Chapter Text
You know what? For a "Good Witch", Glinda the Good wasn't very good, Dorothy noticed.
Airy, dismissive, and - perhaps most damning in Dorothy's eyes - not at all actually helpful.
She'd somehow gotten those silver shoes on Dorothy's feet (without telling her they couldn't come off!) and tapped her condescendingly with that showy wand, telling the girl to follow the yellow brick road to the wizard that could actually help (Despite Dorothy seeing signs for a train, as well as watching with a scowl as that pink bubble she'd arrived in flew up and towards the city. Did Glinda think she was stupid or something??)
"Good Witch my foot!" Dorothy muttered angrily to herself, marching her way down the road with as much purpose as she could. She'd only started doing the grumbling when she was out of sight of that village full of people thanking her for killing someone - even though she didn't! Just because her house fell on them doesn't mean she had anything to do with it! "I'm not a witch of any kind! And why'd she ask me which kinda witch I was if bad witches are ugly?? Was she- OOh-"
Dorothy continued her bad habit of muttering and mumbling to herself for as long as she dared, grumbling about not knowing how long this walk was, wishing she'd had something to eat as she went about this adventure, as well as wishing she wasn't walking by herself.
She started to walk slower as she thought of Toto, who she'd seen rush into the hollow base of his favorite tree rather than follow her back inside of the house as the twister got closer and closer. She hoped he was okay.
The girl groaned as her thoughts returned to Auntie Em, Uncle Henry, and everyone else on the farm. Were they safe? They'd made it back to the storm basement, hadn't' they? They had to be safe. They were all closer than she was to the house when the tornado became visible.
Dorothy rubbed her face, and tried not to think too hard about it. No matter what that so called "Good Witch" was, she had been the only person to at least point in Dorothy some direction, and as Uncle Henry said, somethin' was always better than nothin'. She just hoped her journey there wasn't going to be too tedious. These shoes were hurting her feet already, she didn't need more stress.
"Oof! Now now! NO need for all that!!"
Startled out of her childish self-loathing (childish in that she was, in fact, a child), Dorothy sharply turned her head left, spotting a smattering of color through the thinly-planted wheat of the fields the road was taking her to. She spotted shades of black, green, brown and gold that were shifting and moving through the stalks.
The familiar caw of crows filled her ears, as well as that slightly panicked voice that had snapped her out of talking to herself.
"Come now, fellas - no need for all this malarkey! We're all civilized, aren't we?"
The crows didn't answer him, skwaking away with what Dorothy interpreted as glee. She followed the sound off the road and through the few feet of wheat separating her and whoever was getting harassed. What sort of fool lets crows get at them like that? At least swat them away!
"Huh. Guess you group aren't Animals. Just animals. That makes this trickier, I suppose…"
Dorothy breaks into the clearing to see a strange and yet oddly familiar site: A scarecrow failing to scare crows. The main difference here being that the scarecrow being harassed was both finely dressed in a fancy green and gold jacket as well as moving - and talking! He was the one trying to get them to leave, and doing a lousy job of it.
"Shoo! Shoo!" The scarecrows burlap mouth scrunched comically at his own feeble attempts. Though, in his defense, he couldn't move his arms much, seeing as he was nailed quite solidly to that low stake in the ground. Dorothy found that rather … wait, why was there blood here?
The scarecrow and crow still hadn't noticed she was there after a few seconds, which was good, because wow, there was blood spatter around here like someone had cut a chicken throat and let it bleed all over the place. it wasn't a lot of blood, but it was enough to make her wonder if something bad happened.
CAWWWWWW!!!
Right! Right! Weird scarecrow that can talk is getting harassed. Focus, Dorothy!
"Hey!!!" She called out rather suddenly "Scram!! Go, you!! Shoo!!" She started running towards the scarecrow and his little murder of annoyances. She knew that if you really wanted to scare crows away, you needed to run at them without hesitation - especially when you were her size.
The run and scream worked like a charm - as it always did - the murder promptly scattering away from the flinching, startled scarecrow that stared at her with a confused and surprised expression. Or, at least, as much of an expression that a burlap painted face could have.
Dorothy took a few breaths, and looked back at the scarecrow. There was blood on his clothes. What was with all the blood?
