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The Scarecrow slipped away on unsteady legs, ducking silently into the forest surrounding the yellow brick road. Dorothy and her latest travel companion, the Lion were fast asleep. Most likely exhausted from the excitement of the day. Whatever his flaws, the Scarecrow had to admit the Lion knew how to make an entrance. Being a living lump of burlap and straw, the Scarecrow didn't need to sleep. Neither did the Tinman since he was an empty hunk of metal. But the metal man had designated himself the Watchman for the night, finding himself a task to while away the long dark hours. The Scarecrow didn't resent it, no sir. After all, the Tinman had his ax while the Scarecrow couldn't even frighten away birds even though it was what he'd been made for. He made a far better protector, especially with a wicked witch after them.
It made perfect sense.
But the Scarecrow had grown quite bored laying about staring at leaves. Oh, they were quite pretty and there was a great verity of them. But it wasn't the sort of entertainment to pass the whole night with. He had remembered seeing some wild berries just off the Yellow Brick Road and, remembering that now at least half of their group needed to eat, had slipped away when the Tinman wasn't looking to gather some.
He didn't want to risk waking anyone by conversing. He was only going to be a few minutes anyway.
The Scarecrow, burlap lumps of feet near silent on the mossy forest floor, caught sight of a bunch of bright red wild strawberries, stalks laying flat on the ground from the weight. He smiled to himself, pleased by his discovery. Oh, those would do nicely.
He dropped to his knees, plopping onto the ground with a rustle of straw and began to pick. He had gathered quite a few, crawling across the ground as he made his way through the large berry patch. This would be a nice breakfast for Dorothy. He wasn't able to eat them himself but he thought they would be quite tasty. Though come to think of it, did lions and little dogs eat berries? Hmm. It would be rude to let two of his new friends starve because he did not know about things like . . . digestive preferences. Were cats and dogs carnivores? That certainly sounded right. Perhaps he should check that stream he'd glimpsed a little ways back. There might be fish. Perhaps he could catch one-
The Scarecrow froze suddenly in his berry picking efforts, pulled suddenly from his thoughts. His hand had touched something that was decidedly not a strawberry. It wasn't any other sort vegetation either.
It was cloth.
Black cloth.
And there was shoes under it.
Black shoes with feet in them.
The Scarecrow slowly, fearfully, looked up, eyes following the line of the body attached to the feet until he reached the face.
A very familiar angular green face.
“Oh!” He jumped back in fear, doing a nervous double take and letting out a frightened exclamation. “Oh!”
The Wicked Witch of the West stared down at him, grin widening under the long sharp point of her nose as her dark eyes glittered. “Well, well, well, a Scarecrow all alone.” She reached out, lone bony green fingers flexing near his face as she cackled in glee. “Well, I have you now, my pretty. You're going to help me get the ruby slippers.”
The Scarecrow stiffened, expression becoming fierce even though he was visibly shaking in fear. “I'd never help with you with anything!”
The witch's smile suddenly disappeared and became cold, dark eyes narrowing to glare down at him. If he had a spine a chill would have gone down it.
“You won't, will you?” she snarled, thin lips curling in distaste. “Well, we'll just see about that!” The Wicked Witch loomed up over him like a black thunder cloud, hands raised and features twisted with hate. Dark magic flowed out from her like a miasma, coiling around the Scarecrow like a snake.
Strawberries tumbled from slack burlap hands, spilling forgotten across the forest floor.
The Tinman cried out as a powerful wind suddenly swept down the Yellow Brick Road, making the surrounding trees double over and tearing leaves and sticks from the boughs. It sent him tumbling, knocking him clear off his feet and and rolling him across the ground.
Dorothy and the Lion startled awake with shouts of surprise that quickly turned to fear. The large cat's voice rose in whimpering wails as he dithered between aborted movements, torn between his struggling traveling companion and fleeing in blind terror. Dorothy's brown eyes were wide, terrible thoughts of twisters flashing through her mind. She rushed to the Tinman's side frantically and grabbed his hand to try and help him. The Tinman's weight and the strong wind buffeting them from all sides nearly sent her tumbling to the ground as well.
The metal man's eyes widened in fear. With the uncoordinated way he was being tossed about if she fell he'd wouldn't be able to stop himself from crushing her. But he couldn't do anything about it.
