Page 35 of Wondrous

“What do we do now?” I said.

The only answer from behind me was a faint groan.

“Oh, Jack!” I exclaimed. “You’re injured!”

Jack had fallen to his knees and was clutching his side. A ribbon of blood spilled from a cut on his forehead. Grackle fluttered around his head, either distressed, puzzled, or cruelly mocking his pain.

“It’s my rib,” Jack hissed through his teeth. “It happened when he threw me off him. That makes two bones I’ve broken since meeting you.”

“I’m so sorry, Jack,” I said. “Stay there, and I’ll bring you some tea and a jam sandwich. The mock dragon should be asleep for some time, I’d imagine, given that he swallowed the entire teacup.”

I added some kindling to the still-smoldering blanket fire, because why not save my matches, and set the kettle on to boil. There was no hollow there, which suggested that not everything the mock dragons’ fire touched became a hollow—perhaps it had something to do with the temperature of the flame, or perhaps certain parts of Wonderland were more flammable than others. Or perhaps the phenomenon was completely unpredictable.

“You liked that oolong, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. He seemed awkward in the face of my apology, his resentment having nothing further to latch on to. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Here you are,” I said, taking him the tray. “I used three different kinds of jam for the sandwich. You can never have too much jam, can you?”

He didn’t reply, merely shot me an unreadable look and devoured a quarter of the sandwich in one bite.

“I’ll make you another,” I said.

Four sandwiches later (I’d made one for myself and two more for Jack), I finally worked up the courage to examine the mock dragon. He was far less frightening asleep than awake—but then, all creatures were, including people—and had even let his tongue loll out.

“My poor teacup,” I said. I was going to miss it. It had proven to be the most useful of all my teacups, and given how tricky the clay magic was to work, I wondered if I’d ever succeed in duplicating it. Also, it had been one of the prettiest in my collection, for I’d used the last of the Hatter’s pearl glaze to seal it.

I touched the monster’s feathered neck, feeling the slow, steady pulse. His breath was warm and sometimes gave off sparks. The mock dragon was wearing a vest lined with pockets that reminded me of what people wore to go fishing.

“Look at this!” I exclaimed. Hanging half out of one pocket was a glass bottle. It appeared to be empty when I held it up to the faint firelight. The other pockets held their own bottles, also empty, though a few seemed to have been smashed when the dragon collapsed.

“Curiouser and curiouser!” I said, standing up. “Well, let’s find something to muzzle him and tie his arms.”

Jack had withdrawn to the edge of the firelight—he seemed more comfortable when he was half in shadow. “You’re not going to kill him?”

“I thought we went over this,” I said, irritated that he was still so determined to think the worst of me. “I’m not that type of hero. The Queen of Hearts might want this dragon’s head off, but she feels that way about everyone. The prophecy isn’t specific about how I’m supposed to save Wonderland, and forcing the dragons to leave will accomplish the saving just as well as killing them. So we’ll take them back to the Long Hall and send them through the door to their own world, and then we’ll lock it behind them. The hall won’t be more than a day’s walk from here, I shouldn’t think, since we’ve come so far to the west. Well?”

His eyebrows had drawn closer and closer together as I spoke. He came forward at last, arms folded and fingers drumming against his elbow, and examined the mock dragon.

“It would be good to know why they came to Wonderland,” he said slowly. “Do they just like destroying things? Or were they fleeing something in their own world?”

“Oh!” I turned back to the dragon. “That’s a good question. Why indeed?”

Jack seemed both surprised and pleased by my agreement. “It might make him more likely to cooperate,” he said, warming to the subject, “if we could talk to him first.”

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s tie him to a tree, then. We won’t gag him straightaway, unless he tries to breathe fire at us.”

Jack stood motionless for another moment, staring down at the mock dragon. “I almost killed him,” he said, so quietly it was hard to hear.

“Naturally,” I said, realizing that this must have been the cause of his agitated tension. He looked so regretful that I almost squeezed his hand, but I stopped myself. “He tried to roast us for his dinner, after all. We still might have to kill him, if we’re not able to control him. He’s putting holes in Wonderland.”

Jack nodded. His dark lilac eyes seemed wet, but I didn’t comment on this. He cried a lot, I’d noticed. It reminded me of myself when I was younger.

Then, to my astonishment, he reached out and brushed his fingers over the base of my throat, just above my collarbone.

He drew his hand back instantly, as if I’d burnt him, and looked embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s something we do with—” He took a step back. “I’ll gather up some vines.”

“With who?” I said before he could vanish into the shadows again.