To Grow a Memory

"So now that you are here, what are you going to do about it," the Lion asked.

"That's a good question. I'll let you know when I figure out a good answer," she told him.

He flopped into the grass with a heavy flump. And then rolled over onto his back and let his legs wave in the air.

She watched him with an air of skepticism. She sat, folding her knees beneath her and smoothing her skirt
beneath them.

The forest that began at the bottom of their hill looked dark and forboding. The stuff of nightmares. It you were
young and foolish, that is.

"Well, I'm not young anymore," she said outloud.

The Lion regarded her from his upside down position, with a bemused expression. But before he could question her, sounds began to emerge from the Dead Wood Swamp, as it was called. Shrieking, howling, all mingled with sinister laughter.

The Lion was on his feet in an instant, tail lashing wildly. "Its a haunted wood. This is not the place we are looking for," he protested.

But she didn't even look mildly concerned. He always wondered if she were right in the head, especially in timeslike these. But then what proof was he of mental stability? His ears folded back, flat against his head.

"I'm sure its the one. This is exactly the sort of place that I've been hoping to find, I just didn't realize it until now."

"Doesn't look very cozy. Not exactly welcoming."

"Wouldn't that be the point?" She brushed some unseen dirt from her sleeve. "Once in the middle of the forest lived the wicked old witch..."

"I had nothing to do with it. They locked me in the cupboard, you know. Wasn't my fault it happened...how was I to know that silly little girl would go and-"

"Shh...friend Lion. You are going daft."

"Well it wasn't," he said, almost whining now.

"I know," she said softly.

"Mmm...what is that? Smells sinful," Trism mumbled, kissing Liir on the neck.

"Not now," Liir said, shifting away from him. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Outside Candle and Verdi were running around, laughing and shrieking at their game.
Iskinaary, now very old and gone mostly senile, flapped his wings at them, honking in irritation.

Liir amplified the sounds and pushed them out down the path. Guaranteed to keep any unwanted visitors away.

Of course, there were the two on the hill, but he would deal with them later.

Right now, Trism was tugging at his collar. "Come on, you've frightened the townsfolk enough. Lets play Witch and Schoolgirl again."
"I'm not a Witch," Liir protested but he let Trism kiss him.

"Like hell you're not, " Iskinaary said, now remembering his voice. He had come up through the window unnoticed by either of them. He squatted on the edge of the sink and started preening himself.

"I'll be the Witch then...I'll get you my pretty."

Liir cringed. "Don't say that!" He pulled away, turning pale. It made his skin crawl but he wasn't sure why.

He put his hands on the counter top as if to keep his feet and concentrated. In a blink he was there on the hill,
though he had left his body standing in the kitchen. This was a gift he had developed in adolescence but had only recently mastered.

He recognized the Lion, Dorothy's erstwhile companion, conscripted into his mother's assassination. Not that he had ever been close to her...

But then he realized he recognized the other as well. Nor. Though she was much, much older there was no
mistaking her. He looked from her to the Lion. What weird twist of fate had brought them together and to his door?

Iskinaary was suddenly blocking his vision.

"What," Liir muttered, disoriented. It took several seconds for him to gather his wits. He stumbled into a chair that Trism had pulled up for him, unnerved by the sudden return to corporeal form.

Maybe it had been the shock of seeing her again, after so many years. Was it twenty or more? He didn't have time
to wonder! He needed to get over there to her. He reached for the broom, which like a faithful hound, came whisking its way towards him.

He rushed out into the yard. Candle and Verdi were sitting in the grass, playing some clapping game and didn't pay any attention. The broom lifted and he let it carry him over the forest.

"I did that once," Nor said, out of the blue, running her foot over some blades of grass.

Brrr folded his ears back again and frowned at her. She was getting as vague as the rest of them.

"Flying, I mean. Auntie Witch was quite cross with me that I had been playing with her broom."

"So then the broom was magic, it wasn't her?"

"I don't know." She stared at the grass and got a funny, dreamy look about her.

