4: A Disagreeable Direction

Nobody much wanted to stick around in the vicinity of the burned-out pyre. They spent the night in the field with Tin Man keeping a vigilant watch, but though they were exhausted, neither Dorothy nor Lion caught much more than fitful naps. They arose with the first easterly glow of the sun; none of them could find their voices, so instead they listened to the wind whistling down through the crevasse. They had just turned to head east along the cliff face when Dorothy finally broke the morning silence.

"Scarecrow!" she cried, and everybody jumped.

"Huh?"

"You're got a ripped seam! We haven't even tried to mend that! Oh, shame on us," she tsk'd, fussing about with the seam. He tried to see what she was doing but gave up immediately, as it was a rather awkward spot to see on one's own back. "You should have reminded us."

"Wouldn't have done any good," he said. "It's not like there's anything to fix it with."

"I've a needle and thread," Dorothy said, dropping to her knees and searching through her basket.

"You do?" asked Scarecrow, thoroughly impressed.

"Well of course I do, don't you remember what I told you? Before I came to Oz I'd been planning on running away from home…" She drew out a length of thread and poked the end of it through the eye of her needle. "Anybody with any wits would bring along a needle and thread while running away – though now I wonder if anybody with any wits would run away in the first place. Here, Scarecrow, sit down and hold these for a moment," she said, handing Scarecrow the needle, thread, and bobbin.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"You look like you need more straw," she replied, and began to gather up more handfuls of sweetgrass.

"Golly, I wish I could be stuffed with sweetgrass," said Lion. "I'd be ready for a party at the drop of a hat. No need to bathe, no need for cologne…"

"A party? Aren't you afraid of crowds?" asked Tin Man, watching as Dorothy packed the sweetgrass into Scarecrow's back and shoulder. The early morning breeze had become more insistent, and it tugged away at bits of the grass, sending the desiccated blades to twirl about their heads.

"Terrified of them," said Lion. "But at least I'd be ready for one, in case one crept up on me."

"There," said Dorothy, patting down the new stuffing. "How does that feel, Scarecrow?"

"Dunno, how's it look?"

"Looks sweet," said Tin Man, after having taken a step back to regard his friend.

"He's got a bit of a lump there, on his side," said Lion, pointing. Scarecrow smashed it down halfheartedly, not really concerned either way. He was looking forward to getting out of this particular area. Dorothy began to sew the seam back up, and as she stitched, Scarecrow couldn't help but think of Gerty; if only he'd been as easy to fix as Scarecrow was. Scarecrow wondered if Dorothy was thinking the same thing. Once Dorothy had finished, Scarecrow thanked her sincerely, and the group finally stepped east, though this morning their steps were cautious. Gerty had mentioned the walking dead, beings who dwelt deep in the forest, and Scarecrow imagined that said beings were very much on the minds of Lion and Tin Man and Dorothy. Scarecrow himself was more concerned with what else Gerty had said – beware the flames. What flames? And where would they be? If the heart of the forest really were cold, as Gerty had said, perhaps the flares were closer to the edge of the forest, since flares and flames were hot.

Painfully aware that they were themselves on the edge of the forest, Scarecrow glared suspiciously into their surroundings.

"When we get to Emerald City," Dorothy said, once again breaking the silence, "we shall have to remember to find Gerty's family and tell them about… about what a good man he was."

"I wonder, though," said Tin Man, "if he has family in Emerald City. He did leave the place, after all."

"Oh, that makes little difference," said Dorothy, with a touch of sorrow. "Just because somebody has a family at home that loves them doesn't mean that that same somebody will never go off in search of something more… I should like to tell his family, if he has one, about his sense of honor. Trying to rescue me from Scarecrow like that." The memory brought a smile to Dorothy's face.

"I don't know if that was his sense of honor," replied Scarecrow with a frown, "or his sense of eyesight… But I totally admired his sense of… of… What's that sense called that lets people talk?"

"That's not a sense," said Dorothy, patiently. "You mean you admire that he was well-spoken?"

"Yes. That."

"I – " began Tin Man, but he cut himself short. Scarecrow glance over at him and Tin Man shook his head in a universal nevermind. Tin Man wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for Gerty, and perhaps Tin Man was the most troubled of all of them by Gerty's loss. Lion tactfully cleared his throat.

"He was awfully brave, standing up to the dinosaurus like that. Why, if I'd been that brave, I wouldn't have frozen on that trunk and we could have all crossed over before that thing came after us…"

"Lion," said Dorothy, "if it hadn't been for your bravery, we wouldn't have had a chance! You put your life on the line, distracting the dinosaurus, to give us time to get across!"

"For all the good that did… The only reason I made it across was because Scarecrow terrified me into submission."

"I'm sorry," winced Scarecrow.

"No, I'm sorry," replied Lion. "Though I guarantee I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life."

"Don't you already have nightmares every night?" asked Scarecrow.

"These will be super-nightmares. I tell you, I'm not sure I'll even be able to cross over the east bridge, once we get to it. I've had it with heights."

"I'd rather cross the bridge twenty times over," said Dorothy, "than meet with one of those creatures Gerty mentioned."

