A/N: Dear Lovely Readers,

It was so nice to receive all your support and hear that you are still with me! I was nervous to leave you with such a dark chapter! I know it was difficult to read as it was also difficult to write. It was fascinating to read through your various feelings about Galinda—some of you understood the horrors of her world and how her character had been shaped by them; others expected her to rise above her situation, at least when it concerned such a heinous act and considering her previous cruelty; still others found fault with Shell's naiveness. I really enjoyed all your different insights and feelings. Thanks so much for sharing them with me! This next chapter is lighter. However, there are still references to the act in the previous chapter and this chapter has its own share of violence.


She didn't remember how she got to the lake. One moment Nanny was rushing her into the servant's closet, cooing to her, removing Galinda's scarf. Tucking her bare dormant body in a plain white dress. Wrapping a wool mantle around her. Telling her to take some leave. The next moment, Elphaba was deep in the forest. The snow had come early. Each November flake fell like a sliver, a little thorn slicing her, sending lewd quivers through her. Deeper and deeper into the forest she tumbled, gathering stones yet untouched by winter and stuffing them into her dress pocket. Her feet stopped at the lakeshore. All that water. If she jumped in, the shock ought to knock her unconscious before she felt anything. She could slip away. So she slipped. The water swallowed her hips, lips, frozen gums and icicle nose. Her breath wrinkled inside her. Until unbearable pressure gave way to lightness of being. A silent peace. What an unexpected tender midwife death was. Ushering her toward light, warm, warm soothing light.

Then pain— lots of pain, up her lungs, out her nose, through her mouth. A wheezing-wooping pain and those horrible tickles up, down, and through her crevices. Strong hands and warm blankets. Her father. He had found her. He took her out of the water, to her room in Colwen Grounds. Folded her into bed. Lit the fireplace. He would always take care of her—always—except he was dead.

Where was she? She was incredibly warm, sweating even. Elphaba forced her eyes open. Walls of hickory beige surrounded her. She was in a cabin. A small one. Was she still in the Forest? Whose house was this? A stone fireplace sat across from her, an ashy log crackled at the bottom. A pot was hanging from a metal rod over the fire. Beside the fireplace was a linen-covered window, through which cool air blew and dim dusk light fell. In the middle of the room was a small wooden table with no chairs. On the walls were small shelves, holding a couple of books, wooden carvings, candles, and jars of food. At the end of the bed, by her feet, was a pile of chopped wood and beside the wood, a ladder that led to what appeared to be a narrow loft.

Elphaba lay on a low wooden bed, atop a straw mattress, covered in a bear skin blanket. She lifted the blanket. Green. Green. Green. She was completely naked. At the sight of her body, she heard a constable's laugh, felt silk cords tightening around her wrists, smelt her brother's sweat. Bile floated up and pushed her heart into her throat. She dropped the blanket, pinning it under her arms. Who had stripped her? Where were her clothes? What were they planning to do to her? Elphaba turned to look behind her and saw a wooden door, with two wooden hooks, a black military coat hung on one. A soldier stayed here. A Gillikinese solider.

The door handle jostled. Someone was coming. Elphaba surveyed the room. There was no where to hide. The door opened and she saw red. That wretched red military uniform of Sir Chuffrey, as he came through the door, carrying a dead rabbit in one hand and a crossbow in the other, stamping his feet, snow flaking off his trousers and boots. Elphaba trembled, fear closing her throat. How had he found her? Where had he taken her? What did he plan to do to her?

The High Constable set down his crossbow in the corner of the room, and turned, taking a step toward the stove when he noticed she was awake.

"Ah, so the sleeping artichoke has awoken. I suppose you're hungry after that exhausting two-day nap," he said, setting the rabbit on the table beside her.

Elphaba pressed her back against the chilly wooden wall, unable to scream.

"Well?" he asked. "Would you like something to eat?"

At her continued silence, he puffed. "Not only do you jump in my lake uninvited, and have the rudeness to nearly drown, but now you won't even speak to me. Is there no civility left in Gillikin at all?" he asked, walking to a shelf above the fireplace, and retrieving her dress which sat folded on top of her wool mantle. Apparently they had been dried and stowed away. Walking toward her, he extended his hand. At the sight of her white garment bunched in his fist, Elphaba could taste the scraps of her servant's dress, feel its hefty weight cottoning her mouth. Clutching the bearskin to her, she skirted off the bed, cowering by the ladder, shaking her head, shrieking,

"Don't touch me, you devil! Don't touch me!"

At the sound of her voice, the High Constable winced, a look of terror filling his eyes.

"You're a Munchkinlander!" he announced, looking down at his red uniform, "I-I'm not one of them. Not anymore." His fingers unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a white undershirt.

"Stop!" Elphaba yelled, hiding her face in the blanket, scrunching her eyes shut. There was no way to escape him in this place. He would hurt her. Force himself on her. Just like—just like that night. "I'm sorry," he said, "Please, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I promise, I promise. It's okay. I won't hurt you. You're safe here."

