Life outside of the grotto was just as I’d left it. What remained of Cheshire’s ethereal form was waiting for me in the ferns. He appeared to be asleep in the exact same spot where he’d been when he’d given me the quest and sent me on my way. A number of ants and slugs still scurried and slurped across the open meadow, and I imagined Absolem was still pulling from the pipe of his hookah in the area beyond.

With the battle against the Matriarch behind me, and the five makeshift saucers secured, it was finally time to turn in my quest. I was more than ready to obtain the second and last hint the dungeon would provide. Everything after this would be a race against the clock, a flight from the Jabberwocky and the Red Queen. It was do or die, and I had no choice but to push forward and hope for the best.

So, that’s what I did.

I approached the cat with hopeful trepidation and then wordlessly placed the milk-filled saucers in front of his floating head. His eyes opened and fluttered. They grew even larger. He hastily licked his lips, and the undergrowth rumbled with the sound of his purring.

“I did as you asked,” I said, nodding toward the line of milk-filled acorn caps. “Now it’s time for you to hold up your part of the bargain.”

“You did as I asked? Retrieved the milk that I tasked? Oh, yes. Let us see. I’ll count them. One… two… three…”

“Four. Five,” I added, doing my best to speed up the process. It didn’t help.

“Four and, then yes, there it is. Five. What do you know? You brought them to me, and you are still fairly alive.”

“Apparently so,” I muttered, feeling a resurgence of pain in my leg.

Cheshire leaned forward and began wordlessly lapping the milk from the first saucer. He didn’t utter a single rhyme as he finished the one and moved on to the next. Time was running out, but it appeared as though I would be forced to wait for him to finish his meal before he would give me my hard-earned hint. This went on until he’d finished four of the saucers.

Then he looked up, and his gaze burned into mine. A slight smile curled his lips. Then it grew to a wide grin.

“Ah, yes. This is exactly as I willed. Four saucers to drink, and then one to be spilled.”

With this, the contents of the fifth saucer dumped onto the ground at my feet. I jumped backward in surprise while fighting every urge to yell at the beast.

Quest Complete:

Unspilled Milk.

Well, aren’t you a good little gofer? You have obtained 5 Milk of the Spider and returned them to Cheshire in The Enchanted Glade.

Huh. You idiots will do just about anything for a quest. And why? I don’t know. It’s not like you’re going to survive this place, anyway.

Reward: The Cheshire cat will now tell you a little secret.

Pssst! Remember what I said before? It may help you with your quest, but there’s also a good chance it will get you killed. What will you do? Can you ever really trust a cat? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

“Dear me,” Cheshire said, seemingly oblivious to both the quest prompt and my irritation. His eyes focused on the injury on my leg. “What is this? That wound looks most dire. Perhaps we should fix it before I retire?”

“I’d rather just get the hint as a reward for finishing the quest,” I answered. “If it’s all the same to you.”

Dungeon Hint Located.

2 of 2.

Cheshire’s Desire:

You probably should have guessed it by now.

Hint number 2 is a riddle most foul.

“Oh, heavens no. That simply won’t do,” he scoffed. “Take a drink of the milk. You’ll feel healed and brand new.”

“Is that the hint?” I asked. “It doesn’t sound much like a riddle.”

“A riddle?” he asked. “Is that what you’d like? I suppose that I could.” He continued to purr. “It would save me the hike.”

The distant sound of machinery filled the forest glade. A brief note of sticky exhaust assaulted my senses. It itched my throat and stung at my eyes. The Jabberwocky was getting closer, and this damned cat was wasting my time.

Cheshire, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Whatever,” I said. “I did what you asked. I brought you the milk. I did what you tasked.”

The absurdity of what I’d just said struck me as soon as the words left my mouth. I’d had no intention of speaking in rhyme. It had to be some kind of effect caused by this place, or some type of magic the cat was wielding against me.

There was nothing of note in my status bar. Perhaps it was just that I’d been here far too long.

“Before I give you your answer, I must first set things right. You’ve been grievously wounded, and it will soon turn to blight. Do take a drink of the milk,” he persisted. “You’ll feel healed and brand new. Just the smallest amount, like a drop of fine dew.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

This had to be a joke. All the saucers I’d brought were now bare. The liquid that had filled the fifth acorn cap was now scattered across the forest floor.

“Go on. Please do take a sip,” he insisted. “There’s enough there, in that last little drip.”

I followed his gleeful gaze to a drop pooling at the end of a large fern leaf. It twinkled and glistened like an object that wanted to be seen.

“Is this my hint?” I asked.

The cat’s ears disappeared.

I let out a sigh and shook my head. “You know, I hate to say it, but Absolem was right. You can be absolutely infuriating. You do know that. Don’t you?”

When he didn’t respond, I let out a huff and prepared to drink the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen. Spider milk… My stomach retched in response.

“You’ll give me my hint if I drink this?”

He nodded. Then his grin widened in rapt anticipation.

I took a knee below the fern, doing my best to ignore the pain that burned to life in my right thigh and traveled down the length of my leg. There was no way to know if this was going to help, but I was beginning to doubt my ability to finish the dungeon in my current state. With that in mind, I supposed it was worth a try, even as disgusting as it was.

“It’s just like cow's milk,” I told myself. Despite the similarity in appearance, I was still unable to believe the lie. “Pull yourself together. Just like cow’s milk. Come on. You can do this, Claudia.”

