Dorthy's Wisdom: Getting Back to Oz, #2

By Jess Reece

A farm girl. A witch. A magic compass.

Having already survived the worst that Wonderland, Neverland, and the Arabian desert threw at her, Dorothy Gale wants nothing more than to wake up in her own bed on her aunt and uncle's farm in Kansas.

The arcane enchantment on the compass of the Emerald City isn't going to let go of her so easily, however.

Dorothy and her friends, Winifred Jones and Almira West (of Wicked Witch fame) instead find themselves thrust once more into one classic literary world after another. Bitterly disappointed at not getting home after their last adventure, Winnie has surrendered possession of the compass, while Almira's magic has flourished, developing unpredictable consequences of its use.

In their desperate quest to survive, the three women face all new dangers—fairy changelings, eldritch monsters, and gothic vampires—leaving the burden upon Dorothy to discover the confidence to trust her own instincts and learn the value of her own inner wisdom.

After all, there is no place like home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jess Reece
• Release date: Apr 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386213031

Jess Reece

Jess Reece was practically born with a pen in her hand. She wrote her first story, about a dog taking a ride on an alien spaceship to the moon, at four years old. As a teenager and young adult, she won various local writing awards for her poetry and short fiction. Jessica's goal is to draw her readers into worlds that are as real to them as they are to her, and have them fall in love with the characters that they get to know. She also writes nonfiction, using her skills to mentor adult survivors of childhood abuse and trauma - healing that pain, sometimes decades old, through creative writing and storytelling. Jessica also paints and designs her book covers, as well as finds time to relax with her husband, daughter, and motley crew of rescue animals.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A churning, slate gray sky dumped freezing rain and marble sized hail on the Kansas plains as if in celestial punishment. The shrieking wind ripped at my hair and clothes, threatening to knock me off my feet as the wind chased me from the storm cellar to the old clapboard house. I was certain I’d seen my little black dog dart up the back porch steps and into the house. Taking a precious second to glance at the raging sky overhead, I put on an extra burst of speed. Leaping up the steps after him, I slammed the kitchen door shut behind me. The howling wind raked unseen fingers along the wood trim like a beast trying to pry open a hidden treasure, sending a shiver down my spine.

Over the roar outside, I thought I heard barking and followed the faint sound to the rear of the house. Faded, dusty photos rattled in their frames on the hallway wall, knocked about by the insistent wind slipping through gaps in windows and under doors. After checking the first two rooms, belonging to my aunt and uncle, and my cousin, I opened my bedroom door to the smallest room in the house, to see him huddled on my bed.

Toto! You naughty dog!

His tail wagged furiously and he inched forward on his belly with a small whine. I patted my leg and he raced forward, his long glossy black fur fluttering in the breeze as he bounced up and down on short, stubby legs. Holding him tight to my chest, I stood up to head back to the safety of the storm cellar.

The floor bucked, and Toto tumbled out of my arms as I crashed to my knees. Wood planks groaned in protest, the nails that held them in place screeching as they were pulled from their joists. Using the brass bed frame to pull myself up, I staggered toward the door. Toto barked shrilly, racing back and forth between me and the door, as if urging me to go faster.

A brittle crack echoed through the small room followed by other cracking popping throughout the house, like the bangers little boys liked to set off during the fourth of July bazaar. The window imploded, thousands of tiny shards of glass peppering the air. Most were caught by the calico curtains but many more embedded in my arms, legs, and hair. A roar like a freight train bore down on the old wooden house that was earnestly trying to tear itself apart. I lifted my head and terror seized my lungs. Just beyond the small window, an enormous, soot-black funnel cloud ripped its way through the corn field, heading directly for us.

I lunged for the bedroom door, but It slammed shut a second before I reached it. I twisted and yanked on the knob, but it wouldn’t open. Tears streamed unchecked down my cheeks. Banging on the door until my fists were bruised and bleeding, I screamed for help over and over. The door refused to budge, however. I crouched on the floor with Toto in my lap, wedged in the small space between the foot of the bed and the wall. My ears popped painfully with the pressure of the approaching twister, which was now so close, it completely filled the view from my window.

The storm descended on the house, blanketing everything with unnatural darkness. My stomach flipped as the entire house was lifted in the air. It started spinning faster and faster until it matched the speed of the giant funnel cloud.

Clapboard siding sheared off the house, peeling back like a zipper, and glass shattered in every window frame, splintering through the air, sparkling maliciously. Doors and cupboards clattered in their frames, pop-pop-popping like gunfire. I cowered on the floor, curled around Toto echoing his distressed howling with my own sobs.