The words echoed in her mind several times, before Elphaba really heard them. The edges of his voice. They were different from Sir Chuffrey's. And, the High Constable would sooner lose a war than apologize to a Munchkinlander. She lowered the blanket past her eyes. The man had crouched down and kept his distance, eyeing her hesitantly, reaffirming her safety in a delicate voice, as if he was soothing an abused animal. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, but not the pale blue of Chuffrey's, rather a vibrant blue with greenish hues, like the color of the high seas of Munchkinland. The top of his nose curved as if it had been broken once. The bottom of his face was covered in a moss of light blonde hair.

"I'm not a solider, not anymore. But, I've nothing else to wear, except for this uniform. I didn't mean to scare you," he said, pointing to the red jacket.

"Who are you?" Elphaba asked.

"Avaric Tenmeadows," he said.

"Where are we?"

"In my cabin, in the Great Gillikin Forest—What shall I call you?" he asked, before Elphaba could fit in another question.

She eyed him up and down, not answering.

"I could stick with artichoke?" he teased.

She snorted. His lips widened into a soft crooked smile.

"Elphaba," she finally told him.

"Pleased to meet you, Elphaba."

Elphaba only nodded. He wasn't Sir Chuffrey. And, it seemed he had pulled her from the lake. But he was still a Gillikinese man in a solider's uniform and she, a naked Munchkinlander woman in his cabin.

"I'm leaving," she said.

He blinked at her abruptness, taking a moment before he nodded and looked around for her dress. It had fallen on the cabin floor, sullied with a mud streak on the side.

"Won't you stay for supper?"

"No," Elphaba said and grabbed her dress from him, still holding the bearskin to her, waiting.

Avaric stared. Certainly he didn't expect her to dress with him in the cabin. Elphaba's eyes hardened. Avaric shot up, understanding her need, and scurried from the cabin. A gust of cold air whipped around the table and rustled Elphaba's hair before Avaric shut the front door and she exhaled.

She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. Life was coarse and mean. Why would death be any different? She would have to go back. Not to Runcible Castle. Never again to Runcible Castle. But to their cabin in the woods. Her brother was sure to be there with Nessarose. The vomitous memories of that chair, their bodies pressed together, the motion of their hips, stamped out her breath. She had no words to face him, no acrimonious banter in which to neatly wrap their pain. Yet, she would return. She couldn't leave him to shoulder the responsibilities of Nessarose alone. The universe had denied her that selfishness; she would not try her luck again. She slipped on her dress and the wool mantle by the fireplace. Fully clothed, she pulled open the door and was slapped by a blast of frost. The forest had disappeared into a white haze. She could barely see Avaric who stood a couple feet away, a snowy huddled lump.

She sighed as she sat back down on Avaric's bed. He grabbed a knife from his boot to peel the rabbit. She would be stuck with the soldier until tomorrow. And, yet, as scary as that would have seemed a few minutes ago, she wasn't scared. Rather it was Avaric who seemed anxious as he stood by the fireplace preparing supper. His body fixed still as a stone column while his sentences jutted against one another, rambling, hurried, not permitting a moment of quiet. Elphaba appreciated the packed rhythm of his conversation. It kept her from falling too deep into her own thoughts.

He chatted about the forest, the animals, the potatoes and mushrooms that grew next to the lake, and she wondered just how many Munchkinlanders he had killed with his crossbow. If he had cut up their bodies as easily as he flayed their rabbit. Supper came with more talk about his family, mostly his younger brother. They had served in the Gillikinese army together. She barely listened as she gobbled down the meal. She had forgotten what real food tasted like outside of castle porridge.

"He's a most loyal friend. If you confided in him, he would never share your secret. And, no matter the gossip, he would never turn on you," Avaric said, his voice faltering into quiet. The first quietness of the whole evening.

Elphaba who had lain down on the bed and pulled the bearskin up to her chin gazed over at him. He sat against the wall, staring down at the tops of his knees that were brought to his chest.

"Where does your brother reside now?" she asked, less from curiosity than fear of the silence.

"What?" Avaric asked, looking up.

"Has your brother made a cabin for himself in the Forest as well?" she asked.

Avaric paused and then said, as if he just remembered,

"It's time for bed."

He stood up and brushed off his pants and made his way to the loft.

Elphaba raised an eyebrow. What a queer response. Had his brother been injured during the war? But, Avaric wasn't bitter, at least not toward Munchkinlanders. He carried none of the resentment that the High Constable did— that devil who had taken everything from her. She squeezed the bearskin in her hands, trying to focus on the feel of it between her fingers, reminding herself that she wasn't at Runcible Castle any longer. Neither the Constable nor that rotten Galinda could hurt her here. If only she could switch places with the Princess, even for a season. Elphaba would show that little wretch, show Galinda how it felt to be helpless, have everything torn from you, to suffer without end. Elphaba thought of the things she wanted to do to Galinda, imagining how the Princess would sound begging for mercy. She cursed Galinda until her eyelids grew heavy with sleep.