“Oh, Lion, help me!” Dorothy sobbed, terrified and desperate.
“Ooohhhohh!” the Lion moaned, wringing his hands anxiously. But he hurried over and grabbed the Tinman's other hand.
A sudden explosion behind them knocked both the girl and lion down, throwing them face first onto the Tinman with a loud clang. A high pitched cackle filled the air and the three's cries of fear nearly drowned out the hurricane assailing them.
The Witch!
The Wicked Witch of the West was here!
The Tinman pushed the Lion off of himself with rough inattention and lifted Dorothy off of him with far more gentleness. He dragged himself to his knees and wrapped a protective arm around the girl's shoulders. He felt the Lion press up against his back, shaking and whimpering in fright as he hid behind his traveling companions. He turned in the direction the horrible laughter was coming from, raising his ax between them and the threat even as his knees clanged together in fright.
His eyes widened in horror at the sight that met his eyes.
“Scarecrow!” Dorothy cried out, hands flying to her mouth.
The Scarecrow hung from one of the witch's hands, long green fingers clutching him by the collar of his shirt. Their traveling companion was limp as a ragdoll, head bowed so that the wide brim of his hat hid his face.
The Tinman hadn't even noticed his absence.
Some friend he was. He was a terrible Watchman.
“I'll make it very simple for you, little girl.” the witch said with a sneer, dark eyes fixed cruelly on Dorothy where the girl knelt in the middle of the Yellow Brick Road as the wind whipped her black cape and skirts about like the frenzied wings of crows. “You hand over the Ruby Slippers or your little friend here suffers.” She held the Scarecrow up and shook him to emphasize her point.
“Oh!” Dorothy gasped, eyes huge and shining with tears. The small sound of distress was snatched away by the still blowing wind. The Tinman only heard it because he was so close to her. “Oh, please! Don't hurt him!” she cried out desperately.
“Give me the Ruby Slippers and you'll get him back in one piece.” the witch snapped back, unmoved by the tears. “But I warn you, this is me asking nicely.” her dark eyes narrowed in threat. “I will not do so again. Next time I will not be so kind.”
Dorothy wavered, scared and torn, wide eyes flashing between the witch and the Scarecrow then turning to give the Tinman a pleading look.
He stared back at her helplessly, not speaking. He could feel the Lion's shaking resonating through his body, distracting him from the awful scene in front of him. He didn't know what to do. He had no advice to give.
Dorothy looked back at the Wicked Witch, hands shaking against her mouth. “Oh. . . But I . . . but the Good Witch told me not to . . .” she whimpered, uncertain and scared. But her friend-! Surely Glinda would understand. The Scarecrow was so much more important then a pair of shoes. She had to give them up!
Sadly, the Wicked Witch of the West couldn't read minds.
“So that's how it's going to be, eh, missy?” she snarled in fury, pointing a trembling green finger at the trembling companions. “Well, I asked, and gave you fair warning too. Next time I won't be so nice!” With a shriek, she stomped down on the Scarecrow's pant leg with one foot and jerked his torso up with all her strength.
The Scarecrow was torn in half.
Dorothy screamed as straw exploded everywhere, raining down over the Yellow Brick Road in pale brown clumps. The witch threw back her head and laughed, the sound ringing through the air. She threw the upper half of the scarecrow's body at the horrified trio. It hit the road in a boneless heap. The witch then grabbed the corners of her cape and disappeared in an explosion of red smoke.
Sobbing, Dorothy stumbled to her feet and ran to her dismantled friend, collapsing beside him. The Tinman stumbled to his feet and hurried over to her. “Dorothy,” he said, reaching out to grip her shoulder. He took care not to grip her too tight, not wanting to hurt the young girl. “he'll be alright.” he assured her, voice coming out strained.
Dorothy twisted around to stare up at him, brown eyes huge and over bright with tears. “What?” she gasped out, breath stuttering. “But he's-”
“A scarecrow. We can put him back together.” The Tinman gave her shoulder a careful squeeze. He turned and looked around. At the scattered straw. At the separate parts of the Scarecrow. At Dorothy's traumatized tears and desperately hopeful stare. At the Lion who appeared to have fainted out of fear.
“We can fix this.” he assured her. “It's going to be ok.”