Alice hung on tight as the Mad Hatter sauntered through the Tulgey Woods at a jaunty pace. Low branches brushed by right over her head and sunlight trickled through the green leaves. It was surprisingly peaceful, considering she’d nearly been eaten by a Bandersnatch and taken prisoner by a Knave not very long ago.
The Hatter was muttering something, but even the words she could make out sounded like nonsense:
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
He warbled, like a child reciting a poem he’d memorized in school.
Alice carefully climbed down the hat and perched on his shoulder. “What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?” the Hatter asked. Then he continued:
The Jabberwock with eyes of flame.
The jaws that bite.
The claws that catch.
  Beware of the Jabberwock, my son,
and the Frumious Bandersnatch.
He took his Vorpal Sword in hand.
The Vorpal Sword blade went snicker-snack
He left it dead, and with its head,
He went galumphing back.
“It’s all about you, you know?” he finished.
Alice thought it was high time she put this mad idea to rest. “I’m not slaying anything,” she said firmly. “I don’t slay. So put it out of your mind.”
The Hatter stopped in his tracks. “Mmm … mind,” he said, plucking her off his shoulder. He dropped her onto a log and kept walking. Astonished, Alice followed him. With her new tiny size, she had to run to keep up.
“Wait!” she called. “You can’t leave me here!” At this size, she was reasonably afraid that a hawk might eat her. Or perhaps a very hungry squirrel. If they even had squirrels here … She hadn’t seen any normal animals yet. The squirrels were probably ten feet tall and blue with dainty white gloves.
The Mad Hatter whirled around and stared at her. “You don’t slay… . Do you have any idea what the Red Queen has done?” His voice became highpitched, mimicking her. “You don’t slay.”
She spread her hands. It wasn’t fair for him to mock her. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” she protested. Where would a nice Victorian girl have learned how to slay things? She couldn’t even kill the spiders and caterpillars that found their way into the house.
The Hatter put his hands on his hips. His gaze was accusing. “You’re not the same as you were before,” he said. “You were much more … muchier … you’ve lost your muchness,” he finished, nodding as if that made perfect sense.
“My muchness?”
He crouched and poked her in the stomach with his finger. “In there,” he said. “Something’s missing.”
The Hatter stood up and walked away again. Alice frowned thoughtfully. What did he mean? How would he know if she was missing something? And … was she? After a moment, she ran after him.
“Tell me what the Red Queen has done,” she called. He stopped.
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“Tell me anyway,” she insisted.
He scooped her up and plunked her back on his shoulder. They started forward again, although now Alice realized that the trees around them were changing. Instead of smooth brown trunks and fluttering green leaves, the foliage here was blackened and twisted, branches horribly charred like fingers clutching at the darkening sky.
The Hatter pushed through a thicket of branches, and they came out into a place where the earth was scorched and barren in a wide circle around them. He blinked, his eyes tearing up. His voice was hoarse with emotion as he began to tell the tale.
“It was here. I was Hatter to the Queen at the time. The Hightopp clan have always been employed at court.”
His eyes stared blankly at the blackened place as he drifted back in his memory to the Horunvendush Day. His whole clan had been there—all the Hightopps, adults and children, festive in their shiny new top hats. He could remember them all cheering for the White Queen and her court as they rode in on gleaming white horses. Her long white robe flew out behind her as her horse trotted in the lead. Beside her rode the March Hare, the Cheshire Cat, and the White Rabbit, among others … all of them members of her court. And standing in the center of the clearing, holding the shining Vorpal Sword, was the White Knight, the one they had all come to see.
He remembered the sudden feeling of terror that brushed against all their hearts as enormous leathery wings blocked out the sun. The woods went dark around them. All the upturned faces were filled with awe and horror. They had never seen such a beast.
The White Knight—their hero, their champion, the one who was supposed to fight for them against all horrors—gaped at the terrifying creature, dropped the Vorpal Sword, and fled into the trees.
It took only a moment for panic to seep through the crowd. If the Knight was too afraid to fight, then there was no one to defend them all from the Jabberwocky. Screams broke out as everyone ran for his life, pushing and trampling anyone in the way. Fire streaming from the Jabberwocky’s mouth blazed over their heads.
The Queen’s horse reared, and the Queen lost her crown. The Hatter ran forward to grab the reins, losing his hat in the process. He led her to safety, but for one moment he looked back.
He saw one last thing before they escaped: the Knave of Hearts picked up the fallen sword and lifted it victoriously. With a howl, the Jabberwocky retreated, leaving carnage and disaster behind him … and only one surviving member of the once sprawling Hightopp family.
The Hatter had returned to the scene later. His face was contorted with shock and horror as he crouched, touching the still-smoldering earth where his entire clan had died. Only one burned and trampled hat remained. The Hatter picked it up, brushed the soot off, and placed the wrecked hat firmly upon his head.
