And so they had returned, one by one, to the Wizard’s door. Once more they had travelled the breadth of Oz to stand at this spot, but the gaities and adventures were long forgotten. They were four different things now, and they sat in seperate chairs scattered across the hallway.

The lion, courage beyond comparison to anyone else in the land, lay on a large tapestried devan, his mane floating aimlessly in the draft that wafted through the window, at his command.

Since that day where he had begged for the courage to lead, he had become wild. His eyes now had an orange gleam, reflecting, but not remembering, the looks of fear as he passed his people. His ears were ragged from constant battle, and heard not the screams of those he slew. His teeth were sharper than any dagger in the Emerald City, savouring the taste of his last munchkin meal.

He was here for his last battle. Now was the time to claim his crown, and Emerald City, and the whole Land of Oz.