The Blizzard of Oz

CHAPTER 1: A Snowstorm in Kansas

The Kansas prairies always appeared endless to Dorothy Gale; just a flat stretch of flat land where winds never tired of running over, and the sky hung wide and restless. Yet on this day, as young Dorothy pressed her nose against the frosted glass of the farmhouse window, even the prairie looked completely different. The world outside had been swallowed whole by snow. The fields, the fences, the crooked old windmill; pretty much all of it was covered in fresh white snow. The air itself also seemed so heavy, filled with flurries so thick the young girl could hardly see beyond the yard. The sky was a dull iron grey and was low and brooding as though it desired to crush the earth beneath its immense weight.

Inside the small farmhouse efforts being were made to keep the storm at bay. Aunt Em had stirred up a pot of stew on the stove, while Uncle Henry sat near the hearth mending a leather harness with deliberate patience. The fire popped and crackled as it fought hard to provide warmth, all while the icy winds rattled the shutters fiercely. They shook so hard, that everyone inside feared the storm might swallow those too. Dorothy rested her chin on her hands and deeply sighed. She had been back from Oz for many months now, yet the memory of its golden roads, emerald towers, and merry companions never left her thoughts. Sometimes, when the days were long and uneventful, she caught herself wishing, just a little, that something marvellous event happen again and send her back to that magical land.

Laying on her lap, Toto gave a small yawn and curled tighter into her for warmth. His ears twitched with every gust of wind, and now and then he gave a short, uneasy growl as he was unimpressed with the storm outside. Dorothy looked down as she scratched behind his ears.

“You sense it too, don’t you, Toto?” she softly whispered. “It isn’t just a storm. It feels different.”

“Best keep away from that window, young lady,” Aunt Em called to her without looking up. “That wind could blow its cold through the glass and give you a chill.”

“Yes, Aunt Em,” Dorothy replied, though she did not move. For something about the storm that kept her undivided attention.

The more she watched the storm, the more it felt like the snow wasn’t simply falling but furiously whirling around the house. It circled and danced about, not in the careless fashion you would see from most flurries, but as if they were being guided by an unseen hand. The longer Dorothy watched the more certain she became that patterns were forming in the air. Rings, loops, and even spirals, shapes that seemed familiar in a way the young girl could not explain.

“Never seen snow like this,” Uncle Henry muttered after clearing his throat, “If it keeps up, we could be drifted in till spring.”

Dorothy turned toward to face her uncle with a wrinkled brow.

“Uncle Henry,” Dorothy started, “Do you suppose storms can have… feelings?”

“Feelings?” her uncle said, as he gave out a loud chuckle, “Storms don’t have feelings, little lady. They just come and go whenever about they please, and that’s the end of it.”

Dorothy wasn’t so sure that day. There was something in the heart of that blizzard that made her believe it was watching them. Without warning, the wind gave a sharp howl that was high and wild, like a pack of hangry wolves. The shutters continued to bang against the wall, to the point where the lamp flickered. Toto sprang to his feet, barking furiously now, as though he sensed there was an intruder.

Then Dorothy saw it.

In the very center of the storm, where the snow spun fastest, a faint light shimmered. It was a bluish, silver, like moonlight that appeared to be glancing off water. It pulsed steadily in the rhythm of a heartbeat. Dorothy pressed her hand against the cold glass and softly gasped.

“What’s going on, child?” her aunt asked, as she was a little distressed by the look on her niece’s face.

“I don’t actually know,” Dorothy replied, “But it feels like the storm is calling me.”

“I’ve had enough of fairy notions,” her uncle replied, “It’s best not go about thinking every odd light in the sky is caused by some kind of magic.”

Even as her aunt and uncle were speaking, Dorothy kept watching as the glow she was watching started to grow brighter. The snow thickened around the phenomenon, which caused it to turn into a rather large white ring.
Dorothy even thought she could hear faint music beneath the loud whistling of the storm. There was a moment the young girl thought she heard bells, and even children’s laughter carrying over from a great distance. Even Toto barked from her lap at the door as even the little pooch appeared to sense something was amiss as the latch rattled.

