Chapter Text
Things weren't good at all.
In fact, ever since they left Emerald City, everything seemed as far from great as it could possibly be.
[“Bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West. So I have proof that she’s dead!”] The Wizard's words echoed in her head like a broken record on repeat.
[I should’ve seen this coming] Dorothy thought to herself: it was always too good to be true, wasn't it? The smiles, the applause, the vibrant colors, and that stupid, stupid hope that help would come for free. That all she had to do was knock on the Wizard's door and he would send her home.
How foolish she was. Clinging to nothing but vain hopes of being able to return home to Kansas. And whose fault was that?
[“That’s right. Just stay on that one road the whole way!”]
And she kept going, by God, she kept going! Because, what else could she do?
[“Goodbye! Goodbye, Dorothy...”]
Glinda... Dorothy wondered where she was. Because, honestly, she really needed her friendly voice and bright aura right now, even if she also wanted to punch her in the face. It wasn't that she hated her; if it weren't for the initial guidance, she'd still be lost in Munchkinland, surrounded by strange people she'd never met, trapped in the wreckage of her house, the same house that... well... started all this.
Dorothy was pulled from her thoughts when Toto licked her ankles, making small, whiny noises. She looked up from the yellow brick road to the side, where Toto was watching her, and gave him a small, awkward smile. On her other side, she felt Lion approaching, almost nudging her, and looking at her the same way her little dog did, albeit hesitantly. Well, more than usual, anyway.
Finally, he mustered the courage to ask what he seemed to have been pondering for hours:
“Um... Dorothy?”
“Yes, Lion?”
She answered, forcing the best smile she could muster.
"I don't mean to be rude or... pushy or... you know, unpleasant." He said the last word, lowering his ears and giving her an apologetic look. "But are you alright?"
There it was, the one question everyone seemed to be asking her these days. For a moment, Dorothy wished Lion couldn't speak; it would be easier than... She quickly pushed that thought away, ashamed of herself. Was that what she really thought of him? Oh, what a horrible thing to think!
"Y-yes! Why, why wouldn't I be?"
She lied, that fake smile on her face. Lion returned the look, clearly seeing right through her, and Dorothy couldn't blame him for that, not really. She was never a good liar.
"I don't know, it's just... You seem very distant for some reason, like you're... lost. And you've spent the whole day staring at the road."
He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if afraid of upsetting Dorothy, and that broke her heart even more.
“O-oh.”
That was all Dorothy could manage to say. Guess there was really no point in trying to be cheerful now, was there? Because, even if she tried to smile for her friends' sake, it was obvious: she wasn't okay. They weren't okay.
Her smile faltered and disappeared as she looked back at the road, already lost in thought. Lion must have noticed, because he and Toto exchanged a look, as if agreeing on the same conclusion, without needing words.
"Are you sure you're not feeling unwell or anything? Because if you are, I-I could try to talk to them and ask if we could stop... you know, so you can rest."
Lion offered.
She looked at the road ahead, where her other friends were. Yes, her friends...
[Can we still be called friends?], Dorothy wondered.
----- x -----
“GO AND HUNT HER!”
“GO AND FIND HER!”
“GO AND KILL HER!”
That was the first thing she heard as soon as they left the Wizard's chambers. A crowd of Ozians gathered around them.
They were cheering.
Some brandished improvised weapons, others filled buckets with water, while repeating the same words, praising them, wishing them good luck on the hunt... and demanding death.
“GOOD FORTUNE, WITCH-HUNTERS!”
“GET HER! GET THE WITCH!”
“SAVE US!”
Dorothy felt sick to her stomach, rushing alongside the Scarecrow to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible, with Toto tightly secured in her arms, barking at the approaching crowd. That's when she heard the Tin Man accepting their praise and addressing the people:
“This is more than just a service to the Wizard. I have a personal score to settle with Elph-- with the Witch!”
Dorothy gasped at the venom in his words. His axe was raised high and held firmly in his hand.
“IT’S DUE TO HER I’M MADE OF TIN! HER SPELL MADE THIS OCCUR! SO FOR ONCE I’M GLAD I’M HEARTLESS. I’LL BE HEARTLESS KILLING HER!”
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he really that... enthusiastic about being sent on a “kill-or-be-killed” mission?