"…. Hiya" He greeted "Uh, thank you? You did that to help me, or do you just like chasing birds?"
She returned the funny look "I was trying to help you! You're welcome!" She dusted off her skirt, and huffed "You aren't a very good scarecrow, mister."
"In my defense I am very, very new at all this!" He (he?) argued. "Just got put up today, thank you very much!"
"… You don't much look like you wanna be up there" She responded. "You're not even high enough to actually scare 'em away. You're too low"
"Well, that's the fault of the people that put me up here, I'd like to point out" He shifted and grumbled "Don't think I wanna be here"
"Need help gettin' down?" She quickly offered "I'm goin' somewhere, but I'm not really in a huge rush"
The scarecrows eyes - painted on, and eerily realistic on the fabric face - brighten up "Much appreciated, stranger! I say, seems like I've been pinned in some strange places to this board, can't move in weird ways, I think"
Dorothy approached him, eyes scanning where she spotted the nails that had him stuck to the two-by-fours so close to the ground. The one standing out to her the most was the one in his neck, which made her wince, though she wasn't completely sure why. She decided she'd try to get that one out first, and held her hand up "Can you feel anything?"
"I can feel pressure! But if you mean pain, than no! Don't got nerves for that, I think… Do I think?" The scarecrow seemed to question, almost baffled by his own ability to put thoughts together.
"Considerin' the weird stuff I've seen in this place over just the last few hours, carryin' a conversation with somethin' that isn't talkin' down to me is a welcome change" Dorothy contemplated, grabbing at the nail right at the base of the straw-man's neck, and pulling with perhaps a bit too much force. It wasn't actually nailed all that deep into the wood behind him for whatever reason, but it was a long nail - over two inches if she could measure by eye correctly. Once again though, there was that coppery smell, and on the nail was dried blood, making the girl gag and toss the nail to the ground. "Why's there so much blood around you?!"
"There is?" He looked about, as if he hadn't bothered to notice "Oh… Oh there is. Oh my" He says so flatly Dorothy almost wants to laugh "Well, I'd like to not be stuck around so much blood - could you , please, continue assist me in getting out of here?"
Dorothy - now bolstered in her task - spotted four more nails: two in one arm, and two in the other. What a messy job! Who would nail a scarecrow like this? With a certain firm determination, she pulled the nails out with all her might, and didn't even bother to look them over for dried blood or whatever residue might have been on them.
Once he was free, the poor thing flopped onto the dirt with a rather hilarious sound - like when you toss a pillow and it FWUMPS onto the floor.
"Ooh! Sweet ground! Good to meet you again!" he seemed to say almost but not quite sarcastically, before springing up, startling Dorothy with how quick he was about it "Whoo! Nice to be free! Thank you very much little lady! Might I have a name for you?"
Dorothy can't stop an amused laugh at the scene, and looks up at him - wow, he's tall for a scarecrow - and tilts her head playfully. "Name's Dorothy Gale - From Kansas in the United States'a America" She introduced. "I say all that cause I know this isn' America - I landed in this place when a twister lifted up my Aunt an' Uncles house"
The scarecrow took all that information in, and let out a whistling sound "Whooo that's a whole lot to happen to yah, huh! First time in Oz, lifted in a twister -" His painted eyes spotted her shoes "And snazzy shoes? Neat! Where'd a girl like you get shoes like that?"
"They're not mine!" the girls immediate, knee jerk reaction makes the Scarecrow jump back "They - That so-called 'Good Witch' magicked them on my feet! Told me I had to wear them then sent me packin' on this road to see some Wizard who can get me home"
The way the scarecrow seemed frozen - as if a statue - was bizarre if not sort of hilarious, and it seemed to take his straw-filled head a solid minute to recover from that information "She's sending you to see the Wizard? In the Emerald City?"
"In a dead ladies shoes" Dorothy grimaced, remembering the whole rigamarole from just a few hours prior. "Feels like I've been cursed but… I don't have another choice. Glinda -Glinny- whatever, told me I gotta go there to the Wizard if I want to get home"
The Scarecrow snorted at the dismissive way she said the witch's name, and tilted his head "Well, if it's just you goin' on this dangerous-type journey, how'd you like some company?"