He flicked his tail in agitation and then glanced up to the sky. Oh.
It was the old days all over again and the Witch was coming back at him from her corner of hell, to make him pay.

He covered his eyes with his paws and whimpered a little.

Liir touched down and ignored the cowering Lion.

"Nor," he cried.

She said nothing, merely stared at him for a time. Eventually, "You came looking for me."

"I don't know."

"By the time I got there you already escaped."

"I got tired of waiting for the miracle of rescue. Decided to save myself."

"At least you're free."

"At least I'm free," she agreed, solemnly.

He slid the broom under one arm, making the decision to walk back with her.

With them, if the Lion chose.

The Lion did choose to look up at that very moment. "You're not the Witch," he said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Of course, he is. He's the new Witch," Nor said, with some authority. Liir looked uncomfortable at her comment.

But there was more to it. What would she think, coming on the homestead, at seeing his strange family? Two men that were decidedly more than friends, the young woman barely out of her teenage years, the ancient Goose, and yet another green girl?
"Interesting place you live in," Nor commented in a non-commital manner. He wondered if she were making fun, or if somehow read his thoughts, or was doing both. But her face remained impassive, if not slightly curious.

He stole a glance back at Brrr padding silently along behind them.

"You have a family," she said, like it was an announcement, not a question.

And there it was. He took a deep breath and thought about how to proceed. "Well there are five of us..."

"I know the story, Liir. You and that soldier boy. That little girl, Candle. And your daughter."

"Oh." He felt his face flush. She was accepting of his lifestyle, for one thing. For another she was back in his life at last.

"And now, there are seven," she said in a dismissive manner. Almost like she was bored.

"What?" When had that been decided?

But her face remained blank. "I was the first to ride it, you know. Auntie Witch was so surprised. And then she was angry."

It took him a few seconds to realize she was talking about the broom. "You rode the broom before she did? I never knew that. That must mean you have some magic in your blood."

"I imagine that the only thing in my blood is my blood," she told him, maintaining the same manner of apathy. "I am not a Witch, Liir."

Now it was starting to annoy him. Again. "When exactly was it decided that I am? And how come I wasn't
addressed on the fact," he snapped at all of them.

"You live in a Witch's cottage, in a Witch's wood," Nor replied, almost singsong.

"You carry a Witch's broom. And fly on it," Brrr pointed out.

"And you have a Witch's familiar," Iskinaary added.

Liir stared in shock at the Goose. "How did you-Where in the hell-," he stammered, unable to get a complete
sentence out.

"Oh please, I may not be anything as extravagant as a troupe of flying monkeys, but one does what one can." He stretched his wings to their fullest and looked mightily pleased with himself. "I am a grey Goose," he announced.

Apparently it wasn't obvious. "I can still fly too," he finished.

Liir shook his head, completely nonplussed.

The small house could now be seen around the bend.

"Oh look it is a Witch's cottage," Nor said in a nearly inaudible voice. She glanced sideways at Liir.

But he had decided to ignore all of them by now.

Verdi stood at the edge, where forested path ran into clearing, watching the motley crew.

Nor gave her a thoughtful look. "So it is true. She was your mother."

"Yes, yes, my daughter is green. Don't stare. Its not polite," he said hastily.

"She looks nothing like Auntie Witch, otherwise."

"She takes mostly after her mother."

"Her name...?"

"Her name is Verdi."

"Verdi...that means green."

"I know what it means! I never said I had a good imagination."

"I wonder why you are not green..."

"I must take after my father then."

"Who ever that might be..."

He sighed. He guessed Nor had become Sarima, after all this time, ignoring the blatantly obvious when it suited her. "Look Nor, about our father..."

"My father," she said blithely.

"Right, your father." Whatever he had been about to say withered beneath her rebuke.

She turned her cool gaze on him and he pretended not to notice. She fell back, just enough to let the Lion fall in step with her. "This is it, Sir Brrr. We are coming home."

"There's no place like it," he agreed.