“Now see here…” Aunt Em started to call out, but before she could say or do anything about it, the door burst open with a thunderous crash.

A blast of icy winds swept into the house, scattering some stew from the pot and blowing papers off the table. The fire even gasped and nearly died out as Dorothy screamed as the weather appeared to seize her like a giant hand reaching into the house as she was lifted from the floor.

“Toto!” Dorothy shouted, as she clutched the little dog tightly to her chest. His small heart hammered against hers as he whined in fright.

“Dorothy!” Aunt Em’s voice was faint as she was swallowed by the storm. “Dorothy!”

Snow whirled around her, and despite how cold it was the snow was strangely soft, as it muffled everything in a white haze. The farmhouse, Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, the farmhouse all vanished into the swirling dark. Dorothy kept clutching onto Toto as she tumbled end over end through the blizzard. The flakes stung her cheeks like tiny needles as she appeared to get closer and closer to that strange silver light ahead.

“It’s all right, Toto!” Dorothy reassured her companion, “It’s all right! I won’t let go!”

As the light grew larger there was no longer a flicker, but instead a shining ring that was spinning faster and faster until it filled her vision. Dorothy felt herself being pulled through it, far away from the farmhouse in Kansas, out of everything she had ever known. For a breathless instant, she and Toto seemed to be falling through a tunnel of snowflakes, each flake glimmering like a tiny star… and then there was silence.

The wind had stopped, and the biting cold air had lifted. Dorothy blinked, still shivering, but found herself lying on her back in a soft drift of powdery snow. Toto scrambled free from her arms, shaking himself so violently that snow flew in every direction. When Dorothy sat up and looked around, her heart leapt into her throat.

She wasn’t in not Kansas anymore.

As Dorothy sat up, it was hard not to notice the snow in her new surroundings sparkled as though each snowflake had been cut from a diamond. She was surrounded by towering trees with trunks of pale blue ice high above her, their branches draped with icicles that chimed faintly in the still air. The sky was not grey but a deep, twilight purple, streaking with silver clouds. Even Toto barked sharply, his tail stiff as a family of white rabbits, standing on their hind legs, peered curiously from behind a snowbank, their pink eyes glowing like lanterns. Dorothy gasped and clutched her chest. And even though the air was colder than any Kansas winter, Dorothy felt a warm feeling run through her, for she knew without a doubt that they were.

“Oh, Toto,” she whispered. “We’re back.”

CHAPTER 2: Return To Oz

Dorothy sat very still in the drift of glittering snow, watching with awe as her breath puffed out little clouds before her. The stillness of her new surroundings was uncanny so soon after the howling of the Kansas storm. It was so silent that the young woman could hear the soft patting of flakes settling, the faint chime of icicles swaying above her, and even little Toto’s paws scrunching in the powder as he circled about, sniffing the ground before him furiously. At last Toto stopped and growled, his black eyes fixed on a nearby mound. Dorothy followed his gaze and nearly cried out when she saw what the little pooch was growling at. There was a pair of long white ears twitching above the snowbank, then another, and another. Before Dorothy could make a sound, a rabbit emerged and hopped right toward her just a little bit. She could tell that this was no ordinary bunny. His fur gleamed like a diamond, his eyes shone pink like polished rubies, and he was wearing a tiny scarf that was wrapped around his neck. Only a foot or two behind him were four smaller rabbits, standing upright as if they were his children or even his students.
 
“Well, well!” the scarfed rabbit exclaimed in a squeaky but cheerful voice. “We have ourselves a visitor, and in such weather!”
 
“You,” Dorothy’s called out to the rabbit. “You can talk!”
 
“Indeed, M’lady,” the scarfed rabbit replied, “Most of us can, when we’re not too busy nibbling bark or dodging those persistent owls.
 
