Chapter Text
The sun rose into another day, alighting the rows of corn with a warm glow. As the navy of the sky broke and made way for oranges and yellows the dew among the leaves glimmered like diamonds.
The Yellow Brick Road, which was the only thing separating the expanding corn fields of Munchkinland, shone like it was made of gold. Not too far past the fields the road split, one way going left and one way going right.
Among the corn and overwatching the scene was an ever present guardian on its pole, blending in among the foliage, a simple Scarecrow.
The Scarecrow was tall, far taller than the Munchkins that grew the crops it protected. Among its burlap face there was a painted scleras on which blue buttons were sewed. It also featured a sewed nose, which was noticeably a shade darker than the rest of its face, and a sewed mouth in a dopey smile. Also painted, this time in blue, were a diamond on its noise and three on its chin. On its cheeks were two large pink circles to imitate blush.
Upon its head, in addition to an oversized black hat with a light green fabric wrap, was straw and hay braided and rolled into an imitation of hair locs. A large loc on its left side folded and almost covered its left eye. The rest were folded and wrapped upon itself above its head, similar to a sort of bun. Framing his face were a long braid on either side.
Its clothing was the most particular part of its appearance. Unlike everything else in Munchkinland, which was some shade of blue, the Scarecrow was adorned in green.
The entirety of its clothing was dull and worn. It sported a light green cotton tunic at the edges with light yellow trim, the same color as the wrap tied around its waist. The tunic ended a little below its waist and had a triangular slit through the middle. The pants were a darker green. Both the legs and the arms contained a gold embroidered pattern hastily and chaotically sewed upon them in a pattern mix between paisley and damask.
Worn and damaged gold epaulettes were barely visible beneath its burlap collar. They laid upon and emerald green wool gilet with golden semi-ovals point away from the center front of the jacket.
And finally upon its hands and feet were long black leather gloves and boots respectively. Straw poked out from the gloves and boots, as well as holes on its right arm and leg.
The sun in the sky continued to rise, leaving the sky blue and the bird chirping. After a while the Scarecrow stirred, not of the wind or an animal but of its own accord. For this was not just any Scarecrow, but a living one.
Well, as alive as a Scarecrow could be.
The Scarecrow didn’t just awake, he can’t sleep due to being made of straw therefore he can't wake up.
The Scarecrow didn’t know much, for as far as he was aware it only came to life up on the pole the previous day. He had originally tried to move, to go and look around, but to much of his dismay he was quite stuck. Ropes tied his arms to the post and a nail kept his back on the post.
All the Scarecrow could do is stare and observe.
The Scarecrow was quite good at watching. Seeing as birds flew overhead, as the crops gently swayed in the wind, as the clouds glided across the sky, and as the sun and moon rose and set.
But the Scarecrows' favorite part was seeing the colors. Seeing as they shifted and changed as the day went on. How each color found a way to seamlessly change into the next until they had completely changed.
He would’ve enjoyed seeing the birds more closely, seeing how their wings let them fly, but for whatever reason they seemed to avoid him. Couldn’t they see he wasn't a threat?
So the Scarecrow content himself with watching.
Though he wasn't entirely content, everything he looked at gave him the overwhelming feeling that something was missing. Something important and crucial to his entire self. That there was something before benign stuck up on this poke. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember what it was. But with no way of figuring it out, he had to be content with watching.
Some more time passed and the sun was set past where the Scarecrow could see. A dark cloud blocked the sky and cast a shadow down upon the Scarecrow. He looked up, and in fact the cloud was a giant flock of crows. And eventually a single old crow perched upon his pole.
Its black feathers with undertones of blue were dulled and its body and beak had scars left from a life well fought
The crow examined the Scarecrow and pecked and nudged him with his beak before the corvid scoffed.
“What a pitiful excuse to pass for Munchkin. Any Crow with some semblance of intelligence ought to know this is a fake.”
The Crow let out a caw and some trills, calling the other Crows in closer.
The Scarecrow slightly turned its head and asked, “What's a Munchkin?”
The Crow hopped back a bit and raised its wings in defense before settling, remembering that the stuffed man was no threat to it.
“A Munchkin is the short people who live here, in Munchkinland.” The way the Crow looked at the Scarecrow he figured this was his version of raising an eyebrow at him.
The Scarecrow looked down towards his feet, he obviously wasn't short so he obviously wasn’t a Munchkin.
“What am I?”
The Crow cocked its head and analyzed the Scarecrow.
“You’re a Scarecrow, a bad one I might add, as I wasn’t scared of you in the slightest.”
The Scarecrow paused for a bit before responding, “So, does that mean you’re a “crow”?”
