Chapter 17
Glinda and Elphaba run blindly through the trees. The snowfall has turned into an all-out storm. The sky is a solid dark grey, and even through the snow Glinda sees flashes of light in the distance, like cameras going off. The wind picks up, too, grabbing her hair and clothes and biting her cheeks. She can barely see Elphaba a few feet away from her.
They keep running anyway.
Avaric is behind them—they heard him shouting when the hovercraft lowered to pick up Shenshen—but Glinda doesn’t look back to see how close he is. Not that she can see through the storm anyway. Avaric could be ten feet in front of them and they wouldn’t know until it was too late. They can’t hear much, either. The wind howling through the trees around them sounds like running footsteps, or the growl of a mountain lion, or whatever other terrors the Gamemakers could be sending out.
Glinda’s side burns. She keeps a hand on it as she runs, pressing into the warmth that is seeping through her clothes. She wonders, briefly, if Elphaba knows a spell that can help her, but she’s not sure there’s a point.
The sky flashes again, bright enough to leave Glinda blinking away spots, but no thunder accompanies it. Maybe it’s some strange trick of the Gamemakers, or maybe the sound is muffled by the snow falling thick around them. There’s more than enough on the ground now to leave tracks. Even in this weather, they won’t be able to lose Avaric.
“We can’t run forever,” she tells Elphaba, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.
“You got a better plan?”
She turns her head to scowl at her, but Elphaba catches her eye and flashes a grin, and for a split second everything bad disappears. They drift closer and keep running.
Glinda is exhausted. Her lungs and her throat burn, her cheeks feel frozen, every bone and muscle shakes and feels like it’s about to give out. The wind pushes against them, slowing them down, and despite Elphaba’s smirk Glinda knows that she’s right. They can’t go on forever.
They don’t even get the chance.
The wind slows, shifts direction, and through the briefest break in the snow Glinda catches a glimpse of the tracks ahead of them, scattered in front of the remains of a fallen tree. She grabs Elphaba’s wrist and turns sharply, causing both of them to stumble.
“The tracks,” she pants, tugging Elphaba along. “Not that way. Come on.”
They’ve slowed enough that they can get a good look at each other. Elphaba’s eyes widen as she looks her up and down.
“Glinda, your side—”
“It’s fine.”
“But—”
“It’s fine, Elphie. Now come on! We need to—”
They hear the growling, then Avaric’s cry of triumph. Automatically, they step together to stand side by side, and Glinda realizes—again—that she’s unnarmed. Idiot, she curses herself. She should have grabbed a weapon from Shenshen’s body. Even the axe would be better than nothing. How could she make such a stupid, amateur mistake?
Avaric appears first, jaw set and eyes hard. For a moment he just glares at them, breathing hard. Glinda narrows her eyes, trying to see where her dagger hit him, if it did. It’s hard to tell with the snow swirling around them, but his jacket is stained and clinging to his waist on one side. Her own wound flares up as if in sympathy.
He draws his sword. Elphaba raises her hands, summoning that familiar hum of energy. Glinda crouches slowly and sweeps her hand across the snow, her fingers finding and wrapping around one of the thicker sticks that litter the ground.
Avaric runs forward before she can stand up again. Glinda tenses, breathing deeply. She waits until he gets close enough, then dives at him, wrapping her arms around his knees and knocking him to the ground.
He falls half on top of her, his sword falling into the snow with a soft thump. The cold starts to seep in through her clothes, and she automatically curls in on herself, cradling her side. Her head throbs and she holds perfectly still as Avaric rolls off of her. More growling sounds behind them, and Glinda grits her teeth and forces herself to climb to her hands and knees.
She looks over her shoulder just in time to see Elphaba spinning around and thrusting her arms out at the mountain lion leaping toward her. She manages to knock it back, but the strength of the spell forces her down and she lands hard on her back, wheezing. The mountain lion shakes itself off and turns toward her again.
“Elphie!” Glinda shouts. She grabs her stick and tosses it at the green girl. Elphaba’s jaw sets as she catches it, but instead of swinging out she hovers her hand over the end, her brow furrowing. The cat stalks closer.
Glinda scrambles to her feet, ready to tackle it if she has to, but Avaric is getting up again. He grabs her jacket and yanks her back to the ground. Glinda turns on him with a snarl, even as she hears Elphaba crying out behind her, and punches him hard in the jaw. Avaric loses his grip and she turns back to Elphaba, terrified of what she’s going to see.
But Elphaba is still standing, the stick in her hand now fully ablaze. The mountain lion has fallen back, watching the fire with its head low and hackles raised.
Avaric grunts behind her, and Glinda reluctantly turns back to him. He’s on his hands and knees, reaching for his sword. Glinda rushes forward, but he beats her there. He grabs the hilt and swings wildly, forcing her back.