“I’m terribly sorry,” Dorthy said, trying to collect herself. “If I am where I think I am, then I should have known better. The last time I was here I met a lion that could talk.”
 
“Apology accepted,” the scarfed rabbit continued, “But where are my manners. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Flitter of the Snowburrow, at your service. And these little one behind me are my kits.”
 
The little rabbits behind Flitter all gave polite bows, their ears flopping almost comically. Toto began to bark as he sprang forward, but Dorothy caught him up in her arms before he could frighten them away.
“Mercy me!” Flitter called out, his whiskers twitching nervously. “What a fierce little creature you have there.”
 
“He won’t harm anyone,” Dorothy assured him. “This is my dog, Toto. He just gets excited, that’s all.”
 
Dorothy stroked Toto’s fur until he stopped wriggling, but he still gave a suspicious growl in Flitter’s general direction.
 
“Toto, you say?” Flitter repeated as he tilted his head, studying her with bright eyes. “And if this is your dog, that would mean you’re Dorothy.”
 
“Why, yes!” Dorothy confirmed with wide eyes. “How did you know?”
 
“The wind told us,” Flitter replied as his ears gave a little wiggle. “They carry news swiftly in these parts of the forest. They told us a girl from another world once saved Oz from wickedness, and that the same girl has now returned. Riding a new storm that was dire in more than one place.”
 
“Oh,” Dorothy said as her heart gave a jump. “The Blizzard.”
 
At this, all the rabbits shivered and huddled together, their pink eyes wide.
 
“Indeed,” Flitter gravely acknowledged. “The Blizzard that comes from the North. Never before had it swept so far south, not in all the memories of thy burrow. It creeps up on us every night freezing fields, silencing streams, and stilling the very hearts of those caught in it. If it is not stopped, I fear that soon the whole of Oz shall sleep beneath its banks forever.”
 
“Oh dear,” Dorothy said as she kept hugging Toto close. “That sounds dreadful. Do you know what causes this?”
 
All the tiny rabbits behind Flitter shook their ears and stamped their paws nervously.
 
“No one appears to know,” Flitter calmly confessed, “Some whisper it is the work of an Ice King who lost his crown and his joy. Others speak of a witch of frost has awakened at last to claim the North as her own. Whatever the truth may be, no one has dared go anywhere near the northern territory.”
 
“No one?” Dorothy repeated.

“None,” Flitter confirmed, “That is, save perhaps… you.”
 
“Me?” Dorothy said with a gasp. “Why, I’m only a little girl!”
 
“Perhaps,” Flitter conceded softly. “But you are a brave girl with a great heart, and the winds brought you here not by accident. It’s clear that Oz is calling for your help once more, my dear Dorothy.”
 
Upon hearing that she may have been summoned back to Oz, for a brief moment Dorothy felt very small and even a little frightened. She thought of her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry back in Kansas, no doubt worrying as they searched for her again. She then thought of the long, cold miles ahead, and of dangers she could not yet imagine. Yet she also remembered the Scarecrow’s clever smile, the Tin Woodman’s kind voice, and the Cowardly Lion’s roar of courage. If Oz needed saving once again, Dorothy was confident that they would not hesitate to help her, as they always had. With them by her side, she was sure there wasn’t anything they could accomplish.
 
“Alright,” Dorothy said firmly, as she stood up and began to brush the snow from her dress. “If Oz is in trouble, then I shall do my best to help. Before I can do anything, I must first find my friends in the Emerald City. Will you and your kits show me the way?”
 
Flitter bowed again, this time with a twitch of relief.
 
“Gladly, my dear,” Flitter replied, “Follow the tracks we leave, and you’ll come to the crystal road that leads south. But beware, there are strange things walk in the snow in these parts. Keep your wits about you and keep that little dog close.”
 
“I will,” Dorothy reassured him, clutching Toto tighter. “Thank you.”
 
