I was there when the girl and her house fell out of the sky. The Wicked Witch of the East was crushed instantly. We all saw it--we all wanted to rejoice, but were afraid. After all, perhaps this was some trick. Perhaps this was some new sorceress that had come to usurp the Witch and take her place. We did not know what to expect.

Still, while most of us held back for fear, three of us moved forward to inspect the house, or to greet whatever they found inside. With them was Locasta, the Good Witch of the North.

The only passenger of the house was already outside, however. I saw her myself, even from my vantage point. She seemed to be a girl, definitely too tall to be one of us. She was dressed in plain clothes that looked as though they had possessed color once, but now had faded to a grey that was not unlike her own skin.

She turned to face the welcoming party, and it was then we saw her face. Her eyes had gone light blue as though they were sightless; her head once crowned with dark hair now had splotches missing like a diseased animal. Her lips had drawn back away from her teeth, and those teeth were sunk deep into one of the legs of the Witch, which she had apparently ripped free from under the house.

In that moment, when her eyes found the welcoming party, the silver shoe covering that foot fell free and hit the road. It was such a small, simple sound--and yet the world around us had grown so quiet, it was more like the crack of doom.

The girl--the thing--whatever it was--tossed aside the Witch's lower leg and grabbed poor Locasta. Before the Good Witch could do anything to protect herself, the girl had torn out her throat.

What were we to do? We just watched this thing kill one Witch with a house and kill another with her teeth. We were naive then--we thought we were witnessing an invasion by a newer, even more powerful Witch than we had ever seen before.

In short, chaos broke out. Most of us ran, scattering like crows. Some of the men tried to help Locasta, for she was much loved among us. They managed to wrestle the girl away from Locasta's body. For all the good it did. Many of them sustained bites from the girl. Only later would we learn what that meant. Some stepped forward to see to Locasta, but there was nothing we could do. We held no magic. No one in Oz was to ever die--such was the enchantment we all knew and indeed, no one could remember the last death we had seen. But this girl had brought something stronger than magic--how could we fight it?

When Locasta came back to life and attacked one of her saviors, somehow I knew. Something in me knew that all was lost. Two Witches had fallen within minutes, therefore our only hope was the Wizard. I and two others fled.

However, one of my friends was among those bitten by the girl, a wound on his neck. He seemed fine at first, then he grew steadily weaker until we were carrying him. We had not even reached the Munchkin River when he grew silent and his head lolled against mine.

Something in me was screaming. Screaming danger. And I let go of my friend just as he came back--just as Locasta had done. And he bit the Munchkin still holding him up on the other side. I ran--and apparently I ran fast enough for the thing that had been my friend did not follow.

I eventually made it here to the Emerald City, trying to warn the Wizard and the others here, but by the time I could finally make them listen to me, the first of them were outside the gates. And each day, there's more. Things that once were talking animals, were Munchkins--we have even seen some of them bearing ragged clothes of purple, yellow, and red. This would explain why the Wizard's messages to the other Countries around Oz have gone unanswered.

I hold out hope that the Wizard will come up with a plan to save us--I have lost track of how long we've been barricaded here in the City. He must have something in mind--I understand he's been calling for a tremendous amount of green silk. More and more each day. He's building something, no doubt some wonder that will save us all. I'm sure of it.