She looked at the Scarecrow, hoping to find some comfort. He always managed to see the bright side of things, he never failed to make her laugh, and that helped her endure a little longer, to keep going despite everything. Instead, he seemed just as shocked as Dorothy, and there was something else in his expression that she couldn't quite put her finger on... But if she had to point to one thing, she'd say it looked a lot like regret.
“And I’m not the only one!”
The Tin Man continued, turning to Lion.
“Come on... Tell them what she did to you! How you were just a cub, and she cub-napped you!”
Lion shook his head, hiding his face with his paws, too afraid to speak.
“You see? THE LION ALSO HAS A GRIEVANCE TO REPAY! IF SHE’D LET HIM FIGHT HIS OWN BATTLES WHEN HE WAS YOUNG, HE WOULDN’T BE A COWARD TODAY!”
“KILL HER!”
“KILL HER!”
“KILL THE WITCH!”
Dorothy felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, and then everything became muffled and distant, as if passing in slow motion in the back of her mind.
She couldn't stand watching it anymore. She never wanted any of this to happen! She just wanted to go home! She can't--
“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!”
She screamed, as tears streamed down her face.
At that same instant, she saw the Tin Man's silhouette high above her, but it looked... wrong. He was merely a blur of shadows dancing among the others, his face barely visible, but still there, furious and hateful, staring into her very soul.
And then something happened. It was a quick and precise movement, the axe blade gleaming in the torchlight of the surrounding crowd.
*- S W I P E -*
----- x -----
“AH--!”
Dorothy cried out as she woke with a start, breathless and disoriented. What kind of dream was that?
She put her hand to her chest and felt it for a while, taking deep breaths and counting to 10, just like Aunt Em had taught her, until her breathing calmed down.
"It was just a dream..."
When she could breathe properly again, she looked around the campfire. Lion was sleeping in front of her, on a bed of fallen leaves at the foot of a particularly large tree. And on top of him was Toto, curled up near the tip of Lion's mane, almost as if he wanted to get inside it.
[Oh Toto, you sweet, sweet boy!] Dorothy thought to herself as she watched them. A small smile appeared on her lips.
Normally, she would have been upset that Toto wasn't sleeping with her, but that night she was glad he wasn't lying on top of her. That dream— or rather, that nightmare— made her sit up so suddenly that Dorothy was sure she would have accidentally knocked him over, and poor Toto certainly didn't deserve that.
Besides, both him and Lion seemed so peacefully asleep... She was glad her startle hadn't woken them.
Dorothy looked at the small fire that has been lit for the night. She didn't remember seeing it before. Although, to be honest, she didn't remember going to sleep either; she was just so tired.
It was the Tin Man's work, of course, that much she could tell. Scarecrow (as much as he tried to) could never make one as well-made as the Tin Man's, and since being near a fire wasn't ideal to him either, it was decided that Tin Man would be the one responsible for setting it up. Though no one had imposed it as a rule for him, he simply assumed the responsibility from the moment he joined them.
She stared at the flames for a while, and her mind began to wander again, thinking about everything that had happened since the day the tornado swept away her house and threw it into Oz, on top of the Wicked Witch of the East. And killed her. She KILLED her.
She remembered how the Munchkins had cheered, sung, and praised her for killing someone. She was told time and time again that the woman – Nessarose, that was the name the Tin Man used once – was evil, as wicked as her sister, that she had imprisoned them there and made their lives miserable. She was the main reason why the Tin Man lost his heart.
Everyone said she did good. So why didn't she feel that way?
“...”
She looked around again, only now realizing that Scarecrow was nowhere to bee seen. He had probably gone out to get more food for her, Lion, and Toto, as he always did at night while they slept. It must be quite late then, she guessed.
And Tin Man... He wasn't there either, but Dorothy could hear faint, distant knocking sounds somewhere north of the camp. He was probably venting his anger in the only way he knew how: chopping wood.
[“I used to be a woodman when I was human”]
That’s what he told her when she first asked about the axe.
[“It feels right to carry the one thing that hasn't changed… you know? Besides, it’s practical. I can use it to chop wood and also to protect you from anything that crosses our path.”]
Remembering that also brought back the memory of the dream - the day they left the Emerald City for the Wicked Witch's Castle: His angry eyes, his angry words, the raised axe... At that moment, he truly seemed heartless.
