A Little Scrap of Memory:

The evening sun danced into the milky stone room, around pillars with soft pink roses spiraling around them, and spilling onto the marble floor. Shields, crests, and suits of armor decorated the hall, all telling their part to the history of this place. At the end was a small black chest inscribed with battle scenes and other cryptic art. Alice, who had been meandering the hall of Marmoreal to explore her new home, padded over to the chest. She recognized it. Alice caressed the majestic relief art in the dark wood. Then opened it slowly, with a kind of reverence, inside gleamed the Vorpal Sword, with the pearls engraved on the blade shining soft orange and milky yellow. She lifted it, and studied the ancient weapon. Alice turned and swung the Vorpal blade in a wide arc, remembering the thunk of metal against Jabberwock flesh. She had been a hero that day. Alice circled again letting the Sword slice through the warm, fresh air swooping in from the lush valley below.

"Well, yooh seem quite good at tha'." came a familiar voice from behind her. Alice turned, her blonde hair flying, and saw her friend, the Mad Hatter resting against ivy painted wall. She smiled at him, and preformed another elaborate uppercut, not really knowing how, she just let the majestic blade whisper instruction to her in that melodic swishing voice. The Hatter admired the sword that had redeemed him and a wryly challenging smile crept onto his mad face. The crazed milliner continued as he pulled a sword from its sheathe, it had been leaning against the wall alongside him, and shed his thread bear burgundy jacket. "But let's see how good you go up against me." He charged for her, but not angrily. She smiled and became fierce in the friendly competition. Alice sliced her blade to match the Hatter's and metal clanged gracefully.

"Hey, you have to know it wasn't all me on that field, it was mostly the Vorpal Sword." She protested as her backed her into a corner slowly but threateningly.

"Oh, come'n then!" The Hatter squealed in his guttural Scottish accent in return, "I'm soore you can beat meh, I'm goin' quite easy darlin'." He swung for Alice but she parried, and slipped behind him, her dress of silver, pink, orange, and black bled together in the identical sky as she stepped from the marble floor on to long whispering grass. Tarrant was still stumbling over himself but recuperated quickly, whipping around, his arms held up next to him.

"Well then." He snapped.

Alice smiled that teasing smile of triumph. "Come and get me if you think your fast enough." She mocked. The Hatter, now determined to make her eat her words threw down his own weapon with a clatter and charged her. Alice's face turned to surprise and she hared off down the hill. But The Hatter quickly caught her, pinning her arms to her stomach with his own. The Vorpal sword went spinning through the air, and then sprouted out of the ground a few feet away. Alice squealed and bent over with Tarrant still clasping to his prisoner.

"Let go, you bloody milliner!" She hollered at him as they lost their balance and toppled over in the long grass. Alice landed awkwardly with her fist jabbing her rib cage, and Tarrant's chin stabbing her shoulder blade.

"I said, get off me!" The Mad Hatter released her and sat back with his legs crossed, hands on his knees; Alice flipped over and sat with her hands behind her, propping her up. She nudged his side rather hard. "That was mean, you're twice my size!" she huffed, breathless.

"What? No I'm not! You're exaggerating!" He retorted. Alice giggled, like little bells, and blew a pesky tendril of hair out of her face. She noticed the Hatter and giggled more.

"Wa'?" he cocked his head looking perplexed. If only he could see himself. He had pieces of lose grass sticking out of his wild, eclectic orange hair, and all over him in every possible direction; he much resembled an angry porcupine.

"Nothing," Alice replied, "You just have grass trapped in your hair." His green eyes grew large and periwinkle blue, and he whipped his gloved hands through the orange mane, his bright blue sleeves becoming a blur, as he flung dried grass blades everywhere.

"You look the same you know." The Hatter said and flung his own mess into Alice's already grassy hair.

"Hey!"Alice protested, as she whapped his hand away, and leaned into to sit cris crossed a bit closer to him. After a moment of silence Alice grabbed stand of his hair and said. "Where's your hat?" Tarrant looked around quizzically, squinting, his angular, pale face growing distant and frantic.

" Hat? H-hat…" he whispered his lips barely moving, Alice snapped her fingers in his face to bring him back. She was getting quite used to his sudden detachment from reality.

"Ohh!" He pointed to the bedraggled top hat he always wore a few feet away. Alice jumped to her feet and retrieved the hat; she returned and placed it firmly on his head, patting the top. He stood up.
"Thank yiou lass…" The Hatter said gazing up into her hazel eyes. She pushed him on the shoulder.

"You'd best get the Sword, the sun's going down." Alice suggested.

"Oh, yeths of course." He no longer used the thick accent any more, now it was lighter, though he did have trouble with his 's's. He trotted over and pulled the Vorpal Sword from its earthen holder, the Hatter admired the blade for a moment in the dying sun. Then he looked over at Alice in her silvery dress, orange, pink and black, were wreathed into the airy tapestry, as light danced off the fabric, and a large black rose sprouted from a band around her hip. Her golden hair tumbled in windblown locks down her back, and her slender form was outlined in the growing twilight.

She turned to see him staring, he looked away. She smiled, then gingerly grabbed his hand and then pulled him up the hill, he followed without protest. The Mad Hatter returned the Vorpal Sword to its case, carefully locking the ancient chest. The pair walked slowly, still hand in hand, enjoying the calm moment then Tarrant glanced over at Alice and gave her a wry smile.

"What?" Alice asked.

"I'll race you to the casthle!" He shouted the Hatter in a jovial, shrill voice, rolling his "r". He then raced forward his arms flinging wildly in the air, with Alice trailing after her friend.

...

Well, that was a bit cheesey but it was sweet and someone was sugesting for a sequel to A Cat's Way so this was a little one shot I dreamed up.