Elayra hated being in the open. Though the wooden structure provided some cover, the spacious expanse of the park around her and Ghent was unnerving. Anything could easily spot them, and she knew little of what dangers this world had to offer.
	Once Ghent took the cat, Elayra stepped back a safe distance, looking him over, her head cocking slightly toward every sound.
	Ghent stood a couple inches taller than her, and looked fairly well-off, if not baggily dressed. Even in the dimness of the night, his skin looked pale, the color intensified by his dark hair, and his eyes, though dulled in the darkness, still held a tint of blue. Like the others of this world, he showed no signs of being tainted by the Curse.
	When he denied ownership of the creature, she gave a slight, content nod, but stopped at his question.
	Her brows furrowed. “What? You... don’t know?” She eyed him closer, then glanced to the pendant still gently glowing around her neck. She cast a quick glance around, wondering if there was someone else nearby it could be trying to indicate, but the park was deserted save for the three Wonderlanders and the cat. The boy [i]had[/i] to be Hatter’s son.
	[i]He [u]wouldn’t[/u] know, would he?[/i] she realized with a frustrated, disheartened sigh.
	[b]“Who are you?”[/b]
	She eyed him for another short moment, before instinctively answering, “I’m nobody.” She raised her chin slightly. “But if it’s a name you want, I’m Elayra.”
	Before she could say more, he spoke again. She opened her mouth to ask, “Who?” but he did not leave her the time.
	Elayra watched him with curiosity as he wrapped the cat up in his strange jacket, turning it into a sort of net. When he mentioned a ‘reward,’ she put two-and-two together; there must be a bounty out on the cat. The question was, why? What had the miniature beast done? It had been easy to capture, so an incompetent spy, perhaps, that had seen too much? But, more importantly, who else would be out looking for it?
	Elayra raised a hand to signal him to be quiet. “Take a breath. I know nothing about neither a ‘Mrs. Saxon,’ nor a reward. I’m not here to get involved in the affairs of this world. Whatever crime that beast,” she nodded toward the jacket, “has committed, and its value to you, is yours alone.”
	She glanced over Ghent’s shoulder to where Drust still waited by the tree, his arms crossed and unwavering gaze on the two teenagers. She needed to know how much, if anything, Ghent knew or remembered.
	“Tell me, Ghent,” she began carefully, slowly, her attention back on the boy. “Do you know anything of a place called Wonderland?”