*- S W I P E -*
Dorothy instinctively put her hands to her throat. She was alright, Tin Man would never hurt her.
[Right...?]
She was beginning to feel restless again. And that was bad... VERY bad. She just wanted to be able to tell someone how she felt, to get a second opinion, but they were barely holding it together as it was... Perhaps it would be better not to add fuel to the fire.
[Oh! Why is everything so complicated!?] Dorothy thought in frustration as she covered her face with her hands and laid down on a log behind her, letting her body fall backwards until she was upside down.
It was then that she noticed an opening between the trees behind her. She could hear the sound of a nearby river or stream, noticing the cool breeze blowing along the path for the first time since they stopped to rest. She thought about it for maybe a second before getting up and silently following it.
Scarecrow and Tin Man had been very clear with her: No wandering alone. Kiamo-Ko lay just ahead, and besides the constant fear of the Wicked Witch's presence, there was also the obstacle of the Pointed Peaks: lands surrounded by pointy mountains and deep ravines.
The yellow brick road seemed to have been built far from the most dangerous area, but that didn't stop it from collapsing over the great opening that separated the end of the forest from the beginning of the mountainside. Although it didn't used to be that way, at least not according to the Scarecrow. But how could a Scarecrow who had spent his entire "life" stuck to a post, know so much about the geography of Kiamo-Ko? Or WHAT the yellow brick road there was supposed to be like, anyway?
["Honestly, I don't want to know anymore."]
Dorothy sighed as she continued walking down the path. It was a pretty place despite the rough setting: wild vegetation here and there, dry vines hanging from the treetops, some flowers and mushrooms growing on fallen trunks that had been there for who knows how long, and the occasional hooting of an Owl or the chirping of a Bat.
She took it all as the sound of the running water grew louder with each step until, finally, she reached a river. The gap that divided the forest from the mountainside forming a large waterfall that plunged into the opening. Dorothy walked to the bank, the silver shoes making it a bit hard to go trhough the rocks, and crouched down to put her hand in the water. To her surprise, the river was quite shallow, despite its width, and her hand touched some of the larger stones that lay at the bottom.
The water was cold and fast, yet gentle on her skin. She scooped some up in her hands and splashed it on her face, the coolness helping her to calm down a little. She splashed water on her face a few more times and drank some before continuing her walk, picking some small flowers that grew among the rocks, admiring how many there were despite the uneven terrain. This reminded her of how she and Hickory used to pick flowers for Aunt Em, and how she proudly displayed them on the dinner table.
At that moment, her heart began to ache again, she stopped, and that's when Dorothy noticed how the sound of the flowing water was louder than before. She followed the river's course, realizing she was just inches from the waterfall, and there, right in the middle of the edge, was a large rock, almost as if defying the opening.
She didn't know why, but she walked over and sat down. The water barely reached above her feet anyway, it wasn't difficult to get there. The cold of the night was evident now, the breeze and the rushing water sent shivers down her spine, the sound of the water falling, falling, falling, like the drums of a marching band. And yet, the feeling was... comforting. A strange mixture of fear, strangeness, and a sense of insignificance in the face of it all, but also with that feeling of calm, a moment she knew wouldn't last long.
She stared at the abyss that stretched below her, noticing how small stones, leaves, and bits of broken branches ended up falling there, disappearing into the darkness in a few moments. And that somehow brought back that feeling of loneliness she often felt on the farm, even though she was always surrounded by Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, Toto and the others. Something always happened that she couldn't do anything about but accept, and the one time she decided to do something about it, she…
Dorothy squeezed the flowers she held, her palms sweaty. She brought them close and examined them: It looked like a small bouquet she and Hickory would have made for Aunt Em. It looked like the bouquet the Munchkins gave her while someone's dead sister's feet lay sticking out from under her house. It looked like the Wicked Witch of the West's broom in her hands as something black and green dissolved before her.
She squeezed the flowers even tighter, most of them now crushed, as she brought her hands to her face, silent tears streaming down her cheeks:
[If I knew things would end like this... I wish I had NEVER left the farm that day! Someone already died because of me! I don't want to see any more sadness because of anyone, because of anything!... I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!]
She cries for a long time, tears falling as she finally releases all her frustration with... everything, really. When she finally lets it all out, she takes a deep breath, wiping her face with her fists, returning to staring into the darkness.
Dorothy was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice the footsteps approaching.