A quick flurry of motion amongst the ferns on the far side of the clearing caught my attention. First it was there, and then it was gone. I could have sworn I’d seen something, but even after a few long seconds, there wasn’t a single sight or sound coming from the undergrowth.

Absolem relaxed and took another pull from the smoke-filled pipe. “Oh. It's just him,” he grumbled, eyes glazing over. “He does that sometimes. It’s rude. Much like my present company.”

“Who?” I asked.

He inhaled another puff of smoke.

“My present company? That would be… you, Not-Alice.”

“I got that part,” I returned, still looking across the clearing. “Who reminds you of me?”

“The cat. Who else?” Absolem muttered. His nasal words and pacing were still lethargic, trying my already fraying patience. “He also refuses to recite poetry. Though he does speak in riddles. It's terribly dull.”

Another smoke ring rolled downward, but this time I was able to step aside, narrowly avoiding the caustic exhaust.

The system had already given me the first of two hints, and I was becoming increasingly more certain that I'd gotten all I could from the insufferable bug. For now, I wagered riddles were better than being accosted by shaped puffs of smoke and irritable remarks from a lazy caterpillar. If it was answers that I was looking for, anyway.

Without saying a word, I stretched my wings and hovered a few inches off the ground. Then, making a show of my capacity for flight with a flourish of magic, I flew toward the distant undergrowth.

Absolem was not impressed.

“Be gone, Not-Alice. Beware the Jabberwocky,” he drawled, calling after me as he climbed higher in his fern, his hookah dangling in tow.

“The Red Queen as well,” he added, “if you value your head… or don't. It doesn't matter to me. Just so long as you leave me to my quiet thoughts and well-reasoned abjurations.”

I stopped mid-flight and almost turned to argue with the self-important bug.

This was just another distraction. The dungeon was baiting me. As much as I hated it, Absolem had to live. At least until I could make the miserable worm fly.

With everything the caterpillar had said, there was no telling if this cat would have the answers I was looking for. It was worth a shot, however. Other than attempting to kill the overpowered mobs in the surrounding undergrowth, I had little else to go on.

My determination renewed, I swooshed over the loam, taking a wide path around the milling creatures. Only a few seemed to notice as I moved toward the area where the cat had been just moments before. None of the mobs seemed interested in engaging in combat. Still, I remained wary.

My uncle always used to say that when life gives you little warnings, you’d best stop and listen; to stay on guard. That sage bit of advice hadn't failed me yet. I certainly wasn't about to stop listening at a time like this. The conditions in these dungeons could change without warning. There was no knowing what might set off the by-all-appearances-non-violent mobs, changing their demeanor from docile to aggressive.

The slug was obviously carnivorous. I didn't even want to do much as think about how much damage the ants were capable of dishing out.

My breath caught in my chest as the ferns in front of me parted. I stopped and found myself gawking, slack jawed, as the vegetation was stamped down by a big, shadowy paw. The ethereal form of a gigantic cat looked down at me. It eyed my wings and chittered, as cats in the real world often do.

I descended to the forest floor before the feline mistook me for a small bird.

“Hello there,” I called out. “Are you friendly?”

“Friendly?” The cat sat, bathing me in a hazy, miasmic shadow. “Why wouldn't I be friendly? What a silly question, that. Are you a silly girl? Can’t you see I’m a cat?”

I immediately thought of my Aunt Molly’s ornery old Petunia. I had a scar on my left wrist from when I’d tried to pet her when I was seven.

“All cats are friendly?” I asked. “Well, that's news to me. Besides, it looked like you were about to eat me just now. That wouldn’t have been very nice of you.”

“Ah, yes. I considered it, you see.” The cat’s round, glowing eyes grew almost as large as his unnatural grin. The black slits grew wide and then thinned. “That would have been quite dreadful. I think we might agree.”

He stepped a little closer.

Apart from the stretched, toothy smile, something about the creature struck an odd chord of recognition. Recognition beyond fairytale. This was clearly supposed to be this dungeon’s version of the Cheshire Cat, but there was something else. The tom bore an unmistakable resemblance to another cat I knew. One I’d seen only a few minutes before.

“Carmichael? Is that you?”

“A Car-Michael, who?” the cat asked, incredulous. “Is this another cat? Oh! Is it true?”

“Is Carmichael a cat?”

I thought this over for a moment. I supposed, in a world where an abandoned burger joint was a secret divebar that had a jukebox that opened portals to other dimensions, that it was possible that Bob wasn’t really Bob and the cat wasn’t really a cat, but that was a little too meta for my mind to process at a time like this.

“Yes?” I said, without as much confidence as I’d hoped. “Is that significant?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“I have wondered long and wandered far, but here, in this place, it appears that I am all that there are,” the cat said, his words full of wistful melancholy.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, taking another step backward. “You must be lonely. It's just that you look an awful lot like a raggedy old tom from… somewhere else. His name is Cat, but I like to call him Carmichael.”

“Is this tom a Michael? Or is he a car?” the cat asked, inquisitively ignoring my explanation. “I’ve traveled a lot, but not quite that far. I heard tell once of a Cat-Bus that lived in some other land, but I’ll tell you right now, I won’t join that band.”

A terrible shiver traveled down the length of his ethereal spine.

“No. Carmichael is just a name,” I explained.

The cat perked and then leaned in.

“Don’t be a bore. Tell me more, Dear Miss. Oh, please. Tell me more.”

I took another involuntary step backwards.