The next morning, and the morning after next, the storm howled. Elphaba stayed in Avaric's cabin. The two continued their pattern. Avaric chatting at her while cooking, and she sitting idly on his bed, occasionally flipping through the pages of his books, reading only the titles, reveling in the feel of paper between her fingers. They were old fairy tales about Gillikin. Many were about the Kumbric Witch. "When the Kumbric Witch Came to the Great Gillikin Forest." "The Kumbric Witch and the Three Wishes." "The Kumbric Witch, Fairy Godmother of the Lowly." Avaric was surprised she could read them. She was surprised that he read them.

"I didn't know Gillikinese men of your age read children's books," she said.

He puffed, and grabbed the book from her, hugging it protectively to his chest, as if she had insulted it and not him.

"It's not a child's book! They're stories of Gillikin's far past."

Elphaba cackled. Avaric peered at her from the corner of his eye.

"Fairy godmothers and forest tricksters? Even you can't believe that a history," she said.

Avaric turned up his nose.

"Their personifications of our oldest desires."

"Gillikinese desires?" Elphaba asked.

"Yes, magical parables that aim to celebrate our highest thoughts and noblest passions—"

"Is there such a thing as a noble Gillikinese desire? A desire outside of demonizing, destroying, and razing? The only Gillikinese magic I've seen is the Gillikinese ability to magically transform their history of plunder and murder into celebratory anthems of honor and strength," she said.

Avaric's chin dropped.

"But that's the difference between history and these fairy tales," he whispered. "History is putting the past acts of pillage to the sound of trumpets, dressing the murder of thousands as a necessary moral act. These fairy tales are not meant to evacuate evil of its consequences; they are intended to make us think through the consequences of our worst selves, our best desires. To help us realize that neither good intentions nor grave circumstances can absolve us. There is no path but through. We must all work out our own salvation," Avaric said.

He spoke with the quiet optimism of the triumphant.

"I don't believe in salvation," she said.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps salvation is the myth of the damned," he said, looking up, "But, I can still try, can't I? Try to be led astray into the paths of virtue. Try to help you?"

"Help me? Help me?" Elphaba asked.

"Yes, Master Avaric Tenmeadows, at your service."

"You mean Master Avaric, in my way. If you wanted to help, you would have left me in the lake."

"You'd rather I left you that way? But, why? What happened to you that you'd prefer death to living? Does it have to do with that bruise?" he asked, pointing at her cheek.

Sir Chuffrey's slap! Of course the force of it had bruised her. In that instant Elphaba felt as if all the shame of that night was written on her body. Plainly evident for Avaric-the-helpful to see.

"What happened to your brother?" she hissed.

Avaric froze, stupefied, before he wordlessly turned, grabbed his coat, and headed out into the snow.

She hadn't meant to hurt him, not really, only to silence him, to end his questions and that noble prying kindness that threatened to set her soul out to dry.

When Avaric returned a full candle mark later, his demeanor was sunny again, as if nothing happened. She knew it must have been a memory of the most painful kind. Only the worst ones required the bravest of faces. She would let their moment pass. If Avaric didn't bother her about her past, there was no reason to return to his nor Gillikin's. At least not tonight. They remained quiet until supper.

After eating, Avaric pulled out a deck of cards. The two played for several hours never talking about his brother nor her fading bruise. Instead their conversation stayed at the level of light-hearted jabs and joking. Every so often one would make a crack about the Gillikinese army. Their mutual detestation of the war became a point of kinship between them. Finally, the next morning Elphaba dressed in a pair of Avaric's old boots that were a size too big for her and stood outside Avaric's cabin to take her leave. She thanked him for his hospitality.

"Do you know how to get to where you're going?" he asked from his doorway.

"I'll be fine," she said, facing him.

He reached out and caught her wrist. She snatched back her hand, rubbing where he had touched as she scowled at him. Her stomach still cramping from the surprise.

"I didn't mean to—I just wanted to give you this." He pulled from his pocket a rectangle ivory compass. It flipped open to reveal a tiny sundial. Its style and engravings clearly Munchkinlandish. "Take it, please. I meant to return it."

Elphaba accepted it, her thumb brushing over the engraved royal seal of Munchkinland, surprised at how pleased she felt to see the familiar image. But, why did Avaric have this? Did he loot it? Steal it from a dead Munchkin? She cringed and looked up to see Avaric's soft crooked smile. She didn't want to think of him as a Gillikinese soldier, a murderer, not this man who took her in. She preferred to see him as the hermit of the woods, if only so her days with him made sense.

Leaving Avaric and following the compass, she found Nessarose's cabin in a couple of hours. She saw the back of it and remembered Pfannee's sword to Shell's throat, Sir Chuffrey's knife behind his head, the force of her brother's chest against hers. She felt frail, as if she might blow away in a gust of wind, but she didn't blow away. Her feet carried her onward. Any moment her brother would come out and greet her. She would have to respond. But with what words? Would he want to talk about that night? Would he ask about Galinda? Or would he ask how Elphaba ended up tied to that chair? If she had been tied before? If such things often happened to her in that castle? As she continued down the hill, her dread rising, she noticed a newly built shack next to the cabin, a small barn. Had Shell built this for Nessa?

