I am Iracebeth of Crims. I have never met your leader.”

Mirana slapped her own forehead.

“Crimsss?” the snaky one repeated, “in Salazen Grum?”

The buffer one with the axe added, “The red queen…”

Iracebeth smiled, “Correct. It is I.”

The two cyborgs were idle for a moment before both were resolute in fighting.

“I saw my friends get dragged by your cards,” said the one with the axe, puffing out mists from his nostrils.

“I witnessed mine get beheaded,” hissed the one with the bow.

Now, with the way things were, they’re sure to fight. Mirana didn’t give up, however, and tried to resolve the misunderstanding.

“It’s all Alice,” Mirana said and before she could continue, she was silenced by the cyborg with the axe.

“Enough!” he yelled, “Time to die!” he bent his knees and then kicked the ground, leaping high in the air with his axe above him. The edge of the weapon glistened with the sunbeam as the axe-wielder’s shadow shrunk on Mirana.

The white queen frowned and simply widened her stance. Before the cyborg could hit her, Mirana crouched down and tumbled back. She evaded gracefully despite the quickness of how it all happened. Even as the enemy approached with haste, she was able to maintain her fluidity.

“Mirana!” Iracebeth yelled and ran to her sister, not minding the snaky cyborg right in front of her. She was stopped on her tracks when an arrow pierced inches away from her outstepped toe.

Iracebeth eyed him and the archer let another arrow loose which the red queen evaded by a quick sidestep. She lunged in the air as the enemy reached in for his quiver. She was about give the cyborg a direct kick but she knew better than to do so when she spotted the enemy’s hand already on one arrow.

Instead of landing a swift kick, she bent sideways, somersaulting midair and landed on her feet. The moment she reached the ground, she took the opportunity in the archer taking out an arrow to fall back and hide behind the trees.

The axe-cyborg’s weapon smashed the muddy ground, creating a crevice that was filled with water instantly. Just a few feet ahead were the calm white queen unscathed by the cyborg’s attack. With one hand, the enemy pulled out his battle axe, splashed with mud instead of the white queen’s blood.

“You move as if you’re gliding,” said the cyborg, “It’s slow. Let’s see how you can keep up.”

He flipped his axe and swung it horizontally with amazing speed.

Mirana let herself fall on her back and when she landed, she kicked back up standing, landing a few blows on the chiseled body of her enemy who was still pulling his axe from the momentum gained of such a swift attack.

Mirana’s punches seemed barely lethal with the way she moved but it was enough to have his buff opponent almost down on his knees. Her targets were vitals after all. And nobody can train vitals to withstand attacks.

The cyborg trembled but he kept himself from falling. Letting go of his axe, he switched to weaponless combat, swiping his big hands directly against the white fighter. Even when he put great force in swinging his arm, its momentum was postponed immediately when Mirana struck between where his arms bent.

Still not giving up, the cyborg kicked with his foot which the white queen evaded but that was what he just wanted his opponent to do. When Mirana ducked, the cyborg was able to grab her arm with his undamaged hand. With the white queen’s size, she was easily overpowered. The cyborg lifted her up in the air and was about to slam her.

Mirana quickly wrapped her legs on the arm which held her in the air. Using full force, she twisted herself along with the arm. The fierce, snapping of a bone echoed to the sky and was followed by the agonizing cry of the cyborg. The enemy winced in pain on the ground, curling himself to a ball.

When the figure dropped on the ground, an arrow flew towards Mirana’s direction.

It missed but it scratched the side of her cheek. Crimson painted her ivory skin. It ran down her like red tears.

The snaky archer pulled his string taut once again but before he could loosen the arrow, a stone went flying his direction. It hit him in the eye and it set his arrow flying above head. The moment he was distracted, Iracebeth charged from one of the trees, battle-crying.

The cyborg panicked, reaching in for his quiver as fast as he could. He managed to let another arrow loose but it merely flew past beside Iracebeth. He took another arrow but this time, before he could even put it beside the string, Iracebeth kicked the bow from his possession. The weapon was sent flying to the sky.

Iracebeth spun half a circle and elbowed the cyborg directly on the stomach. The enemy groaned and bent down on his knees. With one last blow, Iracebeth raised her leg in the air before pushing it down hard against the snake-cyborg’s back. The enemy fell unconscious on the ground.

Iracebeth met up with her sister and wiped the trickling blood on her sister’s face. “Don’t worry about it, sister,” Iracebeth said, “It won’t even leave a scratch.”

Just as they thought they were safe, more enemies seemed to have approached. From their standing, gray metallic orbs with red lenses rolled. It ticked by the recesses of a second and then faster and the queens realized it was a bomb.

The sisters fled but the explosion had them off their balance. They were belly-flopped on the mud before they could even realize that enemies surrounded them at pointblank range.

They were held with their arms behind their backs, roped.

“Sister, give me your word, we shall fight them to the death,” Iracebeth whispered.

“No, sister,” Mirana said, “This is good. They’ll take us to their leader and then we can talk.”

Amid the crowding enemies, the leader made his way to the captives.

Mirana was delighted. “B-bayard!” she said, “What a wonderful time to see you.”

The leader of the group just lifted a brow up to the muddy prisoner. “You must be talking about my father,” he said, “Don’t worry. We’re taking you to him and then he will decide what your punishment will be.”

He walked out thereafter.