No Place Like Oz: A Dorothy Must Die Prequel Novella(18)

The Scarecrow looked concerned. He was stroking his chin in thought. I knew that if anyone would know what to do, it was him—he was the wisest creature in all of Oz, and probably anywhere else, too.

“We have much to talk about,” he said after a spell. “But first, introduce me to your friends.”


I laughed. I’d been so excited to see him that I’d forgotten all about my aunt and uncle. They were still standing in the doorway looking like they had absolutely no idea what they’d gotten themselves into.

“They’re not my friends, silly. They’re my family—my aunt Em and uncle Henry.” As I said their names, Uncle Henry gave a funny little half wave and Aunt Em bowed awkwardly.

The Scarecrow lit up—it’s amazing how expressive a painted-on face can be. He clapped his gloved hands together and he bounded for them, practically tackling them as he wrapped his flimsy arms around their waists. “Of course! I’ve heard so much about both of you! How have your travels in Oz been so far?”

Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, and I all exchanged a glance.

“Oh, it was all just grand until we came to the screaming monster trees that tried to murder us,” Uncle Henry said.

“Oh dear,” the Scarecrow said. “The Forest of Fear? Don’t tell me the Munchkins didn’t warn you.”

“How could we not pass through the forest?” I asked. “There’s no way around it, at least as far as I could tell.”

“Of course you have to pass through it but—the Munchkins really didn’t tell you to stuff your ears with Pixie thread?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know what a Pixie thread is.”

“It keeps you from hearing that infernal racket the trees love to make. If you can’t hear them, you won’t be afraid. And if you’re not afraid, they won’t even know you’re there. Won’t bother you a bit. They’ll just look like exceedingly ugly trees. Which, in the end, is really all they are.”

They sensed fear. Was that how I had managed to get rid of them? Just by showing them that I wasn’t scared?

No. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and Toto had all been frightened. Somehow, I had made the trees afraid of me.

The problem was that it wasn’t just the trees who had been scared of me. I’d scared myself, too.

“I don’t think we’ll be traveling back that way anytime soon if we can avoid it,” I said. “With or without Pixie thread.”

The Scarecrow sighed. “A reasonable response. Those trees are such a nuisance. Bad for tourism, especially when the Munchkins can be so forgetful about reminding passers-through to protect themselves. I keep telling the princess that she should just set a match to the whole forest, but she won’t hear of it. She says they’re part of Oz—that destroying them would upset the whole magical balance.”

“If that’s balance,” Aunt Em said, shuddering at the memory of the afternoon, “I’d hate to think what it looks like when the scales start to tilt.”

The Scarecrow tipped his hat to her. “A very good question, Mrs. Gale,” he said. “Let’s hope you never find out the answer. Now, come, let’s eat. You must be starving after what you’ve been through.”

He turned to a doorway that led deeper into the castle and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Munchkins, prepare a feast for our special guests!”

As we entered a great dining room two Munchkins dressed in yellow and green—with tiny, pointy hats perched atop their bald heads—appeared out of nowhere.

We took our seats at the banquet table—even Toto had been given a place next to me—and before we knew it, our table settings flew in front of us only to land gently at our places: the napkins perfectly folded, the forks on the left, none of it even a smidgen askew.

Within seconds, our glasses were filled to the top with a delicious-looking beverage I didn’t recognize, and it was only five minutes before tray after heaping tray of piping hot food appeared on the table.

“I took the liberty of having food prepared that I thought you’d be familiar with, rather than some of Oz’s more . . . exotic native dishes,” the Scarecrow said, much to the relief of my aunt and uncle, who, despite their experience with the self-buttering corn, still seemed apprehensive at the idea of eating magical food.

“And very kind it was of you! There’s enough grub here to feed my old army platoon,” Uncle Henry said. He picked up a serving spoon and helped himself to a generous portion of mashed potatoes.

“It sure does look good. I think,” Aunt Em said, eyeing a heaping bowl of caviar, which, even though it wasn’t the least bit magical, was probably just as exotic as anything else Oz had to offer as far as she was concerned. At least Uncle Henry had gotten the chance to see a few scattered corners of the world, back in his army days. This was the first time Aunt Em had ever set foot outside of Kansas.

She was taking her maiden voyage in remarkable stride.

I’d never eaten so much in my life and I’m pretty sure Uncle Henry and Aunt Em hadn’t either. Yet somehow we managed to finish each course just as another even larger one came. I guess a day of traveling will make a girl hungry.

“Aren’t you going to have any food, Mr. Scarecrow?” Aunt Em asked around the time that they brought out the stuffed goose.