Hare was crouched over the kitchen table, observing the map in which the Dormouse had found for her. She did not question where or how he had obtained it, for she didn't much care. She had a long journey ahead of her.

That Alice girlwomanthing didn't know where Hatter was and then had ran away. Hare had courteously done Alice the favor of leaving Hatter a note explaining Alice's intentions. She had placed it near the chunky green tea cup she had given Hatter as an unbirthday present.

Hare was still pleasant enough to do Alice a favor, despite the fact she could list about one hundred rude offenses the girl Alice had committed in their short, awkward session. Past Hare's anger, however, there was a small spot of...


"Tea!" Exclaimed the Hare, scratching at a stain on the map with a rather sharp nail. She lowered her face so her nose hovered inches above the blemish, and sniffed. Yes, she had already been able to detect the darjeeling tea by its distinctive shade of light brown, but one could never be too sure. Also, it was tea. Tea was always worth sniffing.

Hare tried to regain focus on the map. She didn't know if it would even help her find Hatter, but she had to start somewhere. She had already stuffed her bag normally used for the White King's hay and sandwiches with an assortment of tea cups, fresh tea (don't ask Hare how), a jar full of jam, toast, plenty of sugar and honey, a book entitled "The Art of Losing" (she had found it sitting neatly on a shelf at Hatter's), and the Dormouse. The flower beds had been informed to hold down the fort and take any deliveries sent to The March Hare's residence.

Hare had even prepared herself for the biting cold that had swept over hers and Hatter's cottages. She was wearing an odd, Victorian version of her messenger suit: black leggings and flat black ankle boots, though with an intricate, jewel encrusted coat that stopped just above her knees and bundled up at the neck. It was pomegranate purple, with ruby red strewn throughout. The texture of the coat was not fur, although it looked extremely comfortable, light, and fluffy. Hare avoided sporting fur, even in the cold. Her hair hung in a braid tied at the back of her head with a black ribbon, for Hare intended to be running quite a bit and couldn't have her hair whipping about her face.

She picked up the bag with black gloved hands, ignoring the succession of squeaks as she equipped it over one shoulder. "I suppose it's time." She stated, making her way out of her cottage. Hare drew the key from the depths of her coat, only to find it was attached to a leather string encircling her neck. She had forgotten she put it there. Tugging it up and over her head, she locked the shabby door and turned, leaving. Hare returned the key to where it had been, around her neck and didn't look back. Clutched in her hand was the map.

What she didn't realize was that the "map" happened to be an extremely detailed handkerchief, and that the honey was dripping lazily between the seams of the bag. Hare rarely remembered that the bag was to be used specifically for deliveries and hay and sandwiches, but for the time being did not seem to notice. She had subconsciously copied Hatter's fashions in so many ways that she had also forgotten that Hatter's hat was stocked full of hidden power, to precisely preserve any given object. While she could copy Hatter’s ways, her bag could not.

Hare strode past Hatter's cottage, wondering if Alice was cold, unlike Hare. She hadn't exactly meant to upset Alice, she had merely been more focused on Hatter. Thoughts of the pitiful Alice were becoming less and less as the cobblestoned path on which Hare walked also became less and less, and the shrubs became more and more. Hare also noticed the more brush and trees, the more warmth. The sun shone weakly through the leaves cast overhead, though thankfully there was no breeze. Just very cold, and rather dry.

Pulling a stack of papers hidden pocket in her coat, Hare began slapping them onto the trees she passed. They sported sketches of Hatter and his Hat Hare had drawn, with messages such as "Have you seen this Hat(ter)?" She was trying to attach a rather stubborn poster to the bark of and old tree, when she heard the disturbance of fallen, dead leaves from nearby. She stopped harshly and sniffed the air, then with great grace and agility abandoned her work and jumped into the shrubs to her left, hiding from possible danger or attack.

Tags: march hare, white rabbit