Dorothy gave him a skeptical look "You offerin'?"
He gave her the closest thing he could to a grin, before bowing almost comically low - probably something that was easy to do when you didn't have a spine "I am! Scarecrow, at your service!"
Dorothy crossed her arms "Scarecrow? That's your name?"
"Better name than none!" He argued "Told you, I'm quite new to this" He pointed out, standing back up "I might be a new scarecrow, but I don't think a kid should be walkin' down the Yellow Brick Road by themselves"
She wondered -briefly- how a scarecrow could know about roads, but chalked it up to the fact that he was even talking at all "Well, I could use the company!" She agreed "But you better keep up!"
The scarecrow tilted his head back with a laugh "I should warn the same to you! Might be new on these legs but they're longer than yours!"
"I'm the fastest girl in my county! I could run circles around you!" She dared.
"I dunno how big a county is, but I bet you I'm the fastest scarecrow for miles!" He seemed to accept the dare.
"Race me now! As far as you can run!" She points at him "I gotta make up for lost time after savin' you, you know!"
"You're on! I'll even give you a three second head start!"
Dorothy looked offended "I don't need a head start!!"
Instead of responded to the offense, the Scarecrow nonchalantly put his hands into the pockets of his too-nice pants, and turned his head away from her, though one eye was still looking, she thought "One…."
Dorothy crossed her arms in defiance. The Scarecrow just grinned wider. "Two….."
Despite only having just met the magical being, Dorothy couldn't help but wonder if he knew his counting was making her nervous. But she stood firm, shoulders up as if to make herself look tougher - like her Uncle Henry!
"Two and a half…." The Scarecrow looked up at the sky, then down at the ground "Two and three fifths….. Two and three quarters….. two and four fifths….. two and five sixths…."
Dorothy let out a rage-filled roar of frustration, and decided she'd had enough of his counting "F-INE!!" She pivoted back towards the road, which could barely be seen between the wheat stalks, and ran in that direction. As soon as she started her sprint, she could hear the shuffling of the Scarecrow behind her, as he excitedly shouted out
"Three!!"
And took off behind her.
As expected, the Scarecrow did outpace her rather quickly, but the two of them ran for a solid minute before Dorothy had to stop, breathing a little heavier than she expected to - maybe she'd gotten too excited.
"Hah…. hah…. hh…" She put her hands on her knees, almost wheezing
"Whoa, whoa, hey there!" The Scarecrow suddenly sounded very concerned "Is something wrong?"
Dorothy took another wheezing breath "For… forgot I don't got great… hhh…. lungs f'r runnin'" She admitted sheepishly. "Doctor says i's somethin' called As-mah. Auntie Em says As-Mah's just what doctors say when they don't want kids runnin' around.. But I think he was right" She seemed loathe to admit.
"… Asthma?" The Scarecrow - claiming to be "new" - seemed to know how to pronounce it, and his strange tone told Dorothy he knew what it was "Well… we're gonna have to make sure your lungs only have to carry you runnin' as a last resort then, hm?"
She looked up at him, and noticed that her state was causing the Scarecrow to display that pitying expression she couldn't stand in adults, but she decided that if he really was new at this, he wouldn't know any better. "Its okay… Can we keep walking though? Stopping makes it feel worse, most'of the time"
The scarecrow stood up straight, and gave her a nod, offering his hand "We're off to see the wizard!"
She stood up straight, though her chest ached a bit, and took his offered hand, giving her own grin "Let's go then!"
Dorothy had to admit, this scarecrow was fun to talk to.
He seemed to know how to carry a conversation with practiced ease, despite having not an ounce of practice. That was one of the many ways that Dorothy thought the Scarecrow was off, but she couldn't pin point what exactly was off about them. He was eloquent, he was funny, and he knew how to spin nonsense into a story! He reminded her of some of the farmhands back in Kansas, the ones that would humor her when she was bored. She wanted to know how he had so much going on up in his head if he didn't have a brain, but she was so happy to have someone to talk to that wasn't being overly dramatic or condescending… She'd question it later.