“Stay back!” she hears Elphaba yell.
She looks over as the mountain lion attempts to circle around Elphaba, its gaze set on Glinda and Avaric, but the green girl steps in its way and swings her branch, driving it back again. Glinda turns to Avaric just as he’s rising to his feet. She dives as he swings at her again and rolls closer. Rising on her knees, she grabs his jacket to pull him toward her and slams her fist into the wound at his side.
Avaric screams out a curse, and Glinda takes advantage of his distraction by grabbing his wrist and prying the sword from his fingers.
“Look out!”
The mountain lion has made it past Elphaba. Glinda rises to her knees and raises the sword just in time. It leaps at her, landing on the blade and knocking her to the ground. Elphaba screams her name, but Glinda’s breath has vanished and she can’t respond. She lies there, wheezing, beneath the body. Spots dance in her vision and all of her senses seem focused on the pain that has exploded at the back of her head.
The body above her shifts and rolls to the side, and then Elphaba’s there, helping her up. Glinda tries to rise to her feet, but the world tilts and she collapses back on her knees.
“Just give me a second,” she breathes. Elphaba touches the back of her head lightly, then stands up and faces Avaric. He’s limping and clutching at his side, but he pulls his sword out of the cat’s body and points it at them. Elphaba raises her burning branch and tugs on Glinda’s jacket with her free hand, urging her up to wobble and lean against her. For a long moment, the three of them just stand there, waiting for the next move to be made.
Between them, the mountain lion stirs.
Avaric jumps back and gapes as the cat rolls slowly to its side and gets its paws beneath it. Elphaba pushes Glinda behind her and holds the branch out in front of them. They back away as fast as they dare. The mountain lion rises to its feet and turns its head toward them. Elphaba’s grip on the branch shifts nervously. The flame seems to grow brighter, even in the swirling snow.
Slowly, the mountain lion looks away from them. It focuses instead on a wide-eyed Avaric, who shakily lifts his sword. He swallows and glances up at Glinda and Elphaba, fear and fury mixing across his face.
The mountain lion lunges forward, snarling and swinging a heavy paw at Avaric. Glinda grabs Elphaba’s hand and pulls, and then they’re running again.
Glinda’s ears strain to hear the sound of a cannon but, for better or worse, it never comes. Elphaba drops her branch as soon as they can’t hear Avaric or the mountain lion anymore. The fire goes out immediately, and what little light and warmth it provided disappears.
They keep running until Glinda can’t feel anything. She moves automatically, her legs and arms numb, her breathing scraping in and out, every throbbing heartbeat centered on the pain in her side and her head.
Eventually, Elphaba must feel Glinda shaking beside her, because she slows down and starts looking around them.
“This way,” she breathes. Glinda holds her arm at her side and leans heavily on her. Elphaba leads them to a rocky little overhang that’s just big enough to keep out the worst of the storm. She sets Glinda down carefully against the rock.
“How bad is it?” she asks, nodding at Glinda’s side.
“I think it stopped bleeding.”
“Let me see.” Gently, Elphaba moves Glinda’s arm away. Her fingers flutter around the wound, peeling back her torn clothes and inspecting the cut.
“It’s not like we can do anything,” Glinda breathes. She tilts her head back against the rock and closes her eyes. “My head hurts worse, anyway.”
“You should stop getting in fights, then,” Elphaba mutters. Glinda opens her eyes and meets her gaze. She can’t help it. She lets out a tiny giggle.
“Right. I’ll try to remember that.”
Elphaba cups her cheek, then leans up and kisses her lightly. “We should eat,” she whispers.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Who knows how long before we need to move again? We should eat now, before something else happens.”
Glinda’s stomach twists at the thought. “I don’t think I can.”
“We haven’t since morning. We need—”
“Need what, Elphie?” Glinda sighs and softens her voice. “Is there even a point?” Her eyes sting and she brushes at them angrily. Elphaba tilts her head up and meets her gaze.
“Please?” she asks. “Just…indulge me, okay?”
Glinda bites her lip. “Okay.” She cups the back of Elphaba’s neck and draws her closer, bringing their lips together again.
Elphaba pulls back after a moment, panting slightly. “Food,” she says firmly, but then Glinda pouts and she leans forward again.
“Don’t,” Glinda breathes when they eventually break apart. Elphaba tries to scoot back, reaching for her bag of food, but Glinda clutches at her shoulders, keeping her close. “Please, just stay here.”
“But—”
“Elphie.”
Elphaba studies her for a long moment. It’s obvious that she wants to protest. She wants to pull out the food and pass the water bottle back and forth and act like it’s any other day, like they still have time. But Glinda just wants Elphaba to hold her.