Impossibly, the house picked up speed, and my stomach heaved again, protesting mightily. The dizzying spectacle outside the window matched the spinning in my mind. I could barely keep my head up for the centrifugal force holding me down. A pewter photo frame flew off the dresser, striking me in the temple, and everything went black.

Toto? I mumbled, some time later.

He snuggled close, whimpering and licking my chin. I smiled, immediately wincing at the tight pull of a swollen bruise on my cheek. Without opening my eyes, I probed the tender skin, tracing a knot the size of a robin’s egg. A memory flashed in my mind: a photo frame flying across the room.

The twister! I gasped, sitting up straight.

Nausea gripped my belly with sickly claws, and I regretted sitting up so fast. Putting my hands to my head, I breathed in and out of my mouth until the urge to vomit eased. Toto whimpered again, and I peeked around us through half-closed eyelids. The bedroom was a disaster. Shattered glass sprinkled the floor, clothes were hanging from drawers of the overturned dresser, only half a curtain remained over the window, and one leg had snapped clean off the brass bed frame, leaving it broken and cockeyed. Sunlight shone through gaps in the plank walls, and dust motes danced in the bright beams.

It was preternaturally quiet now; all signs and sounds of the tornado gone. Thankful my only injuries seemed to be the bump on my head, along with the multitude of scratches on my arms and legs, I got to my feet, fighting another wave of nausea. Before today, I’d assumed twisters just tore right through a house—I never knew they could lift one clear up off its foundation, and move it intact.

Toto ran to the door, barking, the harsh staccato loud in the extreme quiet. I hushed him, but the shrill barking continued. He ran to me, then back to the door again, still barking nonstop. Standing on his back legs, he pawed at the door frantically.

What is it, Toto? I remained near the bed, watching his strange antics. Something about the nature of his bark, and the urgent way he clawed at the door made me hesitate to open it. The relentless yapping was intolerable, however, and soon I gave in.

Stepping away from the broken bed frame, my worn leather ankle boots crunched loudly on the glass scattered around the floor. Again, I was struck by how quiet it was. Even after the worst storms had passed, usually the soft rumble of distant thunder, or the susurration of wind whispering through fields of crops, could be heard. The silence was almost palpable weight against my ears, and opened and closed my mouth to relieve the pressure.

Reaching for the door, my fingertips hovered over the brass knob. A skitter of premonition raced up my spine, and I had the strangest thought that once I opened this door, nothing would ever be the same. Shaking off the silly thought, I flung open the door.

Toto darted out before I could stop him, barking furiously. Shouting his name, I took a step after him, and had to windmill my arms to prevent falling off the broken floor planks to the ground below. I stared in amazement at the splintered edges of wood—the rear of the house had broken away from the rest of it. Holding onto the door frame for balance, I hopped down. If God himself had slammed his fist into the small wood frame house, it would not have been as devastating as the cyclone that punched through the walls and sucked it up with no more effort than a grain of sand.

Turning away from the decimated house, my knees went weak. I had never seen any part of Kansas so green and lush as this. Emerald green grass, dotted with small, blue flowers spread out in front of me for miles. I closed my mouth, which had fallen open, as the sound of Toto’s frantic barking abruptly stopped.

Toto? I called, stepping around what remained of the corner of the house. Toto?

My question faded away, so surprised I was by the houses, gardens, and buildings arranged before me. It wasn’t that I had never seen such brightly painted walls, or that I had never seen such perfectly tended flower beds, it wasn’t even that I had never seen such crisply snapping flags on town halls. What I had never seen, however, was all of those things in miniature.

Two-story Victorians were barely as tall as my house—well, as tall as what was left of my house, anyway. Horse-drawn carriages were no larger than my red wagon at home, and hitched to equally tiny horses. Park benches in the town square, perfectly sized for a small child, or perhaps a large doll, would surely crumble under my weight if I had a seat. Open-mouthed with wonder, I told myself that such an unusual sight would have to excuse my bad manners.

Toto? I whispered, realizing he hadn’t reappeared. Toto, come here!

I whirled around at the sound of rustling off to my left. A crop of sunflowers with blue petals about waist high seemed to tremble and shake of their own accord. Peering closely, I yelped and stumbled backwards when one of the flowers started talking to me.

Are you a witch too?

I stared at the long rows of flowers from where I’d landed on my rump. Two small, beady eyes and a pert, upturned nose poked out of the sunflowers. I laughed nervously. Goodness gracious, it was just a child!