Elphaba walked closer and heard talking. She peeked inside to see a spacious wooden room, with a high ceiling and a solid wooden beam across the length of it. Below the ceiling was a center walkway and a floor of hay and weeds. From the middle of the room, wooden animal pens were built on both sides. Only one of which was occupied by young goats who wore rope collars with little bells. Inside the pen, was a trough and a large wooden bucket for water. On the wall, were a couple of tools: a leather whip, shears, and some rope. Nessarose was perched on a stool by the entryway talking to Boq who was carrying a pail of water toward the pens.

"Nessa?" Elphaba hissed.

"Elphaba? Why are you here? At this hour?" Nessa asked alarmed, holding onto the stool as she looked over.

"Oh, Elphaba! Good to see you. What do you think?" Boq asked from the goat pen. "A couple of the Weavers and I built this for Nessa. They've given you a few of their goats. Now Nessa will be able to have fresh milk, cheese and meat. We've even cut some wood for Nessa as well."

"Lovely," Elphaba said in a hollow voice.

She was still waiting for her brother to pop out from one of the corners of the barn, but he didn't. He wasn't there. Elphaba berated herself for feeling relief.

"Where's Shell?" she asked.

"Shell?" Nessarose repeated. "Why would he be here? You still haven't told us why you've come."

"There's something I must tell you," Elphaba said and then looked at Boq who had his back turned to them and added, "privately."

Once Boq left and Elphaba had carried Nessa to the master suite and set her on the bed, she began to pace. She should have planned something. An explanation of some sort. But she hadn't expected to have to explain anything. She assumed Shell already had. When he left Galinda's room, she presumed he ran back here. Where was he? Was he still at the Castle? Had he left? Had he jumped into a lake of his own or perhaps off a cliff? Was there any chance Sir Chuffrey had gotten hold of him?

"Elphaba, you're making me dizzy. Will you stop prancing about and tell me what's happened?"

"I've left Runcible Castle," Elphaba blurted, standing still, her hands clinging to one another behind her back.

"What?" Nessa asked, as if she misheard.

"I left my position at the Castle. I will have to find some other way to take care of us."

"Does Shell know about this?" Nessa asked, her face whitening, her voice rising.

"I think he may have left his post as well, at least I assumed—" Elphaba said.

"How can you both be so selfish?! Do you not care about my well-being at all?! Am I to crawl on my belly for the rest of my years?" Nessa yelled, enraged. "And the Wizard's Carnival, I suppose I shall have to give that up as well?"

"Nessa, you don't under—"

"Selfish! That's all you are! What I wouldn't give to be in a castle again. And, you and Shell get to live at Mount Runcible, basking in luxury, surrounded by the finery of Gillikin, while I'm forced to eek out my days here, in this dirty little hole, without even a church to go to! How dare you decide to quit without asking me! Without one thought for me! Father would be ashamed of you! Ashamed!"

Elphaba flinched at the mention of her father, her cheeks blushing hard. Nessa had gotten that right. How very ashamed he would be. Ashamed of what she did with her brother. Of how she had...Elphaba felt tears threatening and said,

"Luckily Father isn't here then!"

Her sister gasped.

"What kind of daughter are you? You're sick, detestable, worthless—a worthless daughter! I stand in and take offense for him!" Nessarose said, spitting angry. "Go back to the Castle! You must go back! I forbid you to stay here in this cabin with me! I forbid it! Do you hear me? I forbid it!"

Elphaba needed to calm her. To tell her in an untelling way.

"Shell and I have been dismissed."

"What?"

"We didn't leave; we've been dismissed. The Princess falsely accused Shell of impropriety."

Nessa gasped.

"When I defended his character, Princess Galinda had us both dismissed."

Nessarose's hands fell twined at her chest, her eyes vacant. Elphaba wasn't sure if she was praying or seizing.

"Nessa? Nessarose?" Elphaba called. "We'll be okay. Everything will be okay," she whispered to her, aware of how trite she sounded.

"Gillikin will kill us, every last one of us. I want to go back. I want to go home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home," Nessa repeated, in a gray, feeble, faraway voice.

Elphaba tucked Nessarose into bed and sat next to her singing several lullabies until her sister finally fell asleep. She lay down for a couple more hours beside Nessa, staring at the log ceiling, before she went to their trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out a vial of oil, a piece of cloth, and an old dress of hers. It was time. She headed downstairs, putting her items in a bucket and went outside. The sun had already set. By the light of the moon, Elphaba made her way to the back of the cabin, and over a hill toward a large bent wishing tree next to a small shallow lake, its thin drooping branches hovering right above the ground and covered with narrow fine-tooth leaves.

