There were two things that Wyatt Cain hated. One was being told what to do. The other was going against his gut instinct.

            He’d just been forced to do both.

            Trying to keep his mind occupied, he began to pace. Stillness had never quite taken with him since he’d become a tin man, and he hoped the constant movement would curb his edginess. Unfortunately it did nothing, and his gaze constantly went back to the path where she’d gone off on her own. 

            He’d stepped to follow her, and the Headcase too. But the Shapeshifter had spoken up. Said to let her do it alone. While Glitch had since stopped and was now seated with Raw on the swing that DG had occupied, Cain was having trouble staying still. He wanted to go with her. He’d come this far, been with her every step of the way. Why should he be told he couldn’t go now?

            Wyatt Cain never took well to being told what to do. He wasn’t about to start now.

            He started down the path. As expected, there were noises of objection.

            “Cain—”

            “Mister Cain—”

            Cain turned, gritting his teeth. Who was going to challenge him? Glitch had gotten up and Tutor had taken a step towards him.

            “She needs to do this on her own.”

            “No offense pooch,” Cain said, “But that ain’t gonna happen.”

            “But she needs to—”

            “What she needs,” Cain interrupted, “is not your problem. She’s not that kid that you taught magic tricks to anymore.”

            “You’re right,” said the Shapeshifter. Cain stopped. Before he could speak, he noticed Tutor’s eyes flicker before he added, “She’s not a kid.”

            Cain stopped. Had he said that? Yes, he had. There was something to that.

She wasn’t a kid. She wasn’t a child, didn’t need them babysitting her, holding her hand every step of the way. He’d give the dog points for that.

But as he stood there considering the dog’s words, that feeling came back. That uneasiness. He’d felt it when he was running towards the cabin, towards his family. That tiny sense of dread. That feeling that comes from an awkward silence, from shouting without getting a response. He couldn’t shake it. When he’d reached the cabin, that feeling had been right.

He wasn’t about to let that happen again. He’d already lost two people he cared about today. He wasn’t going to stand by and chance that there could be a third.

And it’d take a lot more than an old magician to stop him.

            He looked at Glitch and Raw. He could see it in their eyes. They wanted to go after her too. Cain had looked to them after DG had claimed to hear something, and they’d both looked back at him as concerned as Cain was.

            He glanced down the path that had carried DG away from them. He’d protect her, no matter what. But he damn well couldn’t do it from here.

            He’d made up his mind.

            Cain turned to look at Tutor, casting a glance at Glitch and Raw, who were both now standing with expectation. The Shapeshifter seemed to shrink a little under Wyatt Cain’s patented stare. Without another word, Wyatt Cain turned on his heel and began treading the same path that DG had taken with a little more speed to make up for lost time. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the familiar sound of steps fall in behind him like they had for most of the week.

            He’d only walked a couple of yards when he heard a scream. His heart stopped.

            DG.

            He ran. Blindly at first, excited like he’d been running through the trees to get to his son and wife. As he reached a sort of valley full of fallen trees, he forced himself to slow his breathing. If DG was in trouble, he’d have to keep cool.

            He stopped to listen carefully to hear something, a sound, something that would tell him where she was. Suddenly, he heard it. But it was just as Glitch reached him.

            “Cain, where—”

            “Shh!” Cain spun around and held a stern hand up. The advisor stopped instantly and signaled to Raw over his shoulder to be quiet as he approached.

            Cain listened again. There it was. It was faint, but definitely there.

            Crying. Someone talking.

            Cain slid carefully down the hill, over and under stumps until he spotted a cave-like opening towards one end of the valley. Focusing, he moved fluidly through the wreckage of trees, rocks, and dead grass until he reached the opening.

            He found her at the entrance of a gaping hole. She didn’t turn at the sound of him behind her. He analyzed what he was seeing quickly. She wasn’t in any danger that he could see, wasn’t being attacked. No doubt whatever she’d uncovered had sparked memories that were causing her pain.

For a brief moment, he wished that they’d never come across Tutor. He was helping her to recover her memories. If this was what the memories were causing, he wished she’d never unlocked them. He only wished it for a moment though. He knew she was the big savior of the OZ, the one to lead them out of darkness. There was a bigger picture. Bigger than her.

But he’d give anything for it to be someone else.

He didn’t move as the rest of the band caught up, Tutor too. They all stood there unmoving, trying to make out her words between her tears.

“… All the terrible things that have happened… They were all my fault… I should never have let go…”

Cain’s heart pinched. He took a step forward, shrugging off Tutor’s sudden grip on his arm as he moved. She didn’t look up as he approached her. She was on bended knee, leaning on her upright knee for balance. He swallowed and saw himself doing the same at Adora’s grave.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder. When she’d done it to him, he’d looked away, not wanting her to see his tears, to see him weak. Her reaction was no different. As soon as his hand came in contact with her shoulder and gripped it gently, she dropped her head, hiding her face with her hair. Neither said anything.

He’d felt her comfort, her presence, through that simple motion while he suffered through his sudden loss.

He hoped, for her, he was doing the same.