Hey, wait! I called, when the child went ducking for cover in the flowers again. It’s okay, please won’t you come out?

First, answer, if you please, whether you are, or are not, a witch—and if so, whether you are, or are not a good witch!

A witch? But of course I’m not a witch, what a ridiculous thing to say. Come out this instant!

Several seconds passed, and I was just about to call out to the child again when a great rustling among the sunflowers preceded a surprising number of children coming out of hiding. They were dressed in a most peculiar fashion, and all in varying shades of blue. Their wide eyes and timid stares suggested something must have given them a terrible fright, and I wondered what it was.

If you’re not a witch, the apparent leader of the children pointed over my shoulder, then how did you do that?

Turning to look at what he pointed at, my knees collapsed beneath me, and I sat down as the breath whooshed out of my lungs. I stared at the wreckage in front of me with stunned, dazed eyes, shocked by how similar the scene in front of me was to the disaster that had struck my family last summer.

Aunt Emily and I had been picking up the weekly grocery order from Mr. McAllister’s when a tremendous explosion had rocked the walls of the store. Windows cracked in their frames, and dust drifted down from the ceiling, coating our hair and eyelashes. We followed Mr. McAllister outside.

What happened? he shouted to some men running past.

A boiler explosion at the mill, one of them yelled over his shoulder.

Aunt Emily had gasped, her face white as a sheet. Mr. McAllister supported her other elbow as we led her to a nearby bench. I fanned her face while he went inside to fetch her something to drink.

Mrs. Gale, I’m sure your boy is just fine. Come now, I’ll take you down there myself, the shopkeeper said when he returned with a glass of water.

But he wasn’t fine.

The damage a boiler could cause when it exploded was unlike anything I had ever imagined. It took several days to find the body parts of all the dead men, and it was several more months before Aunt Emily would come out of her bedroom again.

The details of that awful day came rushing back, as I stared at the shattered debris scattered around the remains of my house; burnt flesh, sour sweat of men working hard to rescue survivors, musty, splintered wood, and blood.  Just like the factory, these wood beams had been torn apart like matchsticks from the framed-in walls. The roof had peeled back like a tin can, and sand had scoured the paint clean off the siding in some places.

I couldn’t tell at first what my house had landed on, but it had been a building of some sort. Peering closer, my heart sank as I identified the white spindles of the corner of a miniature porch rail. Oh goodness, I had landed on someone’s house!

I leaped to my feet, panicked by the thought that someone might have been harmed. Stumbling through dirt and debris, I staggered to a halt when I reached the rear corner of my house—what was left of it, that is. My gorge rose, and I dropped to my knees as my stomach violently emptied itself.

Blood—more blood than I’d ever seen—was splattered up the back wall and across the grass, pooling in a coppery, gelatinous mess. I put my fist to my mouth, biting down hard as I took in body parts too small for a full-grown person: a hand, a leg, bits of hair. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling unchecked down my cheeks. A hand settled lightly on my shoulder, turning me around.

Oh my dear, what have you done?

Chapter 2

But I didn’t mean to! I whirled around. It was an accident, I swear!

Oh, I’m sure you think it was, a tall blonde woman clucked her tongue at me.

Oh dear, oh dear, I said, tears trickling down my cheeks.

She patted me on the shoulder, and I was torn between staring at the gruesome spectacle behind me and her stunning appearance. Her beauty was breathtaking; long golden ringlets the color of dark wheat hung to her waist, gray eyes sparkled under golden brows, and cherry-red lips were pulled down into a disappointed frown. A long white dress, pleated at the shoulders and dotted with thousands of rhinestones, flowed around her in voluminous waves.

There, there, pull yourself together young lady, she admonished. "It’s not as though someone dropped a house on you. Now, where is Bartamaeus?"

I’m here, your Grace, the young boy that had first greeted me stepped forward.

Glinda, if you please, Bartamaeus, she clucked her tongue at him, just as she had at me, and he looked properly chagrined. What I need you and your friends to do is locate the slippers our flagitious victim was wearing. Quick, now!

Right away, your Gr—er, Glinda, he said.

What are the children looking for? I frowned, glancing between their scurrying bodies and the bloody gore spread across the grass, and the woman laughed, a tinkling, cheerful sound completely out of place near the scene before us.

Children? But they are not children, you foolish girl, they’re Munchkins, of course!

Whatever is a Munchkin?

"Why, those are Munchkins. They live here, in Munchkinland, in Oz."

I stared curiously at the small people that Glinda said were not children run around the grass. Some scurried on hands and knees, avoiding the worst of the blood. One of them whooped and jumped up, running over to Glinda.

