Chapter 32 #2
Little Alice rested on the bank of Kensington Gardens, Dinah curled beside her, as she gazed out at the river flowing lazily by.
Lost in thought, her mind wandered to far-off lands and strange adventures.
Suddenly, a little white rabbit with a pocket watch tangled around his neck and paws hopped from the bushes.
Alice sat up and hurried to aid it. “I will help you, poor dear,” she said, reaching out to untangle the chain.
But the rabbit was skittish and hopped away, disappearing into a large hole beneath a rose bush.
Alice hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow.
“You mustn’t run,” she called. “I am dreadfully worried you’ll be strangled by the chain.
” She pushed through roots and dirt which opened into a passageway.
In moments, soil beneath her fingers crumbled away.
Alice was falling into the hole, her arms flailing as she plummeted down. But just as she thought she was going to crash to the ground, a gust of wind surrounded her, lifting her up and carrying her gently as a glass-like orb encapsulated her, slowing her fall until she landed safely on the ground.
When she emerged from the orb, she found herself beneath a hole under tree roots. She spotted the rabbit, hopping away through a beautiful field of lovely red flowers, and pursued it. But as she chased the rabbit, she grew very dizzy, and the flowers swirled around her like a kaleidoscope.
Before she knew it, she found herself resting amongst the lovely flowers, their soft petals cushioning her head. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the sweet scent lulling her into a peaceful slumber.
As she slept, the world around her shifted and changed, and she drifted in and out of rose-colored consciousness, until she felt herself lifted from the ground, a figure in a white cloak cradling her from the field, their face obstructed by the shadow cast by their hood against the high sun.
“Alice,” the figure said, in a voice that was familiar and far away.
Before she could see who had said her name, Alice woke, not on the banks of Kensington Gardens or in a field of red flowers, but in Nimmie’s cottage.
She felt a strange panic, one that seemed to bring with it a gust of wind that shook the small cottage.
Then came a screeching cry from high above. The dragon!
Alice rushed outside, finding Nimmie standing by the well at the end of the dirt road, staring up at the sky, where the dragon flew in circles directly above the well. The dragon appeared to have doubled in size. “Any idea what’s gotten into the beast?” Nimmie asked.
“No, but I’m worried. Her call sounds like she’s been frightened.”
That was not quite right, and Alice knew it as soon as she had said it.
She stood listening, sorting the sound. A frightened creature flies away from the thing that frightens it.
She had seen this dragon frightened—behind the rockfall, all scratch and shriek, with nowhere to go.
This was not that. The cry was not in fear.
Fear went up at the end. This cry came down, flat and hard, like a falcon’s in the dive.
And the dragon was not leaving. She was circling, low and tight, the same circle over and over, and in the center of the circle was the well.
“She isn’t frightened for herself,” Alice said. “Look. She won’t leave that one spot of sky. Whatever has her calling is here. Below us, I should think.”
“Below us?” Nimmie squinted upward. “Yer readin’ all that from a bird flyin’ in rings?”
“From a cat,” Alice said, “walking rings around a cupboard.” She had watched it a hundred times, in a kitchen in another life. The circling was never the fear. The circling was the pointing.
“A cat.” Nimmie chewed on that a moment. “And was the cat ever wrong?”
“Never,” Alice said. “It was the mice who doubted her.”
Wind tore violently through the trees beyond the town. Alice and Nimmie scanned the skies but saw nothing. Instead, they heard something—the splashing of water from the well.
Nimmie jogged off to fetch a lantern from one of the road posts, while Alice stayed by the well, peering down into the darkness.
The rope tied to the handle began to shake and then pulled taut, causing the wooden arm to spin raucously.
Nimmie arrived just as the handle slammed, causing her to nearly drop her lantern.
“Begorrah! Is there someone down there?” Nimmie called. “I hope no one went and rode the bucket down while drunk. Munchkins can be right eejits when they’re full up with drink,” she said to Alice as they both peered down the dark brick well.
“I don’t think it’s a munchkin,” Alice said as a foul smell came wafting from inside.
Nimmie’s lantern hardly illuminated anything beyond the surface of the well.
From deep below, two large blinking white eyes emerged, followed by a very large round head.
Even in the low light, its contorted and wrinkled face was visible and terrifying.
Unable to pull her eyes away, for curiosity had a dangerous grip on her, Alice watched another set of eyes appear from further below, followed by a growl that sounded like a belch mixed with a strangled moan.
“Alice, back in th’ cottage!” Nimmie said, pulling her away from the well.
“No! I’m not leaving you!” Alice would not see harm come to Nimmie. The dragon howled above, torching the sky with blue firelight as lone black feathers floated down. Blinkem and Tinkerton, awakened by the dragon, came running from the barn.
“There’s something in the well!” Alice shouted.
Blinkem leaned over the well and jumped back immediately. “Gnomes! Cut the rope!”
Nimmie raced to the barn, while Tinkerton followed without direction.
Quickly, Nimmie returned with a wheat sickle and Tinkerton with rakes and a shovel, which he handed to Blinkem and Alice.
Nimmie crawled up onto the well and began sawing at the rope, while the horrid growls from below grew louder.