by Ailyse
There is a place — you won't find it on any map, but you've probably visited without knowing it. It sits just past the edge of sleep, where the sky is always a little bit dark and a little bit lit, and where the grass grows soft enough that no one can hear you land.
This is Wonderland. And every night, it fills up with stars.
Not the kind that hang in the sky. These stars are small and green and quiet — they're wishes. They slip loose from wherever wishes come from, drift down through the dark, and fall into the field to wait.
Someone has to go gather them. Lucky for you — for all of us — two someones already do.
The one who leads
The first thing you notice about Double Lucky is how still she holds herself, even mid-leap. There's a calm to her that doesn't match a field full of falling stars — but that's exactly the point. Panic isn't useful in Wonderland. A guide is.
She was the one who noticed, a long time ago, that wishes don't fall in straight lines. They tumble. They land crooked, half-buried, easy to walk right past if you're not looking properly. So she learned to look properly. She learned the particular shimmer a true wish gives off, different from the ones people toss out carelessly, the ones that don't really mean anything. And once she learned to tell the difference, she started leading others to the right ones.
Two knots, tied into everything she carries — one for finding, one for keeping. Twice the luck, she says, though she's never fully explained why two. Some things in Wonderland don't need explaining. They just need trusting.
If you ever find yourself lost in that field — and everyone does, eventually — look for the soft-eared shape moving steady through the dark. She already knows which star is yours. She's just waiting for you to catch up.
“She already knows which star is yours. She's just waiting for you to catch up.”
The one who asks
Funny Bunny is not, strictly speaking, a bunny.
She'll tell you she is. She'll insist on it, actually, with a perfectly straight face and a bow tied just a little too neatly to be trusted. A cat who swears she's a bunny — in some lands, she's right. Try to press her on it and she'll just grin, which is somehow both an answer and not one at all.
This is how she works. Nothing in Wonderland comes free — not even a wish that's already yours by rights. Funny Bunny believes, firmly, that a wish worth having is a wish worth earning, even just a little. So she asks. A riddle here, a question there, nothing too hard, nothing you can't solve if you actually stop and think instead of rushing past. She's not cruel about it. She's curious. She wants to know if you're paying attention to your own wish, or if you just want the shiny thing without doing the work of wanting it properly.
Wishers who've met her tend to remember two things afterward: the question she asked, and the fact that they never quite figured out if she was joking. She was probably joking. Probably.
“A cat who swears she's a bunny — and in some lands, she's right.”
Two knots, one field
Double Lucky finds. Funny Bunny questions. Between the two of them, a wish doesn't just get gathered — it gets earned, gently, the way the best things usually are.
This August, they're stepping out of the field for the first time. Little Wonders is a small collection built around the two of them: hand-drawn coin pouches, each a limited run of just 100, alongside hairclips, pins, and holographic sticker sheets.
Every piece is drawn by hand and shaped with care, made by one person who still believes a wish is worth walking through a dark field for.
Little Wonders launches August 12. Once the 100 are gone, that particular star won't fall again.