"Oh you clever little thing, you! These, my dear, Glinda turned to me, are for you."

My jaw fell open as she held out a pair of shoes to me. The stark contrast between the glittering, bejeweled slippers perched on her fingertips and the savage destruction at my feet made my head swim. I backed away from her and the Munchkins and the small houses and all the things here that didn’t make sense. Stumbling, I looked down to see that I had tripped over an arm—an arm detached from its body—that ended in pale, delicate fingers with almond-shaped nails.

No, I whispered, no, no, no.

I turned and ran. Blindly, and with no direction, I ran. Bushes and vines snagged my lower legs, but I didn’t slow down. Shoving past a couple Munchkins standing at the edge of the field, I continued my flight through field of blue sunflowers.

My lungs burned and hot tears scalded my cheeks. Dropping to my knees, I wrapped my arms around my middle, and rocked back and forth. This must be some awful nightmare. It had to be. There was no such thing as child-sized people and witches. Please God let me wake up.

A familiar whine broke through my frantic prayers. Earnest little eyes and a wet nose greeted me when I opened my eyes. Pulling Toto onto my lap, I cuddled him close.

Oh, Toto, I sniffled, burying my face in his fur, what are we going to do?

He licked my chin in response. My sobs turned to hiccups as I stroked his silky soft curls. I wiped the tears from my eyes and heaved a shuddering breath before squaring my shoulders.

Well, wherever we are, I lifted Toto up to kiss the top of his head, this sure isn’t Kansas.

Nothing was going to get fixed by sitting here crying in the dirt. What would Aunt Emily say if she saw me now? Feeling properly ashamed of myself, I got to my feet and dusted the dirt off my hands. Toto danced around on the ground, jumping up on his little back legs as I turned in a circle.

I had run much farther than I realized. Surrounded by waist-high blue flowers, I couldn’t see the miniature town I’d run away from. There was a clear path through the field, however, of broken stems and crushed petals. Taking one last deep breath, I headed back the way I came. Toto ran ahead, barking enthusiastically while doing his very best to leap high enough to see over the blue flowers, and I laughed as he sped ahead.

Toto, I shouted as his barking cut off into a yelp of pain, sliding to an abrupt stop. Oh my goodness!

If someone had asked me even a moment later, I couldn’t have explained what happened. One second I was running after my little dog alone through the flowers, and the next I was a step away from crashing into someone that was holding Toto by the scruff. His legs kicked furiously in the air and he twisted in her grip, but she held him tight. Dumbfounded with shock, I stared into the bright green emerald eyes of the woman standing in front of me.

Raven-black hair framed a face that matched the green of her eyes, but was marred by a stormy scowl. She looked me up and down, pursing her lips to a thin, cruel line. Shaking Toto by the neck, she jabbed her free hand at me.

Murderer! Toto yelped, and she shook him harder. Murderer!

But I’m not—oh please stop, you’re hurting him! I cried.

I make no concessions for murderers!

I backed away from her sneering accusation, shaking my head in denial. Never before had someone looked at me with such hate and malice. Tears welled in my eyes, and I stammered out another protestation.

Enough! she said, and I froze in place even though her voice had barely gotten louder. She threw Toto to the ground with a vicious snap of her wrist. You will pay for your crime!

Stalking toward me, she raised her hands to her chest as though holding an invisible ball. The air crackled with energy and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I spun on my heel and ran right into a mound of sparkling, frothy layers of white fabric.

Quick, Glinda said, shoving the bejeweled shoes into my hands, put these on straight away!

This is not your concern, Glinda, the green-faced woman behind me warned.

"Oh, but it is, sister," Glinda smiled sweetly, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but she gestured urgently behind her back at me.

"Sister? How dare you use that word with me! That cowering girl behind you killed my true sister."

My dear, from one witch to another, take care you do not harm this girl.

I will have my vengeance!

Tut, tut, Glinda clucked her tongue, you never were one to follow friendly advice.

You will give her to me Glinda, or I will lay waste to all of Oz, starting with the Gillikins.

Glinda glanced at me over her shoulder. I had just finished putting the slippers on—which fit my feet surprisingly well—and stepped forward to join her by her side. She gripped my shoulders, turning me to plant a kiss on my forehead that left a strange tingle behind where her lips had touched my skin.

Well, since you feel so strongly about it, Glinda grinned, turning me back around and placing me in front of her, you may have her.

You meddlesome piece of kalidah scat, the green witch sneered, backing away from us as she looked back and forth between my forehead and my feet, you have no right to interfere!