"Apples!!" She suddenly interrupted, going from her casual walk into a jog towards the orchard grove she'd spotted around the bend. "I'm starving!"
"You haven't eaten?" The Scarecrow questioned, picking up his walking pace to keep up with her.
"Not a whiff of food since before that stupid twister!" She huffed, approaching the closest tree "She just sent me on my way without anything to eat. I've been hoping to come across a town'r'somethin' on the way here, and we found an orchard!"
The scarecrow made that hilarious scrunching face again, and walked up behind her as Dorothy reached for a bright, green apple. T
he branch suddenly moved on it's own, and smacked her hand away sharply "Ow!!! What the-"
"How rude of you!!" The tree (Trees talk here??? trees?????) scolded "Taking without even asking!"
"Wh - I- Where I'm from trees aren't alive!!" She quickly defended herself "You didn't have to hit me!"
Dorothy looked at her hand, seeing the stinging red from the harsh hit. The scarecrow was at her side in a blink, and took her hand, looking at it and giving the tree as harsh a glare as he could manage with painted eyes.
"Well that's no way to act, tree, Animal, construct or person!" The Scarecrow scolded "How would you feel if you were hit just for not knowing something!"
"I wouldn't have that happen to me because I know what I need to know!" The tree argued, and Dorothy grit her teeth - yet another being in this strange world talking to her like she was dumb.
"That is no way to talk to a little girl, you fool!" The Scarecrow quickly defended her "Ugh, how rude!" Scarecrow gently pushed her down the road "Come on now, Dorothy. You don't want those apples anyway. They're all mealy-looking. Probably have worms"
"Huh?" Dorothy looked at him with a confused expression, before the tree seemed to tremble with anger. Dorothy noticed that none of the other trees were moving - but they also had no apples on them. Strange.
"My apples are the best of all the apples!!" The tree argued as the Scarecrow continued to lead Dorothy away
"I'll believe it when I see it!" The straw man retorted, and with barely a moment to spare, he sharply ducked his head as an apple was thrown right at it "Oh, come now! You've got better aim than that!"
Dorothy squeaked as the onslaught of apples began to rain down on them, and the scarecrow pushed her forward, using his surprisingly sturdy straw body as a shield, and giving her a wink. Realization dawned on her, and she fought a smile as hard as she could, pulling up the outer layer of her dress (she was, of course, only wearing a shift and petticoat cause she'd been out and about that day) and using it to carry as many apples as she could while they were making their escape down the road.
By the time they were out of throwing range, Dorothy had probably a dozen apples, and was looking a little huffy "I think I grabbed too many... These apples are really, really heavy" She grumbled
"They're pretty big!" He pointed out, taking over half of them in his one arm. "Eat up, Dot! You need your energy, you know!"
Dorothy chuckled "You know a lot, for somethin' that claims to not have a brain" She commented, biting into one of the apples with her free hand.
"I don't quite know where this knowledge comes from!" He admitted. "But I'll accept it since it's helpin' us out"
That… sounded a little like an excuse, Dorothy admitted to herself, but she shrugged it off. "I guess so"
The Scarecrow gave her a look, but didn't linger on it "How's the apple?"
Dorothy took another bite, taking a second to eat before answering - she never talked with her mouth full! "It's good! Like a Granny Smith!"
"… Does Kahnsass have apples that taste like Grandmas?" Scarecrow questioned, performatively horrified.
Dorothy looked aghast at the idea, and immediately began to respond with a fervent No! And explaining all the different types of apples that grew in America.
She didn't see how pleased the Scarecrow was at diverting her conversation, but that was neither here nor there.
The sunset seemed to come quick, with no town in the foreseeable distance.
"We should find some water and a place to rest for you" The Scarecrow pointed out "Before the suns too far gone"
"Hm, probably a good idea." Dorothy agreed "I haven't had any water in a while"
The Scarecrow looked into the forest for a moment, as if he was listening with ears he didn't have "I think there's a stream near the road - come on. Shouldn't sleep on the road anyway, could be dangerous"
Dorothy furrowed her brow "How's it dangerous?"
"Do you wanna get run over by someone's horse on the Yellow Brick Road?" He asked almost rhetorically, and watched her shake her head aggressively
"Okay point taken!" She ran up behind him as he headed into the wood, towards a now louder rushing water sound.
