Wendy wormapple's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Wendy Wormapple had two heads and only one of them was falling apart. The cracked head leaked porcelain dust now, a little more each morning. Wendy swept the white powder off their green dress with a gloved hand. The pretty head watched the pile grow and began to cry. The cracked head said nothing, because its jaw was powder too. Wendy was coming undone, and the only cure was a lost twin they had not yet found. They could not agree on where to go. The pretty head wanted to search the orchards. The cracked head wanted to rest. The vote tied, like it always did. So Wendy did what they always did after the pretty head cried. They kept moving. They walked until they reached a green dollhouse with tiny lit windows, because a dust trail had to end somewhere. Inside sat two dolls. One wore black, her face split by its own web of cracks. One was red-haired in a green dress, holding a button tight. "You're leaking," said the black-dressed doll. She did not soften it. "I know cracks. Mine came from a girl who dropped me." "Constance," the red-haired doll said. "Be kind." She looked at Wendy's powder trail. "You won't last. Not whole." "I need my twin," Wendy said. Both mouths spoke it, the cracked one in a dry whisper. "The other half of me can mend this face. I only have to reach them first." Constance stood. She crossed to a shelf and lifted a porcelain vial. Painted stars swirled under its glaze. "This stops rot," she said. "It won't fix you. It buys you time." "Where did you get it?" the pretty head asked. "From the one who made us," Polly said quietly. She turned the button in her fingers. "It preserves porcelain. It doesn't heal it. There's a difference." The pretty head wanted to drink it now. The cracked head feared a trap. The vote tied. Dust sifted from the broken cheek onto the floor. Wendy had no time to wait out a tie, so for once they broke it. They reached for the vial with their own gloved hand. Constance pulled it back an inch. "A trade," she said. "You travel. You see faces. If you find a girl who breaks dolls and leaves, you tell me where." "I will," Wendy said. The cracked mouth agreed a breath later. She handed it over. Wendy tipped the vial to the broken lips. The potion was cold going in. The leaking stopped. The powder stilled on the dress. The cracked face did not mend, but it held. "It will fade," Polly said. "Potions like that always fade." Wendy capped the empty vial and tucked it away. They were not healed. They were paused. Somewhere a twin waited with the only true cure, and now the clock had slowed enough to run. Wendy turned toward the door and kept moving.