Wait! No, you can’t let her take me! I tried to back up, but Glinda shoved me further forward.

I’m not interfering, you silly cow. You said you wanted her, so take her. Glinda’s voice was cheerful though sharpened with an unmistakable edge of menace.

The green-faced witch squared her shoulders with a determined look. She shrugged her long black cape from her shoulders, widening her stance. Raising her hands as if she were holding the invisible ball again, she somehow made the air crackle with static. The serene smile on Glinda’s face remained unchanged.

Twisting at the waist, the other witch whipped back as quick as a copperhead strike, hurling the missile of energy directly at me. I screamed, stumbling backwards as an explosion of emerald sparks rained all around me. to my everlasting surprise, I wasn’t singed at all. Enraged, she shouted and launched another attack. As they had before, the electrical sparks rained down harmlessly inches from my skin.

Problems? Glinda asked, all smiling innocence.

Casually draping her arm around my shoulders, we waited for an answer. Panting, eyes narrowed to furious slits, in the blink of an eye, she jabbed her hands in my direction, as if she were throwing darts or knives. I dropped to my knees, covering my head with my hands. Glinda laughed, and I peeked through my fingers to watch faint green arrows sailing through the air. The energy bolts slammed into the invisible barrier around me, dissolving into crackling sparks of lightning that disappeared as soon as they collided. I got to my feet, unsure how long it would last, but grateful for Glinda’s magical protection.

Are you quite finished? Glinda sighed, examining her nails.

I will have my revenge! the other woman screeched, spittle flying from her mouth. "On both of you!"

Tut, tut, Glinda clucked, so dramatic!

I’ll get you, she jabbed a pointed green finger at me. "Make no mistake, wherever you go, whatever you do, I will get you!"

With a shimmering flash, she disappeared. My shoulders sagged, and I didn’t know whether to cry or cheer. Before I could ask Glinda what had just happened, Toto’s shrill barking was followed by the high-pitched voices of a group of Munchkins racing toward us through the flowers. The small men and women surrounded us as Toto bounced around excitedly. Glinda smiled, opening her arms to embrace them. I bent down, catching Toto in my arms.

Glinda, whatever will we do?

Will she be back?

What’s going to happen to us?

They talked all at once, wringing their hands and clutching at Glinda’s gossamer gown. She disengaged their fingers, smiling politely but firmly as she hushed them. Motioning me forward, she draped one arm around me, and held up the other until she had their attention.

"My little lovelies, I know that you are quite distraught over recent events, but we must focus on the positive. Her happy tone had them nodding along as one. First, our surprise guest was considerate enough to relieve you of the bane of Munchkinland—the Wicked Witch of the East. Second, she will help us rid the land of Oz of the detested Witch of the West!"

Glinda’s announcement was met with enthusiastic applause. They looked adoringly at her as I frowned and held Toto close. I didn’t want to help anyone get rid of anyone.

Um, excuse me, please, I said, extracting myself from under Glinda’s arm, but it was just an accident that my house landed where it did.

Tut, tut, Glinda clucked.

"Oh, but it was an accident! All I want is for us—me and Toto, that is—to get home to Kansas."

Never fear, my dear, I’m certain we will manage to find a way to send you home. She patted my head much like I would pat my dog’s. But surely even a simple country girl can appreciate that one cannot get something for nothing.

She smiled sweetly at me, but the harsh set to her eyes belied her cheerful expression. The bright, eager gaze of the Munchkins made my skin crawl in a most unpleasant way. Burying my face in Toto’s silky black fur, I wished again to be anywhere but here.

Well? Glinda prompted, all traces of good humor gone from her voice. What shall it be?

I’m not sure I understand what it is that you need me to do, I whispered, acutely aware that I was trapped no matter what I said.

Oh, my sweet girl, isn’t it obvious? You’re going to kill the Wicked Witch of the West.

Chapter 3

Kill? I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. She couldn’t be serious. I don’t want to kill anyone!

"Well, whether you want to or not, you are quite accomplished at it. But come along now, all this talk of killing is uncivilized. Tut, tut," she clucked.

But, but, but, I stammered.

Ah, ah, she reprimanded, mind your manners.

Without another word, she guided me back to the miniature Munchkin town. I walked as if in a dream, barely aware of my feet even touching the ground. The voices of the child-sized people cavorting around us seemed to reach me from a distance. I clutched Toto close to my chest, whispering a fervent prayer over and over.

Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream.

