I fight the intense urge to take a step back, knowing behind me is a fall that can kill me if I go over. I know the Hatter would prevent me from falling, but I have no desire to even imagine a possibility where he wouldn’t. Instead, I hold my ground. Goosebumps run up and down my arms as the old man hobbles into the center of the room, his pace slow and measured. The cane clacks against the wood of the floor, the blow only softening when he shuffles over a rug.

He had asked me a question, but I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I want to. The old man’s eyes trail around the room, and I realize he could possibly be blind. I’m not sure since there is no pale iris or pupil in the milky depths, but he never focuses on anything too long. I know nothing in Wonderland is what it seems, so I don’t accept it as fact just yet. I nod to myself when the old man’s eyes stop spinning and fix, completely steady, on the Hatter. Not blind then. Or, at least, maybe not one hundred percent.

“We thank you for your assistance,” the Hatter speaks, bowing slightly to the old man. He tips his hat to him for good measure as he threads his fingers through mine. The touch helps to calm me.

“Hatter,” the old man replies fondly. His voice is husky, like he’s smoked a lot of cigarettes throughout his life. “You’ve dropped in at a most unfortunate time. It’s my purging.”

“I apologize. If you have a moment to spare, the prophecy, please, won’t you share?” Hatter’s fingers twitch in mine. Not for the first time, I wonder if he can’t help the rhymes that slip from his lips. Maybe the lyrical habit is a product of his madness.

The old man grins at the Hatter, his eyes moving from him and focusing on me. I tense.

“Wonderland has chosen wisely.” His eyes meet mine. I have no idea how I know. There’s literally no pupils but nevertheless, I know the exact moment we’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Clara Bee, I presume?”

“Yes.” My voice is raspy, and I have to clear my throat and repeat myself to actually be heard.

The old man seems to study me, taking in every detail from my feet to the rat’s nest on my head. I’m not sure what he sees. I’m in dire need of a shower. I can’t remember the last time I felt clean. I’m wearing the same clothes that I escaped from the Knave in, burned up in the humid Hereafter, faced off with Tweedledee and Tweedledum, sat through a tea party, drank some Reali-Tea, and ran from a pack of Bandersnatch and the Red Queen. To say I stink is an understatement. How I look has to be worse. My hair feels like it’s in tangles, knots that probably won’t come out with a saw, catching my fingers when I run my hand through them self-consciously. Do I even look human anymore? When was the last time I slept? How long ago had it been since I first landed in Wonderland?

Whatever he sees, he makes a decision and gestures to the younger man standing off to the side. The young man immediately walks over and assists him towards the Hookah sitting in the middle of room. There’s pillows all around it. He takes a seat slowly on one side before pointing to the other cushions. The Hatter leads us over, and we sink into our seats. The pillows are incredibly soft, and I instantly feel like laying my head down and taking a nap, the exhaustion catching up with me. I force myself to open my eyes wide and focus on the old man.

“We can talk while I prepare,” he says. The young man unhooks the pipe of the hookah and passes it to him. It’s that moment that it dawns on me. I know exactly who I’m talking to.

“You’re the Blue Caterpillar.” My voice is a bit awed as I look at him. Then I look at the younger man. “You have a son?”

The Caterpillar laughs.

“No, Child. He is only an extension of me.”

I frown. What the hell does that mean? Should I ask or let that weird bit of information go? I decide to let it go for now. I can always ask the Hatter later.

“What do I call you?” I ask. Everyone else seems to go by only a portion of their name. White. Hatter. March. Is he Blue or Caterpillar?

He shrugs.

“Old. Young. Blue. Caterpillar. Absolem. It makes no difference to me. I am all.”

He takes a drag from the hookah, holding the smoke in for a moment before breathing the blue smoke out. It curls out in front of us, forming circles and swirling before shaping into creatures. I watch in fascination as a rabbit forms in the haze. And then it begins to move, hopping around the room, glowing from within as it runs. There’s a silhouette forming next, a man with a top hat. I glance at the Hatter. He’s enraptured with the show. When I look again, there’s another silhouette that looks suspiciously like me. The two silhouettes come together in an intimate embrace before dancing around the room in each other’s arms. More shapes move, but I can’t focus on them without taking my eyes from the dancing couple. Absolem speaks again.

“Clara, you must have many questions.”

Behind us, the young man bustles around the room, moving things and preparing something on the stove. There’s a distinct smell of dirt and flower coming from his direction. I have so many questions to ask the man in front of us, puffing away on his hookah, but I hesitate. I have no idea where to begin.

“Come, come, Child. Do not fear me. Ask what you wish to know.” He says this around the mouthpiece. He offers it to the Hatter, but he shakes his head. When he offers to to me next, I do the same. If the Hatter doesn’t want to do it, I definitely don’t.

“Are you psychic?” If I’m correct, then that means the prophecy came from the Blue Caterpillar, and here I am sitting across from him. He should know all the answers.

He chuckles.

“I have been gifted, cursed, to see the past, the future, the present.”

“And these things are set in stone?”

“The future is a flowing river. It is not a wall. I see many possibilities. I see many outcomes.”

“How do we know which one is correct?” I ask.