With that, Flitter and his kits all hopped away, their feet leaving neat, diamond-shaped prints in the shining snow. Dorothy pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders and took her first step upon the glittering path. As she walked, she glanced back only once. The forest of blue-ice trees swayed silently in the breeze, their icicles chiming faintly, almost like faint voices. Dorothy shivered, not from the cold, but from the curious feeling that the very land itself was watching her.
 
“Let’s go, Toto,” she whispered, setting her jaw. “We’ve got work to do.”

And so, Dorothy of Kansas with her faithful little dog began her second journey through the Land of Oz. This time, however, they were wandering through a winter setting that was stranger and more dangerous than she could ever dream of. And yet she kept walking, eager to be with her dear friends again and to recruit them to save Oz.

CHAPTER 3: An Emerald City Reunion

The crystallized road stretched before Dorothy like a ribbon of glass, winding between snowy hills and over frozen streams and ponds that glittered in the pale light. The skies above gave of a whirl of light purple and silver, while green and gold streams of light shimmered like curtains drawn back to reveal all. Like her previous visit, Dorothy had never seen such a sight in Kansas, though she couldn’t help but see their beauty despite the chill that was nipping on her nose and fingers. Toto trotted ahead, making small little tracks in the powdery snow ahead of her. Every few minutes, the little dog barked at a snowbank as if the little doggie was daring it to get out of his way. Dorothy smiled at his boldness but kept a close eye on him. She remembered what the rabbits had told her earlier; that strange things walk in the snow now. It wouldn’t take long for the young lady to discover how right they were.
 
While passing by a hallow between two hills, there was a curious shape that rose up from the drift beside the road. At first Dorothy thought it was a pile of snow, but it stretched higher and higher, shaking the loose the flakes from its sides until it stood taller than Uncle Henry. It was a snowman, only no Kansas child had ever made one like this. Its eyes glowed blue, and its grin stretched wide and jagged. With a creak that sounded like breaking ice, it lifted a massive arm of packed snow and swung at her.
Dorothy cried out, clutching Toto, but before the blow could fall, the snowman tottered clumsily and collapsed into its own drift with a soft whump. A passing gust of wind had undone the creature as quickly as it had raised. Dorothy caught her breath and hurried along, not daring to look back.
 
Dorothy was more than relieved when she spotted the towers of the Emerald City rising in the distance. Yet her heart sank at the sight as she got closer. The very walls that had sparkled with a warm green glow, now glittered cold and sharp, encased in a shell of ice so clear that the towers within were trapped inside a giant snow globe. The great gates were rimmed with icicles long as spears, and the golden domes wore frosty white crowns.
 
“Oh, Toto,” Dorothy whispered to her little pooch, “It looks as if the city itself has been frozen over by the blizzard.”
The little dog whined as the cold was getting to him as well, and still Dorothy pushed forward. As she neared the gates, she saw two figures chipping away at the ice with whatever tools they could find. One was tall and shiny, and the faint winter sun flashed on the polished tin of his arms and chest. The other was lean and lopsided, with a painted smile that never wavered, no matter how earnestly he worked.
 
“Scarecrow!” Dorothy called out as loudly as she could. “Tin Woodman!”
 
Both of them froze, but only metaphorically. It was the Scarecrow who turned first, his painted eyes wide with astonishment, and the Tin Woodman was so surprised to see her that he dropped his chisel with a clatter.
 
“Dorothy!” the Scarecrow exclaimed, loping toward her in his clumsy, flapping gait. “Is it truly you, or has the frost at last muddled my straw-filled head?”
 
“No, it’s really me!” she laughed as she ran forward. The Scarecrow caught her in a lopsided hug, smelling faintly of dry hay.
 
“Dear child,” said the Tin Woodman, his tin face creasing with joy, “How glad I am to see you safe! My heart is beating so fast it will soon wear out the rivets.”
 
Toto barked and wagged his tail, hopping about to greet them both.
 