The Scarecrow pointed her towards a clearing right by a wide but shallow stream - just far enough from the road that they were secluded, but not so far that getting back on the road in the morning would be a test of their memory. Dorothy approached the water and lamented that she couldn't take the shoes off (She'd tried when Glinda had initially put them on) to soak her aching feet. Sure, the shoes weren't actually that uncomfortable, but this was still too much walking.
She decided to sit by the water, and dip a hand into the cool stream "Feels nice. Looks clear too" She commented.
"Drink some - Have an apple from your pocket so you eat something. I'll try starting a fire" The Scarecrow looked around like he was checking for branches to use for kindling, but Dorothy spoke up.
"Uh, I don't know how good an idea that is" She admitted "You're uh. Flammable"
The Scarecrow paused "Ah... That is true. But! Doesn't mean we still can't keep you warm!" He reasoned "Take that drink and come over here - I'll teach you!"
"How do you even know how to start a fire?" She questioned, but as per usual, the Scarecrow waved it off
"Bah! How does anyone know anything? - Hurry up!" He dramatically moved his head like he was rolling his eyes.
Dorothy returned the action playfully, taking a hearty drink of water with her hands, before wiping them on her dress and walking over to the Scarecrow - who was collecting dried leaves and twigs. He showed her which twigs to leave and which to grab, as well as how to clear the ground to make sure the fire was safe.
Dorothy wondered again how he knew any of this - he was a scarecrow! How does something that was allegedly made recently know all these skills??
But she didn't care - not once the fire was going
"I did it!" She cheered, dropping the one rock and the one piece that the Scarecrow had called 'flint'
"You did! Great job, Dot" Scarecrow pat her back "Now, I gotta make sure I'm not too close. Don't wanna uh. Get scorched, so to speak"
"Oh, yes - I don't want you to get burned to death! That was be awful" she said rather sincerely. The Scarecrow replied with a smile, and sat a little ways behind her.
"Your concern is appreciated" He nods "Now, sit and stay warm! Humans need that, I'm sure!"
Dorothy giggled, and sat herself on the dirt, pulling out an apple from her dress pocket, and taking a solid bite. She really did hope they'd come across a town so she didn't have to live off apples. There was no way that was healthy.
The sun began to set a while later, and Dorothy could feel her exhaustion creeping up on her, and she considered telling the Scarecrow that she was going to sleep so he wouldn't try asking her any weird questions, but as the light of the sun left, and the only thing lighting up the woods around them was the fire, she heard an odd sound behind her.
"Hhrgh"
Dorothy turned around, looking at the Scarecrow, who was suddenly hunched over himself, hand at his chest. "Huh? Scarecrow? What's wrong?" She turns herself more fully to face him, brows furrowed in concern.
"I… I don't… I feel…. Something … inside…" He seemed perturbed beyond reason, eyes seeming oddly shiny as he looked back at her "Something… somethings in here"
"Did an animal crawl in your straw!?" Dorothy concluded "That's - We gotta get it out! Where is it??" She got on her knees to get up, when suddenly, and startlingly, the Scarecrow coughed. Scarecrows don't cough, but he did and it sounded … Dorothy felt weirdly nauseous as she realized it sounded like a wet cough.
Dorothy squealed when one harsh cough come from his mouth, and it was… red??
"… Blood…?" She vocalized what she was looking at as her eyes dragged from the spit up mixture of hay and overly viscous blood, and up to his face, where she started again at his eyes.
If you asked her to explain what she was looking at, she wouldn't be able to. There was something fundamentally wrong with how his face looked. The burlap didn't quite look like burlap anymore, but it didn't look like anything familiar either - but his eyes were what she focused on. Those eyes were not painted. There was a familiarity in those panicked, wide eyes.
It reminded her of that terrified look Uncle Henry gave her the first time she'd experienced a twister on the farm. The foreboding fear of the known, Mister Zeke had called it.
