“Witch of the North.”
The Tinman tilts his head, regarding her like a field mouse. Cleo shivers. Like his axe, everything about the Tinman feelshoned. He is a capable killer, but more than that, he is a presence that cannot be ignored, much like the building energy right before a storm.
“Do you know what the girl looks like?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Another easy question.
He twirls the axe up and over his shoulder, sliding the handle into a leather sheath on his back. His metal arm moves fast, making the movement appear effortless, like the axe weighs nothing at all.
He crosses the room.
Cleo stumbles back.
He’s tall. Taller than an Ender. Much taller than her. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, a narrow nose with nostrils that flare like an arrow. Everything about him is sharp and cutting.
“Are there people who will notice you gone?” he asks.
“No.”
An easy question. An easy answer. But one that is hard to give.
She is alone. Achingly alone.
The Tinman takes two giant steps toward her, grabs hold of her jacket with the cuff of his metal hand, and yanks her out the door. “Then you’re coming with me.”
TWENTY-TWO
Dorothy
I wake to Toto’s wet nose prodding me in the face.
“Is that necessary?” I grumble and roll to my side, pulling the quilt up. He climbs over my hip and then paws at the blanket, groaning.
“It’s still dark out.”
Toto yips, then licks my face.
I open my eyes and look at him. “Why are you being so rude?”
He barks.
“Fine. I’m awake.”
He lets out a rumble deep in his chest. He probably wants to go outside so he can hunt more rabbits.
I sit up and scrub at my face and take a look around the room.
For several seconds, my mind is a jumble.
This room is unfamiliar. Where am I?
Then it all comes crashing back.
I’m in Oz in a room in the Red Wander.
And Rook, who I kissed, is in the room next to me.