Alice watched him as he told his story. Her heart ached for him. Now she could understand his madness, and she couldn’t help but pity him. She looked up at the scorched hat he still wore, then to his tormented face. He twitched, driven to the edge of his madness by guilt, helpless rage, and deep loss.
“Hatter?” Alice said. She remembered how the Dormouse handled these moments. “Hatter!” she shouted.
He jerked, pulling himself back from the abyss. “I’m fine,” he said quickly.
“Are you?” Alice asked.
Instead of answering, the Hatter whipped his head around toward the dark trees that surrounded them. “Did you hear that?” he said softly. “I’m certain I heard something.”
Alice strained her ears to hear what he had. “What?” she asked nervously.
He whipped around in the other direction. “Ooh. Red Knights!” he cried.
The bloodhound’s chilling bay echoed through the woods. The Hatter slipped Alice into his waistcoat pocket and began to run. She clung to the brocade fabric with all her might as the world jolted and bumped around her. It was dusk now, and the lowering darkness made all the shadows seem extraterrifying.
The Hatter dodged trees and leaped over stumps, running flat out. He could see the edge of the woods ahead. But just before he reached it, a flash of red caught his eye from the right. He veered to run away, and a Red Knight stepped out in front of him. Quick as a wink, the Hatter spun in the other direction. But another Red Knight was there, waiting.
They were trapped.

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疯帽子迈着悠闲的步伐穿过屠集林时，爱丽丝紧紧地抓住帽檐。右边低矮的树枝掠过她的头顶，阳光透过树叶间的缝隙洒了下来。考虑到不久前她差点被大毛兽吃掉，成为黑骑士阶下囚的经历，爱丽丝觉得此刻平静得出奇。
疯帽子嘴里在嘟囔着什么，但哪怕爱丽丝唯一能听清的几句话都像是胡言乱语。
有一天皇里，那些活济济的狳子，
在卫边儿尽着，那么跌那么霓；
好难四儿啊，那些鹁鸲子，
还有豪猫子怄得格儿。
他用柔和的颤音唱道，就像一个孩子朗诵在学校里学过的诗歌。
爱丽丝小心翼翼地爬下帽檐，坐在疯帽子的肩膀上。“你在说什么？”她问道。
“什么是什么？”疯帽子反问道，然后他接着唱：
那炸脖龙，两个灯笼眼。
张牙舞爪。
胡乱抓人。
小心那炸脖龙，我的孩子，
那咬人的牙，那伤人的爪子。
他手持屠龙剑。
那屠龙剑砍得咔嚓作响，
他割了它的喉，砍了它的头。
就器宇轩昂地回家了。
“这些都是说你的，知道吗？”疯帽子唱完后说道。
爱丽丝觉得现在是时候让他们打消这个疯狂的念头了。“我不会斩杀任何东西，”她坚定地说，“我不杀生，别再有这种想法了。”
疯帽子猛地停了下来。“嗯……想法，”他说着，一把将爱丽丝从肩膀上拉下，扔在一块圆木上，继续往前走。爱丽丝震惊不已，赶忙跟上去。变小后的她步子跨不大，为了跟上疯帽子她不得不跑起来。