With that unsettling thought in mind, they made their way east.

They stayed just on the edge of the treeline, and in this way Scarecrow had a good view of the forests on either side of the crevasse. To his mild surprise, for all the words Gerty had spoken about the northern forest, it didn't look much different from the southern forest, from which they'd just come, except that the northern forest had a very obvious lack of exceptionally tall trees, the likes of which would reach across to the south side. Perhaps the northern forest was more elevated – it seemed to have an upward slope towards the north – and perhaps it was a bit more rugged and rocky. Besides these details, it seemed no more or less frightening than Lion's forest. Scarecrow ventured to hope that the rumors Gerty had reported to them were simply that – rumors.

As they traveled, the wind through The Crevasse of Despair picked up even more. It whistled, and Dorothy said it sounded just like a train off in the distance, though none of the rest of the party knew what a train was and so could neither agree nor disagree. At times Scarecrow could almost imagine some flying horror from the depths of the crevasse, soaring back and forth and howling as it went. He didn't share this thought with anybody else, though, for he already felt bad enough for having given Lion such a fright on their journey over the makeshift bridge.

Soon another difference between the two forests became obvious to Scarecrow, and that was that the northern forest was motionless. No birds trilled and flitted from branch to branch, no rodents scurried through the leaves. The companions filled their time with mindless chatter in order to combat the feeling that they were journeying on the edge of a great tomb, but around noon, Dorothy's unflagging spirit became subdued, and Lion's tail dragged. As meat people, they needed water and food, and they hadn't had access to either of those things for a long stretch.

"What is that?" asked Lion, some time after the sun had passed its zenith. Lion stopped in his tracks and pricked his ears.

"What's what?" asked Scarecrow.

"That sound," Lion said fearfully. "Like a million spiders laughing to themselves. Or someone shaking up a gigantic coffin full of goose bones. Or – "

"What a healthy imagination you have," Dorothy said. "But I don't hear anything."

"Me neither," said Tin Man.

"Well of course you guys don't hear anything. I'm a lion, my hearing is impeccable," Lion replied, managing to look both prideful and severely distressed at the same time. They all listened again for a few moments but the only thing the others could hear was the wind in the crevasse. They continued on now, albeit more slowly, as Lion refused to walk any faster than a brisk creep. Within several minutes, however, it became apparent that Lion had indeed heard something. At first it was unidentifiable, as it was overlaid by the incessant wind and it was difficult to tell which sound was which.

"I hear something now," said Dorothy.

"Me too," said Scarecrow. "It's like… It's like some sort of noise."

"You don't say?" said Lion.

"It sounds like hot coals decompressing," said Tin Man.

"Oh no!" shouted Scarecrow. "It's the flares! The ones Gerty warned us about! What do we do?" He ran behind the group, slipped, and momentarily lost track of his feet.

"Well, we calm down, first of all," said Tin Man, putting out his arm to steady Scarecrow. "Near the edge of an impossibly deep crevasse is not the right place to panic."

"Easy for you to say," Scarecrow muttered, eyeing the cliff. "You're not scared to death of fire."

"I don't think we're listening to the flares, whatever they are," said Dorothy. "I think… I think I know that sound." Dorothy started forward again, looking curiously hopeful. Tin Man and Toto walked by her side, and Scarecrow and Lion crept behind. As they went farther, Scarecrow's nerves settled down – it was sounding less like ticking coals with each step. Lion looked no less nervous until they came finally upon the source of the sound, which turned out to be a burbling brook. Its burbles had mingled with the wind and been distorted by echoes; the brook had carved down into the bedrock until it had formed a miniature, south-flowing cleft for itself before spilling over the edge of The Crevasse of Despair.

"Water! Oh, I'm absolutely parched," said Dorothy, and made her way down to take a drink, Lion and Toto not far behind. Tin Man watched from a safe distance, as the edges of the brook were slippery with moss. Scarecrow, thinking that slipping and falling into the brook would likely end in his plummeting over the edge into oblivion, took extra caution as he came down to the brook downstream of Dorothy. Before he reached the water, Dorothy's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh my, this water is freezing cold!" Scarecrow looked over to see that she'd put her hands in the brook, and he could just about see them turning blue.

"Not only that," said Lion, who'd put his face down close to the surface, "but it smells like… Ew. Essence of swamp. Or mushy cabbage."

"Well," said Dorothy, "it's water, and Toto's drinking it…" Toto, not one to complain, was happily lapping it up. "I suppose we haven't a choice."

Scarecrow knelt down by the edge of the brook and drew out his neckerchief, which had grown a bit stiff with Gerty's dried blood. He did his best to wash it clean, and then looped it through his belt, not wanting a cold, wet thing hanging around his neck for the next few hours. He thought he could catch a whiff of the foul odor Lion had mentioned, but he was pleased to note that it was mostly overpowered by the smell of sweetgrass emanating from his own body. Dorothy washed out her own white linen kerchief as well, though in the end it remained stained a sort of pinkish brown. She washed most of the mud from her face and arms, and then stood.

