Kucharo had never been good at waiting. Now that he'd sent the engagement bracelet off with Chistery the quadling suddenly understood how Leyen had felt about postponing their betrothal. Why in Oz had he been so adamant about putting off this wonderful event?

With a sigh he settled on the edge of Kwane's reed thatching and dangled his feet into the water. What if something happened? What if the Wizard had discovered Leyen's treachery? Kucharo cursed himself, as he had increasingly often these last few months, for letting his sweetheart go to the Emerald City alone.

A gentle gust of air tousled the quadling's hair from behind, like a soft scold from nature. "I am such an idiot," Kucharo told the reeds clicking around his feet.

"It's nice to hear you finally admit it," chuckled a familiar, melodious voice. The quadling froze in utter disbelief. His head swiveled, quick as a whiplash, to the thatching behind him.

It was Leyen. Her hair was windblown and wild, as were her clearly unwashed clothes. The exhaustion of a long journey radiated from every pore of the blonde's body.

But her emerald eyes sparked with uncontainable joy.

"I just flew straight from Munchkin Land to get here," Leyen exclaimed. "So I expect a greeting that's worth my troubles." She was joking of course, but Kucharo felt he had to oblige her request anyway.

/

Leyen couldn't help but grin as Kucharo crashed his lips against hers. The village's thatching crackled as they toppled onto it. "That's more like it," the blonde laughed between desperately happy kisses.

"I missed you," Kucharo laughed outright. His hands tangled in Leyen's hair, as if to reassure himself that she was really here with him. "Did you get my gift?"

"Yes."

The quadling temporarily leaned back from Leyen. "So will you marry me?"

"I really thought you'd never ask," the blonde giggled. She brought their lips back together for a brief, sweet kiss. "I would be honored to marry you."

"Finally," huffed an amused voice. The two sweethearts looked up to see Iban watching casually from a few feet away.

"Father!" Kucharo exclaimed indignantly. A wry grin seeped across the elder's scarlet features.

"Shall I prepare a wedding feast then?" he asked cheekily. As Kucharo tensed with irritation Leyen laughed.

"Yes please," she replied, as if not currently pinned and entangled with Iban's son. "I've had enough of this silly waiting."

/

True to quadling custom everything was ready within two short days. Every villager capable of walking on two legs dropped whatever they were doing to help. Any wedding would've elicited such help, but today there was a certain air of pride as well.

Princess Locasta, savior of Quadling Country, was marrying the son of a village leader. This was a special wedding.

Leyen and Kucharo were torn apart to prepare for the festivities much sooner than they would've preferred. Baksey, a woman who had lightly befriended Leyen during her forays in Kwane, adapted a dress for the blonde. Leyen's outfit was made entirely by strands of bleached wispgrass threaded with small, fingernail sized rubies. The entire pale garment glittered as if someone had scattered burning embers on it. Baksey drew in the waist so it clung to Leyen's slight form a little tighter. The good witch wove a small, newly formed Ozian poppy into her free flowing hair for traditional good luck.

Right before Leyen entered the village for the ceremony, which would take place as a glorious sunset lit the sky, Chistery approached. The Monkey held no paper and displayed no intention to communicate. He simply held out his hand, in which a perfect, vivid butterfly rose rested. A nessa rose.

For Miss Nessa, Chistery scrawled in the mud. Leyen reverently fastened the offered flower in her hair. Then she knelt, careful to keep the borrowed dress mud-free, and engulfed Chistery in an emotional hug.

"Thank you," she whispered as ecstatic tears coursed down her flushed, excited cheeks. "You are a brilliant, wonderful friend." Chistery's grin needed no translation.

/

Just as an acute interest in mud was frowned upon in Gillikin, Quadling Country was likewise disenchanted with formal ceremonies. Predictably Leyen and Kucharo's wedding would be far removed from anything Glinda or Nessarose could ever envision. As a ripe, bloody ball of color dropped slowly into the wavering horizon everyone gathered in the village center.

A bonfire cast red glaze across Kucharo's otherwise ordinary, brown garb. The flames made Leyen's rubies dance, though no lifeless gemstone could sparkle like her eyes did as Kwane came alive with singing. Drums beat the air like thunderclaps. A spectacular hullaballoo rent the very fiber of the village. In time with every pounding beat the two sweethearts moved in a circle around the bonfire. They had started back to back on one end and now walked slowly, barely restrained, around the entire blazing circle until they stood face to face.

Once Kucharo and Leyen were facing one another everything went still. No one dared breathe.

"I love you Yenlay," Kucharo told his beaming blonde fiancée.

"I love you Kucha," Leyen echoed with barely containable emotion. She extended a hand and gently twined her fingers with his.

