White Rabbit [Rewrite]

𝟹. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴅᴏ ʙɪʀᴅ

This one goes out to @everyone, yeah you. I like that shirt you're wearing, really brings out the madness in your eyes, it's a good look on you ❤

♦ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ♦
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴅᴏ ʙɪʀᴅ

| ᴀʟɪɴᴀ |

"ɪs ɪᴛ ... ɪs ɪᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know, Maus? You're the one with the stick, why don't you just ... poke it?"

Words ricocheted inside my head and bounced around the domed walls, mixing with the sound of running water. I was frozen. My muscles asleep and refusing to move as my head pounded.

Louder and louder, the voices moved closer. Until it felt that any second my brain would pop like an over-inflated balloon. There was a light patter of feet, a dull silence, and suddenly a stick that rammed into my abdomen as I squeaked, whining like a wounded animal.

"Well ..." the humble voice stuttered. "It's definitely alive-ish ..."

"I propose we run ... agreed? Agreed." I could hear footprints splashing through the water as the first man broke into a steady jog, and the second took a few steps closer.

"You cowardly, oversized pigeon. Get back here, Dodo!" the second huffed as he nudged me with the stick once more. "And you wonder why you're extinct."

"There's nothing wrong with a strategic retreat, you know!" the first defended.

"That's the coward's term for deserting!"

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

The man persisted; to this day I don't know what exactly the stick experiment was supposed to prove. But I know it made me angry.

Really angry.

I couldn't even wiggle a toe, but as the frustration bubbled inside of me I found enough strength to reach up. With one fluid motion, I smacked the twisted cane out of the man's hands, listening as the bouncing baton clattered against a puddle and skidded to a stop.

"Well." I could hear the returning "coward" grumble. "She isn't a very courteous dead girl, now is she?"

♦

I awoke to the smell of instant noodles.

Clammy hands propping me up against a stack of milk crates, as a plastic fork of dried chicken and salt hovered inches from my nose. The world around me was warm and comforting. With the crackle of firewood, a quiet hush of conversation, and a soft melody of classical music that drifted off in the distance.

It felt homey.

Dream-like.

And for a second, I could swear I heard my mother's voice.

The world around was damp but warm, as if I'd been washed down the stream and found haven among the mice of the sewer.

I wasn't half wrong, of course, but as a shaky hand spoon-fed me noodles I couldn't focus on anything but the food. Warm broth slid down my throat, coating my empty stomach and leaving me with a taste I hadn't experienced since college.

By the time I'd eaten half of the mug, I was strong enough to hold it; cupped between my hands as I sipped from the brim. The mysterious stranger sat next to me. With a damp fur coat draped across his shoulders, bunny slippers, and a pair of cracked, oversized glasses.