The morning mist clung to the Red Brick Road like ghostly fingers, reluctant to let the sun burn it away. Pip had walked through the night, the glowing bricks providing enough light to see by, while Billina dozed fitfully on her shoulder. Now, as dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of pearl and rose, they found themselves in a part of Oz that neither had ever seen before.
The cheerful flowers and mushroom houses of Munchkinland had given way to something stranger. The trees here were tall and silver-barked, their leaves shimmering with an inner light that reminded Pip of her magical goggles. The flowers that grew along the roadside were larger than any she knew, and they had an unsettling habit of turning to follow her progress, their colorful petals tracking her movement like eyes.
"I don't like this place," Billina announced, finally awakening as the mist began to lift. "It feels... watched."
Pip had to agree. There was something about this landscape that made her skin prickle with awareness. It wasn't threatening, exactly, but it was certainly not the tame countryside she was used to. This was wild magic, the kind her grandmother had whispered about in stories of Oz's distant past.
"Look at those trees," she said, pulling out a small brass spyglass she'd built herself. "The bark isn't just silver-colored. It's actually made of some kind of metal."
Through the spyglass, she could see that the trees' roots disappeared into the red bricks of the road itself, as if they were drawing sustenance directly from the path's magic. And carved into several of the trunks were more of those strange symbols she'd seen on the key and the marker stone.
"Warning signs?" Billina suggested hopefully. "Perhaps they say 'Turn back, foolish travelers, before it's too late.'"
But before Pip could attempt to decipher the symbols, they came upon their first real obstacle.
The Red Brick Road ahead was completely blocked by what appeared to be a wall of thorns. But these weren't ordinary brambles. The vines were easily twelve feet high and so densely woven that no light passed through them. Worse, they seemed to be moving slightly, shifting and rustling though there was no wind.
"Living thorns," Pip murmured, pulling her goggles down to examine them more closely. Through the magical lenses, the thorns pulsed with a sickly green energy that made her stomach turn. "Someone—or something—put these here deliberately."
As if in response to her words, the thorns rustled more violently, and several of the vines reached toward her with obvious malice.
"Definitely time to turn back," Billina said firmly. "I've seen enough. Mysterious roads are one thing, but carnivorous plants are quite another."
But Pip was already walking along the edge of the thorn wall, studying it with an inventor's eye. "Everything has a weakness, Billina. Every puzzle has a solution. We just have to think."
As she examined the thorns, she heard something that made her freeze. From within the dark tangle came a sound—creaking, like old wood under stress, and then a voice, muffled but distinctly calling for help.
"Please," the voice said, "someone... anyone... I've been here for days..."
Pip looked at Billina, who had gone very still on her shoulder. "Did you hear that?"
"I heard it," the hen replied grimly. "The question is: is someone really trapped in there, or is something trying to lure us into those thorns?"
The voice came again, weaker this time. "The Wheelers... they took me apart... left me here as a warning..."
"Wheelers?" Pip had never heard the term before, but it sent a chill down her spine.
She pulled her tool kit from her belt and selected a pair of specially designed shears she'd made for cutting through magical plants in her grandmother's garden. The blades were inscribed with protective symbols her grandmother had taught her, and they hummed with a faint blue light as she activated them.
"I'm going to cut a path," she announced.
"That's a terrible idea," Billina protested. "What if it's a trap?"
"Then we'll deal with it," Pip said, beginning to carefully cut away the outermost thorns. "But if someone's really in trouble..."
The thorns resisted her efforts, trying to entangle the shears and scratch at her hands. But the protective magic held, and slowly, she began to carve a narrow passage into the thicket.
What she found inside made her gasp.
Scattered throughout the thorn maze were pieces of a wooden person. An arm here, a leg there, and deeper in the tangle, a torso made of carefully joined tree branches. And sitting in the very center of the maze, looking dejected and helpless, was a carved pumpkin head with a remarkably expressive face.
"Oh, thank goodness!" the head exclaimed when he saw her. "I was beginning to think I'd be stuck here forever!"
Pip stared. She'd heard stories, of course—legends of the Powder of Life that could animate objects and bring them to consciousness. But she'd never seen one of the created beings herself.
"You're... alive," she said.
"Well, yes," the pumpkin head replied, sounding slightly offended. "My name is Jack Pumpkinhead. I was made by the witch Mombi with the Powder of Life, though I don't recommend the experience. She wasn't a very nice creator, I'm afraid."
Pip began gathering the scattered wooden limbs, examining each piece to see how they fit together. It was like a complex three-dimensional puzzle, and she found herself enjoying the challenge despite the circumstances.
"What are Wheelers?" she asked as she worked.
Jack's carved features managed to look frightened. "Terrible creatures with wheels instead of hands and feet. They roll about at great speed, making horrible noises and causing mischief wherever they go. They serve someone called the Forgotten Witch, though I've never seen her myself."
"The Forgotten Witch," Pip repeated, thinking of the burned note. The name sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the morning chill.
"Yes, they said she doesn't like anyone traveling the Red Road," Jack continued. "They were quite upset when they found me trying to follow it. Said I was trespassing and took me apart as a lesson to others."
Pip had assembled most of Jack's body now, fitting the wooden joints together with the skill of someone who'd spent years working with mechanical devices. The craftsmanship was remarkable—whoever had built this body had been a true artist.
"Why were you on the Red Road?" she asked, attaching his right arm to his shoulder socket.
"I was running away," Jack admitted. "Mombi was cruel to me. She made me tend her garden and never let me explore or learn or... or live, really. When I heard that the Wicked Witch of the East was dead, I thought I might be free to find my own way. I remembered old stories about the Red Road leading to freedom, so I decided to follow it."