Iban, who stood apart on a raised block of bogwood, grinned. In accordance with generations of tradition he began to count slowly. "One. Two. Three…"

Kucharo and Leyen responded to this by moving briskly through the crowd towards the edge of Kwane's thatching. "Seven. Eight. Nine…" By now the blonde was nearly yanking her almost-husband's arm off in her hurry to escape the mischievous glances of the villagers. They knew what was coming.

"Ten!" Iban shouted. Leyen squealed as Kwane's entire population let loose a barrage of mud balls. Thick, brown goop splattered across their clothes. Everyone partook in the ceremonial mud fight, perusing Leyen and Kucharo as they fled, giggling madly. Eventually the thoroughly muddied couple reached sanctuary; the water. It was the final required act. They dove in, muddy but beaming, and emerged glistening, clean, and officially married.

/

That night the swampy woods around Kwane belonged to Leyen and Kucharo; everyone else was forbidden to enter until dawn brought light to Quadling Country. A bed of ferns caressed the newlyweds as they tumbled into a night of bliss.

Far away the Great Gillikin Forest belonged to another couple. After two and a half wearisome days spent evading the Gale Force, Elphaba and Fiyero had finally managed to find a place of temporary safety; a place where feelings repressed for years could finally come to passionate fruition.

The prolonged happiness of both tender, precious nights would be cut short by a tornado and a flying house.

/

Leyen woke to someone calling for her. The voice was gruff with regret and worry. Such a melancholy voice didn't belong in the blonde's perfect dream. Annoyed, she snuggled deeper into Kucharo's drowsy embrace. Warm, morning sunlight and damp grass cradled them as they drifted in and out of a happy restfulness.

"Yenlay!"

Wrinkles scrunched Leyen's face. Why was Iban shouting for her? Why did he sound upset? How could anything be wrong on such a perfect morning?

It couldn't, the blonde concluded, as she let her mind drift again. Nothing's wrong.

"Yenlay, Kucharo please answer! I'm so, so sorry but…this is important! Something's happened!"

This time Leyen's eyes flew open. She jerked upright, scrambling for her discarded dress. "We're here Iban!" she shouted, unsure in which direction the quadling elder was calling from. Moments later Kucharo was awake and clothed as well. His father approached tentatively.

"What's wrong?" Leyen asked, totally bewildered. Behind her she felt Kucharo tense with realization. His arm came to wrap protectively around her torso.

"It's about your friend Nessarose," Iban explained. The regret in his tone was tangible. "Yenlay I hate to have to tell you this today…"

"What Iban?" the blonde demanded as fear closed its icy jaws around her heart. "What happened to Nessa?"

"Yenlay…" Iban reached a hand slowly towards his daughter-in-law. Leyen jerked away. Tears flooded her eyes.

"What happened?" Her voice was nothing but a whisper.

"She died."

/

There was a great crowd around the place where Nessa had been killed and Leyen wanted a private goodbye, so she waited in her deceased friend's study. An unsent letter lay on the desk, marred by several damp circles. Leyen had never been a person to numb her feelings. She let them out like the truthful, open person she was. Everything the blonde felt was bare to the world.

Except for now.

Now Leyen felt nothing but a great hollow emptiness inside her gut. There was no emotion. Nothing but nothing.

Now, as she looked over Nessa's last letter with utter composure, the good witch realized why that was. She had already felt this pain, and her heart was rebelling against the injustice of having to feel it again.

Purus had been Leyen's best friend, and her adopted little sister.

After Elphaba left the blonde had felt an increased duty to look after Nessarose and, despite the friendship and respect between the two girls, she had been like another slightly younger sister to Leyen.

And now she was dead too; stolen from the world much, much too early. Leyen knew that it was devastatingly sad, but she couldn't feel it.

The manuscript lying on Nessarose's desk was a letter to Elphaba;

My dearest sister,

I cannot express how truly sorry I am for my treatment of you. It was wrong of me to act so shamefully after you'd restored my legs. Every night I lie awake, consumed by guilt. What if I never see you again? I don't want the last words passed between us to be so hateful.

I know that I didn't say this enough at Shiz, but I love you. And, even though Father was always so convinced of it, I never blamed you for my legs. It was never your fault. But it was you who let me stand for the first time and, now that I'm not so blinded by pride, I am so, so grateful.

I'm hoping that Leyen can find a way to get this to you. I think that she may know more about your whereabouts than she tells me. That would be just like you; conspiring with my best friend to keep me safe. It's that sort of preoccupation with the welfare of others that also keeps me worrying into the late hours of the night. The life you're living is a horribly dangerous one.

I know how stubborn you are, but I hope you'll consider falling back from the front line of this fight. Not giving up, since I know you're too proud for that, but perhaps going into hiding. I know you can disappear when you want to.

Elphaba more than anything I want you to be safe. You can't keep this up forever. Please look out for yourself…for me.

Love,

Your sister Nessa