“It isn't unpleasant, at least not as far as names go…” he continued to muse. “Oh, Car-Michael, Car-Michael. Where did you go?”

“He isn’t here,” I said.

Absolem was right. There was some sort of riddle here. Whatever it was, I was missing it.

“He’s from my world.”

“Oh, woe is me. This could be my end. I thought for sure that I might find a friend. Tell me, Dear Miss. Does this Car-Michael like to eat Teaberries and Swiss?” He looked down and raised his furry eyebrows expectantly.

Teaberries and Swiss? Swiss? As in cheese?

A quick check of my inventory confirmed that I didn’t have anything even remotely close.

I shrugged and the NPC’s paws vanished. He was literally disappearing in front of my eyes. If there’d been any doubt before, it was now abundantly clear. I had made a horrible mistake.

Aside from speaking in rhyme, it appeared the cat wasn't keen on giving the answers to queries that didn’t progress the events of the dungeon. I was willing to bet he’d vanish altogether if I messed up too many times. I’d have to be more careful when choosing how to engage, or deciding which questions to ask.

“What would a Car-Michael do, I wonder? I’d very much like to know. Would it pick up small Michaels and drive them to-and-fro?”

“I have no idea,” I answered.

This was going nowhere. Unless I wanted to waste what little time I had with pointless questions about the cat that inhabited Bob’s Diner, I’d need to take a measured risk.

“I was just hoping you could help me,” I said. “I need to get out of here. Do you understand? But I could tell Carmichael about you once I leave this place, if you’d like.”

“Help you?” The cat purred and closed his glowing eyes. “Whatever shall I do? Dear Miss, please slow yourself down. You could earn a little trust if you want me around.”

“How can I do that?” I asked.

“What sort of help? I wonder… Do you prefer to solve your problems by going through, or under?” His purring deepened as he ignored my question.

“It's Absolem,” I said. “He's important to my quest, but he refuses to fly. He said he might wrap himself in his cocoon, but only if I defeated the monsters in the area around him. It doesn’t feel right. He also told me to watch out for the Jabberwocky and the Red Queen.”

Cheshire opened his eyes and his grin widened as his tail swished and then faded from view.

“Absolem's quest, you say? Surely, that is one way. There is another, but you mustn't wait. You're already running far, far too late.”

“Is that the other clue?” I asked. “I got one earlier, but there's still one more I haven’t yet found.”

There was no system prompt, so I doubted this was it.

Cheshire purred. “Oh, what ever shall we do? Now that you mention it, I suppose I might know a thing or two.”

I waited, but the cat said nothing. Then his haunch disappeared.

“If you're willing to tell me, I could do something in exchange,” I offered. “Something here, in this land, perhaps?”

His head lifted from his shoulders, rotating in the air while the slits of his eyes remained fixed on mine.

“An exchange… Something for me? Now, let me think. Yes, what could it be?” His grin widened. “Hmmm. Very well. An exchange might just do. But first, would you like another sort of clue?”

“A clue for a quest?” I asked.

His disembodied head nodded.

“A milk-fed kitty is very happy, don't you know? But here, in this place, there's just nowhere to go. Not a cow or a goat, no milk, don’t you see? But mayhaps you’re right. There’s a chance you could fix that for me.”

“You must be very thirsty,” I said, nodding with all the sympathy I could feign. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh yes,” he purred. “All of this smiling without a lick to drink. It’s far more trouble than anyone might think.”

“That does sound quite awful,” I agreed.

“It's dreadful.” More of him disappeared. “Yes, it's true. But you offered to help. So, I suppose it would be the proper thing for you to do.”

“Of course,” I replied with a curtsy, which was something I'd had no intention of doing.

This place had a strange way of getting inside your head. I blinked and shook away the growing confusion, only to find myself staring at a text prompt.

Congratulations! You've been offered a quest:

Unspilled Milk.

Obtain 5 Milk of the Spider and return them to Cheshire in The Enchanted Glade.

Reward: If information is currency, then you're about to be rich! Maybe. The Cheshire cat will tell you a little secret. It may help you with your quest, but there’s a chance it could also get you killed. There’s only one way to find out.

Milk… of the… spider? Was that even a thing? How was a person supposed to go about milking a large arachnid without being devoured?

What was left of the Cheshire cat stretched and yawned, his mouth gaping wide to reveal several gleaming fangs. The sight was truly terrifying.

“I'm terribly sorry if you feel that I'm wrong, but I'm afraid I won't be staying that long.”

He fluffed the ground with his invisible feet and situated himself before looking at me with his large, glowing eyes.

“Go get the milk, then bring it right back. I’ll tell you my secrets once I’ve devoured my snack. Now go along, and please do make haste. I'm afraid there isn't much time to waste.”

With this, he curled into a large, partially visible ball and began to snore. At the same moment, a mini-map popped up as an overlay in the upper right of my vision. I could see the Cheshire cat's wide-smiling icon beside mine, a pair of butterfly wings, and Absolem, represented by a fat, squiggly line just a ways below.

Beyond the yellow spots of ants and slugs, several red and gray dots mingled together not too far from where I stood. There were many of them all bunched in one place. I focused on the largest one, a Spider Matriarch, then the smallest size, a Spider Hatchling, and finally a Juvenile Spiderling. There were just the three types, as far as I could tell.

I imagined a big momma spider and her children, separated into different stages of development. While the Matriarch likely had milk, there was probably more than one way to retrieve it. I couldn't help but shudder as I turned to make my way toward the zone.

I really hated spiders.