Their hooks extended out, trying to grab hold of her and attach
themselves to her. Some hooked onto her sweater and to her hair. Dorothy
squealed hysterically. Her arms were flying about, trying to get them
off of her.
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" said the Tin Woodman. "Don't show fear." But it was
too late. From the sky came hordes of grayish darts, like fragments from
exploding rocks. Everyone raised their arms to try to shield themselves.
Following the darts came the dreaded cackles of the Wicked Witch on her
broomstick. The sky was filled with her piercing screams of horrible
laughter.
"Well, my pretty, what say you now, eh?" She screamed again as she flew
about them. Large jagged crimson red spikes flew from her hands towards
them, also ugly blobs of brownish gray with red spikes sticking out.
From her eyes shot slithering snake-like pointed shapes with colored
stripes of dirty green and yellow and muddy orange. They writhed about,
trying to stick their sharp points into Dorothy's feet.
"Quick now," said the Tin Woodman.
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