Elphaba peeled back the branches like a curtain and went inside. She dabbed some oil on the cloth and began to unbutton her servant's dress. She hadn't cleaned herself since that night. She had been too petrified that the memories would rise through her pores. And, yet she longed to wash that vileness away, to rinse away the filth she could feel clinging to her. She took a deep breath and then raked the cloth over her shoulders, scrubbed it down her arms and under them, scoured it across her chest and abdomen. She wiped between her legs. There wasn't one bit of soreness. She hated that it hadn't been painful, loathed how aroused, how thoroughly wet she had been. How could she have no self control? How could she have let that happen to Shell? What kind of sister reacts that way to a brother's touch? Galinda wouldn't let her body resist. She had kept her wet, a damp cloth to her neck, water brushed down her arms. She made Elphaba rub against her brother like no sister should. If only Elphaba would have struggled against Shell, if only she would have held out, he would have known. Known it wasn't Galinda. If not for that wretched water, Elphaba would have stopped him from doing those things to her while she came. She dropped to her knees and began to sob into the cloth. Where was he? Would he never come back? Had she lost him forever? Damn, that Galinda! Damn, her! Damn her for making her think she had changed! She was probably laughing at her and Shell with Sir Chuffrey right now while sipping on evening brandy.

As Elphaba wept, she heard a young woman's voice say,

"There, there, my child. I have heard your cries."

Elphaba jumped, dropping her cloth. She pulled on her black-violet Munchkinlander dress, rushing with the buttons, and glanced up to see a blue white light piercing through the branches of the wishing tree. Elphaba drew back the leaves. A dazzling woman stood before her, in a long blue dress with a white collared blouse, laced together with a thin leather string. Light seemed to emanate from under her skin, making it almost translucent. Wrinkles curved down her face, her long white hair blew behind her, her eyes were a pupil-less pure black. Inside them was a deep knowing. She was a very old woman, much older than her voice sounded. Elphaba squeezed the branches in her hand, her knees shaking, her mouth dry.

"Welcome to my forest, Elphaba Thropp Third Descending," the woman said.

"How do you..." Elphaba's voice trailed off, her nerves cutting her sentence short.

"I know everyone who enters my forest."

"Your forest?"

"Yes, well surely you can guess who I am. You've read plenty at Avaric's cabin."

"Avaric?" Elphaba asked. How did this woman, no—this entity, know she had been with Avaric? Then Elphaba remembered what she read. The Kumbric Witch! Could this be her? But there were no real fairies in the forest! It had been the Weavers who did those tricks to the Gillikinese!

"Well, not all of the tricks, my dear," the woman replied.

Elphaba's eyebrow rose. She hadn't said that aloud.

"The Weavers have only been in my forest for a wee time, but we've been here much longer, longer than even the trees. We've turned frightening Gillikinese royalty into a sport," the woman said with a smirk.

Elphaba felt her heart freeze. The woman could read her mind.

"Yes, I can. And, you might as well call me by my name. It sounds a bit better than 'the woman,'" said the woman with a grin, "I'm Yackle, also known by the Gillikinese as the Kumbric Witch, Fairy Godmother of the Lowly. Fairy Godmother will do just fine."

"But, those stories were —" fables, myths, Elphaba thought.

"True. Myths have been written about us. But, that does not mean we do not exist independent of such stories," the Witch said.

Why are you here? Elphaba asked the Witch in her mind.

"I've heard your cries and I've come to grant you three wishes."

"Wishes?"

"Yes, tell me and I shall grant you whatever your heart desires."

This is nonsense, Elphaba thought. Her sadness had given way to delusions.

"Test your delusions and see," said Yackle, crossing her arms.

Elphaba pursed her lips, wishing her thoughts were private.

"Come now, tell Old Yackle what you want and I shall stop reading your mind," the glowing Witch said.

Annoyed at being pressed by an illusion, Elphaba said in a hurry, "I wish for the Princess of Gillikin to be subject to the same suffering she inflicted. I wish for my sister to walk. And, I wish for my brother to return."

"As you wish it, so it shall be," the Witch said, her skin growing bright, so bright, it hurt for Elphaba to look at her. Elphaba turned away and when she turned back, the forest was dark, even the stars were hid behind clouds. There was no sign Yackle had ever been. Elphaba shivered. Had she dreamed up a fairy godmother or had she really seen one? She needed to check on Nessa. It was just the two of them now. What if that entity meant to harm them? She rushed back to the cabin, lighting up the stairs. She opened the bedroom door and saw Nessa propped up against the pillows, her expression sour. Elphaba had never been so relieved to see that vinegar face.

"Where were you?" Nessa asked, "I've been up for quite a while and the fire has almost gone out."

"I took a walk," Elphaba said, grabbing a log from a stack by the fireplace that Boq must have chopped.

"Bring me close to it," Nessa ordered.

Elphaba turned and walked over to the bed. Nessa stretched out her hands and Elphaba hoisted her up, a hand behind her back and an arm under her knees. As you wish it, so it shall be. Elphaba heard the fairy's words in her mind. Was it possible? Could Nessarose walk? She couldn't just ask her, could she? No. Nessa would think her out of her mind. But perhaps she could just try a simple test.

"Elphaba!" Nessa gasped, clinging onto her. "What are you doing?"

Yes, dropping Nessa's legs on the floor had been a much better idea! Elphaba chided herself.

"I thought you might want to try and stand?" she said nonchalantly, holding her sister around her waist and looking down to see if her legs had changed.