"We'll have to cross this brook," she said. "I think this will be not much of a challenge, after yesterday's crossing." She was right; it was simple to find a thin spot along the brook where rocks rose up out of the shallow water. Lion stood in the brook itself to ensure nobody fell in, though the cold caused his breath to catch. Dorothy's ruby slippers did not make her crossing any easier, but with Lion's help she made it to the other side without incident. Scarecrow, whose personal sense of balance told him that jumping from rock to rock to get across would be unadvisable, opted to have Lion carry him across. Tin Man, the last to cross, hesitated.

"What's wrong?" asked Scarecrow. "You didn't even bat an eye when you went out onto that tree trunk yesterday. You'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Tin Man muttered, eyeing the brook. "You're not scared to death of running water."

"Oh, come on, you big sissy," said Lion. "I won't let you fall."

"Strangely, I'm not comforted."

"If anything happens," Dorothy called from the other side, "remember, we've still got your oil can."

"Yes, which is almost empty," said Tin Man.

"We can always get more!" said Scarecrow.

"More oil?" scoffed Tin Man. "What do you think oil is, a renewable resource?"

In the end, Lion carried Tin Man across as well. Lion then clambered out of the brook. After he had fretted that he was going to get frostbite, and after Dorothy assured him that she wouldn't let any frost bite him, Lion acquiesced and they left the little brook behind. Their spirits were higher after those that needed a drink had gotten one, and after respective kerchiefs had been cleansed.

"Why do you suppose the water was so cold?" wondered Dorothy, after a while.

"Maybe it came from the heart of the forest," said Scarecrow. This was met with confused looks from his companions, so he continued. "Remember, Gerty said the forest had a cold heart?"

"That was allegorical," said Tin Man, and then kindly explained himself. "When he said that, he meant that the forest has a cruel nature. People who are cruel are sometimes said to have a cold heart. Or to be heartless."

"Well that makes no sense," said Scarecrow. "You're heartless, but you're not cruel."

"I would say Tin Man is a rather remarkable exception," said Dorothy. "I think Tin Man is right, though, about Gerty's meaning. Perhaps the water comes down from a mountain?"

"A rotting mountain," said Lion. No mountains could be seen, though. Scarecrow figured they were making great progress eastwards and was even beginning to nurture the wild hope that they'd make it to the eastern bridge before nightfall, when yet another noise came to them. By now the wind was howling with such ferocity that they had to raise their voices significantly to be heard, and Lion kept having to brush his mane back out of his face. The wind whistling over Tin Man's body found openings in his joints and rivets, and made eerie, hollow noises. He told them that his head was especially resonant, and for this reason, Tin Man was the last of them to be able to perceive this new sound that lay behind the wind.

"Now what could that be?" asked Dorothy.

"Maybe that's the sound of the flares!" said Scarecrow fearfully.

"Maybe it's the sound of an army of undead, shuffling across the forest floor towards us…" shivered Lion.

"Are you sure you hear something?" asked Tin Man.

"Quite," replied Dorothy. "It's rather persistent…"

Slowly now, they went forward, keeping the cliff edge in sight to their right. It wasn't long before Tin Man could hear the noise over the echoing in his own head. Before they came to the source of the noise, even Scarecrow could guess what they were about to encounter, but what with the ruckus of the wind and the oncoming racket, they would have had to shout to each other to be heard.

No shouting was necessary; they found themselves standing on the rim of a gorge. Like the brook, this river was flowing south down out of the forest, and had carved a path for itself. Like the brook, it also spilled out into the open vastness of the crevasse. Unlike the brook, the amount of water spilling from this river was almost inconceivable; at its mouth, it was easily ten times as wide as the brook had been, and considerably deeper. No stepping stones jutted from the water.

"Aw, now that's not fair," said Tin Man.

"In case you're wondering," shouted Lion to Scarecrow, "I definitely can't jump over that."

"Do you think the dinosaurus could?" yelled Scarecrow in return.

"Maybe, but can we not talk about the dinosaurus?"

They stood and regarded the torrent of water for a few moments, somewhat struck by the obvious power and force of the flow. The gorge it had carved for itself was steep and dark and completely uninviting. Scarecrow's companions immediately began to cultivate miserable expressions, and he wondered why they looked so distressed.

"Why the long faces?" shouted Scarecrow. Lion, who looked slightly sick, did not opt to answer.

"Because," bellowed Tin Man, leaning down to be heard, "we have to follow the river north."

"Why?"

"We have to find a place to cross! The land is sloped; if we can find a steep area, we may be able to cross where the water runs faster and has carved a narrower gorge."

"Great! What are we waiting for?"

Tin Man, Dorothy, and Lion looked at each other with great trepidation, and then turned north to follow the furious river upstream. Lion took his tail into his paws and wrung it dreadfully as he followed Tin Man, practically stepping on Tin Man's heels. Tin Man slouched into himself as he walked, as if to appear smaller, and Dorothy picked Toto up and held the little dog tightly. It was only then that Scarecrow's thoughts caught up with those of his companions; of course they were distressed about this. They were being forced inland, towards the heart of the forest. Towards the flares. Towards the walking dead.