WARNING: Any commission artists, or scammers posing as such, who solicit me for work will immediately be blocked from communicating with me. I have had bad experiences with such people who wouldn't take no for an answer. Also, I can't afford to pay for custom artwork, and my following isn't really big enough for the extra exposure to be worth your while anyway.
Rating: PG (just to be safe)
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, except when they are. The settings and locations are not mine, except when they are. The plots, conflicts, and resolutions 'are' mine, except when they're not.
Reviews/Feedback: 'Constructive' criticism is always welcome. Any suggestions you may have on how to make my story better will be greatly appreciated.
Fiyero kept a steady watch throughout the night, his scarecrow body having no need for sleep. Elphaba, on the other hand, had been exhausted after their long trek towards the western border of Oz. Though they hadn't yet reached the border, Fiyero had seen that Elphaba was on the verge of collapse and had insisted that she rest. They'd spent the night sheltered by a group of boulders, Fiyero promising to wake Elphaba at any sign of danger. But he'd seen nothing alarming or threatening in the night, and when the first rays of dawn began to lighten the sky he observed how the navy-black color of night made way for shades of lavender and pink.
Fiyero had never taken much notice of sunrises before. In his past life, he hadn't really been the type to rise from his bed early enough to witness them. But as he lay there, taking in the sunrise with Elphaba snuggled close against him, her head pillowed on his chest, he couldn't help feeling more privileged than he'd ever felt before, even in his former life as a prince. He was tempted to wake Elphaba, to share the grandeur of the sunrise with her, but instead he decided to let her sleep a little longer. They would have to be on the move soon enough, and she would need her rest.
Just then, a shudder of movement by some scraggly looking trees, which had somehow managed to grow despite the rocky soil, caught Fiyero's attention. Before he could react, a young red fox stepped out from a scant cluster of brush, eyeing Fiyero with what appeared to be a quizzical expression. Fiyero gently squeezed Elphaba's shoulder and spoke her name close to her ear to wake her. Elphaba's eyes opened, and a slight smile touched her lips at finding Fiyero so close by. But as she started to sit up, Fiyero's straw-filled arms tightened around her.
"Easy, we don't want to startle him, or her," Fiyero said, giving a small nod in the fox kit's direction.
He then began speaking directly to the young kit, doing his best to keep his tone low and non-threatening. He didn't really expect the animal to understand what he was saying. But he hoped the sound of his gently prattling voice would soothe the kit and keep it calm. The last thing he wanted was to frighten the young fox into attacking them. Fiyero knew all too well from the Wizard's experiments with cages that even sensible animals could be outright vicious when they were frightened.
"How do you do?" Fiyero said. "A fine day for a walk, isn't it? Would it be alright if we both stood up? We've been lying here on the ground all night and need to stretch our legs. Don't worry, we wouldn't hurt a little thing like you. I'm only straw and fabric after all."
Fiyero attempted to slowly rise to his feet while keeping his gaze focused on the kit. However, with so much of his attention centered on the young animal, Fiyero wasn't concentrating quite hard enough on his balance, which had been altered when flesh and bone were replaced by cloth and straw. Elphaba reached out to try and steady him as he wobbled on his feet, but he very nearly sent her sprawling when he instinctively thrust his arms out to the sides to avoid toppling over. He did manage to regain his footing, but just barely avoided several pratfalls in the process. Without a doubt, his movements looked comical. Yet, he and Elphaba were completely unprepared to hear what sounded suspiciously like a giggle coming from the young fox.
"You can speak?" Elphaba asked.
The fox kit suddenly became very quiet and still, its body tense.
"It's alright," Elphaba tried to reassure it. "We won't hurt you. You can speak if you want to."
"But you don't have to speak if you 'don't' want to," Fiyero chimed in. "Some people do far too much talking, especially the ones without brains who don't know what they're talking about. I can see why you wouldn't want to talk to a scarecrow with nothing but straw in his head."
Fiyero tapped his hat brim for emphasis with an exaggerated gesture, causing the kit to giggle again. It seemed that Fiyero's tactic of putting the young fox at ease by playing the brainless fool was working.
Seeing an opportunity to safely make their way past the animal, Fiyero took Elphaba's hand and said, "Well, it was nice meeting you. But it's time for us to be moving along now."
He gave a slight bow to the fox kit, prompting another giggle, and was about to continue on with Elphaba when a panicked cry pierced the air.
"Flamma! Flamma where are you?"