“Oh, my brave friends,” Dorothy said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
 
“Your arrival to Oz comes at trying times,” the Tin Woodman said gravely, gesturing to the frozen gates. “The Blizzard has covered half of Oz already. Soon the Emerald City itself will be buried if we cannot stop it.”
 
“And poor Lion,” added the Scarecrow, lowering his voice, “He suffers dreadfully. The cold makes his teeth chatter so he can hardly roar.”
 
As if summoned, a mighty yawn echoed from the guardhouse nearby, followed by a sneeze that shook icicles loose from the eaves. Out lumbered the Cowardly Lion, his mane frosted with snowflakes, his eyes drooping from sleeplessness. His face brightened greatly the instant he realized who his friends were speaking with.
 
“Dorothy!” the lion tried to roar, but it came out more like a strained wheeze. “Oh, how I’ve longed for a warm fire and a friendly face! Come here, little one.”
 
Dorothy ran over flung her arms around his shaggy neck, burying her cold cheeks in his fur. “Oh, Lion, I’ve missed you terribly.”
 
“And I, you,” he rumbled, though his voice still trembled. “But why in the name of all courage did you come back in such terrible weather? Oz is no place for a child in these conditions!”
 
“She’s here because Oz needed her,” the Scarecrow reminded them. “That’s usually how things work around here.”
 
“It is true,” the Tin Woodsman agreed, “And I hope she is able to help us out.”
 
“That’s exactly what I mean to do,” Dorothy declared, her voice stern and determined. “The rabbits told me the Blizzard is coming from the North. If it’s not stopped, they fear Oz will freeze over forever.”
 
The Scarecrow tilted his painted head thoughtfully.
 
“Then northward is where we must go,” Scarecrow concluded, “Though I should like to borrow a muffler first. A brain, however fine, can still catch a chill.”
 
“I’ll need to keep my joints oiled,” the Tin Woodman added. “The cold makes them stiff as fence posts.”
 
“I’ll come too,” The lion softly said, “Though I’ll likely sneeze myself to pieces, but I’ll be as brave as I can.”
 
“Then it’s settled,” Dorothy said with a warm smile, “We’ll head north together and try to find out what caused this Blizzard, and we won’t rest until Oz is safe.”
 
For a moment, as they stood together before the frozen gates, Dorothy felt the warmth of their friendship glow brighter than any fire. Though the wind howled and the snow swirled, she was no longer afraid as her friends brought her comfort and courage.
 
“Come along, Toto,” she whispered. “The road north waits for us.”
 
And with that, Dorothy and her faithful companions marched off to start their journey to find the cause of this horrid storm and find a way to bring it to an end.

CHAPTER 4: The Frozen Countryside

The foursome set out the next morning despite the fact it was difficult for anyone to tell the difference. The blizzard’s endless clouds make it hard for anyone to establish whether it was day or night. The heavy sky remained dull and grey, with the light barely able to fight through the filters of cloud. Throughout the day, the snow never stopped. It was always falling, covering everything like a glittering dust that stuck to everything and even everyone. It thickened the air, that slowed down everyone’s stride, making the journey ahead that much more difficult. Still, Dorothy trudged along the crystal road, her boots crunching the snow with each step. Toto also bounded ahead, leaping joyfully into drifts that sometimes swallowed the little fella up to his ears only to scramble out again and free himself with an indignant shake. The Scarecrow flapped awkwardly, his straw-stuffed legs bending in peculiar ways whenever he slipped, which was often, and that made Dorothy laugh despite the chill. The Tin Woodman, shining with frost, clanked solemnly but without complaint as he carried his axe confidently beside him. The Cowardly Lion lumbered behind them all and appeared to be more miserable than usual as he sneezed mightily at every gust that came along.

“Bless me,” the lion groaned, his mane shaking snow everywhere, “If this keeps up, I’ll going to sneeze myself bald before we even reach the North.”

“Then you’ll simply have to be a Bald Brave Lion,” the Scarecrow replied cheerfully, though his painted grin made it impossible to tell if he was jesting or not.

