Fiyero turned away from Candle and went back towards the lake. "Come on," he called to her.

She followed him down.

He pointed out a plant that grew in clumps here and there around the lake. "This is called sweetsalve." He pointed to another. "Hex blossom. If you would, help me gather them."

Now she was giving him the blank look.

"It's for this sting. It's giving me a fit. Trust me, they'll help," he assured her.

He pulled up some of the hex blossom by the roots and washed the dirt off. He rummaged through his bag and produced a bowl. He crushed it with his fingers and squeezed liquid from the stems. She watched for a few minutes before starting what he had asked of her. "This will clean it. Just in case there is an infection. It stings like mad, you should know, before you go using it on yourself. But that's good. It means its working," he explained.

He leaned back and poured some over the affected area. He clenched his teeth as it worked it's way in. "Yeah, that's not something you'd likely forget."

She came with a small bundle of the sweetsalve. "Wash it like I did." He pointed to his bag. "There's another bowl in there. Get it and then find a rock to smash it with. Do that until it's a paste. Won't actually take that long." He paused then added, "Don't worry. I'll put it on. No reason to make you even more uncomfortable." He glanced back up the hill. Her erstwhile attacker hadn't moved yet.

When she came back with the bowl half-full of the paste, he took it and began spreading it all over his side. The relief was immediate and complete. "Ah, that's lovely," he sighed. He took out his knife again and she flinched. He pretended not to notice her reaction. Great, now you've got her terrified of you. He used the blade to tear his old shirt into strips. He tied them together into a long band and wrapped it around his middle. He slipped a fresh shirt over his head and stood up. "They'll be sick with worry by now. Especially with you gone too. We had better go." He gave the lowlife another glance, who seemed to be still out cold. "You go first. If he comes to, he won't be sneaking up on you. I can handle him if he comes after me."

Okay, she said silently.

"Why do I have to go," Liir protested, effectively raising his voice to a whine.

Elphaba bit back a remark. "Because she will recognize me and Fiyero. Candle, in case you've failed to notice, doesn't talk much. And Yackle...well she's Yackle."

"Damn right I am. That sort of task is far beneath me." The old woman gave Liir an appraising look. "But it may be too difficult for the likes of you."

He scowled at her but Elphaba cut him off before he could respond. "Remember, Nor? Sweet, pretty little girl at Kiamo Ko?"

"I know who she is!"

Elphaba took a deep breath, restraining herself again. "Just go and ask for an audience with Glinda. Find out what she knows about the girl's whereabouts. We have to stop this aimless wandering." He continued to look reluctant so she tried a different tack. "Look, Liir, this is important to him. I know he won't rest until he finds out. Please, do this for me," she implored.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned from her and took to the Yellow Brick Road, moving out of their lives at least for now.

Here there were no well-wishers, no ecstatic admirers. Here there was no Glinda the Good wearing a glittering gown. That person had vanished the moment she entered the cemetary.

Here there was just a girl named Galinda wearing a simple frock holding a small assortment of flowers. This was the only way she could think to honor them. Coming just as herself, given that she had been the least of them, and still lived and breathed.

She walked the grounds stopping here and there, looking at the stones, searching. She came to rest in front of the one reading Nessarose Thropp. She pulled a few faint wisps of baby's breath free. How they called you Wicked, I'll never know. Was there ever another so pure and honest as you had been? She lay the baby's breath gently on the grave. She kissed her fingers and touched them to the headstone.

She moved to the grave immediatly opposite. Elphaba's. Oh, Elphaba, tell me what to do. I'm just winging it through everyday. I hardly know who I'm supposed to be. Kneeling, she touched the earth almost caressing it. She bowed her head. I never had your strength. Or your guts. Everything about me is a lie. More than the Lion am I a coward. She stayed there for a long time but there were others that needed her attention. She pulled a single white lily from the bouquet and lay the rest down. She moved on.

Galinda weaved though the aisles, careful not to step on any of the graves. Finally, she paused in front of a set of four. A family. Sarima, beloved wife and mother. Irji and Manek, dear sons. And Fiyero, devoted father. Oh Whispers...how did it get so out of hand? She sat down again, this time hugging her legs.

She wept unabashed.