Chapter 4
Elphaba.
Glinda remembers the green girl. She remembers late nights back in their room at Shiz, she remembers times spent in the same bed because neither of them wanted to move, she remembers times spent in classes where they played with each other’s fingers. She remembers the train ride to The Emerald City.
She remembers Elphaba, and not much of anything else.
However, remembering Elphaba is not all good because after reminiscing on the good times which feel like they took place both seconds and centuries ago, she remembers betrayal. She remembers being abandoned.
And most times, Glinda would just like to forget her like she did everybody else. She doesn’t understand why her mind clutches onto Elphaba’s memory like a lifeline. Maybe she is. Because oftentimes when she wanted to give up, to give into Morrible completely, Elphaba kept her clinging to her last bits of humanity.
Glinda whimpers, curling into herself for warmth. It could be winter judging by the cold. Glinda has long since lost track of time.
Her eyes are beginning to flutter shut when the door bangs open, light streaming in. Glinda retreats into the shadows, shielding her eyes.
“Now is no time to rest, Meadowlark.” Morrible says sharply.
“I’m sorry Madame.” Glinda rushes out the apology.
“It’s no matter.” Morrible sighs. “It’s time for our training.”
“But…” Glinda trails off, flinching when she sees her mistress’s expression. We trained earlier today.
“Disobedience will be punished.” Morrible says. “Remember that.”
“I’m sorry Madame.” Glinda repeats, keeping her head down.
“Don’t let it happen again.” Morrible moves briskly past her, further into the room, leaving the door completely open. Glinda turns away from the blinding light. When was the last time she had seen that much light? She can’t remember.
Glinda tries to find her voice. She tries to give voice to her questions. But then one sharp whistle comes, and she’s in the air. Glinda doesn’t like flying, but her wings are what make her useful, they keep her alive, but they doomed her to this fate.
Always two sides to a coin.
Glinda remembers hearing the phrase from a green girl. She closes her eyes and zips through Morrible’s obstacles, and when she finally gives the command to touch the ground again, the light streaming in through the double doors has dimmed.
Glinda waits for her to either scold her or acknowledge her hard work like she usually does before leaving. Morrible opens her mouth, and Glinda braces herself.
“My dear Meadowlark,” she croons, holding out a gloved hand. Glinda surges forward, placing her chin on the outstretched leather palm. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You wouldn’t betray Oz or your friends, would you?”
…Friends?
“The Wicked Witch of the West is coming. The hunt draws near as does your prey.” Morrible continues without waiting for Glinda’s answer. Then she meets her eyes, cold and grey, like a thunderstorm. “Don’t fail me.”
***
Elphaba sighs, ducking into her temporary hideout. Something is different about the place. Elphaba tenses, her magic humming underneath her skin. A faint clicking.
Elphaba spins in the direction, hands stretched in front of her defensively.
A crow sits on the tiny window. Or maybe…
Elphaba studies the intelligent glint in his eye, the way he tilts his head. “Who are you?” Elphaba demands.
The Crow — for Elphaba is sure it cannot be just a crow — lets out a squawk before dropping a letter into Elphaba’s waiting hand. Before he flies away, he regards Elphaba with apprehension, hopping back up to the windowsill.
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Elphaba alone again.
Elphaba rips open the letter, gazing at the scrawling handwriting, heart thumping in her chest.
Something is coming, something big. Look out.
Warm Regards
F