The Straw King (Dorothy Must Die Novella) Read Free Page B

where his stomach should be. His straw rattled just a bit but he stilled himself. The Lion, all animal instinct, turned to him.
    “Scare?”
    The crow wasn’t one of the ones the Scarecrow had known when he was tied to the post in the field, not that long ago, before he received his gift. But it was a crow all the same.
    “You owe me a favor, fleabag,” it croaked to the Lion.
    “I’ll settle that once and for all after I’m back in the Forest of the Beasts,” the Lion said silkily. “But I’m afraid I need just one more thing from you.”
    The crow snorted and ruffled its ratty feathers. The Scarecrow wondered if it would even be able to take off again. The bird was so ancient it looked as though it was next to death. It cocked its head at him and cawed in delight.
    “The King of Oz!” it exclaimed, its beady eyes meeting the Scarecrow’s. “I didn’t even recognize you, sirrah. You’ve come along way from the cornfields.” It bowed in a way that somehow managed to be sarcastic.
    “I’m not afraid of you,” the Scarecrow managed, keeping his voice even.
    The crow cackled, flapping its wings in merriment. “No, too clever for that!” it shrieked. It laughed so hard it fell over in the dust and had to struggle mightily to right itself.
    Scare narrowed his eyes at it. He wasn’t in the field anymore. He did not have to stand for this.
    “Bow before your king,” he said firmly. So firmly, that Lion glanced at him in surprise.
    The crow cocked its head to the side, as if considering another comeback.
    The Lion growled at the crow so loudly and with such wind that the crow’s feathers shook.
    The crow complied, touching its beak to the ground. When it rose, the Lion gave it instructions. And when the Scarecrow looked it in its beady eyes again, the crow looked away first.
    “You will take a message,” the Lion said wearily. “Our friend the Tin Woodman is journeying to the Emerald Palace, but he must return to the land of the Winkies for now. The palace has been overtaken by an enemy force.”
    At that, the crow looked startled. “But such a thing has never—”
    “Yes, we know ,” the Scarecrow interrupted. Seeing the crow bow for him for real had somehow energized him. He could focus again on what was important—keeping Tin safe. “If hegoes to the palace unprepared, he’ll be riddled with bullets and torn apart for scrap. You have to warn him.”
    The crow eyeballed them both, looking as though it wanted to protest, but decided against it. “Very well,” it said, flapping its wings vigorously and launching awkwardly into the air. “But I’ll never help you again!” it shrieked at the Lion, before it caught an updraft and was gone.
    The Lion looked at the Scarecrow critically.
    “That was fun, but you know there’s no bowing on the battlefield.”
    The Scarecrow looked at him for a long beat, and answered, “I know.”
    The Lion studied him, and the Scarecrow could see a wave of recognition break across his broad face. The Lion knew the Scarecrow’s history with the crows.
    “I could have picked another kind of messenger. But time is so short,” he said, his voice gruff but gentle.
    Scarecrow’s brain was expanding faster and faster every day, so much so he sometimes worried he’d outgrow his dear old friend. But in moments like this, he knew that the Lion and Tin and Dorothy would always understand him no matter what.
    The Scarecrow shook his head. “Crows are effective messengers. And like you said, time is short.”
    “Still, it’s a nasty old thing,” the Lion said under his breath. “Ruling the beasts is a real chore sometimes. They’re not like your Munchkins. They don’t sing and work the day away. They devour it. Every moment is a challenge. Anyway,” he added in anormal tone, “the message will tell him to take cover. We might be able to rally the beasts to your cause.”
    “It’s your cause, too,” the Scarecrow pointed out. “I’m supposed to be your