They all pressed on, and the road eventually carried them all to the Munchkin countryside. Yet it was not the bright, cheerful area that Dorothy remembered. The little cottages that were painted blue with tidy fences now all laid beneath a thick blanket of heavy snow. Icicles hung from the eaves like the teeth of sharks. Even the cheerful gardens, once filled with songbirds and flowers, were all covered over beneath the glassy drifts.

“Oh, this is dreadful!” Dorothy exclaimed, as she examined the area. “The Munchkins must be frozen in their homes.”

“They are worse than frozen,” the Tin Woodman said gravely, pointing with his shining hand.

Dorothy followed his gaze. Through a window, she could see a family of Munchkins inside their cottage, but they were utterly still. The father’s hand was raised mid-gesture, the mother bent over her knitting, the children caught in laughter with their mouths open wide. They all stood frozen, as though they were statues carved out from the ice.

“Oh no,” Dorothy said, as she shivered. “It’s like they’re all asleep.”

“They’re not asleep,” Scarecrow corrected her, as he tapped his painted temple. “They’re stopped. It’s as if Time itself were frozen for them. Even to me, a creature made of straw, feel a chill in my stuffing.”

The Lion’s ears drooped. “We must hurry, before all of Oz turns this way.”

The four of them journeyed on, and everywhere they passed the sight was the same. Munchkin villagers were all halted mid-task, a woman pouring water that hung frozen in the air like a glass ribbon, a boy forever leaping from a fence with his legs bent but never landing. Dorothy covered Toto’s eyes, for even he whined at the strangeness of it.

They finally came to the village square where a great fountain stood. Yet instead of water stood a frozen cascade. A shining sculpture of ice that caught the dim light and split it into colors like a rainbow. Dorothy almost marvelled at its beauty until she noticed that the fountain’s guardian, an enormous snowman with a crooked crown had come alive. The snowman’s head turned slowly, its eyes glowing faint blue. With a grinding creak, it lifted its icy arms and let out a roar like an avalanche. The sound rattled Dorothy’s teeth.

“Stand back!” the Tin Woodman called out, as he stepped forward.

“Wait!” the Scarecrow cried, as he grabbed the Tin Woodman’s arm. “Steel against snow? You’ll only blunt your edge.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Woodman asked.

“Let us try a little wit.” The scarecrow answered.

Before the Woodman could argue, the Scarecrow skipped forward well ahead of his comrades and started to wave his arms around as he called up to the giant.

“Ho there, noble fellow!” Scarecrow bellowed out, “Tell us, which way to the North? Surely a snowman such as yourself must know where the cold blows thickest… am I right?”

The snowman paused, and its icy grin seemed to waver. It tilted its head as though it was trying to recall some long-forgotten thought. Then it sagged, its great body collapsing with a soft whump back into an ordinary heap of snow.

“Oh, Scarecrow!” Dorothy called out as she ran up clapping her hands. “You outwitted him!”

The Scarecrow gave a modest bow. “Brains before blades, as some might say. Though sometimes blades can be quite useful.”

The Tin Woodman smiled faintly. “Indeed.”

The companions left the village square quickly, as the sight of the frozen Munchkins weighing heavy upon their hearts. As the day waned, though the grey sky never brightened or darkened that much, they eventually sought shelter in a barn that was half-buried in snow. Once inside, they found the animals frozen too: cows in their stalls, chickens on their perches, all caught mid-motion just like the Munchkins. Only the hay in the loft was soft and warm. Dorothy curled there with Toto tucked against her, the Lion stretched beside them like a living blanket, while the Scarecrow perched cheerfully on a beam and the Tin Woodman stood guard by the door.

Dorothy stared into the dimness, listening to the faint chime of icicles outside, and whispered, “We’ve got to stop this Blizzard before it stops Oz forever.”

Toto gave a soft bark of agreement, and his tail wagged once before he drifted to sleep with the young girl keeping him warm.