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Skip to main content. Log In Sign Up. Below, the Yellow Brick Road looped back on Wicked roomie sucked, like a relaxed noose. Though winter storms and the crowbars of agitators had torn up the road, still it led, relentlessly, to the Emerald City.

The Witch could see the companions trudging along, maneuvering around the buckled sections, skirting trenches, skipping when the way was clear.

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They seemed oblivious of their fate. But it was not up to the Witch to enlighten them. She used the broom as a sort of balustrade, stepping down from the sky like one of her flying monkeys. She finished up on the topmost bough of a black wiliow Wicked roomie sucked.

Beneath, hidden by the fronds, her prey had paused to take their rest. The Witch tucked her broom under her arm. Crablike and quiet, she scuttled down a little at a time, until she was a mere twenty feet above them.

Wind moved the dangling tendrils of the tree. The Witch stared and listened. There were four of them.

She could see a huge Cat of some sort-a Lion, was it? An animated Scarecrow lolled nearby, blowing dandelion heads into the wind. The girl was out of sight behind shifting curtains of the willow. Psychologically warped; possessed by demons. Not a pretty picture. She was an abused child. She was addicted to medicine for her skin condition. The last thing she ever cared for was gossip.

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Yet she had been out of touch for so long that she was astonished at the vigorous opinions of these random nobodies. The Tin Woodman pulled harder than was necessary on a lock of mane. She moved around the trunk of the tree, stretching to catch a glimpse of the child.

The wind was picking up, and the Scarecrow shivered. Miles off, thunder echoed. The Lion got spooked and rolled on top of the Scarecrow, whimpering, and the Tin Woodman collapsed on top of them both. The rising winds moved the curtain of greenery at last, and the Witch caught sight of the girl. She was sitting with her feet tucked underneath her and her arms Wicked roomie sucked around her knees. She was not a dainty thing but a good-size farm girl, dressed in blue-and-white checks and a pinafore.

In her lap, a vile little dog cowered and whined. Was she to be taken seriously, or was she merely a blow-away dandelion seed, caught on the wrong side of the wind? But as the Witch craned outward from the trunk, the girl at the same time Wicked roomie sucked her face, turning away.


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