“Crow. Capital ‘c’ Crow. The Crow King, but that's besides the point.” The Crow bragged
“What's the difference?”
“Capital ‘c’ Crows are Animals which can speak and think, lowercase ‘c’ crows are animals that can't think. Like you.”
“Like me?”
By this point a flock of Crows had descended on the corn and begun gouging themselves on the corn.
“You,” the Crow insinuated by poking its beak against the Scarecrow's head, “obviously can’t think, if you could you wouldn’t ask so many questions. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t even have a brain inside your head.”
“A brain?” The Scarecrow pondered for a bit. “I suppose I haven't got a brain, I do believe there's all straw up here” The Scarecrow tried to use one of its fingers to point towards its head, but to no avail. “I suppose I don’t know much of anything.”
The Scarecrow turned its head away from the Crow and towards the ground, “I suppose that explains why I felt something was missing.” what
“Well, now that explains it! You’re brainless! Now, don’t feel too bad about it, you poor straw stuffed fool. It's not your fault whoever created you didn’t give you a brain, but without one you're a rather poor man and scarecrow.” The Crow patted the Scarecrow’s head condescendingly before hopping off to get some corn for itself.
“Why does that make me a poor scarecrow?”
“Because a good scarecrow wouldn’t let crows destroy the crops they're supposed to guard.” The Crow mocked coolly.
The Scarecrow was startled and looked around, sure enough most of the corn in around a 2 foot radius was picked clean.
The Crow let out a cawing laugh before plucking a whole ear for itself and flying off.
The Scarecrow struggled and pulled against its bindings to reprimand the Corvid for making a fool of him, but they didn’t budge.
“I really am brainless aren’t I…” the Scarecrow sighed and resigned himself to more watching.
As more time passed the Scarecrow couldn’t focus on anything else but the Crow and his newfound brainlessness. It was obvious to him now with hindsight. If he had a brain he would’ve found a way to get off of this pole, he wouldn’t have been so content to watch foolish things like colors. He didn’t like feeling like a fool.
If he had a brain surely he would remember what he was missing
Or maybe a brain was what he was missing?
The only thing that broke him out of this was a sharp clack clack against the Yellow Brick Road in front of him.
The Scarecrow turned forward to face the sound and into his view walked a small child, or maybe a regular Munchkin, followed by a small blackish-brown dog, or maybe a Dog?
The Scarecrow couldn’t tell, more proof for his brainlessness.
She was muttering…something… under her breath, what it was the Scarecrow couldn’t quite hear.
The girl had honey brown hair that was split down the middle into two loose braids in the front of her body. A ribbon at each shoulder ended the braids and the rest of the wavy hair was worn down like two cascading water falls. She had a worn, blue gingham dress, maybe she was a Munchkin, with a white collar. The cuffs of the sleeves and end of the dress had ruffled. She had white socks on. And on her feet were Silver Slippers, which were barely visible against the socks.
The only real give away they were there was the clicking noise that made when they walked and how they shone in the light. The Silver Slippers, which almost looked red when they turned the right way, were quite the contrast to the rest of her appearance.
They were obviously not made for her as she nervously walked in them, trying not to trip. Not to mention they were far too fancy for the rest of her outfit.
In her arms she carried a small picnic basket and behind her trailed the dog. Dog? If it could speak it hasn’t done so yet.
The girl walked with purpose. So as much as Scarecrow wished he could talk to her, talk to anyone who wasn’t another Crow really, he decided it would be best to let her do whatever she was set out to do.
Besides, she probably wouldn’t want to talk to someone so brainless anyway.
The girl stopped her march at the crossroad. I turned to look left then turned to look right.
“Oh dear..,” she muttered, “Miss Glinda said to follow the Yellow Brick Road, but she didn't say anything about a fork! How are we supposed to make it to the Emerald City now, Toto?”
The girl turned to the Dog, like it was to respond, maybe it could speak.
The girl sighed, “Oh this is bad. This is very, very bad!”
The Dog, Toto, rubbed its head against her legs and whined. Maybe it couldn’t speak
She turned and paced in a path in front of the fork, thinking.
The Scarecrow got a good look at the poor girl's face. She had large doe brown eyes and a slightly tanned face sprinkled with freckles. Her face was also red, not from sunburnt but seemingly from crying. ‘
Tears were forming the side of her eyes and it was obvious the girl had been through some terrible event beforehand.
Scarecrow couldn’t stand by and watch the poor girl cry, so he decided to help. Even if he didn't know what or where this “Emerald City” was. Giving the girl some guidance till she found someone who could properly take her to this Emerald City
So the Scarecrow raised his left hand point and stated, “I heard that way is nice.”