Elphaba sighs. “Okay,” she says, pulling Glinda closer. “Okay.”
She shrugs the pack of food off and sets it to the side, then pulls the blanket from where it’s tucked around Glinda’s belt and wraps it around them. Glinda lets out a breath and leans further into her, letting the blanket and their body heat warm her. She wants to fall asleep in Elphaba’s arms, but her thoughts are racing too fast to allow her to even shut her eyes. She breathes deeply and tries to force her mind to settle. The snow swirls and falls violently around them. Lightning flashes in the sky, moving closer by the looks of it. It makes their tiny space seem so calm.
It’s unnerving.
Glinda’s side hurts, her head throbs, her lungs burn. Her heart is still racing and she feels like she should still be running. She knows that they’re denying something, acting as if this isn’t possibly the last few moments they spend together. Glinda shudders. Her mind instantly rebels against that idea, reaching desperately for some sort of plan, some form of escape—anything that could give them more options. She holds Elphaba tighter and bites back a whimper.
“I’m right here.” Elphaba runs a hand through her hair. “What’s wrong?”
“This,” Glinda whispers. Elphaba’s grip on her tightens. “I’m not trying to leave,” she says quickly. “It’s just…this feel wrong. We should be fighting, or running, or…” Glinda’s eyes widen a little. “Oz, what if we ran right now? We might be able to—if they’re focused on Avaric and Fiyero, we can—”
“Glinda?”
“I know there are force fields around the arena, but what if we made it to the edge?” Her voice shakes and she talks faster, the words tumbling frantically out of her mouth. “All we have to do is survive until—”
“Glinda—”
“They can’t make us do anything. If it’s just the two of us left, they can’t make us—”
“They’ll kill us.”
“You don’t know that!” She twists out from Elphaba’s embrace and tries to stand up, but the cut in her side screams in protest, forcing her back to her knees. Glinda winces and presses her hand to it. “We’ve survived this much. We can survive this. We can run now, we can—”
“Glinda, stop.” Elphaba takes her free hand and holds it tight between her own. Glinda looks up and falls still in her gaze.
“No.” Her voice breaks and she sways, but Elphaba hugs her close before the rest of her gives out. “No.”
“It’s okay,” Elphaba whispers, stroking her hair. “We’ve known all along that time isn’t on our side. We can’t change that now.”
Glinda swallows a cry and buries her face into Elphaba’s chest. “How are you not afraid?”
“Are you kidding?” Elphaba lets out a shaky laugh. “I’m terrified. But you’re the one who always said that this time is ours, no matter how short it is. I don’t regret anything. Do you?” She places her fingers beneath Glinda’s chin and lifts her head up so their eyes meet. “Do you?” she asks again, almost too soft to hear.
Glinda shakes her head. “No. Not with you.”
Elphaba leans forward and presses their foreheads together. They sit there, huddled together beneath their blanket, breathing each other’s air.
Glinda tries to imagine what they look like right now—not to the Emerald City, but to her family. To Ama Clutch. She’s filthy, bleeding and covered in mud, her hair a tangled mess. No doubt she’s lost weight, and the bags under her eyes must be horrifying. She left Pertha Hills confident and beautiful and strong, and now here she is, wounded and shivering in the middle of a snowstorm.
But she doesn’t feel weak or ugly. Not in Elphaba’s arms. And if there is anyone who can see that, it’s Ama Clutch. Glinda thinks back to their last conversation. She had been so sure that she was going to win, and now she doesn’t even want to. She understands what Ama was trying to tell her now. She wishes they could have had a proper goodbye.
Still, she doesn’t regret volunteering. Glinda gazes out at the storm, wondering if there are cameras on them right now, and if Ama is watching her, if she understands. If she’s proud.
“What happens now?” Glinda asks after a while. Elphaba doesn’t say anything, but she grabs her hand and tangles their fingers together, and that’s answer enough.
Thunder crashes in the distance. Glinda jumps and leans back a little. The sound continues, rumbling and echoing on all sides. The ground beneath them trembles.
Glinda turns in Elphaba’s arms and peers out into the storm. They can’t see anything—not even the flashes of lightning.
“That doesn’t sound like thunder,” Elphaba says slowly.
“No. I think it’s rockslides. A lot of them, all around the valley.” Glinda leans further into Elphaba. “But…why?”
“They’re closing us in,” Elphaba guesses. “They want us all in one place for the end.”
Almost as she says it, the wind picks up and the snow starts falling thicker. Glinda swallows hard.
“You think we should get moving again?” she asks in a whisper.
Something growls nearby. It’s faint enough that it could just be the wind, but both girls are on their feet in an instant. Elphaba nods and they take off running, leaving the blanket and all the rest of their supplies without a second thought.