“等等！”爱丽丝大声喊道，“你不能把我丢在这儿！”就现在这副身板，她担心自己可能被老鹰吃掉再正常不过了，也有可能被一只饥肠辘辘的松鼠吃掉。如果这里真的有松鼠的话……反正在这里她还没见过什么普通的动物。这儿的松鼠说不定有十英寸高，长着蓝色的皮毛，还戴着精致的白手套呢。
疯帽子转过身死死地盯着爱丽丝，问道：“你不杀生……那你知道红皇后都干了些什么吗？”说完他便尖着嗓子模仿着爱丽丝的语调，“你不杀生。”
爱丽丝两手一摊，甚是无奈。她觉得疯帽子嘲笑自己简直是太不公平了。“就算想，我也做不到啊。”她反驳道。一个优雅的维多利亚姑娘哪里懂得怎么杀生呢？她甚至都不忍心杀死爬进家里的蜘蛛和毛毛虫。
疯帽子叉着腰，一脸责备地看着爱丽丝。“你以前不是这样的，”他说。“你以前很有正义感……非常有正义感……如今你的正义感不见了，”他说完摇摇头，好像说的还挺像那么一回事儿。
“我的正义感？”
疯帽子蹲下来用手指戳了戳爱丽丝的肚子。“这儿，”他说，“有些东西不见了。”
疯帽子站起身再次走开。爱丽丝若有所思地皱起了眉头。他这话是什么意思？他怎么会知道她遗失了东西？而且……她丢了什么吗？片刻之后，爱丽丝跑去追赶疯帽子。
“告诉我红皇后都做了些什么。”爱丽丝大喊着，疯帽子停下了脚步。
“你不会想听的。”
“不管怎么样，告诉我吧。”爱丽丝执拗地说。
疯帽子捧起爱丽丝，将她抛回到自己的肩膀上。他们准备继续往前走，尽管现在爱丽丝注意到周围的树都有了变化。这里没有光滑的棕色树干和被风吹得呼啦啦响的绿色树叶，只有被熏黑的、卷曲的树叶，被烧焦的树枝可怕得就像伸手抓着阴沉天空的手指。
疯帽子从浓密的枝丫中挤了过去，来到了一片宽阔的圆形土地，被烧焦的土地光秃秃的。他眨了眨眼，眼里噙满了泪水。当他开始讲述这个故事时，他的嗓音略带沙哑却充满感情。
“是这样的，当时我为白皇后做帽子。高帽子家族世世代代为宫廷服务。”
疯帽子的思绪飘回到厄朗温达石日的那一天，他两眼呆呆地望着烧焦的土地。他的整个家族都在那儿——大人和小孩，所有高帽子家族的人都戴着新的闪亮的高顶礼帽，像过节一样开心。他记得当白皇后和她的朝臣们骑着闪闪发光的白马向他们走来时，所有人都在为他们高声欢呼。当白皇后那匹领头的马儿一路小跑过来时，白色的长礼服在她身后飞舞。在她旁边的有三月兔、柴郡猫、白兔子，还有其他人……他们都是她的朝臣。而站在空地中心，手持闪亮的屠龙剑的正是白骑士，他也是此次所有人前来的目的。
他记得当巨大粗糙的翅膀挡住了头顶的阳光，一种突如其来的惊恐掠过人们的心头，周围的树林里一片漆黑。每张仰起的脸上都充满了惊奇和恐惧的神情。他们从未见过这样的野兽。
白骑士——他们的英雄，他们的勇士，这位理应为他们消灭所有让人恐惧的事物的骑士——竟目瞪口呆地看着这个可怕的生物，然后丢掉手中的屠龙剑逃到树林中，不见踪影。
很快恐慌就在人群中蔓延开来。如果连白骑士都怕得不敢去跟炸脖龙决斗，那就没人能保护他们免受炸脖龙的侵害了。四处逃命的避难者推着、踩着任何挡住他们去路的人，惹得众人尖叫连连。从炸脖龙嘴里喷出来的火焰在他们头顶熊熊燃烧。
白皇后的坐骑受到惊吓，白皇后也因此丢掉了她的王冠。疯帽子慌忙跑上前去抓住缰绳时，却不慎把自己的帽子弄丢了。他领着白皇后来到安全的地方，但途中疯帽子回头看了一眼。
逃命前他看到的最后一幕：黑骑士拾起掉在地上的屠龙剑，得意扬扬地举到空中。一阵咆哮后，炸脖龙也撤退了，留下无数的尸体和狼藉的战场……曾经盛极一时的高帽子家族仅有疯帽子一人幸存。
后来疯帽子又重回战争现场。他蹲下身子，抚摸着还在冒烟的土地，他的整个家族都在这里惨遭杀戮。一想到这些，打击和恐惧让他的神情变得扭曲起来。这里只剩下一顶烧毁的，被人践踏过的帽子。疯帽子捡起帽子，掸了掸上面的烟尘，然后将这顶残缺的帽子稳稳地戴在头上。
疯帽子诉说着自己的故事时，爱丽丝静静地看着他，对他心生怜悯。现在爱丽丝能理解疯帽子的疯狂了，情不自禁地对他产生了同情之心。她抬头看看疯帽子依然戴着的那顶烧焦的帽子，然后又看看他痛苦的表情。他整个人都在抽搐，内心的愧疚、无助的愤怒还有丧亲之痛把他逼到了崩溃的边缘。
“疯帽子？”爱丽丝叫道。她想起了睡鼠是如何处理这种情形的。“疯帽子！”她大声喊道。
疯帽子猛地一颤，将自己从记忆的深渊中拉了回来。“我很好。”他飞快地说。
“你确定？”爱丽丝问。
疯帽子没有回答，而是猛地扭过头看着周围阴森森的树林。“听见了吗？”他轻柔地问道，“我敢肯定我听到了些动静。”
爱丽丝竖起耳朵仔细听着疯帽子听到的动静。“什么？”她紧张地问道。
他猛地转过头朝反方向望去。“噢，是红骑士！”他大叫起来。
猎犬连续不断的、凄厉的吠叫回荡在丛林间。疯帽子悄悄把爱丽丝放到他的马甲口袋里，然后拔腿就跑。爱丽丝的整个世界都开始上下颠簸，她只得用尽力气抓住口袋里凸起的纹理。现在已到黄昏，昏暗的夜色让所有的影子看上去似乎都更加恐怖。
疯帽子躲过一棵棵大树，跃过一个个树桩，拼命往前跑。他看得出来丛林的尽头就在前方。但就在他快要到达时，右边突然闪过一道红影。他调头朝别的方向跑去，但一个红骑士跳出来拦住了他的去路。眨眼间，疯帽子又转身朝反方面跑去，但另一个红骑士早就在那儿等着他呢。
他们被捉住了。