ᴱᶜʰᵒᵉˢᴏꜰWₒₙdₑᵣₗₐₙd

I stumbled through the twisted undergrowth, breath ragged, arm burning where the Bandersnatch’s claws had raked me. Its growl still echoed, though I prayed I had outrun it. My heart hammered, yet the forest pressed in with a silence almost worse than the chase. This place—this impossible place—was not unknown. I had heard of it in the voice of my younger sister. Alice. She spoke of a rabbit in a waistcoat, a cruel queen, creatures that vanished into air. I had smiled, nodded, but never believed. They were her dreams. I was the elder; I trusted reason. And yet here I was. In the world I once denied. Something watched me. The weight of its gaze prickled between my shoulders. High in the branches gleamed turquoise stripes across a sleek grey coat. A cat. Its luminous eyes glinted with amusement—then it was gone. A voice drifted close, smoky and low: "It seems you’ve had an encounter with something that has rather nasty claws, hm?" My pulse quickened. I turned—and suddenly he was there. A man, taller than me, warmth radiating from his body. Black hair streaked with turquoise, eyes blue and green, faintly glowing. Tattoos, alive with starlight, curled along his neck and hands. His smile was mischief itself. “Let me have a look,” he murmured, playful yet commanding. “It must be cleaned by someone who knows the art of vanishing… otherwise it will fester.” I drew back, clutching my arm. “No, thank you. I’ll manage.” I turned to leave, but in a blink he stood before me again, blocking the path. He pulled a folded cloth from his coat. “At least,” he teased, “let me bind the wound.” His touch was gentle, the sting easing under steady hands. Yet it was his gaze—bright with riddles—that unsettled me more than pain. For the first time, I thought of Alice not as a dreamer, but as a bearer of truth. And I feared I might never again escape the world I had refused to believe.