All too soon, we reentered the town, stopping near the wreckage of my house. I tried to avoid looking at the gruesome evidence of that poor woman’s death, but Glinda held my shoulder hard, preventing me from turning away. My stomach turned, and a fierce ache burned in the back of my throat.

Oh goodness, what a mess you’ve made. Tut, tut, now, how will all this get cleaned up, do you think, hmm?

I ... I don’t know, I mumbled, fighting back tears.

These poor Munchkins will have to do the work, and where do you suppose they’ll put the rest of your house? she chuckled meanly. It’s enormous!

But—

Enough! she snapped, all traces of good humor vanishing. "But, but, but, I, I, I. Your manners really are quite wanting."

Her severe tone sent the barely-controlled tears spilling down my cheeks.

The fact is, my dear, you have not only created a dreadful imposition on the kind and generous people of Munchkinland, but you have also put their very lives in danger by calling down the vengeful fury of the Witch of the West. Tsk, tsk, she shook her head. On top of that, you expect assistance with returning home? It can be done of course, after all, nothing is impossible but you must be willing to compensate our efforts with your own. Come now, let’s discuss the particulars on the way to my palace.

Trembling, I stared at her outstretched hand. What choice did I really have? Placing my hand in hers, I ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of my belly, and waved goodbye to the Munchkins who were already busy at work picking up the mess.

We traveled straight across the fields of Munchkinland a good distance in silence. It was not an easy journey, and I wondered if we would find a road soon. I peeked at Glinda often, but she paid more attention to ensuring her voluminous skirts didn’t get tangled on twigs and branches. I resolved to follow her example, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and never saw the root that snagged my foot, sprawling me face first in the dirt.

Tut, tut, Glinda clucked as I got gingerly to my feet. Do the people in Kansas never look where they are going?

I opened my mouth to defend my country men, but her stern expression had me swallowing my retort before it got out. I mumbled that I was okay, and we continued onward. Relieved to see a break in the undergrowth ahead, I hurried forward, but stopped short in stunned surprise. A gleaming, golden, brick-paved road stretched out in front of us, winding like a brilliant yellow ribbon through the countryside. It snaked its way around hills, disappearing into valleys, then reappearing over the next rise.

Come along, then, Glinda clucked impatiently.

The road was much easier to navigate than the half-wild country, though, as we walked I noticed the herringbone patterned bricks were not so pristine as they first appeared—several bricks had been damaged, chipped, or were missing altogether. I was quickly learning that this land was filled with things that weren’t what they appeared to be at first glance.

Setting Toto down, I watched him skip ahead, little black legs a blur. He rounded a blind bend in the road, and began yapping in his shrill, insistent way. Hurrying to catch up to him, I found him harassing a flock of large blackbirds that were gathered around a lone, bedraggled scarecrow hanging on a wooden post near the road. Some of the birds were perched on the cross-arms of the post, pecking at the scarecrow’s clothing and straw.

Toto, hush! I scolded as he barked and chased the blackbirds, though they all flew easily out of his reach.

One blackbird in particular seemed to enjoy the game, however, just barely hopping away from Toto’s snapping jaws. He squawked angrily when one of his tail feathers was ripped out by the root. Flying up to the scarecrow’s hanging head, he pecked viciously at the stuffed figure.

Ow! a deep, disembodied voice snapped. Now you quit that this instant!

The scarecrow reared his head up, startling even Glinda. I gasped, stumbling back a step as the blackbird swooped low over my head, squawking as he flew away. Glinda scowled, and Toto barked furiously at the retreating bird.

It’s rather rude to stare, the scarecrow said, but if you must, you could at least help me down.

Help you down? I echoed stupidly.

"Yes, down. As in, the opposite of up. He heaved a long-suffering sigh. At least, I think it is. I’m not altogether certain of what I think I know, sometimes, though I am quite sure I want to be down, not up."

Glinda watched him with her arms crossed, making no move to help. I muttered something uncharitable, stepping over to the straw man. After a couple minutes, I managed to work his shirt free of the bent nail it was hooked on. Untying the ropes binding one of his arms, I got to work on the ropes at his feet while he used his free arm to untie the other one.

That must be ever so much better, I smiled, watching in wonder as he hopped down. I’d never seen a walking, talking, scarecrow before.

You tore my shirt, he twisted round to poke his fingers through the damaged fabric.

Well, I didn’t mean to, I said, stung by his unfriendly tone. I was just trying to help,

We can always help you back onto your post, if you prefer, Glinda offered sweetly.

No, no, no, of course not! What I meant to say, he cleared his throat, is thank you for your help.

