If
you’ve read the prequel No Place Like Oz, then you know the Tin Woodsman
has more than a little crush on Dorothy. It only gets more intense in Dorothy
Must Die.
Dearest Dorothy—
I am not a man of words like the
Scarecrow. But this heart that I have because of you still does not know
restraint. I write this to you as I sit across from you in the Emerald Castle.
You think I am writing down your wishes. But I am writing my own.
You want me to find this new girl
from the Other Place who landed here in her Tin House. Something about her
scares you. Perhaps you fear that she may be a little like you used to be.
Perhaps you fear that one day she might be as powerful as you. But no matter, I
will deliver her to you in one piece or in pieces. Because it is what you wish.
I think you know how I feel. But you
do not say it and I do not say it. It is a kindness that you do not reject me
openly. And you are not often as kind as you used to be.
I remember what you looked like that
day—the day you saved me. You wore your hair pigtails and that simple blue and
white dress and a smile that seemed to be filled with sunshine and something
else, something from The Other Place. Something that echoed in the hollow of my
chest, where nothing had echoed before.
I don’t know how long I stood in
that road ax in hand—stuck and powerless. With an oil can and a smile, you gave
me power and agency and hope. You showed me my strength and my heart. I was not
supposed to be able to feel what I feel. But when I saw your smile, that
cloud-parting smile, and you grabbed my hand to get me moving again, I knew I
had never met your likeness nor would I ever again.
You made me see that we were all
stuck once. Me, beside the Yellow Brick Road. Scarecrow on his post. The Lion,
hiding out from his pride. And you, in The Other Place. But you saved us all
and together we saved Oz. So why shouldn’t you have what you want when you want
it. Why should I not do all in my power to give it to you?
Sometimes, I miss that simple dress
and that simple girl who greeted every challenge on the road with courage and
wonder. You called it “pluck.” You said many people had it in The Other Place.
But I had never seen it before or since in anyone but you. Not in the soldiers
of my army, not in the witches or the Munchkins. Your pluck trumps them all.
And it slays me.
I know the distance between my heart
and yours seems far. But life in Oz is so very long. I believe that your heart
will change. I have seen you change before. I wait for that, for you.
I was doubtful when we started down
this path—when you started to take more than you gave. But I see what no one
else sees—what only a true friend can see. Through it all you have been
faithful to me, the Lion, and the Scarecrow. We change but we do not part.
We remain on the road together. And
maybe, just maybe one day you’ll take my hand again.
With all My Heart,
Nick, The Tin Woodsman
