A/N: I think of movieverse Dorothy as a girl who's about 11-years old.
A/N 2: Why is it that I write a good amount of my fanfictions at approximately 1 in the morning?
Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked? Well, we'll see about that. Do you think I'd let them leave me here flat? They're going to lose the copyright to me, I tell you! If I have to...have to...magic spell them! (A.k.a: I don't own Wicked.)
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After meeting the Scarecrow and him telling her all about how much he wanted a brain, it made young Dorothy very thankful to have one. And right now, seeing as she was very thankful for her brain, she was using it right now to think even more than she usually does.
Currently she was pondering what the Wicked Witch of the East had done that was so atrocious that would cause all of Munchkinland would celebrate her death. She had overheard words such as wicked, heartless, cruel, and insane to describe her. But if she was insane, should she have really been ruling their land? Couldn't someone with insanity still be a nice person?
But what stumped her even more was how the Wicked Witch of the West became. She didn't rule any part of this marvelous land called Oz, so how could she have been a terror? Around Munchkinland no one ever talked about her tyrannizing anyone, and the Scarecrow never mentioned her. Dorothy thought that she would have a similar reaction to her sister's death, especially if she had been close to her sister. Those shoes were the last thing the Witch had of her sister, and, well, the little girl felt a bit guilty for taking them.
So were they really evil?
"Scarecrow," she said, turning towards the Scarecrow. He slowed down a bit then looked at her.
"Yes?"
"What made the wicked witches, well, wicked?"
"I wonder the same thing."