The scarecrow choked out his next words, like he was about to vomit, which still made no sense since he was - is? - was? - made of straw and had no lungs, and yet his tone was strained and desperate. "Doh-hont… looh-hook… " He practically begged, and Dorothy didn't need to be told twice. She quickly covered her eyes with her hands and curled up as best she could as the sound of shifting hay was gradually replaced with the thump of a body falling over and the choking of someone trying desperately to breathe.
She was shaking. She didn't and couldn't understand what was happening. Was her new friend… What was happening to her new friend?
Things went quiet… well, mostly quiet. Now all Dorothy heard was heavy, labored breathing.
With a caution that Auntie Em would have been proud of, Dorothy lifted her head out of her hands, and peeked out just above her fingers.
Oh… Oh, there was a…. man? There was a man where the Scarecrow had been.
He had surprisingly long blonde hair that flowed like silk spilled on the dirt, somehow untangled despite the clear disarray the rest of his body was in. She couldn't see his face from the angle she was looking, but she saw that he had tattoos on his cheek in a strange, almost natural looking pattern in a deep blue. That wasn't what kept her attention, however. What did was how injured this man was - there was seeping blood everywhere on him. From his cheek to a blooming wound on his shoulder and back. He looked as if he'd just been beaten up and left for dead. She was only seeing his prone body on its side, like he was asleep. He was still breathing. It was staggered, heavy, painful. Dorothy swallowed her nerves.
Despite how wild the logic was, she should - in theory - know who this was. "…. Scarecrow?" She whimpered out, disbelief taking over her as she noticed the body flinch at her voice.
There's a sound like he's struggling to move, and Dorothy swallows her confused fear, crawling over on her hands and knees to - with perhaps more force than necessary - pull the man laying on his side over to his back.
He lets out a pained noise - something between a yelp and a wail - and his eyes show a concerned wariness. He looks worse at this angle - on his back. Nothing is bleeding profusely, but he's covered in what look like knife cuts and it is staining the green clothing he was in a darker shade, dampening the clothing millimeter by millimeter. He looks at her, and she recognizes those blue eyes.
"… H-hi" he chokes out, though he takes a second to try to clear his throat, and tries again "Hi… Uhm… Would you believe me if I told you I didn't know this would happen?"
"… You're not s scarecrow" Dorothy stated lamely, looking him over with concern, confusion, and a certain frustration.
He tries to chuckle, though it doesn't land "No… Suppose I'm not… I wasn't lying.. when I said I was… new to that"
"So, you weren't always a scarecrow.. You where… a human?" She deliberately used the word human rather than person - since the scarecrow (him, it's him) had stated that he was a person, just one made of straw earlier that day
".. I was.. yes.. But , something - something happened… I think I was transformed to… save my life" He contemplated, before asking "Are you.. okay?"
Dorothy's face nearly made him laugh "Am I okay??? Are you okay??? You're - you're hurt! How are you hurt?? Is it - is it a scarecrow thing?? Was it cause you kept bumpin' int' stuff and fallin' on your face??"
That made him laugh a little, though it clearly hurt "No, no.. I just… I was hurt, before this whole thing happened. Really hurt- Almost dead. Then… well, then I don't remember much.. woke up as a scarecrow bein' harassed by a bunch of crows, and you found me"
Dorothy realized why there'd been so much blood around the scarecrow, now "Oh… But - but you had a nail…" in your throat, she couldn't finish. Her eyes fell on a wound at his neck, right where she'd pulled out that rusty iron. The girl had never seen such a wound like that before. Her stomach twisted.
"I think you might have really saved my life then" He contemplated, taking another minute to breathe through the pain he was experiencing before continuing, "If I had been up on thing when the sun set…"
The implication was making Dorothy want to throw up.
Suddenly, the man (Scarecrow?) weakly raised a hand "Think I need to reintroduce myself.. if you'll let me."
Dorothy took in a little more of this man who appeared before her. He had mirrored blue tattoos on the opposing sides of his face, and his hair was even dirtier now that he was resting on his back… But his eyes were just as kind as they were when painted on a fabric face, and his entire expression was that cautious but respectful look she appreciated in adults. She took the hand as gently as possible "Dorothy Gale from Kansas" She reintroduced.
"Fiyero Tigelaar from The Vinkus" he lightly shook her hand, though it clearly bothered his shoulder
"Where's that? I've learned about so many places today" Dorothy huffed a little, letting go of his hand - rather purposefully letting it down gently.