"Stories from who?"
"The other created things in Mombi's garden. The Glass Cat, before she left. The Sawhorse, though he couldn't speak very well. They all whispered about the Red Road when Mombi wasn't listening."
Pip paused in her work, Jack's left leg halfway attached. "There are others like you?"
"Oh yes, though most of them left long ago. Mombi isn't very good at keeping friends." Jack's expression grew wistful. "I always wondered what it would be like to have real companions. Friends who chose to be with you, rather than being forced to serve."
Billina had been listening to this conversation with growing interest. Now she spoke up: "And what were you going to do when you reached the end of the Red Road?"
"I... well, I hadn't thought that far ahead," Jack admitted. "I suppose I hoped I'd find somewhere I could belong. Somewhere being artificial wouldn't make me an outcast."
Pip felt a familiar ache in her chest. The feeling of being different, of not quite fitting in with those around her. She understood Jack's desire for acceptance all too well.
"Well," she said, clicking his leg joint into place and reaching for his remaining arm, "you're welcome to come with us. We're going to find out what's at the end of the Red Road."
Jack's painted features lit up with joy. "Really? You'd want my company? But I'm a coward! I'm afraid of everything—the dark, loud noises, spoiling, the Wheelers..."
"Everyone's afraid of something," Pip said, attaching his final limb and helping him sit up properly. "But you were brave enough to run away from Mombi. That counts for something."
Jack tested his reassembled body carefully, flexing his wooden fingers and rotating his joints. "Oh, this is wonderful! Everything works perfectly! You're very skilled at putting people back together."
"I fix things," Pip said simply. "It's what I do."
She was about to offer Jack her hand to help him stand when they heard it—a sound like thunder, but rhythmic. Rolling wheels on brick, coming closer fast.
"The Wheelers!" Jack whispered in terror. "They've found us!"
Through the gaps in the thorn wall, Pip could see shapes moving at incredible speed along the Red Brick Road. Creatures unlike anything she'd ever imagined—human-sized beings with wheels where their hands and feet should be, dressed in colorful but tattered clothing, their faces painted in garish designs that made them look like demented clowns.
"Someone's been on our road!" screeched one of them, his voice high and unpleasant. "I can smell them!"
"The mistress will reward us if we catch them!" called another.
"Check the thorns!" ordered a third, who seemed to be their leader. "They might be hiding in the trap!"
Pip looked around desperately. The passage she'd cut was too narrow to run through quickly, and the Wheelers would spot them the moment they tried to emerge from the thorn maze.
But as she looked up, she noticed something. The silver trees grew close to the thorn wall, their metallic branches extending over the brambles.
"Jack," she whispered, "can you detach your head?"
"What? Yes, but why would I—"
"Trust me. And try to be very quiet."
Moving as silently as possible, Pip helped Jack remove his pumpkin head, then boosted him up so he could climb into the branches of the nearest silver tree. The metal bark was easy to grip, and Jack's wooden body made almost no sound as he pulled himself up into the canopy.
Pip handed him his head, then climbed up after him, with Billina clinging to her shoulder. From their perch among the silver leaves, they could see the Wheelers rolling back and forth along the road, searching for signs of intruders.
"I can smell the little tinker girl," growled the leader. "She's been here recently."
"And someone activated the thorn trap," another Wheeler observed. "But there's no one inside now."
They rolled around the maze, poking at the thorns with long sticks, but the living vines had already begun to close the passage Pip had cut. Within minutes, there was no sign that anyone had been there at all.
"Bah!" spat the leader. "Whoever it was, they're gone now. But keep watching. The mistress says someone will come down the Red Road soon. Someone important."
"What makes this one important?" asked another Wheeler.
"She carries the key," the leader replied. "Our mistress has been waiting a long time for someone to bring her sister's key."
Pip's hand instinctively went to her throat, where the silver key rested hidden beneath her shirt. Her sister's key? Which sister? The Wicked Witch of the East had been dead for less than a day—how could someone have been waiting for her key for a long time?
Unless the waiting had begun long before the witch's death. Unless someone had known this day would come.
The Wheelers eventually rolled away, their laughter echoing through the silver woods like the sound of breaking glass. Pip waited until she was certain they were gone before climbing down from the tree.
Jack reattached his head and looked around nervously. "They'll be back," he said. "The Wheelers never give up when they're hunting someone."
"Then we'd better keep moving," Pip replied. "And we'd better be ready for them next time."
She helped Jack gather himself together and test his reassembled joints one more time. The morning sun was climbing higher now, burning away the last of the mist and revealing the Red Brick Road stretching ahead through the strange landscape.
"Are you sure you want to come with us?" Pip asked. "It's obviously dangerous."
Jack looked back at the thorn maze, then ahead at the mysterious road. When he turned to face her, his carved features were set with determination she hadn't expected from someone who claimed to be a coward.
"I've been hiding in gardens and being afraid of everything my whole life," he said. "Maybe it's time I found out what I'm really made of."
Pip smiled and offered him her hand. "Then let's go find out together."
As they began walking south again, the Red Brick Road pulsed with welcoming light beneath their feet. But now Pip found herself listening carefully to every sound, watching every shadow. The Wheelers were out there somewhere, hunting for them. And somewhere ahead, the mysterious Forgotten Witch was waiting.
But for the first time since beginning this journey, Pip didn't feel alone. Jack Pumpkinhead might be afraid of everything, but he'd chosen to come with them anyway. And Billina, despite her constant complaints, showed no sign of abandoning them.
Perhaps friendship really was stronger than fear.
They would need to find out soon enough.