I cast one last look back toward the earless cat before cupping my hands around the drop and taking a drink.

The milk was warm and sweet. It poured down my throat, spreading through me like a gulp of hot chocolate on a cold winter day. That was where the similarity ceased. The warmth turned to fire, burning me from the inside and causing my stomach to quiver and quake.

“Do take a moment and allow it to work.” Cheshire grinned. “Just know that the pain you are feeling is hiding the perk.”

“Arrgghhhhhhh,” I screamed, writhing on the ground. I couldn’t help filling the glade with the echoes of my pain.

“The spider’s milk will heal all your wounds. It cauterizes from the inside,” he continued. “As for the pain, you can likely guess why I didn’t confide.”

My insides burned, and my HP dropped, only to tick upwards and then downwards again. This happened over and over in an endless cycle of agony.

“You tricked me,” I groaned.

“Yes, you are right, but I did do my best. Now take a few minutes. You might need your rest.”

I twisted and turned in agony, thrashing as my body contorted and seized. Loam smeared across my arms and face. It clung to my armor, and the taste filled my mouth. The dirt was earthy and raw and the grit in my teeth did nothing to dull the pain. I should have known the system message was trying to tell me something.

It was no real surprise. Trusting a cat had been a very, very bad idea.

I could hear the voice that had taken over the system messages laughing at me from somewhere far, far away. The sound was menacing and distant, but it was there. My fight was no longer to stay alive. There was a more immediate concern. It took everything I had just to try to stay sane.

Warning! You have been affected by Mother’s Spilled Milk.

Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy.

This is going to be good.

Have you ever heard the expression, ‘There’s no use crying over spilled milk?’

Screw that! Go ahead and cry.

I can’t believe you actually listened to that insane cat. You drank spider milk off the ground! Yuck! Okay, it was off a fern. Semantics. You get what I’m saying?

Anyway, you’ve probably figured out by now that drinking that crap wasn’t exactly your best idea since entering this dungeon. Then again, you chose a song that was two times your level. Were you dropped on your head as a kid? How dumb can you get?

Look, you’re in a lot of pain. I get it. Life sucks and you should just give up and let me win. On the other hand, I suppose it’s not all bad. You won’t turn into a spider-themed superhero or anything, but there are benefits. Like… oh, I don’t know. You aren’t dead. I guess. That pain that you’re feeling right now, as bad as it is, also increases healing. All things considered, that might be good for that bum leg of yours.

There are side effects, though.

Yeah, maybe we should talk about those. Or not. You know, actually, I think we won’t. It’ll be so much better if we keep it a surprise. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good surprise? Am I right?

Unchecked tears streamed down my face, turning the dirt that caked my cheeks into mud, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I gripped my chakrams in my hands and fought through the pain, forcing myself up onto one knee. My breath was shallow and ragged. Sweat poured down my brow. It felt like my leg was burning away from the inside.

“There, there.” Cheshire purred. “There’s no need to mourn. The change isn’t permanent. Not unless you’re reborn.”

“Reborn?” I repeated the last word with unchecked malice, mentally clawing for some tangible meaning that even remotely made sense. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared off toward the spot where I’d left Absolem smoking on his hookah. The cat remained transfixed for a long moment before returning his gaze.

“A hint is a hint. Oh, yes. That much is true. So, I have another tidbit that I would offer to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I groaned. “And what would that be? More tricks. Is that it?”

“Oh, woe is me,” he purred, sounding not the least bit agitated. “How you injure me so? Tis’ but some advice I would like you to know.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just spit it out.”

Something about the cat changed. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there. His eyes glowed a little brighter while the rest of him slowly began to fade.

“Three little biscuits, all in a row, and into your bag, I know you did stow. The tea made you shrink. The food makes you grow. You haven’t used one, so you ought to know…”

“Know what?” I asked. “What should I know?”

“You have done well to not eat them. Oh, yes. Don’t you see? For in the event that you had, you wouldn’t have met me.”

“Uhhh. Yeah. Okay,” I said, turning to leave.

“Do not go yet. I know you make haste. But listen to me, there is no moment to waste.”

“Then just get on with it, will you?”

He let out a sigh, and only his eyes remained.

“Absolem. Absolem. Those neat little biscuits are his favorite treat. Although, I must warn you, do not let him eat.”

In all honesty, the thought never even crossed my mind. Now that the cat mentioned it, I began wondering if it wasn’t another type of clue. After drinking the milk, however, I wasn’t sure what I could believe.

“Yes, now I see. You’re a skeptic, that’s all. Try the mushrooms instead. One side makes you big, but the other quite small.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Anything else?”

“Mushrooms work in a pinch, but you won’t like the taste. Not if you bake it or fry it or turn it to paste.”

“Cook them or turn them to paste? Neither of those sound like viable options,” I retorted. “Don’t give Absolem cookies. Mushrooms can make you big and small, but they taste bad. Anything else?”

The cat didn’t answer.

I was alone. Cheshire was no longer there. My leg continued to burn from the inside. My health continued to drop every five or ten seconds, only to be fully restored. There was nothing I could do about that now.

It was what it was, and it was now time to return to Absolem, to go back to where it had all started. This was something I hadn’t been looking forward to, but I still had to figure out how to convince the confounded worm to fly.