CHAPTER TEN: IN WHICH I BATTLE WITH SEVERAL FEARSOME MUSHROOMS: As I finished speaking, I dried my eyes on my sleeve and glanced nervously at Doctor Wilson. He eyed me calmly and stroked bis beard. I wondered if it was a personal habit of bis or just something he did to look smart. “I think it’s time we tried some more specialized treatment,” he said. Isat there, silent and wary. I bad told bim my most terrible secrets--horrible, insane things that I had never told another human being—-and that was all he had to say about it? He stood up and made for the door. “Come along.” “What for?” I asked, following him out into the corridor. “You're taking me to the incurables ward now?” I realised then tbat I bad begun to come back to my senses; I dreaded the idea of being sent to such a place. Wilson shook his head. “No, no, my dear girl. Nothing of the sort. Just getting you some leeches. I take it you've had those in the past?” I nodded, wincing. I dreaded the procedure of bloodletting very much as a child, but I forced a straight face. Compared to the sorts of things I did to myself, a bite or two from a leech would be nothing, I told myself. Wilson led me down the corridor and into a sparsely—on furnished, well-lit room. The floors were tile and the walls whitewash. In the center of the room sat a large examination table. The doctor propped up the back so I could recline not- uncomfortably upon it. I noted, uneasily, that there were leather straps sewn along the sides. I folded my arms and glanced about, trying to get a decent look at the place, to make sure there wasn’t anything too terrifying in it. I spied all manner of items-—bottles of every shape, colour and size imaginable, a few even labeled as poisonous, nightmarishly large syringes, speculums, forceps, knives, bone saws, and every sort of bloodletting instrument imaginable——all lined up in old glass. cabinets. From one of these cabinets Doctor Wilson withdrew a pretty porcelain jar labeled “LEECHES” in gold lettering. “Would you mind exposing your arm?” he asked, placing the jar the table beside me. Theld out my right arm, and the doctor dropped a leech in the crook of my elbow. The leech had an odd way of squirming; it stretched out into a long worm, and then retracted itself into a shape more like abeetle. It did this again and again, lengthening and shrinking like a slimy, bloodsucking accordion. I flinched when it bit. The sensation felt rather like being pinched by someone witb long, ragged fingernails. I glared down at the little creature, feeling a terrible urge to squash it. “Feeling all right?” the doctor asked. I nodded, but nearly recanted my answer when I saw him holding another leech in a pair of tweezers. I looked away as he placed it on my wrist. I ended up with about a dozen leeches all sucking at my veins. In the span of about ten minutes, they drank until they grew fat and red, and then let go and plopped into the waiting hand of Doctor Wilson. The leech bites continued to bleed quite profusely for their small size. Little red droplets oozed down my arm and off the tips of my fingers, collecting in a little silver bowl beside me. I watched with morbid fascination as the bowl filled. “You should be feeling much more relaxed now,” Wilson said, bandaging my little wounds. Now that he pointed it out, my racing thoughts had slowed down a bit. Perbaps “relaxed” wasn’t the right word, but the merely wisbed the doctor a good day and stood up.The moment I got to my feet, I felt suddenly hot and disoriented. Colours flashed before my eyes, like the visions which precede a migraine, and the room shifted around me. “Might I have... ?” I was about to ask for the day off of work therapy, but my words came out all mumbly and garbled. Before I had the chance to try speaking again, a vast hole opened up in the floor beneath me. As usual, I fell right into it. ERR Tcrashed through the roof of the White Rabbit’s house and landed on a plush sofa. As normal, the fall did me no harm, and the potion I had obtained at the Skool was still in effect. How kind of my dream to drop me right where I needed to go. Getting to the little door through which Rabbit had left would mean a good deal of walking. Simply getting off the sofa at my reduced size proved to be quite an ordeal. I had to bounce along to the edge, and then leap off, aiming for a fluffy bit of carpet to break my fall. Beyond the door (once I finally reached it), the first thing I noticed were the immense toadstools in every size and colour, from twice my height to the size of my shoe, and from dull brown to flashing blue and pink. For once, Wonderland was starting to look familiar. That is, until the nearest mushroom tried to close upon me likelike an umbrella. I ducked down and crawled out of the way, just quickly enough to avoid its fangs. The fact that most everything in Wonderland wanted to kill me would take some getting used to. T backed away from any nearby mushrooms to get a better look around. I stood in a patch of waist-deep moss. Immense trees towered overhead, filtering the sunlight to a perfect shade of