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Because deep down, I know what I want and I want it to be me.

I know what this axe is capable of and what it means to possess it and I want no other to shoulder that responsibility.

When I finally come within a few feet of the axe, everyone looks up.

Recognition makes their mouths drop open, their eyes widen. I don’t need a mirror to know my Rosemary shield has fallen away and I have stepped into myself.

The two men struggling with the axe step back.

I move forward.

My body is buzzing. My fingers shaking.

The others give me a wide berth as I stop at the axe’s hilt.

I take a deep breath.

Reach forward.

When my hands touch the dark green wood, warmth floods through me.

And when I plant my feet into the cobblestones and lift, the axe becomes mine.

Tension runs through the crowd. They’ve heard of me, but no one knows if this is a good thing. The Wizard said I was a traitor, but the Tinman called the Wizard a false idol and toppled his statue.

No one knows what to make of any of this, most of all me.

The crowd parts for me like a curtain and I make my way down the street where the people of the Hollow have lined up on either side.

I’m not sure where I’m headed until I’m free of the crowd, and then I know.

I make my way across town. People trail me, watching.

By the time I reach Basil’s cottage, there are several hundred people behind me.

I knock and wait, hoping to god he’s home.

“I’m coming. I’m coming!” he shouts and when he pulls open the door and spots the crowd behind me, he says, “Well, what’s this about?” Then he leans in and whispers, “I don’t really do much of the recreational stuff except for the Tinman. Mostly I just sell medicines for people with ailments. I don’t have enough for this entire crowd!”

“I’m not here for drugs, Basil.”

“Oh?” He straightens, eyes the crowd again, takes a step back. “For some other reason?”

I reach forward, he shrinks back.

I pull the silver chain out from beneath his shirt and let the poppy pendant hang between us.

“You said there would be people who would rally behind a legitimate heir.”

He narrows his eyes. “Yes?”

“That not everyone believed in the Wizard of Oz.”

People are whispering to one another behind us.

“Yeah,” Basil says, eyeing the crowd again. “The Wizard hasn’t fixed Oz. This dark cloud should be gone by now.”

The crowd murmurs in agreement.