Nessa glared at her, her cheeks reddening, her legs dangling.

"I will try to stand, dear sister, as soon as you try being anything other than that wretched color," she said.

"I'm sorry, Nessa. It was insensitive of me," Elphaba said and Nessa huffed as Elphaba set her down on a blanket by the fire. So had it been a delusion after all? Of course it had. There were no such things as fairies. Just like there was no such thing as justice in Oz. Galinda would never be punished. Her sister would never walk. Her brother would never return. She felt certain now. She had broken up what little family she had left. What a fool she had been! Why had she ever entered that castle at all. Why had she stayed once she found out what kind of woman Galinda truly was. If only she could take it all back. She would have taken her siblings somewhere else. Anywhere else. She lay down beside Nessa, feeling her heart crumple.

The next morning, she awoke to Nessa shaking her, asking her to bring her to see the goats. They needed to graze. After braiding her own hair and brushing Nessa's, Elphaba carried her sister down on her back to the barn. She let one of Nessa's legs go as she opened the door and then let out a shriek, almost dropping Nessa completely. She slammed the door shut. It couldn't be! It just couldn't be!

"What is it?" Nessarose called.

A woman in a pink dress was hanging in their barn, hanging by her hands that has been tied together with a rope that was hung over the high beam. The woman's feet, a couple inches above the floor, were bound at the ankles. Elphaba recognized that pink dress. Of course she recognized it. She had taken that Frottican frock on and off Galinda so many times, she even remembered the number of clasps. Could it be? Could Galinda really be hanging in their barn? Did that mean the Kumbric Witch was real?

"Elphaba? Is something wrong with the goats?" Nessa asked, trying to hoist herself higher.

Elphaba shook her head.

"Then what's the matter?"

"I might have wished the Princess here," Elphaba whispered.

"What?"

"Last night when you were asleep, I met someone in the forest."

"Who?" Nessa asked startled.

"The Kumbric Witch."

"You bargained with a witch?" Nessa asked, clearly horrified at Elphaba's sacrilegious impulses.

"I didn't bargain. I only made a few wishes so she would leave me alone."

"You conversed with a witch, and then out of everything you could have wished for — you wished to see the Gillikinese Princess who ruined us?" Nessa asked, getting upset. "How idiotically selfish of you! Yet again!"

"Don't be ridiculous! I didn't ask to see Galinda. I asked for her to be repaid for what she had done. I asked for you to walk. I..." Elphaba stopped, unable to mention her brother.

"Is that why you dropped me last night?" Nessa asked.

Elphaba nodded.

"Well it didn't work!" Nessa hissed in her ear.

"I know. I was silly to think it would."

Elphaba clenched her teeth. Galinda couldn't be in their barn. It was just a hallucination, just like her conversation with the Witch, all an illusion brought on by grief. Elphaba opened the door again, only to squawk. The blonde woman still hung by her hands with her back to them.

"Can you—" Elphaba asked.

"I can. I can see her," Nessa whispered over her shoulder. "Is it really the Princess?" "I think so," Elphaba said.

Galinda wasn't talking, nor did she appear to be hearing them. Was she dead? A chill rushed through Elphaba.

"What are those shoes doing beside her?" Nessa asked.

Elphaba looked down to see sparkling ruby red slippers on the ground several feet to the right of Galinda. Galinda was wearing her own pair of pink heels, so why was there an extra pair? Elphaba set Nessa down on the stool by the door and walked over to see a tightly wound scroll peeking out of the left slipper. She reached down, plucked it, and read it aloud:

Dearest Elphaba Thropp Third Descending,

Galinda has been delivered here, in a sleep-kept waitfulness. She has no memory of herself as the Princess of Gillikin. Instead she believes she is part of a company of petty Gillikinese thieves who robbed you. Her memories of last night are as follows: After stealing your jewels, her company fled from your cabin. She however was caught, beaten over the head, and strung up here. You have vowed to keep her here as your servant until the thieves return the stolen goods in exchange for her freedom. She has no memory beyond this night. She believes this due to the blow to her head. When you want her to awake, simply touch her, and all shall begin.
Also, these ruby red slippers are walking shoes. Put them on your sister's feet. Then have her click her heels three times. As long as they remain on her feet, her legs shall take her where she wants to go.

Yours truly,
The Fairy Godmother of the Lowly

P.S. Please do not worry about Runcible Castle. They believe the Princess has been stolen by Ugabu mages and are presently occupied traveling far north to find her.

As soon as Elphaba finished reading the letter, it crumbled into sand and slid through her fingers. Elphaba gasped.

"Look!" Nessa said and pointed toward Galinda.

The Princess' dress had changed. Her jewels, her thick gown of rich silks and cottons, her pretty pink heels, all of it had vanished. Instead, she wore only a simple pearl-white peasant's dress with large buttons down the back of it and plain brown boots.

"Give me the slippers! Quick! Put them on my feet!" Nessa said, her arms outstretched, her hands gasping for them.

"Didn't you just say we shouldn't be bargaining with a witch?" Elphaba asked, looking at the slippers.

"Since we can't change your ill choices, we might as well make the best of them."

