The Hatter was resplendent in his multi-faced, multi-armed avatar form. He displayed a serene, beatific expression as he swayed slightly back and forth. March Hare slouched against a pillar at his side. Across the bridge, the Huntsman stood amidst his pack of hounds; three hundred pound precision engineered monstrosities. The rent heart on his banner seemed to beat as it flapped in the breeze. “You’re outnumbered twenty to one! There’s no way you’re going to make it across the bridge. Turn around and go! There’s no need for a slaughter.” The Huntsman was incredulous.
“You are correct. Stand down and we will allow you to keep your lives” replied the Hatter.
“There are only two of you! Are you mad?”
March levered himself away from the pillar and scratched the back of his head. “No, not yet he isn’t. I’d just let us by if I were you. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.”
The Huntsman shook his head, “If you’re not going to go, then you leave me no choice but to engage you.” The hounds growled and stood poised and eager. He raised his cannon to his shoulder and fired a devastating bolt at the swaying Hatter. The blast blew him off his feet and enveloped him in a cloud of smoke and energy. March shook his head as the Hatter sprung upright, his faces rotating in a blur before settling on an expression of unquenchable fury. The Hunstman’s jaw dropped and the hounds began to howl.
“Now you’ve done it,” offered March as he rolled up his sleeves.
The Hatter charged up the bridge. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he bellowed.
March drew a pair of gleaming, pearl inlaid pistols with a sigh, “I doubt you’ll guess the answer, and I don’t think you’ll like it very much even if you do.”
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