Fiyero chuckled a little "Far to the west… It's where that 'witch' lives, technically. The castle at Kiamo Ko"
Dorothy groans "Gillykin - Kiamo Ko - The Vinkus!! What's with these names??" The girl complains "Its like I'm in some silly upside down land!"
"Kansas sounds silly too" Fiyero points out "You told me a bout a lot of silly places today" He recalls, lolling his head a little "Topeeka, Oaklahoma? A place spelled ar-Kansas but pronounced arc-and-saw… Very silly to me"
Dorothy huffs "Wh-whatever. It doesn't matter" She looked back at the fire, then at Fiyero. "You're too far"
"Hm?"
"From the fire. You're gonna get cold" She reasoned.
"Ah.. I am… However I uhm… Don't think it's wise of me to try and get up." He admitted. He was quite impressed with himself currently - mostly with how well he was pretending his pain wasn't agonizing and overtaking his every thought. He had a feeling Dorothy was a little too smart to not notice however - very much so for her age. He didn't recall being this intuitive at the age of 9.
Dorothy looked back at the fire, than at him yet again, and gained a determined expression "I'll pull you"
"… Excuse me?"
She's already rolling up her sleeves as she responds "I did it once to Hickory - He's smaller than you but I think I can pull you too. Might be hard, but I can do it!"
"Wait, Dorothy. You don't have to- ow.." He groans, having moved himself to look at her "You don't have to do that. Please."
"But you're gonna get cold! And you're hurt! You won't get better if you get sick from the cold too!" She argued, getting up on her feet, the silver shoes glistening from the light behind her.
"Dorothy, It's alright. I- Oof!"
Dorothy seemed determined not to listen, and pulled him into a sitting position by grabbing his arms, getting a pained groan from a man. Everything burned. Everything hurt, but he managed to do little but seethe.
"Okay! I'm gonna pull you by the back of your jacket." She told him, hands on her hips "I know it'll probably hurt but you'll feel better close to the fire!"
"You're very determined to do this" Fiyero huffed out, voice sounding a bit like he was struggling. She just gave him a firm nod ".. Alright. Do not strain yourself" Fiyero weakly shrugged, recalling - distantly - that he was also a stubborn little bastard as a child. He could tolerate her pulling for a second-!!
"HuMPH!!" Dorothy pulled the back of his jacket - one hand on each shoulder, and proceeded to YANK him with all her strength.
Understandably startled at being yanked, what startled him even more was the fact that she was actually succeeding. She'd gotten him a good half-meter closer to the fire.
"phewf…" He huffed, swallowing a more substantial groan of pain. "You're strong for a kid"
"Thanks! That's what Hickory said!" She said, though she didn't let go of him "Think I just need one more good tug-!!"
"HURGGGG-OOF Okay, wow. Sweet Lur-ine" he lurched over in a combination of pain and nausea after Dorothy pulled him close enough that the glow of the fire was finally illuminating most of him, and he could feel it's warmth.
"Okay! Good enough!" Dorothy sounded satisfied with herself, letting go of him. "Phew - okay uh… We don't have anything to help with all your cuts and stuff… m'sorry"
Fiyero, surprised at how attentively caring this child was being, softened his expression despite the pain "… It's alright" he took a breath - he was starting to feel what little energy he'd had drain out of him "We can figure that out tomorrow, whatever happens… Just, lay down, get some sleep"
"But… You're still hurting. There has to be something I can do to help" She encouraged him to accept her eager assistance, those lovely big eyes of hers pleading.
Fiyero sighed. He'd always been a sucker for a pleading look - it had been one of Glinda's favorite weapons "Well, if you have a kerchief…"
The girl quite suddenly reached into the pocket of her skirt, and pulled out a rather ratty but well-loved kerchief "Got one!"
Huh. Convenient "Could you dampen it in the stream? Most important thing about healing is-"
"Staying clean! That's what Uncle Henry says - said it was real important when he was in the army" She nodded "Don't move! I'll be right back!"