"This may be a sort of malicious trickery. I'm not even sure if—"

"Elphaba! You've gotten everything since we've come here. Will you deny me even this—my heart's desire since I was a child?"

Elphaba sighed. There would be no persuading Nessa in this state. She walked over and picked up the shoes. They felt safe. Although she hardly knew what unsafe slippers would feel like. She bent down by her sister, placing one heel on her socked foot. It fit. When she slid the other on, the slippers glowed a deep pinkish-red. Nessa's eyes grew large. "Elphaba, I can feel them! I can feel my legs!" Her scrawny appendages stiffly turned this way and that. "Help me stand!" she commanded.

Elphaba propped her sister up. Nessa pushed her heels together, once, twice, thrice, and groaned. Her whole body wiggling as if she had a fluid spine.

"Nessa!" Elphaba called. What were the slippers doing to her? She should have never put them on her sister without testing them on herself first! She reached down, but Nessa staggered forward.

"I'm walking! Walking!" she called out, this time running in a wobble toward the far end of the barn. Elphaba rushed after her. Her sister avoided running into the door, looping back to run to the other side of the barn. Elphaba followed behind until she came right in front of Galinda. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the Princess' sleeping face. It was really her. Suddenly she remembered how that night ended.

Elphaba, you're dismissed. You're free to go.

How cavalier. Galinda had dismissed her like she had every other night. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Galinda tricked her brother into that despicable act and all she could say was, "You're dismissed." Elphaba clenched her hands, feeling her cheeks ignite with anger. Her eyes traced Galinda's full pink lips. That mouth had kissed her. Galinda's hands, a purplish red from being tied above her head, had felt her, slapped her, soaked her. This woman whom she couldn't stop cursing was a mere step away. She could do anything she liked to Galinda and for once Galinda would have to bear it.

But before she could decide what to do, Nessa tossed a pail of the goat's water at the sleeping princess.

"Oouuu!" Galinda said, her eyes fluttering open as she shook her head.

Despite her initial brave anger, Elphaba scurried behind Galinda before the blonde could spot her. She didn't know if she could look the Princess in her eyes. She felt suddenly afraid that Galinda's face would be too much to hold.

"Where am I?" the Princess asked groggily.

SMACK!

"Ouch!" the Princess yelped.

"Perhaps that will help you remember what you've done?" Nessa said. Elphaba gawked at her sister. How quickly Nessa acted the part. But, it wasn't an act for Nessa, was it? The Gillikinese had annihilated her way of life, destroyed her father, and banished her brother. Now with Galinda hanging in front of her, she finally had someone to blame.

SMACK! Nessa slapped her again.

"Please!" Galinda pleaded, trying to squirm away. "I remember. I remember! Something about your jewels. We tried to take them. But, as you can see, I don't have any jewels now."

"Yes, well, I don't have them either thanks to you, you little maggot-pie," Nessa said and rose her hand to strike Galinda again.

Galinda clenched her eyes shut and said,

"Let me go! I shall find my friends and bring your jewels back."

"Lies!" Nessa yelled and slapped Galinda's cheek again.

Elphaba shivered. Her sister standing. The Princess a peasant. In an instant, her world had turned on its head.

"Will you stop that? Honestly, slapping me won't be bring back those jewels any faster!" Galinda yelled.

"You strike me as impertinent," Nessa said.

"I have not struck you yet, Munchkinlander," Galinda said.

Nessa blanched and said,

"Raggabrash! Gillikinese whore!"

Galinda huffed.

"It's Galinda, I'll have you know. And, you should be grateful this Gillikinese is talking to your ilk at all." she said.

Nessa cackled.

"Clearly you have more hair than wit. If you wish to keep speaking to me, address me properly, commoner!"

"And if I wish to never speak to you again?" Galinda asked.

"Do not test me, Glinda."

"My name is Ga-linda," the hanging Princess said.

"Not anymore it isn't," Nessa said. "Repeat after me: My Lady, I am Glinda, dull and dreary, here to serve thee, meek and cheery."

"What makes you think I would repeat that drivel?" Galinda said.

Nessa's legs swick-swicked over to the goat's pen. She grabbed the leather whip and slick-slicked behind Galinda. The Princess turned her neck, struggling to swing around and see Nessa, but the ropes held her tight.

Elphaba caught Galinda's profile. The Princess' memories may no longer be the same, but her face was. That look of contempt. She had seen it many times. Elphaba couldn't catch her breath. She needed to get out, get away. She stumbled out of the barn, wheezing, racing into the cabin, tripping up the stairs, until she pushed open Nessa's door. She huddled in the corner of the room, trying to black out the memories. Galinda tricking her. Silently watching Sir Chuffrey tie her down. Calling her brother over in that sultry voice.

She counted her breaths, watching the sun fall to the west, until her mind turned empty and calm. It was then that Elphaba realized Nessa was still in the barn. And, it was then that she heard Galinda's blood-curdling scream. Elphaba shot from the floor and raced back outside.

"I don't believe you! Say it louder!" Elphaba could hear Nessa howl. Swack! Swack!