Elphaba's thoughts began racing. It was painfully clear that the owner of the voice was frantically looking for someone who was missing, someone very dear to them. Would Elphaba be blamed for the disappearance if she were seen here? Would the young fox kit somehow be blamed, as talking animals had been wrongfully blamed for other misfortunes in Oz. Would the poor kit suffer simply for being found in close company with the Wicked Witch Of The West?
Then, Elphaba noticed that the young kit's ears had perked up at hearing the voice. Before she or Fiyero could react, a second, larger red fox ran out from behind the small screen of brush that the fox kit had previously emerged from. Fiyero felt like kicking himself for not stopping to think that where there was so young a kit, there was very likely a parent fox not far away.
"Flamma, my sweet boy, there you are," the adult fox said, relief clear in her voice.
"Mama!" the fox kit shouted happily.
The mother fox froze.
"You can speak again?" she asked in shocked disbelief.
But her disbelief was quickly replaced by another, far happier emotion.
"Flamma, you can speak again, my sweet boy!" she cried with joy.
Then the wind shifted, and her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of human. The mother fox turned sharply, giving a warning growl to Elphaba and Fiyero.
"It's alright, Ma'am," Fiyero said, trying to draw the mother fox's attention onto himself rather than Elphaba, as they both remained perfectly still. "We're not a threat to you or your son. I'm not much of a threat to anyone. I'm only cloth and straw."
But the mother fox's gaze quickly turned from Fiyero to Elphaba as the source of the human smell that had alarmed her. However, once she got a good look at Elphaba's green skin her mouth dropped open in shock.
"You're the witch, the Wicked Witch Of The West," she said in an awed tone.
Elphaba winced, and Fiyero squeezed her hand in silent support before opening his mouth to speak favorably on Elphaba's behalf. Yet, the mother fox was staring up at Elphaba not with hostility, but with wonder.
"You…gave my son back his voice?" she questioned before another word could be said.
Elphaba hesitated. Despite the fact that the mother fox could still turn on them if she believed the Wicked Witch and her scarecrow companion were a threat to her young son, Elphaba was reluctant to take credit for something that wasn't her doing. Fiyero, as if he realized her internal conflict and what motivated it, spoke.
"We let him know it was safe to speak to us," he said by way of an explanation. Then he added, "Part of the reason the Wizard told everyone the Witch Of The West was wicked was because she fought against the caging of talking animals."
Both Flamma and his mother shuddered at the mention of caging, the young kit tucking in his paws to make himself as small as possible.
His mother nuzzled him, murmuring, "It's alright. It's over now. Mama's here."
She then looked back at Elphaba and Fiyero.
"Humans captured my son and took him away," the mother fox explained. "They locked him in a cage. They wanted to chase him for sport. By the time I found him, he'd lost the ability to speak."
Elphaba could hear the pain in the mother fox's voice. And in that moment, she wasn't listening to a talking fox. She was listening to a mother whose child had been taken away, a mother who had stopped at nothing to find him and bring him home, only to discover that it was too late, and the damage had already been done.
"I can't even imagine," Elphaba said. "That must have been horrible, for both of you."
Fiyero nodded in agreement, then said, "But you have him back now. And he seems strong for his age. I'm sure he'll be alright, now that he's with you where he belongs."
"Thank you," the mother fox said, her voice heavy with gratitude, as if she still believed that Elphaba and Fiyero had somehow returned her son's voice.
She then glanced nervously behind her, over her shoulder.
"Flamma and I should be on our way," she said hesitantly, as if she feared offending the witch who had healed her son by seeming ungrateful.
"We need to get a move on ourselves," Fiyero said in a friendly tone. "At least it's good weather for walking."
"Have a safe journey," Elphaba added, hoping her good wishes would ease any remaining fears the mother fox had about the Witch Of The West.
Fiyero gave them an exaggerated wave goodbye, a gesture Elphaba was sure was done solely to make Flamma giggle again. In that respect, Fiyero wasn't disappointed.
"Goodbye straw man, goodbye green lady," Flamma called as he and his mother headed northwest, likely towards the river.
Elphaba felt some measure of lightness settle into her chest as she watched Flamma and his mother go. Despite the odds that had been stacked against them, mother and child were together again, and were on the path to a better life. Even with the many obstacles they would no doubt face in the future, Elphaba couldn't help feeling hopeful for them. As she voiced her thoughts aloud, Elphaba noticed that Fiyero was staring at her with a tender expression.
"What?" she asked.
With warmth in his tone Fiyero said, "Flamma's back with his mother where he belongs. And I'm finally back where I belong, with you."
He squeezed Elphaba's hand again, the gentle pressure like a lifeline, a grounding force that made it all worthwhile.