My brown leather boots were made for working in the fields, not for a long hike.
The shoes are soft and supple in my hands, the soles thick and cushioned.
I could try them on, I suppose. See if they fit.
At the kitchen table, I turn over one of the wooden chairs and perch on the edge of the seat, unlacing my left boot. I decide to keep the socks on just in case it gets cold in Oz.
Setting the slipper on the floor, I slide my foot inside.
That same warmth rushes up my calf, up my thigh, then floods my entire body.
I suck in a startled breath and let the warmth settle into my veins.
The sensation is not unlike the pleasure I feel when I’m with Edward in the haylofts.
Every bone, every joint is loose, all the aches and pains gone.
I remove the other boot and put on the second slipper, then do a test walk around the house.
“Oh god, these are divine.” They’re so much more comfortable than the boots. I’ve never owned shoes like these. We’ve never had money for such frivolous things.
“I think I could walk a hundred miles in these, Toto, and never get tired.”
With his front paws on the arm of Henry’s chair, he wags his tail back and forth, tongue hanging out of his mouth. The hair is back in his eyes. He needs a trim. I keep putting it off. Maybe once we’re home…
“Are you ready for a journey?”
He barks.
I look down at my bloody nightgown. “Right. If I’m to meet a great and powerful wizard, I shouldn’t look like I just murdered someone even though I did. I’ll go change.”
Back in my bedroom, I find my blue-and-white-checkered dress hanging on the hook beside the door. I quickly yank off the nightgown and toss it on the floor, then slip into the dress. It’s my nicest dress, one made by Aunt Em’s own hands.
In the front room, I give Toto a spin. “Better? Do I look presentable? Less like a witch-killer and more like a girl just hoping to find her way home?” He yips in agreement. I scoop up the basket. “Let’s go then. Off to see a wizard, I guess.”
NINE
Cleo
Cleo can’t sit still in the empty halls of Delphine’s castle.
Does she even know what stillness is? Or rest?
It feels wrong on her skin, like a film she wants to peel off.
For most of her life, she has had things to do and someone to demand she do them.
Now, absent things to do and someone to tell her to do them, there is nothing but this…
the quiet…
the wandering…
the uneasiness.
Energy vibrates up her throat.
Cleo turns the corner down a hallway.