The scarecrow gave a floppy sort of bow while tipping his hat to us. Toto was very interested in the unusual straw man, and busied himself with sniffing up and down his pants legs. The scarecrow ignored him, looking back and forth between Glinda and me. I looked at her, then at the scarecrow, uncomfortable with the growing silence.

Well, he said, now that I’m down, I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. Are you in need of company, philosophical or otherwise?

We hardly—

Of course you should come with us, I cut Glinda off, unable to resist his pitiful plea.

She shook her head in disgust and strode away, leaving us to follow, or not. The straw man held out his arm to me with a smile. That small gesture of kindness was enough to have me looping my arm in his. We hurried to catch up to Glinda, chit-chatting about the terrible behavior of the common Ozian blackbird.

Before long, the sun reached its zenith in the sky, reflecting heat waves off the yellow bricks at our feet. I fanned my face, wishing for some water. Spying a grove of trees a hundred yards ahead, I asked Glinda if we could rest there. She agreed, if a little unwillingly, and I sighed with relief when we finally rested in the cool shade.

Do you hear that? the scarecrow asked.

I hear nothing, Glinda dismissed with a wave of her hand.

But there it is again, he insisted, getting to his feet.

I think I hear it too, I nodded, barely making out the faint, metallic creaking—as if a screen door were swaying in the wind.

The scarecrow headed deeper into the trees, pursuing the strange sound. I glanced at Glinda, but she made no move to get up. Someone should keep him out of trouble, I told myself as I followed after him.

We came to a bright, sunlit clearing deep in the woods, occupied by a most unusual figure. Silvery metal gleamed in the hot midday sun, and for a moment I imagined it was a knight’s suit of armor standing in the grass. Like so many other things I’d discovered here, as we drew closer, I realized something wasn’t quite right.

How curious, the scarecrow frowned, his patchwork brows pulling tight together.

Whatever is it?

I should think it’s a Tin Woodman, but that can’t be right. Tinkers stopped making these ages ago. At least, I think they did.

He circled the tin suit, which swayed slightly with the breeze where it leaned against the handle of a large axe, creating the odd creaking sounds we’d heard before. The straw man reached out a cotton-covered hand and tapped the tin figure on the chest. The suit of metal came to life suddenly—or tried to at least—and we both yelped, stumbling backwards.

Goodness gracious! I held my hand to my heart.

By the Emerald City! the scarecrow whispered, circling the metal figure again, which was now swaying a great deal more than before.

It almost looks like he’s stuck, don’t you think? I wondered what had jammed up his joints as the metal man swayed even more than before. Oh stop, you’ll fall down!

Without thinking, I ran forward to catch him in case he fell, and kicked something hard that was hidden in the grass. Bending down, I plucked an oil can from the ground. As I straightened up, I heard a muffled shout, and despite our best efforts, the tin figure crashed down, arms and legs a jumble. I dropped to my knees next to him, helpless as he continued to struggle in his rusted metal suit.

Goodness gracious, I exclaimed. I bet he needs oil!

The scarecrow watched closely as I used the oil can spout to lubricate the tin woodman’s neck, shoulders, elbows, hips, and knees. With a tremendous rusty creak, he flexed all of his limbs, until the metallic groaning stopped. Sitting up abruptly, he blinked in the bright sunlight, then held out his hand for the oil can. Applying some of the oil to his mouth, he smiled broadly at us.

I am ever so thankful for your help! I can’t even recall how long I was rusted in place.

How on earth did you get that way? I smiled.

I seem to remember a great thunderstorm springing up out of nowhere, drenching me terribly and rusting my tin straight away. But that was ever so long ago. Why, just look how tall this grass is, and how thick the trees are!

My heart twisted at his forlorn tone. What a terrible thing, to be frozen in place, watching helplessly as the world went by. I held out my hand to him with a smile.

Would you like to come with us?

"I’m sure I have nowhere else to be. I’d be delighted. Oh! But what if she’s around here somewhere?" He covered his head with his hands, glancing around fearfully.

Her, who? the scarecrow asked.

The Wicked Witch of the East, the tin man whispered, as if simply saying her name would summon her presence.

I’ve heard such frightful things about her, you don’t think she’s nearby, do you? the scarecrow asked, wringing his hands together.

You—you don’t have to worry about her anymore.

How can you be certain?

I ... well, you see ... it’s hard to explain, it was such a terrible accident you see, and well I ... I killed her.

You killed her? the tin man’s mouth fell open, and the scarecrow backed away.

No, I didn’t, rather, it was my house that fell on her. Oh, but it was an accident, truly. I hung my head, tears gathering in my eyes.

