"Where There's Smoke"

Author's Note: There's a theory going around that Oz wasn't actually a dream, and that Dorothy's mind could have travelled there while her body lay unconscious. There are several holes in that idea, but I thought it was intriguing just the same. I also thought that Hickory got an unfair amount of screen time compared to the other two farmhands, and I've always liked Jack Haley. Originally, this was meant to be a very different story, but the first idea just wasn't working at all. This is the last you'll see of Hickory for a few chapters, but he gets a lot of screen time later on! This will also be very OC-heavy, so if you're not into that there are many wonderful authors for you to choose from in this section who might be more to your taste. After this prologue and the next chapter, updates will hopefully be once or twice a week. Enjoy the ride!

It had been a sturdy little cottage once. Now all that remained was a crumbling stone chimney, seemingly tethered in place by a wild tangle of vines and briars. It listed slightly to the right, and the petite woman who stood as close to it as she could get without snagging the hem of her dress regarded it with a pinched little frown.

"Has it been so long?" she murmured, hooking a finger on one of the vines as if to move it. Smoke curled up from the spot where her finger touched it, acrid and thick, and the vine shriveled away as if in mute protest. How long would it have taken for the hands of time to reduce her little house from its former rustic glory to this sorry sight? Time meant so little to a Fire Sprite.

Her human lover must be long dead by now. Maybe centuries long. And her child...a daughter, wasn't it? Yes, she was sure of it. How long had she slept in the planet's core? She took a moment to mourn their loss.

Well...perhaps 'reflect on' would have been a better term, for she had never mourned for anything a day of her life.

The landscape of this part of Oz was far wilder than she remembered, but the plants were of the same type, and the foundation of her little house was still there underneath all that overgrowth. It was there, and it was hers.

"All of this has got to go." she declared, extending her hand towards the vines in something like a 'stop' gesture. A jet of blue flame exploded from her outstretched hand, rapidly consuming the vines and sending songbirds screeching into the sky. Most of them made it.

When she was satisfied with the size of her new clearing, she made a pulling motion with her hand, sucking the fire back into her palm and closing it with a snap. She padded barefoot over to that steadfast little chimney, leaving tiny footprints in the cooled ash, and laid a hand on its rough surface. "Well...time to get to work."