OZ

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тнε Scarecrow and Dorothy walked briskly down the Yellow Brick Road; their arms entwined, their blood trailing behind them. With each step forward, grey smoke seeped through the cracks in the path, transforming the beautiful Oz into a dark and dreary place. The yellow bricks crumbled, their color fading. The sky became dark, as ominous clouds rolled in and the trees and plants along the side of the road shriveled and died.

They walked for hours, deciding to rest only when they had reached the beginning of the forest, where the apple orchard had been. Where the feisty trees once were, there were now only a few charred stumps and rotted apples. Laying down behind the stumps, Dorothy and the Scarecrow fell asleep, hidden from anyone who might walk down the road.

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The Scarecrow woke to a crow's sharp cry in the middle of the night, the full moon making it easy to see. Once he was certain that Dorothy would not wake, he stood and walked over to the crow in the middle of the road. Cawing again, the crow flew to the Scarecrow's shoulder, whispering in his ear. Two more crows appeared, handing a package to the Scarecrow before taking off. Unwrapping the package, the Scarecrow threw the paper to the wind, letting it fly away, and draped its warm contents over Dorothy.  

When she wakes up, she will have a nice surprise.

The Scarecrow smiled inside. He trusted the crows. They were his friends and had never once led him down the wrong path; following them after Dorothy left Oz six years had gotten him a brain. Well, another brain, a new one. One that was much better than the half witted one given to him by the Wizard. He had even gotten a family- brothers and a mother who loved him very much. He would always trust them.

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The sun rose and Dorothy woke with it, pushing her blankets away and stretching, the pale morning sun warming her face. 

What a horrible dream! She thought.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she called for Toto. When she did not hear his little nails clicking against the wooden floor as he ran to her, she sat up and opened her eyes wide. 

It wasn't a dream.  

Tears threatened again and Dorothy reached up to wipe them away, shocked by the state of her hands. Dried blood covered her hands and arms, the tips of her fingers a lighter red from when she had rubbed her eyes. Her clothes were covered in blood as well, from the collar of her dress to the worn tips of her shoes.