Huzzah! the tin man whooped, dropping his axe and scooping me up in his arms to spin me around in a circle.

Whatever is going on here?

We all froze at the sharp voice. The woodman set me down quickly, whipping his tin cap off to bow before Glinda. She stood near the edge of the trees, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

We were just on our way back, I said, and we have another fellow traveler.

"Oh no, not again. We must get going!" Glinda shook her head imperiously.

Oh please, ma’am, the tin man begged, I’d be ever so grateful if I could accompany your group.

We aren’t even supposed to be a group! she snapped.

I don’t eat or sleep, so I’m no trouble at all, and I’ll defend the lot of you with my life, he said, patting his axe.

Fine, I won’t stop you. She stalked off, back to the brick road. But neither will I wait for you.

The scarecrow held out his arm to me, and I looped my elbow through his, holding my other arm out to the tin woodman. He hooked his arm in mind with a smile. We hurried to catch up to Glinda, who was already almost out of sight down the road.

Before long, we came upon a wide, sturdy sign post topped with a massive amethyst that splintered the rays of the sun into brilliant purple prisms. The elaborately carved plaque on the post announced our entrance into Gillikin country. I noted a marked difference between the blues of Munchkinland, and the purples of this new place. Half a mile down the yellow road, deep plum-colored trees grew on either side, upper branches nearly meeting in the middle, casting dark violet shadows from the canopy overhead.

We had only traveled a short distance when a great crashing rustle reached us from the underbrush to our left. Just as we stepped back from the bushes, a terrible, hateful growling echoed through the woods, it was followed almost immediately by a pained yowling. Two enormous creatures burst from the shadows of the trees, scattering our small group in all directions.

I had never seen such chaos and commotion in all my life. Glimpses of fur, fangs, and claws accompanied the primal animal screams coming from the fighting beasts. With a mighty swipe of a paw, the larger creature knocked the other one to the ground, the force of the blow flinging the other across the brick road unconscious until it came to a stop at my feet.

The remaining beast roared, then charged straight at me. I screamed, and spun on my heel to flee, but a heavy thump between my shoulders sent me sprawling, before I could scramble away. Close behind me I heard a shout, followed by a sickening, wet, squelching sound. Something warm sprayed over my back, and I rolled over to see the tin man standing over the headless beast, blood dripping from his axe.

Chapter 4

A stunned, brittle silence enveloped us, broken only by the pained groaning of the other beast waking up. I tore my eyes away from the blood-soaked axe, held so casually in the woodman’s hand, and stared at the tawny pile of fur at my feet. The creature shook its shaggy head as it got to its large paws.

"By the Emerald City, it’s a Lion!" the scarecrow backpedaled so quick he tripped over his own boots.

Our tin woodsman raised his axe defensively as the beast turned to face our frightened group. The big cat stumbled backwards, landing hard on his tail. He swung his head back and forth, his amber, lantern eyes growing wide as saucers at the sight of the sharp blade.

Oh, have mercy, please don’t hurt me! he yowled, holding up a massive paw as if to ward off an attack.

A talking lion. They have a talking lion.

Hurt you? the tin man asked, dropping his axe in surprise.

Please, don’t, the lion flinched, crouching down low to the ground.

We’re not going to hurt you, you silly beast, the tin man said with a disgusted frown.

Oh thank you, thank you! the lion fawned pitifully.

I staggered to my feet, avoiding the dead body lying on the bright yellow bricks. My dress clung uncomfortably to my back, sticky and stiff with its blood. The salty, tangy scent of copper hung heavy in my nostrils, bringing to mind the spring slaughter on the farm back home.

Tut, tut, Glinda clucked, catching sight of my dress and speaking up for the first time since both beasts had appeared, "that just won’t do my dear. Come along now, we must get you cleaned up."

Wait! Where are you going? the lion asked, looking around the woods nervously.

That is none of your—

We’re going to her palace, the scarecrow interrupted Glinda with an easy smile, all traces of fear forgotten.

Oh, please, may I come too? I cannot stomach the thought of staying here alone!

What is that? the lion cried arching his back like a common housecat at Toto’s shrill barking. Oh, call it off, don’t let it eat me!

Don’t be ridiculous, I snorted at the hissing lion, and scooped Toto up into my arms. "As if he could possibly hurt you, let alone eat you."

Well, how was I to know? the lion sniffled.

He’s just a tiny dog! I scolded, impatient with his silly fear.

Ahem, Glinda cleared her throat, "we really must be going."

The golden-haired beauty turned on