“We don’t. The future changes as quickly as I see it.”

Frustration makes me shift in my seat on the pillows.

“Then how do we even know I’m the one in the prophecy?”

I don’t say how much pain it will cause me if the prophecy isn’t about me after all. I had already let myself fall for the Hatter. The thought of leaving Wonderland to pave the way for another woman destined to be with the Hatter sends a bolt of agony through my chest. I don’t think I could survive the heartbreak.

“In all the possibilities, there is one constant.” He pulls on the Hookah again. “The Prophecy. And your name never changes. Wonderland only has one possibility of survival.”

“Only one?” That seems horribly bad odds for the future of a world. One in how many other futures? How many chances do we fail?

“Only one.”

“But there’s no guarantee that we can succeed?”

“Nothing is guaranteed, Child.”

I sigh. The Hatter smiles at me in encouragement. It’s exactly what I need. I straighten my spine, determination to do my part fueling me.

“What exactly is the prophecy?” I’ve heard my portion, but I want to know the whole piece. There could be something we’re missing.

Absolem smiles around the hookah. The lights in the room dim considerably, and a glow spreads out from him. Small glowing specks appear in the air, dancing around with the shapes forming in the smoke. Everything around us narrows down on Absolem; I no longer hear the young man bustling around the room. Hatter squeezes my hand as he removes his hat, his eyes focused on the smoke and light show in front of us.

When Absolem begins to speak, his voice echoes, power dripping from every word. I suddenly realize the profoundness of what is happening. I’m hearing my possibilities, and the possible fate of Wonderland if we succeed.

As the final words of the prophecy fade away, the glow dims, and the room returns to normal. I let out the breath I had been holding, loosening my grip on the Hatter who I had been squeezing the crap out of. He doesn’t seem to care. His focus is on my face, worry on his brow. I smile to let him know I’m okay, and it relaxes him.

“So, there will be three of us? Who are the Sons of Wonderland?” I ask. Obviously, the Hatter is one of them, but I want to confirm who the other two are. I have a good idea, though.

“Yes. Hatter is one. White is another. Cheshire is the last.”

I sigh.

“Cheshire doesn’t seem the kind to let a prophecy tell him what to do.”

“No,” Absolem agrees, but he doesn’t elaborate, and I drop it for now, focusing on my portion.

“So, my job is to tame the Hatter,” I glance at Hatter, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the term, “And down the Knave. How do I do that?”

Absolem chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

“That is up to you, Child. Only you know the answer.”

“But you see the future. Can’t you tell me how I do it?”

He shakes his head again.

“It doesn’t work like that, Clara. I see the possibility. I see the result. I don’t always see the journey.”

The young man shuffles over to us then, and he lifts Absolem from the cushion. His bones crack and snap as he straightens the best he can, wrapping weathered fingers around the cane. My eyes focus on the beard again, the moss, and the various insects crawling around. I suppose a caterpillar would feel a sort of kinship with other insects.

The young man leads Absolem to the dark sack hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the room. It blends into the carved walls, the outside panels appearing wet when they reflect the light back at us. The young man begins helping him into the chamber. It sways under the movement. The oddity of the situation doesn’t even affect me anymore. The smoking Blue Caterpillar climbing into what I suspect is a cocoon? Nothing. Weird bugs in his beard? Understandable. If I ever go back home to my world, I imagine it will seem incredibly boring after all this.

The chamber slowly begins fusing together. Absolem smiles at us, the missing teeth making it eerie.

“But won’t you tell me how to save Wonderland?” I try one more time. I need more information. I need to know everything.

The Hatter doesn’t speak, his eyes watching the Caterpillar slowly disappears inside the cocoon.

“Follow your heart,” he says. “You are Clara Bee the Brave. I must purge. I will see you on the other side.” Then his face hardens, and he speaks once more before he’s sealed in completely. “Show no mercy, Child. You can’t afford to.”

When the words register, Absolem is gone, wrapped inside a man-sized cocoon while we stare at it. I have no idea what will come out when he finishes his purging. I’m not sure I want to know. But I have a mission. I look towards the Hatter. He’s already looking at me, a small smile on his face. There is a touch of madness in it, but it only endears him to me more. My body sags, and I lounge back on the pillows.

“You need to sleep.” Hatter moves around some of the pillows, arranging them into a bed. “Lay down. We can go home after you rest for a while.”

“Don’t we need to go now?” I yawn around the words, kind of ruining the urgency I want to infuse into my question.

“You won’t make it in your condition. I’m tired, too. We’ll rest and then go home to clean up.”

“Please. I really need a shower and some new clothes.” I lay down on the pillows, my body relaxing quickly.

His eyes darken as he grins.

“I will do whatever Clara Bee sees fit to demand of me.”

“Then let’s go home and down the ladder, so that I can finally enjoy my Hatter,” I reply to his delight. “After the nap, of course.”

I close my eyes. I figure it will be impossible to sleep in the same room as a giant cocoon where an old man is “purging” whatever it is he needs to. It’s weird and creepy, but my body is so damn exhausted, it doesn’t seem to have a flight instinct anymore. The Hatter lays down beside me, and I curl into his side. Seconds pass, and I sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.