green. Streams of water trickled down rocky crevices, and all was damp and green and cool. “Where have you been wandering off to?” I turned to see that the White Rabbit bad crept up on me. He stood in a patch of grass, tapping his foot. He, too, had apparently shrunk, for he only stood at half of my one-inch height. “You've taken your sweet time,” he said. “What do you mean? You're the one who didn’t wait,” I told him, crossing my arms and returning his glare. “I have good reason-—“ “Forget reasons; they’re useless.” Rabbit shook his head. “Caterpillar is waiting.” “Then we needn't take any more time with your bickering.” The Cheshire Cat appeared behind us, and then walked nonchalantly by. “Coming?” he asked, turning back. “Of course!” The Rabbit leaptafter bim. “We mustn’t be late, you know!” “Late for what?” I demanded, already burrying after them. “I don’t even know where we're goin, “Neither do we,” Rabbit said, “which is why we must meet with the Caterpillar at once.” “Ah, I remember bim,” I said, scrambling over a large root. “Thin- skinned, ill-tempered, smokes too much, bears a most disagreeable smell. What do I need from bim?” “None in Wonderland are wiser,” the Cat said. The Rabbit nodded twitcbily. “He'll know how to save us.” “You mean you've brought me here not knowing what to do with me?” I paused long enough to fling my knife at a particularly angry- looking mushroom. “You might have done well to consult the Caterpillar first.” “Ob, goodness me, no.” Rabbit watched warily as I yanked my knife from the dead fungus. “I couldn't traverse these woods alone. Plenty of things enjoy the taste of Rabbit, you know.” “I see. So you want me as your bodyguard?” “But of course!” Rabbit said. “And the guardian of all Wonderland” “Hmph. Sounds like a dubious honour. Everything here wants to kill me!” The Cat grinned a bit more widely than usual. “Would you rather stay in the asylum?” I didn’t answer, preoccupied with another ferocious~looking toadstool.As we went on, the forest grew ever darker and foggier. After about an hour of walking, we passed a fam: iar-looking dead mushroom. Stabbed, by the looks of it. In fact, I was pretty sure I had stabbed it myself. “That mushroom looks familiar,” I said. “Are you sure we're not going in circles?” “Of course, we're going in circles, Rabbit said. “We have to pass through. the Morel Grounds twice to get to the River of Tears.” “What?” Rabbit reached into his waistcoat pocket and handed me a map. It took a moment even to half-understand what I was looking at. The map seemed to shift and change every second. Just looking at it gave me a headache. As far as I could understand, the River of Tears appeared to flow between an upside-down house and a lake with anotber lake in it. I think. T handed the map back to Rabbit. “I think I'll trust your navigational skills.” “Thank you, my dear.” “So then, Caterpillar lives near the River of Tears?” I asked. “Not really,” Rabbit said, “but the fastest way to get that far north is by boat.” “North?” I had thought the river went from east to west. Or maybe north to south. Or maybe I was holding the map sideways. “Oh dear. I'm afraid I don’t understand this place at all.” “Not to worry,” Rabbit said. “I’ve been through here plenty oftimes before. Now, we’re nearly to the river.” After perhaps another half-mile or so, we did encounter a swift, silvery river. I might have described it as large, but, given my small size, it was likely no more than a few inches wide. My companions both hopped onto a floating leaf, and I cautiously followed. I didn’t think a leaf would serve well as a boat, although it was moored to the rocky shore by a rope, and someone had written “$,S, LACHRIMA” on its surface in blue paint. As quick as such a method of travel was, I found the lack of steering terribly unpleasant. When we entered a tunnel, my nerves worsened. The twinge of seasickness in my gut didn’t help in the least. “Qh dear,” Rabbit muttered. “Oh dear...” “What is it?” I asked tentatively. “T don’t remember any tunnels on the map!” He paced rapidly back and forth across the leaf. “The geography must have changed again.” “The geography? Changed?” I asked. “Again?” Cat added. “Didn’t that just happen last week?” Rabbit fumbled with his spectacles, but it was much too dark to read. “Oh dear! I’ve no idea where we are!” Brilliant. Given my luck, we’d tumble off a waterfall.Not far ahead, the tunnel opened up into light. At the same point, the river seemed to vanish into a cloud of mist. Had I just summoned a waterfall? Many years ago, my mother and father had taken me to see a tremendous waterfall near Yorkshire. I remember peering right over the edge, until Father pulled me back, warning that I might fall. Iwas irritated then, but now I wanted nothing more than some way to get off of my doomed little boat! I shouted out to warn my companions, but Rabbit did not hear me over the roar of the water. The Cheshire Cat saw what I pointed to, at which he bared his teeth, snarled, and vanished. Too late, I saw Rabbit plunging over the edge ahead of me, and I went tumbling down after him.