Page 6 of Wondrous

I turned back to the cart and nearly fell over backward when I beheld the Cheshire Cat perched elegantly on the seat.

“You again!” I said. “I’ve told you before that it’s rude to follow people.”

“Am I following you?” the Cat said in his usual tone, equal parts casual and sly. “If two people end up in the same place at the same time, does it follow that one followed the other, or could it be that the other followed the one, if you follow me?”

“I’ve no time for nonsense at the moment,” I said. “I have to get on with my tea shop.”

“It seems you have a great deal of time for nonsense, then,” the Cat said. “A tea shop should stay in one place if it wants to attract customers, not go round playing hard to get.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this unexpected insight, so I settled for a glare. I reached past the Cat and shook the reins, but they only lay motionless upon the grass. A particularly suspicious thing about my invisible steed was that the Cat never appeared to me while the cart was in motion.

“You used to be such a polite little girl,” the Cat said, stretching his front legs in a way that exposed his many sharp claws. “What happened?”

“You tried to eat my friend,” I snapped.

The Cat yawned. He was a gaudy creature, I’d always thought, his tabby stripes pink and purple, unlike the sensible grays and browns of the cats of my world. “Which one?”

“The Dormouse.”

“Well, that can’t be right,” he said. “I saw the Dormouse at tea with you yesterday, and he seemed perfectly well. In fact, he’s grown very plump.” The Cat grinned even wider.

“I know how cats think,” I said. “And never mind how plump he is.”

“Nobody knows how cats think,” the Cat said. “We’re so mysterious we don’t even know what we’re thinking half the time. And I’m not just any cat.”

I made a disgusted sound. “So you aren’t even going to apologize. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“A leopard can’t change its stripes,” the Cat said, and then abruptly turned his purple stripes invisible so he was pink all over.

I laughed in spite of myself. That was the most infuriating thing about the Cheshire Cat—I tried so hard to dislike him, but it felt in many ways like a losing battle. I didn’t like the fact that he stalked me everywhere, but I couldn’t deny that I was also slightly proud of his interest in me.

The Cat was a shadowy figure in Wonderland. He knew more about the place than anyone else I had spoken to and feared nothing, not even the Queen of Hearts. Indeed, many Wonderland creatures seemed afraid of him, though I could never work out why.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” I said. “If you weren’t here already.”

He ignored this insinuating comment, as he always did. “The thing about cats,” the Cat said, “is that we never have one reason for doing anything. By which I mean, of course, that sometimes we have many reasons and the rest of the time, no reason at all. Part of why I’m here is to warn you that there’s a monster up ahead. I heard it crashing round in the bushes down That Way Path.”

“A monster?” I repeated, my mind leaping anxiously to jabberwocks. I had never seen a jabberwock—few living people had, for the simple reason that those who did were usually in the process of being eaten by them.

“Not a jabberwock,” the Cat said. “Unfortunately. I’m rather fond of jabberwocks. Horrible, nasty beasts, and also quite useful, in their way.”

“Only you would think that. Well, what sort of monster was it?”

“I’m afraid most monsters look the same to me,” the Cat said breezily, and he licked his paw and swiped it over his face. “Perhaps it had a lot of shiny fur and immaculate stripes and a magnificently long tail.”

“You aren’t a monster,” I said.

“Depends on who you ask. That’s often the case, with monsters.”

“Well, thank you anyway for the warning,” I said, turning to make sure all the hedgehogs were still on board—they had a tendency to forget themselves and revert back to their former occupation, and sometimes rolled away. “Would you like to—”

I turned back to the Cat, only to find that he was no longer there—even his grin had vanished.

“Typical,” I muttered, ignoring the prickle of disappointment. The Cat was entertaining company, and he hadn’t been lying about his coat: To gaze upon the Cat was to be filled with the desire to pet him. Perhaps it was partly my longing for Dinah, but also the Cat appeared almost supernaturally soft. I had never dared attempt it, though—given the size of his teeth, it seemed about as wise as trying to pet a steel trap.

By this point, I was very irritated with myself. The poor Dormouse! I refused to forgive the Cat so easily, or to trust him. I gave the reins an overly energetic snap, and whatever was pulling the cart set off.

Chapter 3