The four figures picked their way through treacherous rocks up to the castle, a little dog yapping at their heels. Overhead the tower leaned at an odd angle, overlooking their shadows with a menacing air. Dorothy could be heard telling the others that they must stick together, no matter what otherwise the witch would try to undermine them. The lion responded with a growl that shook the loose bricks and the tin man waved his axe around threateningly. Only the scarecrow said nothing, traipsing up the rocks with his head and shoulders down, almost resigned to the fate that would lead them up to the castle of the wicked witch of the west.
She watched them from a window, the one nearest to the door. She hadn't expected them so soon but now that they'd got up here safely, she had no wish to let them leave without complications. She intended to single out Dorothy for both those remarks and the shining shoes upon her feet which the moon had helpfully highlighted just a moment ago. Taking a minute to channel her white hot anger into cool silver calm, Elphaba turned away from the window and adjusted her hat, fastened her cloak around her. Witch she was called, witch she would be. If that Dorothy was expecting a fight, she would get one.
Arriving at the sturdy wooden door, Dorothy and company paused and took a deep breath as one, marshalling all their courage to knock on the entrance to certain terror. She of the shining shoes drew a breath and raised a hand to the door, the imprint of her timid fist made no impact on it. Elphaba, coming down the stairs, could barely be bothered to wait for them to break down the door, by this rate; she'd be waiting for days. They'd find her in the kitchen with all those several bottles of wine stored in the cellar almost finished. If she wasn't careful, she might actually drink it all.
She marched to the door and opened the spy hole. The invaders on the other side were to be seen anxiously huddling around, the top of their heads open to inspection. That Dorothy girl had a bit of dandruff, she observed carelessly and the lion's mane needed a good comb. Not that she cared. The tin man's hat was a bit rusty and the scarecrow was nothing out of the ordinary. If anyone had chanced to look up, they would have seen a fisheye glaring at them on high. Not that Elphaba was cross eyed in particular; it was the effect of the spy hole. Toto was the only one alert to the imminent danger, sensing a malevolent force around, he set about barking like a demented little fur ball.
'Hush Toto!'
Toto paid no heed. Growling and whining at the door, he darted to and fro, scratching at the tin man's tin ankle and drawing straw from the weary scarecrow's heel. The scarecrow paid no attention. Dorothy fussed around him, picking him up and stroking him, whispering soothingly to him.
Elphaba rolled her eyes. All this mollycoddling thoroughly irritated her. She opened the door. Better get this over and done with.
'Can I help you?'
Five pairs of eyes stared at the tall thin figure framing the door. Shrouded in a black cloak, eyes glinting evilly under the brim of her long pointed hat. A sharp foot tapped on the floor impatiently, a monotone rhythm.
'We're looking for the wicked witch.'
The foot kept tapping. 'Guess you've found her.'
The tin man dropped his axe with a thud.
