That brilliant green was something she knew all too well, despite the ten years that had passed since she’d been eleven. “Oz,” she whispered, almost dropping the rifle. “No, no. That can’t be it.” Aunt Em would be ashamed if Dorothy chose to believe, if she slipped down that yellow brick road of insanity again. After all the work Aunt Em had put in to reversing Dorothy’s delusions. Aunt Em was no longer there to make Dorothy think she could be wrong.