"Wasn' planning on it" He teased with a small smile, and Dorothy disappeared from his vision. He wondered if that was a good idea, but he could still hear her, so it would have to do for now. He took several more pained breaths, and contemplated - with the few precious seconds he had alone - what happened to him.
Fiyero was transformed - of that he is certain. He'd died, he was certain, then woke up with a light head and crows poking at his face in a way that caused pressure but not a hint of pain. Then the sun set, and suddenly that new body he'd been revived with felt as if it was collapsing in on itself as whatever he was made of returned to flesh and blood. He may be human now, but once the sun rose… would he still be?
Then there was, of course, the child he certainly just gave nightmares to. She'd told him that Glinda had sent her down the road towards the Emerald City. That the Wizard could help her get back to her home. A part of him was annoyed the minute he heard that. And putting Nessarose's shoes on the girl? And she couldn't take them off? There was too much magic in all this. Too much going on.
Funny enough, he had clearer thoughts when his head was mostly straw and air.
"I'm back!!" Dorothy announced herself as she returned to the light of the campfire "Had to make sure it wasn't dripping"
"Smart" Fiyero complemented, getting a beaming smile in return. "Give it here. I want you to lay down, alright? You must be exhausted"
"But-"
"Come on, Dot" he resorted to a nickname "While I am hurt, I can take care of myself" Barely. But he wasn't about to ask a child to wipe his face for him. He has a little pride left. Just a touch. a sliver. a drop of it.
The girl looks reticent, like she's worried for him - which is both flattering given they've known each other less than a day, and very understandable given what he'd accidentally made her witness. But he tries his best to maintain a serious expression, and she relents, sitting down finally beside him, facing the fire.
"Will you tell me if you need help?" She asked, now looking up at him
"I will" He promised - mostly because he knew that eventually, he might have to, rather than want to.
"Good" Dorothy replied, thought she was now looking at the fire "Auntie Em says as good people, we have to help our friends no matter what. And I wanna make sure I do that… Never had a friend before, really"
"Never?" He questioned, finding that little unbelievable. She was a delight! If a little abrasive.
"Other kids at the schoolhouse say I'm not friendly" Dorothy recalled "But its okay - You're my friend now, aren't you?"
Back at Shiz, Boq would have called that a "Lore Drop", the nerd. Fiyero let his mind wonder to his old friend for just a second before nodded "If you'll have me. I'd be quite honored to be your friend"
Dorothy - finally starting to look tired - smiled at the fire, eyes glancing up at him "… That's nice. I'm your friend too, Mister Fiyero"
"Ugh, don't call me that. Just Fiyero is fine"
"Hm… okay Just Fiyero" she laid down, yawning.
Fiyero looked at the girl with a faux-aghast expression she didn't see, but she did hear the light chuckle he released in response "Sleep well, Dorothy"
She turned around, away from the fire but facing him "… You too"
Fiyero took the damp kerchief as he noticed Dorothy fall into sleep, and started with wiping off his face. Everything still hurt. The aches all over his body were burning like fire, like they were infected, but as of now there was no fever. Would there be one? Was Elphaba's magic good enough to stave it off?
Because that's what this had to be. It had to be Elphaba saving his life. There was no other way this could have happened.
He took the time to dab at his skin and thoroughly ruin the poor little kerchief, though the damned thing was so ragged it was already coming undone by the time he deemed himself finished, and he let it plop on the ground. That was about as clean as he was going to get for now, especially since he didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. That was nice. His whole outfit was disgustingly stained though.
Those wounds were stabs before. He remembered them, felt the sting of them deep in his muscles. While they were still serious wounds, they were no longer at risk of killing him. He'd felt it before. He'd know if that was the case. Whatever this transformation was, it was healing him.
Despite the aches and sharpness of the pain - in his left shoulder specifically - he managed to lie down on his back, and turned his head slightly to look at his young traveling companion, who looked to finally have fallen into a proper sleep. Thank Oz. She needed it.
Fiyero turned his head up to the sky, seeing the stars above, and taking a shaky breath, allowing the severity of his body's condition to finally hit him emotionally, feeling the dampness of tears on his face. Halfway though his walk with Dorothy he was convinced he'd never be able to cry again. Small victories, he supposed.
He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he was grateful for the lack of consciousness.