Nothing could have prepared Elphaba for the sight of the two women as she opened the door. The princess still hung from her hands. Around her neck was a goat collar with a bell. Her dress had been unbuttoned. Her backside exposed. Her pink bottom was welted and raw from Nessa who continued to whip it. Her left foot had a deep gash down the length of it. It looked as if Nessa was tallying the sins of Gillkin in her flesh.

"My Lady, I am Glinda, dull and dreary..." Galinda said in a hoarse voice, that told Elphaba she had repeated Nessa's ditty many times already.

"Nessarose!" Elphaba called. Galinda continued the chant oblivious of Elphaba's presence. Nessa stopped and turned. Elphaba flinched. Her sister's eyes stared at her as if she were prey, blood dripped from her fingers, red dots were scattered across her dress and face.

"Come outside, right now!" Elphaba hissed.

Nessa lurched forward, her legs still awkward and new. Elphaba closed the barn door and asked,

"Did you plan to beat her to death?"

"Did you plan to serve her tea and fruit?"

"Nessa, that's enough."

"I thought you wanted Glinda punished?"

"There's a difference between punishing and mutilating!"

"Fine. I am rather fatigued," Nessa conceded rubbing her shoulder, "Shall we keep her tied in the barn?"

"No! We will not!" Elphaba said.

"Well, I did fit a collar around her neck and slice her foot to keep her from running away. I suppose we can tie her somewhere in the cabin," Nessa said, her face thick with thought.

Elphaba could only gape. Who was this heartless plotting creature before her? She knew the Gillikinese were skilled in ruthlessness, but she could not bear to see this behavior from Nessarose. Nessa could be selfish, but never so purposefully cruel. She should have never left her alone with the Princess.

"Nessa, go and wash up. I'll take care of Galinda and make us some supper afterward." Elphaba said.

Her sister nodded, appearing somewhat grateful to pass on the chore of Glinda, but before she wobbled toward the cabin, she whispered,

"Call that whore, Glinda. We don't want anyone to suspect that we have the Princess of Gillikin under our roof."

Elphaba's mouth fell open as Nessa with stilted steps made her way toward the cabin. Her sister was right. She couldn't use the name Galinda anymore. But the ease with which Nessa schemed scared her. What kind of powerful magic was this? That could bring Galinda here like this? That could make Nessa walk? That could make her sister turn like this? Magic this powerful could never be good. There had to be a catch. What if Yackle washed Galinda's memory permanently? Or worse, what if she hadn't? If Galinda suddenly realized who she was or if anyone else recognized her, both her and her sister would be promptly executed. Did that mean they were stuck with Glinda forever? Somehow, Elphaba had imagined the Princess would be punished in the castle. Far, far away from her. She never dreamed she would have to see Galinda again. And never like this. How that witch bungled her wishes! And, her brother. Her third wish still went unanswered. Did that mean that Shell...that he had...Elphaba shook her head. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Shell was still out there somewhere. He had to be! Elphaba clenched her skirt and breathed through her nose, trying to calm herself so she could face Glinda. Counting to ten, she opened the barn door, her eyes falling on Glinda's exposed and bruised buttocks. She remembered Galinda's bruised cheek after Sir Chuffrey hit her.

"My Lady, I am Glinda, dull and dreary..."

Watching Glinda debase herself in that state Elphaba felt a stab of remorse. Damn her morals! This was what Galinda deserved. That wretch would never feel sorry. She would never change. Galinda's fluctuations in mood were but a form of trickery. Drawing dolts like Elphaba in, so she could hurt them even more acutely. Even if Galinda could feel guilt, it wouldn't change anything. She had destroyed them. Hell and hell. Galinda deserved to be stripped, beaten, humiliated! She deserved everything Nessa had done. And, yet, Elphaba could feel no pleasure in it. No special spark hearing Galinda cry out. Pain didn't arouse her. Not like it did Galinda when she got off torturing her. She wanted Galinda to pay but pay out of sight. Why was it that the thought of revenge always soothed better than the reality of it? Oh, Elphaba, what a sorry fool you are! she berated herself.

Glancing down, she saw red-stained shears near Glinda's feet. She had to clean this up. Grabbing them, she hacked into the rope that bound Galinda's hands. Shh. Chh. Kk. The rope started to break apart and Elphaba dropped the instrument. Galinda fell backward into her arms, her eyes still shut as she repeated,

"My Lady, I am Glinda, dull and dreary here to serve thee..."

"That's enough. You can stop with that, you little idiot," Elphaba whispered, looking down at her as she carried the blonde outside.

Glinda slowly opened her eyes. Her face panicking as she took in Elphaba. Had the spell wore off? Did Galinda recognize her? Elphaba's shoulders tightened as a bead of sweat ran down her neck. How would she explain this? Yet, before she could speak a word, Glinda let out a shriek, her eyes rolling back as she fainted. Elphaba snorted. For once her green skin had done her a favor. Tending to Glinda's wounds would be much easier with her passed out...or so Elphaba thought.


This chapter drew from the timeless witticisms of Oscar and William.