They run without knowing what direction they’re going in, although she could easily venture a guess. The snow crunches beneath their boots, and Glinda swears it’s getting louder the further they go.
She thinks something shifts in front of them. Glinda narrows her eyes, trying to see better through the thick snowfall, but everything blurs together in the storm. Still, the hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she digs her feet into the snow, pulling Elphaba to a stop with her.
The mountain lion growls just before it leaps at them. Apparently that’s enough warning for Elphaba, because she jumps in front of Glinda and shoves her arms out with a cry. Flames shoot out of her palms, brighter and hotter than even that day in the training room, so long ago. They hear a sort of yelp and a hiss, and Glinda thinks she sees the cat retreat a little.
Another growl sounds behind them. Glinda spins around, but she’s all but useless. She grabs a stone from the ground and holds it up, ready to throw. She’s shaking again, feeling weak and panicky at Elphaba’s side.
Elphaba, though—Elphaba is no such thing. She turns to face the new threat and raises her arm, casting more flames. Her brow is furrowed and her teeth are bared slightly. She looks powerful, fierce, unstoppable.
A third mountain lions jumps down from above, dodging the flames and landing behind Elphaba. Glinda ducks around her and throws the stone, hitting it soundly on the jaw. It stumbles and shakes its head, and Glinda grabs Elphaba and starts backing away from the creatures now closing in on them. Elphaba aims for the ground, starting little bursts of fire that keep the mountain lions back long enough for them to get some distance. Glinda grabs more stones from the ground, throwing them whenever one braves the flames long enough to get close.
It’s not enough. Elphaba throws one of them back with a burst of energy, but her shoulders are starting to sag. Her face is turning grey and the fires she cast begin to flicker out. She sways a little and Glinda stops them, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up. She throws the last of her stones at the closest mountain lion, but it hits at the shoulder and bounces off harmlessly.
Elphaba is completely drained. Glinda can feel her leaning heavily on her, breathing against her hair. She swallows hard and holds her close, waiting for one of the mountain lions to make that last move.
It never comes. The creature closest to them stops. It stares at them for a moment, and for the first time Glinda can see how much intelligence fills its eyes.
It turns and leaves, the other two quickly following suit.
Elphaba turns in her arms, looking behind them. “Glinda,” she breathes. “We’re at the Cornucopia.”
Glinda closes her eyes. Of course they are. That’s why the mountain lions left. Their job is done. Now it’s all up to the remaining tributes. She opens her eyes and follows Elphaba’s gaze. They’re standing at the edge of the forest, just outside the snowy clearing. She hears a shout on the wind—it could be Avaric or Fiyero, it could be pain or triumph, she doesn’t know. There’s no cannon.
Everyone is close. This really is it. Glinda tilts her head up. She thinks that maybe, somehow, just for a moment, the wind and snow will vanish and the sky will clear and she’ll be able to see the brilliant, dancing colors one more time.
But when she looks up, there is nothing. Of course there’s nothing.
“Glinda.”
She doesn’t turn toward Elphaba. She can’t.
The storm continues around them, and any minute now Avaric or Fiyero will find them. Once again, Glinda’s thoughts rebel against her, searching desperately for a way out. Maybe they can run away from the Cornucopia without being caught, and maybe they can fight past the mountain lions, and maybe they can make it through the remnants of the rockslides, and maybe, somehow, Elphaba can use magic to get past the force field, and maybe—
But it’s all useless. She’s wounded and Elphaba is exhausted. Even if they manage to make it out of the arena, they have no food or blanket or weapons. They don’t even know where in Oz they are.
Her fingers dig into Elphaba’s jacket. They’re at the Cornucopia. If Glinda can find a weapon—if she can grit her teeth through the pain in her head and her side and keep fighting—maybe she can protect her. She can make sure that Elphaba survives, that she’s the one who goes home safely.
“Glinda.”
She finally looks at Elphaba, meeting her soft gaze. Don’t leave me, Elphaba had said—and suddenly, with a fierce, painful certainty, Glinda knows that she can’t. She doesn’t want to. Not in this moment, or the next, or ever. And as she searches Elphaba’s face, she knows the feeling is mutual. It always has been.
Glinda wraps her arms around Elphaba and leans up on her toes, bringing their lips together, and her raging thoughts are finally silenced.
It’s not a deep kiss. It’s chaste and sweet and lasts only a second before Glinda pulls away and tucks her face into the crook of Elphaba’s neck. She squeezes her eyes shut and doesn’t care—barely even notices—when the tears start to fall.
They hold each other close, and for the first time all night, Glinda stops shivering. She and Elphaba fall still, silent, comfortable enough that, for just one moment, the rest of Oz fades away.